#and no I'm not saying she's ugly because she used to be fat

[creepykuroneko]

For those who did not know, this is what Kelly osborne, (a white British bitch) used to look like and this is what she looks like now after a ton of plastic surgery and access to Medical Care most people cannot afford.

THIS

Also Kelly’s box head ass got a lot of nerve…..I never forgot about that cleaning the toilets comment she made on the view, that already told me all I needed to know about her

[palskippah]

Hi! Nimona told him to do a thumbs up (also I hope you get the reference image because I couldn't find it ajkdsad)

There's some mpreg headcanons and drawings under the cut! :D

By the way the limit of images is 30 so I had to make some longer images with comics to save space and put more drawings 😭

-Also, small continuation from the previous drawing:

(I wrote baby album but maybe it should be those albums that people keep of the pregnancy process ajskd)

-When Ballister first started showing, he was a bit insecure about it, but Ambrosius helped with that, in the romantic sense of worshipping and whatever, but also like this:

Translation (did my best to see how to translate it sorry sdjksd it works better in spanish)

1 Ballister: I think it's too soon to be getting fat- Ambrosius: You know what else is getting fat? 2 Ambrosius: Who said that

-Ballister goes through the denial of needing new clothes, so imagine him still wearing the stuff he usually wears and Nimona coming from behind and picking at the clothes by his shoulder and going in a high-pitched voice, as if the shirt was talking - I'm tired, boss while Ballister swats her away and say, leave me alone, it still fits me >:(

(it doesn't)

>Also Ballister absolutely refusing to wear maternity clothes, the only one he got he was like, wearing it and looking very unimpressed, and Ambrosius' like, you don't like it? :( and Ballister says, No. It's ugly as fuck >:(

>So, he just gets bigger shirts and stretch-ier pants and that's it. Also he gets an oversized hoodie and he says that's gonna be his best friend the rest of the pregnancy, and both Nimona and Ambrosius gasp offendedly at that.

So-

Ambrosius (turning to look at Nimona): What the- hey, I am his best friend. Nimona: Course not! You lost that privilege with what happened that one time (she means the movie events, more than five years ago) Ballister: Ambrosius' my best friend, Nimona. Ambrosius: HAH >:D Nimona: Aw :( Ballister: Because you're my sidekick :) Nimona: :D Ambrosius: Hey, what now- that sounds better than best friend :(

-Ballister during most of the pregnancy is like, woo baby :) but at the very last months he's at least half of the time pissed off, tired and done with being pregnant.

(my incredible math skills in the next point)

>70% of that time he's mad at Ambrosius (who made him pregnant), 20% mad at Nimona (who consciously (and sometimes unconsciously) gets on his nerves) and the remaining 10 he's pissed off at Baby (and he gets sad about that one, because he's just a baby, so he redirects it at Ambrosius instead 😔)

>Ambrosius does his best to be of help but usually there's nothing he can do aside from being there (and sometimes getting out of Ballister's sight, if he's really angry- in the sense of 'I don't even want to see you now')

>Most of the time Ballister just cools off.

-Also Ambrosius giving him massages, sometimes randomly on his shoulders or his feet, and sometimes something more elaborated, like Ballister laying down and him using body oil, setting the ambient and all to massage his back (and Ballister almost always falls asleep in those).

>Sometimes tho he just does a 'chop chop chop' at his shoulders (it doesn't do anything besides amusing Ballister and keeping him company)

>Also Nimona said that of course he'd just randomly start chopping Ballister while Ballister does nothing about it, so Ambrosius starts chopping her instead

(made these two drawings with like three weeks of difference ajdkad)

(N/SFW thingies on the next four points and the next four images)

-Also with that previous point imagine Ballister waking up all angry, and Ambrosius just not knowing what he can do for him to stop being mad, but it turns out that Ballister had just woken up horny and pent-up.

>And once he realizes, he's like Ambrosius... (with intentions of getting some), and Ambrosius is like 🧍? because a second ago Ballister wasn't even looking at him.

-Also with this, Ballister is just very much hornier now (after the first trimester which was the worst) and Ambrosius doesn't mind at all - except when his jaw gets sore or he's running late for work because they lost track of time and also other situations ajsdks but usually he's delighted.

>(In the drawing Ballister just crossed one leg over the other once he heard Ambrosius coming in, because he can't maintain the position too long without getting uncomfortable sdjksj)

-Whenever Ballister is like >:c and looking in Ambrosius' direction, he immediately assumes that his husband is angry at him.

>Y'know when you look intensely at someone so they feel your gaze and look at you back? Ballister here is trying to apply that, but it doesn't work bc of the previous point askdad

-I had written sometime (I think) about them blaming Baby on literally anything that has more or less to do with him. If Ballister's crying, if he forgets stuff, if Nimona coddles Ballister too much and pisses him off, if Ambrosius wastes all the cleaning product in two weeks because he had been cleaning too much (he's nesting and realizes that sometime later), if Nimona and Ballister eat the weirdest stuff that at least he wouldn't eat in normal circumstances- and a long etc.

-During Ballister's pregnancy, Nimona works the most she had ever worked in her existence (in the biscuit factory):

-Both Nimona and Ambrosius are the most supportive c: yippie. Supportive husband/best friend and supportive sidekick/friend/sibling/etc

>An example would be of Ballister being tired, and if the time allows, the other two will immediately suggest a nap.

>Their collective naps usually last hours and they wake up disoriented, sweaty, with drool and the sheets marked on their faces.

>Also they wake up almost always stacked, Nimona always under the other two.

Translation

Nimona and Ballister: (snoring) Ambrosius: Fuck- what year is it? (tries to lift himself up)

-Also Nimona is the self-assigned pregnancy pillow, and at first Ballister had refused to let her do that, but as a sidekick she took it upon herself to make sure that her boss was comfy and could sleep well - and Ballister reminded her that that's not what sidekicks are for. She said, fuck off I'll do it anyways >:c

>Anyways he sleeps great with her help and earns himself a huge told you so from Nimona.

>I had written a thingy where just when she woke up she was like good morning boss :D while Ballister also said good morning and she hugged him while pushing Ambrosius away, even out of bed. I can't remember where I left it but once I find it, I'll see if it's good for posting pipipi Also Ballister and Ambrosius are corny husbands

>Also here I drew my vague idea of a bear bc I was too lazy to look for Nimona bear references sowwy

-Nimona sometimes shapeshifts into Ballister to make fun of him.

(This one joke gets lost in translation which is a shame but I'm gonna share the comic anyways sdjs)

>(She's messing around about names, doing a play in words using Gloreth's name while Ballister is already warning her to stop)

>Nimona urges them to get a name soon because Baby is almost born, and they're like yeah chill we're on it - and they're both sitting on the sofa, with Ballister's legs over Ambrosius' lap, while Ballister goes through their list on his tablet and Ambrosius focuses on giving him a massage on his feet.

They're like-

Ballister: So, Cyril? Ambrosius: No, my horse at the Institute was called that. Ballister: Right, then not that one... What about Casper? Ambrosius: Hmm... no. Ballister: Why not? Ambrosius: I don't know, I just don't really like it. Do you? Ballister: Eh, it's alright, I guess. I don't think Baby looks like a Casper, though Nimona: You don't even know how he looks yet! Ballister: You shut up, kid >:v Ballister: So, what about…

And they're making nearly to none progress but yeah sjdsd

>Also imagine Nimona (as Ballister) imitating what he does now that he's pregnant but x10 times more.

Translations

1 AUGHH- MY BACK 2 FUCKING AMBROSIUS! 3 Ambrosito? Can you get me a sweet treat? 🥺 4 I'M HUGE WAAA

>And while Ballister is like wtf I don't act like that, he turns to Ambrosius like, do I act like that? 😥 And Ambrosius, who was laughing to himself, goes, well... not so intensely, which is good enough for Ballister.

>But Nimona points out to what Ballister is eating with a mocking smile (and it is weird to be mocked by a version of himself that has a pink strand on his hair, but whatever), and he's like ? what? and realizes that he did ask for a sweet treat almost like Nimona depicted he does, because he did pull the big sparkly eyes and he did call Ambrosius Ambrosito while at it.

>Then he's wondering if he really complains about his back like that (he does, but as Ambrosius said, he isn't so intense about it, usually just holding his lower back and throwing his head back as he winces. Normal)

>(the yelling insults at Ambrosius is definitely not true. But he does throw daggers at him with his eyes when he's angry, he has to admit to himself)

>Now, about crying because he feels huge- yes. Very much true, but he doesn't wail. Just sobs and cries a river like the sensible, serious adult he is.

-Also that thing of knights don't cry and whatever. This one knight does cry, and he cries a lot (at least while he's pregnant).

>He cried once because he dreamt that Nimona was a little spider and even though he warned Ambrosius to be careful, he accidentally crushed her and he woke up not only incredibly sad but also upset with Ambrosius, even though he was aware that it was silly to get mad with him over a dream.

>Nimona was like boss :( while hugging him, and Ambrosius had to scoot a bit away because Ballister didn't even want to look at him as he wept. Ambrosius said a lot of reassuring words of I'm sorry, I think I didn't see her :( while Ballister was like, but I warned you so many times :'[

>Then he was like, I promise you, I'd never hurt Nimona. And Nimona herself said, yeah boss, I'd crush him first, don't you worry about it :) and Ballister said, but I couldn't protect you :''[ while hugging her harder.

>And both Nimona and Ambrosius are (internally) like, ohh, so that's what it's about.

>Anyways, just a bunch of hugging and comforting gets him to feel a little less sad and also Nimona saying, but you're great at protecting me now :D so, there's all that sdjksd

-Sometimes Ballister just breaks down over seemingly the most trivial stuff too (which is usually just the last straw over a bunch of other stuff going on)

Translation

1 Ambrosius: Balli? What happened? D: Ballister (with one eyeline going up and the other going down): Ambrosito, my eyeline's crooked* *the straw that broke the camel's back (his hair isn't cooperating) (his back hurts) (done) (clothes feel uncomfortable) (the baby won't stay still) 2 Ambrosius (doing Ballister's eyeline): Stay very still, love (focused) 3 (they're in front of the mirror) Ballister (laughing his ass off): BUT HOW DID YOU MAKE IT EVEN MORE CROOKED?! Ambrosius (embarrassed): Aw Ballister (holding his belly): Ow, Baby, don't kick me, sorry, sorry! I'll stay still now-

>(Y'know when a pregnant person laughs the baby inside gets all shaken skdsd I find it funny, so imagine Baby being like ??!! because Ballister keeps laughing too hard and shaking him all around and his kicks are like him going, stay the fuck still D:<) (Ballister's still weepy but now he's crying with laughter, which is better than him crying from being overwhelmed)

-Also Ballister's very scared of giving birth but he's very good at pretending that Baby will simply materialize in his arms rather than him having to push him out.

(Drawings based over this)

Translation

1 Ballister happy because his baby is almost born 2 (Remembers that he has to give birth to him)

-The day that he was in labor and all, imagine the water just breaking and stuff and Nimona being like 'okay everyone DON'T PANIC' while panicking and also Ballister's panicking too (Ambrosius' at work and when he's told he also panics and arrives at the hospital in record time still wearing his armor. The power of first-time father panic)

(But someone gotta be not panicking in the situation, so Ambrosius calms the fuck down and becomes the calming presence that Ballister can rely on c: also Nimona calms down too and goes back to being herself and is very good at distracting Ballister while he goes through contractions and the hours before pushing.)

>Also y'know how in TV sometimes someone else imitates the pregnant person's breathing exercises by going huff huff huff quickly ajsdkjd

>Also Ballister going Nimona what about the bags and also don't carry me there?! and her going shit right and ignoring the second half, then returning for the bags and grabbing them, all while holding Ballister like a doll (a doll with a little doll inside SJDS pregnant barbie)

En español pensaba que fuera = AYÚDENLO, SE LE SALE LA WAWA - NIMONA DEJA DE HACER SHOW

-Wrote a lil something about Baby's birth and Ballister going through kinda a rollercoaster of emotions because at the very beginning of the pushing stage he almost had a panic attack, but then everyone in the room helped him calm down, and when he thought everything was going great, the doctor offered Ambrosius to receive their baby, and of course his husband was very excited about it and said yes, getting dressed up in the medical gown, the facemask, the gloves and all that.

(Initially everything after that was supposed to go swiftly, but I thought, no, what if Ambrosius faints like some dads do? and after watching a TikTok of a woman whose partner did faint and they had to pause her birth to hold him up because he was like over 6 feet tall, I was like hell yeah that's it)

>When Ambrosius finally got between Ballister's legs to look, his blood pressure went the fuck down. And since he's pretty tall and the nurse that tried to catch him was pretty short, the other one had to join in and then the doctor too to avoid him slamming on the ground. The thing was that Ambrosius was clearly fighting very hard against unconsciousness, giving the three people holding him false hope about him finally holding his own weight, making them almost drop him multiple times.

>Sensibly, the situation was kinda scary, because the three people assisting his baby's birth were busy trying to hold his husband from fainting. Said husband was clearly fighting with everything he got to keep himself conscious, and Ballister could very much feel his baby crowning.

>But seeing three short people trying to hold Ambrosius up and yelping when they almost dropped him several times, and remembering that Ambrosius had been so excited about it but hadn't been able to even stand the view, and feeling pretty nervous because his main emotional support couldn't even keep himself awake-, made him crack up.

>So, he's laughing out loud and going every once in a while, owfuck- because it still hurts like a bitch, while the other three keep going, YOU'LL DROP HIM. BE CAREFUL, SIR?? SIR, CAN YOU HEAR ME? and Ambrosius' like, yea- (faints again)

>(they're well aware that they gotta deliver the baby, so they're doing their best to hurry Ambrosius to get out of the way)

>The whole thing had made Ballister's body feel weak from the laughter, and he had to try and calm down to have strength again and push the baby out.

>As you'd guess, Ambrosius didn't receive their baby, and had to sit down and eat something sweet to not faint again, but he managed to stay on his feet well enough to cut the umbilical cord yippie.

>So anyways, Baby out, wrapped and all that, Ballister kept laughing more quietly about it and saying that they should mark the date in the calendar to celebrate Ambrosius fainting over almost delivering their baby. And Ambrosius' like hmm, I don't know Balli, maybe we could use this date for our son's birthday, don't you think? and Ballister's like OH RIGHT and now started laughing at himself.

I keep thinking of new stuff that contradicts what I already have posted, sowwy

>Imagine Ambrosius practically begging Ballister to not tell Nimona, while the other says she'd love to know but also is aware that she'd never let Ambrosius live it down, so he agrees on not telling her. Both eventually tell both Nimona and Baby when the latter is older and inquired about his birth, and indeed, Nimona loved the anecdote, and never let Ambrosius live it down, since then.

-Ideas about Nimona infiltrating the room in the form of a nurse after Baby is born and blowing up her cover when she commented on the baby's nose being just like Gol- Mr. Goldenheart's. And also, his hair being black like Bo- Mr. Goldenheart's.

>At the beginning when they had been admiring their baby, Ambrosius had said, he got your hair D': pipipi (he cried the second Baby got placed in his arms, got a drawing of that but I don't like how it came out wah, Ambrosius' wearing a facemask and being all tear-eyed pipipi) and Ballister had said, he got your nose :D but Ambrosius had said no? that's just a baby's nose, how can you even tell. But after Nimona commented on it, Ballister's saying told you so, it's your nose, while Ambrosius' like, Mr. Goldenheart could be either of us (both smiling amusedly because Nimona's too silly and they clearly know it's her, but she's all idk who's Nimona?)

-Also, I don't know how to make that work with the idea that when she got kicked out to the hall for the pushing bit, she went to steal some flowers and balloons with 'it's a boy!' on them for Ballister. But anyways, I'll write that bit too.

-Also this is Goldenheart with their baby, and I drew it a while back but realized that I don't like it anymore, so I'll do a redrawing someday sdjksd

>Imagine that Ambrosius was in the hospital bed with Baby while Ballister was getting ready so they could leave to their home, and Nimona said pictures timeee and then took that pic, with Ballister pointing at Baby and being all :D Also, Ambrosius looked pretty good and all, and Ballister was all unshaven face, kinda messy hair, the hospital band with his name still wrapped on his wrist as he pointed at Baby, and yet there were some people online that were like ??! Ambrosius Goldenloin Goldenheart was pregnant??

>And the people that knew even if a little bit about the Goldenheart's life, and also because they still went out and whatever, were like ? no? didn't you see Ballister like, a week ago? (Where he was very obviously pregnant and Ambrosius clearly wasn't sdjkdj)

>Every once in a while, Nimona would remember about this and repost it again, even after Baby is much older.

And that's it! If you read till here, bless you ajsdkadj

I've got more stuff about mpreg, both written and drawn, so I hope to make another post like this sometime, they're very fun to make :D

[scarluna]

KNOCKOUT (001)

⸺ ݂ ํ Synopsis : ꣒

Y/N is a depressed, closed off, anxious and insecure plus-sized girl. She does not believe she deserves love nor anything good in her life. However by destiny, she meets Jungkook. A fighter, a biker and a guy that changes the way she sees the world.

⸺ ݂ ํ Characters : ꣒ Jeon Jungkook x Y/N

⸺ ݂ ํ Chapters: 1/?

⸺ ݂ ํ Trigger warnings : ꣒ mature language, mental health problems, depression, su!c!d1l thoughts, fatph0bia, illegal substances, smoking, anxiety, body dysmorphia, maladaptive daydreaming, making out, traumas

⸺ ݂ ํ Other warnings : ꣒ grammatical errors.

⸺ ݂ ํ Author's Note: ꣒ So, again, I am back at it. Completely fictional.

I don’t look in mirrors if I can help it.

I glance—never stare. I avoid reflections like they’re landmines, each one threatening to detonate everything I’ve worked so hard to bury.

I pull my hoodie tighter around myself as I walk down the hall of my apartment building. Even though it’s warm out, I keep it on. I always keep it on. Oversized, black, long-sleeved—my version of armor. Fabric that hides the parts of me I hate the most.

Which is basically all of me.

My thighs touch when I walk. My arms jiggle when I reach for things. My stomach… don’t get me started. Every inch of me feels wrong, and no matter how many times people say things like "beauty comes in all sizes," I can still hear the laughter from the girls in middle school locker rooms. I can still feel their eyes on me. Judging. Mocking.

I learned early that boys only look at girls like me when it's a joke—or a dare. So, I don’t let them. I keep my head down, earphones in, and move like I’m invisible.

It’s safer that way.

I fake normal better than most. Smiles when I’m supposed to. Laughs at the right moments. I even let my mom believe I’m doing "so much better" lately.

She wouldn’t notice either way. She’s too busy.

She works fifteen hours a day and answers my texts with thumbs up emojis or, if I’m lucky, a "K." I get it. She’s trying to keep us afloat. But sometimes I think she works that much so she doesn’t have to come home.

Can’t say I blame her.

My dad is... well, he’s usually passed out almost every time I visit them. His breath smells like cheap whiskey and bad decisions. He tells me I’m beautiful sometimes—slurred, half-sincere—but only after his third drink. And the next morning he doesn’t remember saying anything at all.

I hate that I still want him to mean it.

No one knows how I eat in secret. How I wait until everyone’s asleep to tiptoe into the kitchen and stuff myself until I can barely breathe. Chips, cereal, cookies—whatever I can find. It’s not even about the food. It’s about silence. About filling something inside me that always feels empty.

Then comes the shame. The guilt. The promise to do better tomorrow.

Tomorrow never comes.

People think being fat is a choice. Like I woke up and decided to hate myself. Like I don’t already know what every calorie means. Like I haven’t stood in dressing rooms, numb and silent, while my mom said, “You just need a little more discipline.”

If she only knew.

But she doesn’t. No one does.

And that’s how I survive. By hiding the real me. By locking away every ugly thought and pretending I'm okay. It’s exhausting—but I’m good at it.

I finally curled up In my bed, wrapped in the same blanket I’ve had since high school—frayed at the edges, soft from too many washes. The TV was on, playing some show I’ve already watched three times over. Something comforting. Familiar. The kind where characters have perfect lives, perfect friends, and perfect bodies. The kind where no one ever breaks down crying because they can’t zip up their jeans.

I mindlessly shove popcorn into my mouth, even though I’m not really hungry. I just need something to do with my hands. That, and I don’t know how to exist in silence.

Outside, life moves. People laugh, date, go out for coffee and brunch and spin class. I watch it all through the filtered lens of social media, like I’m peeking through a window at a party I wasn’t invited to.

But the truth is... I don’t want to go.

Not really.

Being outside is exhausting. People are exhausting. The stares, the judgment—even the polite ones, the forced smiles, the awkward glances that say "I see you, but I don’t want to."

I’d rather sit here, in the stillness of my own space, where no one expects anything from me. Where I don’t have to suck in my stomach or pull down my shirt every time I stand up.

Unless she visits.

My best friend, Vicky. The only one who’s ever stuck around long enough to see all my ugly truths and not run for the hills. Unfortunately she lives two hours away. We talk every day tho—text, memes, random voice notes that trail off mid-sentence because we always know what the other means. But when she visits? That’s when I pretend, just for a night, that I’m someone else.

Someone better.

We’ll pour a glass of cheap wine and sit on the floor like we’re still seventeen. She’ll blast music we used to love and I’ll let my hair down, throw on a slightly-too-tight dress I usually hide in the back of my closet, and for a few hours, I’ll play the part.

I’ll laugh too loud. I’ll talk too fast. I’ll flirt with the mirror and call myself a bad bitch even though I don’t believe a word of it.

It’s not real, but it’s fun to pretend.

Sometimes we go out—to a bar or a lounge or some half-dead pub that plays throwbacks—and I’ll catch a man looking my way. And for a second, I’ll feel like maybe... maybe this time is different.

But it never is.

They smile. Then hesitate. Then give me mixed signals that make my head spin. One moment, it’s flirty texts and compliments. The next, it’s radio silence or a sudden ghosting like I imagined the whole thing.

I used to blame myself. Still do, if I’m being honest.

Maybe I’m not pretty enough. Maybe they didn’t like how my body looked up close. Maybe they thought I was fun—until they realized I came with baggage.

They say I’m “hard to read,” but they never bother to learn the language.

Now, I don’t expect anything. I don’t chase, and I definitely don’t hope. Hope is a cruel thing when you’ve been fed disappointment your whole life.

So I stay here.

Buried in the comfort of my bed. With my blanket and my snacks and my fake little world where I don’t have to feel like a mistake.

And honestly?

Sometimes, it feels like the only place I truly belong.

Some nights, the silence feels like it’s screaming.

Tonight is one of those nights.

The TV is still on, playing something meaningless. Just noise to drown out the thoughts. But it doesn’t work. It never really does. The thoughts always find their way back in—slipping through the cracks like cold air under a door.

I don’t even know when I started crying. My eyes just feel heavy, and my chest aches like I’ve been holding my breath for hours.

I sit there, knees hugged to my chest, tears rolling quietly, silently. Because that’s the only way I know how to break down—alone. Always alone.

I wish I could explain this feeling. This tightness. This numb, dull throb of sadness that doesn’t go away. It’s not just about my body, though that’s a part of it. It’s the loneliness. The kind that makes the world feel like it’s moving on without you. Like you’re stuck behind glass, watching everyone else live while you just... exist.

People talk about love like it’s this magical thing. Like it just happens. Eye contact across a room. Sparks. Butterflies. Hands brushing and souls colliding.

I’ve never had that. I don’t even know what it feels like to be touched by someone who wanted to stay. Who wanted me. Not some idea of me. Not some mask I wear to get through the day. The real me.

And God—don’t even get me started on sex.

Everyone acts like it’s supposed to be this beautiful thing. Passionate. Intimate. But for me? It feels terrifying. Not just because of my body—though that fear is always there, a weight pressing down on me—but because letting someone that close means showing them everything I try so hard to hide. The scars. The stretch marks. The parts of me I can’t fix.

The parts of me I’ve learned to keep locked up.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m even capable of being loved. Like maybe I was born with something missing. Or maybe I’m too much. Too broken. Too guarded. Too something.

Would anyone ever actually stay, if they saw all of me?

The depression makes it worse. It lies to me. Tells me I’m unworthy. That I’m hard to love. That I’m destined to always be someone’s maybe, someone’s almost. The girl who’s good for conversation but never good enough to hold.

And the worst part? Some days, I believe it.

I hate how much I crave affection, even though I’m terrified of it. I hate that I want someone to hold me and kiss my forehead and tell me I’m safe, but I wouldn’t know how to accept it if they did. My body would flinch, my mind would panic, and I’d probably ruin everything before it even began.

Because that’s what I do. I ruin things.

And then I cry about it in the dark, wondering what’s wrong with me.

I wrap the blanket tighter around me and bury my face in my arms. My tears come harder now, not quiet anymore. Ugly sobs that make my throat burn. I wish I could scream. I wish I could tear it all out of me—the pain, the shame, the fear.

I just want to be held. Not for how I look. Not for what I offer. But for who I am.

All of me.

Even the messy, haunted parts.

Even the parts I don’t know how to love myself.

But maybe that’s a lot to ask.

Maybe no one’s coming.

Maybe I’m all I’ll ever have.

-

Friday night.

The clock on my screen blinks 6:01 PM, and just like that, my shift ends.

Another day of smiling through gritted teeth, typing out canned responses to strangers who think “customer support” means “emotional punching bag.” My fingers are sore, my eyes ache, and I have exactly zero energy left to pretend to be a functioning adult.

I close my laptop and sigh, rolling my neck until it cracks. My apartment is dim, lit only by the fading orange glow of sunset bleeding through the blinds. I consider changing into pajamas and crawling under a blanket burrito-style. It’s what I usually do on Fridays. My little reward for surviving the week. Thank God I was a home office or else I’d be definitely drained at the office.

Then I hear it.

Knocking.

Sharp, insistent, like the sound of someone who knows you’re home.

I freeze. I’m not expecting anyone.

Another knock.

I drag myself to the door, hoodie still on, hair a mess, socks mismatched—classic me. I open it cautiously, peeking through the crack.

And there she is.

“Surprise, bitch,” Vicky grins, arms wide like she’s just delivered the winning lotto ticket.

Right behind her stands Trevor, tall and unbothered, holding a paper bag that smells suspiciously like garlic bread. He nods at me like we’ve just seen each other yesterday, even though it’s been months.

“What the hell—” I blink. “You guys didn’t tell me you were coming!”

“That’s what makes it a surprise,” Vicky smirks, pushing past me into the apartment like she owns the place. “Also, we know you’d say no if we warned you.”

She’s not wrong.

Trevor chuckles as he walks in behind her. “Hey, Y/N. We brought food. Don’t yell at us.”

I just shake my head, trying not to smile too hard. It’s impossible with these two.

Vicky and Trevor have been together for five years now. They met online—some obscure Reddit thread about mental health turned into DMs, which turned into phone calls, which turned into a weekend meetup that never really ended.

She’s a psychologist, whip-smart with a razor-sharp tongue and a heart of gold. He’s an IT guy, quiet and patient, the kind of man who listens more than he talks and somehow always knows when you need space... or a hug.

They’re that annoying kind of couple that actually works—the kind that finishes each other’s sentences and still giggles at inside jokes no one else gets. It’s weird seeing that kind of emotional intimacy up close. Beautiful, but also kind of brutal.

Because deep down, I want it.

That connection. That safety. That soft, quiet love that doesn’t disappear at the first sign of mess.

And it hurts—just a little—because a part of me still believes I’ll never have it.

“You’re staring again,” Vicky teases from the couch. “Are you mentally writing fanfiction about us?”

I roll my eyes, laughing despite the lump in my throat. “No, I’m just wondering how two socially awkward nerds made it work.”

Trevor winks. “Magic and memes.”

“And therapy,” Vicky adds, tossing a cushion at him. “Lots of therapy.”

We eat. We talk. We laugh—really laugh, the kind that makes your stomach hurt. For a moment, I forget about everything else. My body. My fears. My loneliness. It all fades under the glow of garlic knots and sarcastic banter.

Until Vicky suddenly looks at me with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“We’re going out,” she says.

I blink. “Out where?”

She stands, brushing crumbs off her jeans. “It’s a surprise.”

Trevor groans playfully. “God help us all.”

I hesitate. My instinct is to say no. I’m not dressed for “out.” I’m not mentally prepared. My anxiety starts bubbling up—but Vicky grabs my hand before I can retreat.

“Trust me,” she says, softer now. “You need this.”

I swallow hard, nod slowly, and let her pull me to my feet.

-

An hour later, we’re walking down a narrow alley lit by a single flickering bulb. The sound of bass and shouting grows louder with every step. The building looks like an abandoned warehouse, tagged up and half-broken—but there's a bouncer at the door and people going in like it's nothing.

“What is this?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

“You’ll see,” Vicky smirks. “Just… keep an open mind.”

I glance at Trevor. He just shrugs and smiles, which tells me nothing.

We walk in—and the moment we do, the world shifts.

It’s hot. Loud. Electric. The air is thick with sweat, adrenaline, and tension. People crowd around a caged ring in the center of the room, shouting, cheering, drinks sloshing in their hands.

A fight is happening. An actual underground fight.

“What the hell, Vick?” I whisper, stunned.

The air hits me like a punch.

Heat. Sweat. Noise.

A crowd of bodies packed like sardines, all facing the makeshift cage in the center. The shouting is relentless, echoing off concrete walls, drowning out my thoughts. People are laughing, jeering, spilling drinks. Some are on tables. Some are barely dressed. Every part of it screams get out.

Vicky turns back and says over the noise, “Trust me. You need this. It’s good for your mental health.”

I shoot her a look. “You dragged me to a fight club for my mental health?”

She grins, unfazed. “You live in your head too much. This place? It pulls you out. It’s raw. Real. No filters. No fakeness. You just feel everything, whether you want to or not.”

I open my mouth to argue but the words stick. Because as chaotic as this place is, I can already feel the numbness cracking. Not in a good way—more like being ripped out of a too-warm blanket and thrown into a blizzard.

I tug my oversized hoodie tighter around myself, the sleeves swallowing my hands. My skin feels too exposed, like people are looking at me even when they aren’t. I’m not dressed for this. I’m not ready for this.

I did shower before we left, thank God. But even that small self-care win can’t calm the panic twisting in my gut now.

Overcrowded places make my skin crawl. I’ve never liked loud spaces, or too many people talking over each other, or being somewhere I can’t make a quick escape from.

It’s too much.

I scan the room, my eyes flicking from face to face. Most people here are loud, confident, half-drunk or fully fearless. Girls in tight dresses, guys in muscle shirts and tattoos, people laughing like this is a Friday night comedy show and not two men bleeding into the floor.

And then there’s me.

Tucked into the corner. Hiding. Heart racing. Wondering why the hell I agreed to this.

“Vick,” I say, leaning closer to her so she can hear me. “I don’t think I belong here.”

She turns, her face softer now. “You do. Just breathe.”

But how can I?

Every step into this place feels like walking deeper into someone else’s life. Someone who isn’t afraid. Someone who belongs in their skin. Not like me. I shrink without even realizing it—shoulders curling in, body trying to disappear into the folds of my hoodie. My safe zone.

I don’t want to be here.

I don’t want anyone to look at me.

But at the same time… some twisted part of me does.

Just once, I want to be the girl someone notices.

And I hate myself for it.

“Just give it a minute,” Trevor says gently, voice like a low anchor in the storm. “You might surprise yourself.”

But I don’t want to surprise myself. I want to be back home, curled up in silence, not vibrating from the bass of a place that smells like blood and beer.

Still—I don’t leave.

Because as much as I hate this, as much as I want to run, there’s something about this space that feels important. Like I’m on the edge of something.

Even if I don’t know what.

Suddenly, the crowd erupts louder than before—cheers, screams, a few scattered boos. Everyone turns their attention to the ring as a man climbs through the ropes.

A voice booms from the crackling speakers overhead, broken slightly by static but loud enough to cut through everything.

“In this corner, we got the reigning champ of the Southside pits… undefeated in seventeen fights, no tap-outs, no knockouts—only carnage. You know him. You fear him. Put your hands together for THIAAAGOOOOO!”

And that’s when I see him.

Thiago.

He steps fully into the ring—and my heart stalls.

He’s massive.

Tall—at least six foot five—built like a mountain, shoulders so broad they look like they could crush skulls. His skin is littered with scars, some healed into thick ridges, others fresher and angry red. A jagged one runs across his collarbone like a warning sign.

He’s bald, his head gleaming under the overhead lights, and his face—God, his face—it looks carved from stone. Cold, emotionless. A sharp jaw, a crooked nose that’s clearly been broken more than once, and dark eyes full of fury.

He’s not just a fighter. He looks like he’s made for war.

And he’s terrifying.

My stomach flips. My body stiffens. I take a half-step back without thinking.

“Holy fuck” I mutter, clutching my hoodie like it’s a shield. “This is insane. That guy looks like he eats souls for breakfast.”

Vicky doesn’t respond right away. She’s watching the ring with a curious glint in her eye. Trevor’s more stoic, but even he looks a little tense now.

Thiago circles the ring like a predator, chest rising slowly, eyes scanning the crowd like he’s daring someone to challenge him next. He radiates danger—pure, undiluted rage wrapped in muscle.

“He’s one of the best here,” Vicky finally says. “Or the worst, depending on how you look at it.”

“He looks like he could snap someone in half,” I whisper.

“He has,” Trevor says casually. Too casually.

My hands start to sweat.

Why are we here?

Why did Vicky think this was good for me?

My anxiety’s climbing fast. My heart won’t slow down, and my breath is catching in my throat. I don’t belong here. I don’t belong anywhere near people like him.

Just being in the same room as that kind of anger—raw, visible, unfiltered—it makes my skin crawl. It reminds me of my dad on a bad night. It reminds me of yelling behind closed doors. Of breaking things that don’t heal. Of fear you can’t explain to anyone.

I can’t tear my eyes away, though. Even as my body begs me to.

Because there’s something about him that feels like a mirror—sharpened, brutal, broken.

And maybe that’s the scariest part.

The referee’s voice cracks through the mic again, pulling the attention of the crowd back toward the entrance ramp. People around me start shifting with excitement—some chanting already, others leaning forward, trying to get a better view.

“And in this corner…” the announcer growls with theatrical flair, “…the one you’ve been waiting for. The wildcard. The Ghost of the East Ring. He’s fast, he’s vicious, and he doesn’t say much—but when he moves, you listen. Give it up for—JUNGKOOK!”

The lights dim just slightly. Smoke—real or fake, I can’t tell—floods in at the entrance. Then he steps out.

And everything slows.

He’s smaller than Thiago, yeah. Not small, just… more compact. But somehow his presence fills the room in a different way. Controlled chaos. Stillness before a storm. His body is lean but powerful—tattooed arms flexing under the flickering warehouse lights as he casually rolls one shoulder, then the other.

A black wet mullet hangs across his forehead and brushes against the nape of his neck, damp with sweat or maybe water poured over him before walking out. His dark eyes flick across the crowd—slow, methodical—like he’s searching for something or someone specific.

When his gaze sweeps past me, I freeze.

He doesn’t pause. Doesn’t even notice me. But for a second, I feel… seen.

Then it’s gone.

He climbs into the ring like he’s done this a thousand times. Calm. Efficient. No flashy entrances or chest-beating bravado. Just quiet readiness.

Unlike Thiago—who still paces like a caged beast—Jungkook stands still in his corner, bouncing lightly on his feet, head down, breathing slow. Controlled. Poised.

A storm in waiting.

“What’s his deal?” I mutter, frowning as I watch him from under my hood.

Vicky grins. “That’s Jungkook. He doesn’t talk much, but he moves like poetry.”

Trevor nods. “He’s fast. Thiago hates him.”

“Why?”

“He can’t catch him,” Trevor says with a half-smile. “And when he tries, he gets hit. Hard.”

The bell hasn’t rung yet, but the energy in the room is shifting. The crowd is buzzing, already leaning forward in anticipation. Two men. Two energies. One unhinged rage, the other ice-cold focus.

And I’m standing there in the shadows, heart pounding, watching it unfold like it’s all some dream I don’t belong in.

But I can’t look away from Jungkook.

There’s something about him—quiet, deadly, beautiful in a way that shouldn’t belong in a place like this. Like he’s made of sharp edges and unspoken things.

And I have no idea why he’s making my chest feel like this.

The moment the bell rings, everything changes.

Jungkook and Thiago explode into motion at the same time, their bodies colliding with a sickening thud as the crowd roars around us. The sound is deafening, a mass of screaming voices and wild excitement. I can’t take my eyes off them. The chaos, the violence, the raw power—it feels like it’s coming at me in waves.

Thiago lunges first, furious and relentless. His fists are like battering rams, crashing into Jungkook’s body, and the crowd is losing it, egging Thiago on. The sound of flesh hitting flesh is sickening, and I feel a rush of unease—nausea swirling in my stomach.

But then, Jungkook moves.

It’s so fast, so fluid, that I barely register what happens until Thiago’s momentum is thrown off. Jungkook ducks under his next punch, a move so smooth it’s like watching someone glide through water. He weaves out of the way, and then, like a snake striking, his fist connects with Thiago’s jaw with a crack that echoes through the room.

Thiago stumbles back, and the crowd goes wild. Thiago roars in frustration, lunging again—but this time, Jungkook’s ready. His footwork is impeccable, always staying just out of reach, and every time Thiago throws a punch, Jungkook dodges it like he’s reading Thiago’s mind.

And then, in an instant—Jungkook moves in, faster than I can process. He shifts, gets in close, and with one sharp, devastating blow to Thiago’s midsection, he drives his opponent to the mat. The crowd gasps.

Thiago struggles to get back up, but it’s no use. Jungkook moves in again, his body like a machine, precision in every movement. With a calculated swing, Jungkook lands another hit—this one to Thiago’s head.

Thiago falls.

The crowd goes wild, a tidal wave of cheers and screams as Thiago is knocked out cold. Jungkook stands over him, chest heaving, sweat dripping down his face. His nose is bloodied, but his eyes are laser-focused, scanning the crowd as he stands tall, shoulders heaving, sweat glistening across his skin. He’s breathless, but there’s no sign of slowing down.

The referee steps in, holding up Jungkook’s arm.

“Winner!” he shouts into the microphone, his voice drowned out by the roar of the crowd. “Jungkook!”

My breath catches in my throat as I watch Jungkook stand there, still and proud, despite the blood smeared across his face. He doesn’t celebrate like Thiago would have—no shout of triumph, no cocky grin. He just stands there, like this is exactly where he was meant to be.

I’m still frozen in place when the crowd starts to quiet down, and my eyes move to Vicky.

“How do you know these two?” I ask, still watching Jungkook as he wipes the blood from his nose, catching his breath. “You’ve been here before, right?”

Vicky glances at me, her eyes flashing with something I can’t quite place. “In my four years of studying psychology here? Yeah. I’ve been to this place three times. Every time, I’ve seen Jungkook win.”

My brow furrows. “Three times?”

Vicky shrugs, leaning in to make herself heard over the fading buzz of the crowd. “Jungkook doesn’t lose. Ever. And not just here, either. He’s been in the underground circuit for a while now. He doesn’t talk much, but the guy’s a machine. Everyone here knows that.”

I’m still staring at Jungkook. The blood on his face doesn’t make him look weak—it makes him look… stronger. Like the fight is a part of him, something embedded in his bones. The way he carries himself—the way he moves—it’s like there’s nothing in the world that could touch him.

He’s not just a fighter. He’s something else.

I try to push the feeling down, the one stirring in my chest, but it’s there. Something about him pulls at me.

“He’s scary,” I whisper, though the words don’t feel like they fit the way I’m feeling. It’s more than fear. It’s something like… awe. And maybe a little envy.

“Scary?” Vicky laughs. “Nah. He’s a fighter. And trust me, if you ever find yourself in his corner, you’ll know exactly why people respect him.”

I don’t answer. My mind is too wrapped up in the image of him standing in the ring—barely breathing, bloodied, but still unshaken.

I’m about to turn away and find a quiet corner to collect my thoughts when a sharp pang hits my stomach.

I can’t ignore it.

“Vicky…” I call out, trying to keep my voice steady. “Where’s the bathroom?”

Vicky doesn’t even look at me, still watching the ring as the crowd starts to thin. She gestures to the far side of the room, near the back exit. “Down that hall, last door on the left.”

I nod quickly and make my way through the maze of bodies and noise, feeling like I’m moving through a fog. I don’t care what’s going on around me—I just need to get some space, somewhere I can breathe and not feel so… exposed.

The hallway is dim, the walls dirty and covered in old graffiti. I find the door easily enough. But when I push it open, my stomach drops.

There’s no sign for male or female. Just a simple bathroom with no distinction.

Great.

I freeze for a moment, standing in the doorway. I can hear people in the bathroom—voices. Laughter. But I’m not sure if they’re men or women, and the last thing I want is to stumble into a situation where I’m forced to confront anything uncomfortable. I can feel my pulse thudding in my ears.

There’s a stall at the far end, empty.

Without thinking twice, I rush in, lock the door behind me, and press my back to the cool metal of the stall. The air feels thick again, like it’s closing in around me, and I force myself to take slow, steady breaths, in and out.

But it’s not enough.

The panic is rising—fast. My hands start to shake, my chest tightens. I try to block it out, but the air feels suffocating, too thick, too hot. I can hear the muffled sound of footsteps and the low murmur of voices from the other side of the bathroom.

Just breathe. It’s fine. You’re fine.

But I’m not.

The panic is already clawing at my throat when the door to the bathroom swings open. Two women walk in, their voices high-pitched and giggly. I bite my lip, forcing myself to stay as still as possible, praying they won’t notice me.

“Oh my God, did you see Jungkook out there?” One of them says, her voice dripping with excitement.

“Yesss!” the other responds, laughing. “I was like, wow—how is he so hot? Like, he’s got that whole dangerous vibe, you know?”

“Totally,” the first one giggles again. “I would literally do anything to be with him. I don’t care if he’s a fighter. He can take me down anytime.”

My stomach twists. I close my eyes, feeling the heat rush to my face. This is exactly what I hate. This feeling of being on the outside, the feeling of not being the one they’re talking about. Not being the one that someone notices.

“Can you imagine how good he must be in bed? I bet he’s rough,” the second woman whispers with a smirk. “Like, you know, he’s got that energy. He could probably have any girl he wants. Hell, he’s probably had every girl he’s ever looked at.”

My heart stops. My hands are trembling against the cold stall door, but I can’t bring myself to leave. I can’t seem to move. The words echo in my ears, over and over, and I want to scream.

Why does this bother me so much? Why does this hurt?

I can’t understand it.

I want to run out of here. I want to disappear. I want to get away from the laughing, the whispered thoughts about Jungkook, about how he’s someone they can have—someone they want.

For a second, I wonder if I’ll ever be wanted like that. If anyone will ever look at me the way these girls are looking at Jungkook.

Stop.

I breathe in deeply, trying to steady myself again. My fingers are cold and clammy as I grasp the edge of the toilet paper dispenser. The walls of the stall feel like they’re closing in on me, but I force myself to stay still. I have to. If I move, it’ll make everything worse.

The last thing I need is for them to hear my panic, my heavy breathing, my brokenness.

The girls continue talking, oblivious to me in my corner.

“God, I’m so jealous,” the first girl sighs, “but I bet I’d die if he even looked at me.”

“You think he’d go for a girl like us?” the second one snickers. “Doubt it. He’s probably all about the hot, fit girls. You know the type.”

The conversation continues as if I’m not even here, and I can feel the sting of their words, even though I try to push them down.

He doesn’t want girls like us.

The thought slips out before I can stop it.

I squeeze my eyes shut, but it doesn’t make the hurt go away.

I wait for what feels like forever, the girls’ laughter and giggling fading as they finally leave the bathroom. Their footsteps echo down the hallway, their voices growing softer with each step. The silence that follows feels too loud, too heavy.

I take a few more slow breaths, trying to steady myself. The panic is ebbing, though the tightness in my chest lingers. You’re okay. It’s over. Just get out of here.

I wipe my clammy hands on the sides of my jeans and push open the stall door. My legs feel weak, unsteady, as I step out into the dim hallway, my heart still hammering in my chest.

Just get to the door.

I make my way toward the exit, trying to ignore the lingering heaviness in my chest. But as I round the corner, I’m blindsided by a sharp collision.

“Oof!” The impact knocks the breath from my lungs. I stumble back, my phone slipping from my hand and hitting the floor with a hard thud.

I immediately bend down, scrambling to pick it up. My face flushes with embarrassment, my hands shaking as I retrieve the phone, fingers fumbling for a moment as I focus too much on my own awkwardness.

“I’m so sorry,” I stammer, voice barely above a whisper as I stand up, still feeling the warmth of my cheeks. My eyes instinctively dart to the floor, avoiding any kind of eye contact. The last thing I need is for someone to see how flustered I am. Especially not after all those words in the bathroom, all those thoughts swimming in my mind.

Then I hear a low chuckle.

I freeze. My stomach lurches, the breath in my lungs catches.

No way.

I look up—and there he is.

Jungkook.

He’s standing in front of me, his presence almost overwhelming. He’s no longer in the fighting gear, but even in casual clothes, he still carries that intimidating aura. His shirt is loose, sleeves rolled up to show off his tattooed arms, and his black jeans sit low on his hips. His black mullet hangs a little messy, slightly wet from sweat or maybe water.

But what catches my attention first—what makes my stomach twist—is his face.

Bruises. Dark, angry purple bruises marking his cheekbone, a cut across his lip, and his nose—still swollen and bleeding slightly. The aftermath of the fight. But even with all that, there’s something so… captivating about him. Like a storm you can’t look away from.

I feel my heart pounding harder, my palms slick. Every insecurity I’ve ever had seems to slam into my chest all at once. Oh my God. I must look like a mess. No makeup, a baggy hoodie, messy hair. He’s so… perfectly put together—even with the bruises.

I open my mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes out. I stand there, completely frozen, completely aware of how ridiculous I must look. I hate how much I want to hide.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asks, his voice surprisingly soft considering the way he fights. His eyes—dark and unreadable—scan me for a second, waiting for a response. He tilts his head, an eyebrow quirking slightly as if waiting for me to speak.

For a moment, I can’t find my voice.

What the hell am I supposed to say to him?

“I—uh—yeah, I’m fine,” I stammer, cringing at how small my voice sounds. “Sorry about, um, bumping into you. I wasn’t looking where I was going…”

He chuckles again, this time a little quieter, almost like he’s amused by my awkwardness. “No problem.” His gaze shifts down to my phone in my hand, and there’s a flicker of something in his eyes, like a silent understanding. “You should probably hold onto that better. Might break it next time.”

I nod quickly, biting my lip. “Yeah. I’ll, uh, be more careful.”

The silence stretches between us, and I can’t stop myself from feeling completely out of place. His mere presence—his proximity—feels like a weight on my chest. I want to say something more, something that doesn’t make me sound like an idiot, but the words are stuck in my throat.

What is he even doing here? My brain races. Why is he talking to me?

The bruises on his face, the way he carries himself, the intensity he exudes—everything about him screams confidence, while I can barely keep myself together.

“Hey,” he says again, his voice quieter this time, almost like he’s trying to make sure I’m not completely shut down. “You’re alright. You don’t have to apologize.”

I look up, meeting his eyes for the first time since I bumped into him, and for a split second, I forget how to breathe. His gaze is steady, almost piercing, and there’s something strangely gentle in the way he looks at me—like he’s trying to figure me out.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur again, my voice soft, barely audible. “I… didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”

He shakes his head slightly, a small, amused smirk curling on his lips. “No trouble. But if you’re gonna keep bumping into me, I might start thinking you’re doing it on purpose.”

My face burns. I can’t believe this is happening. He’s standing right in front of me, and I’m acting like I’ve never spoken to a guy in my life. I’m sure I look like a mess.

I look down again, hoping he won’t notice how flustered I am. But when I glance back up, I catch a glimmer of something in his eyes—a mix of curiosity and something else I can’t place.

“Well, I’ll make sure to avoid you next time,” I mumble, trying to force a smile, but it feels so awkward.

Jungkook doesn’t say anything right away, but his gaze softens just a fraction. “Don’t worry about it,” he replies simply, his voice steady, like he’s seen this kind of thing a thousand times.

And then, with a slight nod, he turns and walks past me, heading back toward the crowd, leaving me standing there in the dim hallway, my heart racing, my breath still shaky.

Did that really just happen?

Monday

The morning light hits different when you’ve had a whole weekend to forget the world. I wake up to the sharp trill of my alarm and the sun creeping through the blinds like it’s personally offended I’m still in bed.

Vicky and Trevor left late last night, their hugs lingering longer than usual. We spent the rest of the weekend curled up on my couch, talking about everything—really talking. The kind of conversations that make you feel both lighter and heavier at the same time. The ones that peel you open in a way that’s terrifying but necessary.

Vicky told me she’s worried about how I retreat when I’m hurting. Trevor said he thinks I deserve to stop living like I’m waiting for something to break. I didn’t say much. Just nodded a lot. Smiled at the right parts. I don’t know how to explain that sometimes, talking about the darkness makes it feel more real.

But it felt good.

Safe.

And now Monday feels like a slap.

I throw on my usual work-from-home uniform—baggy hoodie, leggings, messy bun—and log in just before my boss can ping me. My headset’s tangled, my coffee’s lukewarm, and the emails are already giving me hives.

By 10 a.m., I’ve mentally clocked out.

I’m rereading the same sentence for the third time when Katherine messages me.

Katherine (10:03 AM):

Hey! Got a sec to hop on a quick call?

Katherine is the kind of person who always has her camera on during Zoom meetings. Perfect hair. Perfect lighting. She once told me she drinks celery juice every morning. I pretend to like her but mostly because I’m afraid she’ll sense my existential dread through the screen and report me to HR.

I reply with a thumbs-up emoji and brace myself.

She starts with small talk—weather, client updates, a weird squirrel that got into her balcony. And then she says it.

“So, this is random,” she begins, her tone suddenly shifting. “But... you were at The Pit this weekend, right?”

I blink. “How do you know about that?”

She smiles like she’s trying to be casual. “One of my best friends is in that crowd. I used to go with her sometimes. Total chaos. Honestly, I thought you were more... I don’t know, library-core?”

I laugh awkwardly. “It was a surprise outing.”

“Ah. That explains it.” She leans closer to the camera like she’s about to deliver state secrets. “So listen… I’m telling you this as a friend, okay? Don’t get too caught up in Jungkook.”

My stomach flips.

I try to keep my expression neutral. “I’m not… I don’t even know him.”

“Yeah, well,” she says, “just in case. I’ve known him for a while. He runs with a rough crowd. Really rough. He’s not some tortured artist or romantic bad boy. He’s a fighter. Like, literally and metaphorically. The guy doesn’t let people close. And if he does? It never ends well.”

I swallow. “Okay…”

She shrugs, taking a sip from her green smoothie. “He’s rich, by the way. Like, crazy rich. Family money. Old money. The kind that hides skeletons behind designer walls. He’s rebelling against it, or whatever. But still—trust me, girls like us?” Her voice softens, almost sympathetically. “We don’t survive guys like him.”

I stare at the screen.

Katherine offers a smile like she’s just done me a favor. “Anyway. Just thought you should know. Back to work!”

The call ends.

And I sit there, headphones still on, heart pounding, trying to make sense of everything she just said.

Girls like us.

We don’t survive guys like him.

I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Because I already knew that.

But hearing it out loud?

It stings in a way I wasn’t ready for.

The call ends.

And it’s like the silence in my apartment changes shape—heavier, sharper, pressing in from all sides.

I stare at my screen, blinking at the spreadsheet I was supposed to be editing, but all I can see is his face again. Jungkook’s bruised jaw. His quiet stare. The way his voice was soft when he asked if I was okay.

I thought it meant something.

God, I’m so stupid.

Why did I even let myself feel anything at all? One second of attention from someone like him and I’m already spinning stories in my head. Already hoping. Already aching.

But he’s not a story.

He’s not the exception.

He’s a walking warning sign with pretty tattoos and a reputation I should’ve seen coming a mile away.

And me?

I’m the girl who doesn’t even look in mirrors.

The girl who flinches when someone raises their voice.

The girl who hides from kindness because it always turns into disappointment.

What the hell was I thinking?

I push my laptop away and curl in on myself, wrapping my hoodie tighter around my body like it might hold all the unraveling parts together.

It’s pathetic, how easily I fall back into this. This sadness. This hole. Like I never even tried to climb out.

My chest feels tight again. Like there’s not enough air in the room, not enough silence in the world to quiet the noise in my head. Katherine’s voice keeps looping:

“Girls like us… we don’t survive guys like him.”

She’s right.

Not just because he’s dangerous—but because I’m already drowning.

I don’t need someone like him lighting a fire next to the flood.

I’m barely surviving myself.

I can’t afford to let someone else in. Especially someone who could burn me just by standing too close. I’ve done that before—opened the door a crack and let someone walk in like they had a right to rearrange the furniture in my soul.

And when they left, they took everything I had with them.

I won’t survive that again.

I don’t care how soft his voice was. I don’t care how different he seemed. I don’t care about the way his eyes looked like they could hold secrets.

I’m not his mystery to solve.

I’m not some redemption arc.

I’m tired.

I just want to be left alone.

So I grab my phone, fingers trembling, and type out a message to Vicky.

me (11:21 AM):

hey. Can we talk later?

She replies almost instantly.

Vicky (11:22 AM):

of course. you okay?

me:

not really.

Vicky:

I’m here. whatever you need.

I drop the phone onto the bed and let myself cry.

Not the quiet, hidden kind this time—but the ugly sobs. The ones that shake my whole body. The ones that feel like mourning.

Because that’s what this is.

I’m mourning the version of me who thought, even for a second, that maybe someone like Jungkook could want someone like me.

But that girl doesn’t get to stay.

She was too hopeful.

Too naive.

And hope? It’s just another way to hurt yourself when you know better.

-

The apartment walls feel like they’re closing in again.

My chest is still heavy from crying, my eyes swollen and tired, but I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday. My stomach growls like it’s mocking me, like even it is tired of my emotions.

I don’t want to go outside. I really, really don’t.

But I don’t have the energy to argue with myself anymore.

So I throw on the armor—the same oversized black hoodie I’ve worn three days in a row, the one that swallows me whole. Baggy sweatpants that drag at the hem, sleeves covering my hands. Greasy hair scraped into a low, half-hearted bun. No makeup. Glasses on. Invisible mode activated.

If anyone looks at me, they’ll see nothing worth seeing.

Which is exactly the point.

The convenience store is just down the block. Two turns and I’m there. I don’t make eye contact with anyone. I keep my head low, shoulders hunched, heart pounding in my ears for no reason at all.

I grab a pre-made sandwich, a pack of chips, something sweet. Something to feel something. The cashier doesn’t say much. I pay and leave, crinkling plastic bag in one hand, the weight of my exhaustion in the other.

And then—

I hear it.

A low, throaty vrrrrmmmm.

A motorcycle.

It pulls up to the curb just as I step outside. Black. Shiny. Sleek. Yamaha. The kind of bike that looks fast even when it’s parked.

The rider is dressed in all black—black jeans, black hoodie, black gloves, black helmet. The mirrored visor reflects the late afternoon haze, faceless and quiet.

But somehow—somehow—he looks straight at me.

Not at the store. Not at the sidewalk.

At me.

I freeze.

My breath catches in my throat. My pulse spikes. No one sees me—no one is supposed to see me. Especially not like this. Especially not him.

Because I know.

I know it’s him.

Even before he moves, before he speaks—my bones recognize the tension, the quiet storm under the surface. My body flinches like it’s muscle memory.

I take a shaky step back. Then another. My fingers curl tighter around the plastic bag like it’ll protect me. I turn, heart in my throat, ready to bolt in the opposite direction.

But then—

“Hey!”

Just one word.

But it’s enough.

The voice is familiar—low, rough around the edges, quiet in that way that still demands attention. Not yelling. Not sharp. Just… deliberate.

And it comes from behind me.

I freeze mid-step.

My grip tightens on the bag, but I don’t turn around. My whole body tenses like I’m waiting for the ground to open and swallow me whole.

Please no. Please let me be wrong.

But then—

“You dropped this.”

I glance down. My receipt flutters on the pavement behind me.

I should keep walking. I want to keep walking.

But something in that voice… that calm, steady voice—it wraps around my ribs like wire and holds me still.

I turn, just a little.

And there he is.

Helmet off now. Tousled black hair clinging to his forehead, damp with sweat or wind. Dark eyes, unreadable. That same bruised jaw from the fight. That same calm chaos in the way he stands, like he’s always ready to run or punch something—but right now, he’s doing neither.

He holds out the receipt between two fingers, casual like he’s done nothing unusual.

I don’t take it.

I can’t move.

I just stare at him, half-hidden behind the oversized hoodie and fogged-up glasses, knowing full well there’s nothing about me worth noticing—but he still is.

His eyes linger for a second.

Not in a gross way.

Just… curious.

Like he’s trying to place me.

“You are familiar, didn’t we spoke this weekend after my fight?” he says, voice soft but certain.

I don’t answer.

I can’t.

He waits a second longer, like he’s giving me a chance to say something—to confirm or deny or at least react—but I just stand there, frozen in oversized fabric and fear.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says after a moment, voice even lower now. Almost gentle. “You okay?”

Something in me cracks.

I shake my head—not to answer the question, but to shake off the moment. The whole thing. Him. This.

I take a shaky step back, then another, until I turn away again. This time, I do walk.

Fast.

He doesn’t follow.

But I can still feel his eyes on me.

And it hurts in a way I wasn’t ready for.

By the time I get back to my apartment, I’m sweating under my hoodie even though it’s barely 65 degrees out. My legs feel like they’re made of wet sand. I shut the door behind me, double lock it, and lean against it like maybe it’ll hold me up better than my spine currently can.

What the actual fuck just happened?

I drop the plastic bag on the kitchen counter and stare at it like it might answer me.

How the hell did he end up here?

What are the odds? No—seriously. Statistically. What are the goddamn odds that Jungkook, bruised, violent, beautiful Jungkook, the guy from the underground fight club with a face like a problem I’d never solve—what are the odds that he parks his sleek-ass murder-cycle right in front of my stupid corner store?

Does he live around here?

Does he live on my street?

Fucking hell.

My head spins. I kick off my shoes and shuffle toward my room like a zombie with trust issues. I don’t even bother with lunch. I just face-plant onto my bed and let out a strangled scream into my pillow.

Muffled, of course. Don’t want the neighbors to call someone.

My brain is already galloping down all the wrong roads.

What if he does live nearby? What if I see him again? What if he recognizes me next time, not just as “the girl from the fight” or “the hoodie gremlin who nearly dropped her sandwich,” but me—the real, fragile, overthinking version who wears pain like perfume and flinches when people care?

God, what if he saw through me already?

I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling.

And just like that, it begins.

The daydream.

The soft edges blur and shift, my breathing slows, and the version of reality I can actually tolerate starts to take shape.

In this one, I’m still me—but I’m her, too.

The cooler version. The one who didn’t flinch. Who took the receipt with a small smirk, thanked him, maybe even made a joke that made his bruised mouth curve into a smile.

Maybe he would’ve asked my name.

Maybe I would’ve told him.

Maybe we would’ve sat on the curb, talking about the way silence sometimes feels safer than words. Maybe he would’ve looked at me like I wasn’t invisible. Like I wasn’t too much or not enough or anything in between.

In this version, I’m magnetic. Mysterious. Someone he wants to chase.

Not someone who runs.

Not someone who hides.

But the fantasy falters the second my phone buzzes.

A calendar notification.

Break over. Back to work.

I blink, and the ceiling collapses.

The daydream dissolves like mist under a spotlight.

And I’m back here again.

Greasy hair. Unanswered emails. Sandwich still untouched on the counter.

I sit up with a groan and reach for my laptop, the screen lighting up with the cruel reminder that no matter how hard I try to disappear, the world still expects me to perform.

Because I don’t get to be the girl in the fantasy.

I just get to pretend I'm okay for eight more hours.

-

It’s been three days.

Three long, weirdly quiet days since that day outside the convenience store.

He didn’t follow me.

He didn’t try to talk to me again.

But I haven’t stopped thinking about it.

Or him.

Or the way his voice sounded when he said “hey” like it wasn’t a loaded word, like it didn’t feel like it cracked something open in my chest.

But today, I need air.

I’ve answered all my emails. Sat through two Zoom meetings where I didn’t say a word. Ate half a protein bar and convinced myself that counted as lunch. The weather’s decent. Grey sky, soft breeze. Not hot, not cold. The kind of weather that makes you feel invisible in a good way.

So I shower. Real clothes aren’t an option—my body still feels like a burden—but I pull on my cleanest hoodie and loose cargo pants. I throw on some concealer, smudge some eyeliner. Just enough to look… functional. Human-adjacent. Lip balm, not lipstick.

My comfort zone.

I pop a Red Bull from the fridge, grab my lighter and smokes, and head out.

The walk to the park is quiet. Familiar. It’s only a few blocks away—lined with sad little trees, apartment windows with peeling paint, and the occasional dog-walker tugging along a leash like it’s a lifeline.

By the time I get there, I’m already feeling a little lighter.

I head straight to the bench.

My bench.

The one facing the outdoor fitness area. It’s a concrete platform with metal bars and makeshift equipment—mostly used by shirtless guys trying to impress no one in particular. Usually, I avoid the place when it’s busy. But I’ve learned the timing.

Late afternoons on weekdays? It’s usually empty.

Quiet enough to breathe.

I sit down, crack the can open with a hiss, and take a long sip. The carbonation burns down my throat, sharp and sweet. I pull a cigarette from my sleeve and light it, the flame catching with a soft flick. First drag, and the world slows down.

My mind goes quiet.

For once.

I exhale smoke into the open air, let it drift above me, unfurling like a sigh I didn’t know I was holding.

And then—I see him.

At first, I don’t realize it’s him.

I just register movement.

Someone using the pull-up bar.

Shirtless. Muscled. Moving with a kind of effortlessness that makes my stomach flip.

I glance up, casual.

And freeze.

It’s him.

Jungkook.

His back is to me, muscles flexing as he pulls himself up again and again, like he’s chasing something only he can see. The tattoos on his arms are vivid under the dull light, ink curling down to his wrist in sharp, beautiful lines.

He drops down from the bar, hands on his hips, chest heaving with each breath.

He’s glowing with sweat.

And for a second—I forget how to exist.

He doesn’t see me.

Not yet.

I duck my head fast, pulling my hoodie slightly forward like it’s a curtain I can hide behind. I take another drag of my cigarette, hoping the smoke masks the sudden panic rising in my throat.

Why is he here?

Again?

Does he live around here? Was Katherine right?

Or is this just some twisted coincidence?

He wipes his face with the edge of his tank top, and I catch a glimpse of more tattoos on his ribs—black ink over golden skin—and I have to look away. My heart’s beating like I’ve done a line of adrenaline instead of just caffeine and smoke.

I shouldn't be looking.

He’s not for me.

He’s a storm in a human body. A fighter. A blur of danger and sharp edges.

And I’m just… this.

This hoodie.

This body.

This invisible mess on a park bench, pretending the world isn’t too much.

But even as I look away—

I can feel it.

That shift.

That pull.

And when I glance back, just once, just quick—

His eyes are on me.

Right on me.

Unmistakable.

Direct.

Not in a flirty, playful, hey-girl way.

No.

It’s deeper than that.

Like he remembers me.

Like he sees something he doesn’t quite understand.

I look away so fast I almost drop my Red Bull.

My fingers are shaking again.

What the fuck is happening?

Why does it feel like he’s always three steps ahead of where I want him to be?

[anakinstwinklebunny]

PAIRING: sweetheart!anakin x f!reader

FLUFF ❦

The bedroom you were snugly in was dressed in quiet, its walls wrapped up in that heavy kind of silence that only came after a long, exhausting day of twins' parents. As to in their matter, they were finally asleep, snuggled in their sheets after ANAKIN SKYWALKER's bedtime story about a princess and a knight - you quickly had to come up with something else, knowing Leia’s full dislike for such stories. She was the epitome of the definition of not needing a knight to survive. She could have had it all done by herself, at least that's what she's saying.

You laid on the bed, tucked under the covers, chin propped on your hand, watching him move around the room.

Anakin was pulling an old, loose t-shirt over his head—the one that always smelled like him, the one that clung to his shoulders and chest before falling soft over his abs, the lines of his body still sharp and distractingly perfect even after a full day of wrangling toddlers and working.

You stared a little too long. Stared until your stomach knotted itself up in a sad, ugly kind of way.

Because there he was, looking like he could be carved out of stone —

and then there was you.

You tugged the blanket a little higher up your body without even thinking, voice barely a whisper when you finally spoke without much thought; it was already eating you alive.

"…Annie?"

He turned immediately, sensing the shift in your mood like he always did. "Yeah, sweetheart?"

You hesitated, biting your lip.

You hated how small you sounded.

How insecure. But with his eyes gazing straight at yours as he slipped into the black shirt he used to bed, you truly understood what you just caught yourself in. It wasn't like you wanted to weight him down with your problems, he already had a lot on his plate. Yet at the same time, if you'd just brush it off, he'd know something is off, and won't let go of the subject till you'd eventually tell him

You braced yourself at the possible worst thing that could ever leave your mouth; you took a deep breath in, let it sink for a moment

"Are you still… attracted to me?" The words left your mouth too fast, too rushed, as if saying them quicker would somehow make them hurt less than they already did.

Anakin froze, a soft, almost pained crease forming between his brows. "What?"

You dropped your gaze to the blanket, fidgeting with a loose thread.

"I just—" you sighed, voice starting to crack.."I know you love me. But I want you to, you know… want me too. Not just because I'm the mother of your kids or your wife or whatever. But because… because you actually want me." You trailed off, cheeks burning, shame curling in your chest. You didn't dare to look up at him; there was no courage for that anymore "I just feel so… gross lately. Tired. Soft. Fat. Not like the girls you work with or--or just see on TV..And sometimes I look at you—" You swallowed hard. "—and I wonder if maybe you're just staying nice things because you're a good man..and not..because..you mean them.."

The room was so still you could hear the distant hum of the air conditioning.

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest. You thought he might get mad at you; for doubting his love for you when he shows it everyday. He didn't say anything, and you really braced yourself to just brush off the subject but before you could even open your mouth to say anything, you saw him cross the room in three long strides—

and then his hands moved to you, pulling the blanket down, not to expose, but to pull you closer to himself. Anakin knelt at the side of the bed, face right there, one hand cupping your jaw so gently it made your throat tighten.

His thumb brushed across your cheek. Blue eyes burned into your watery ones, being so intense, so present; holding so much love.

"Sweetheart," he said, voice rough and low. "I’m gonna say this once. And you're gonna listen to me, alright?"

You nodded, tears already threatening to spill.

"I don’t just love you," Anakin murmured, his forehead dropping to yours. "I am in love with you. Every fucking day. Every hour."

You whimpered softly, squeezing your eyes shut.

"And your body—" his large hands slid down to your hips, squeezing firmly, grounding. "—your body is the most beautiful thing i could ever imagine looking at. It gave me our babies. It holds my heart. It’s the first thing I reach for in the morning and the last thing I hold at night. It’s perfect, you are perfect for me" with that he kissed the tip of your nose, then your cheeks, then your trembling mouth.

"I don't want anyone else," he whispered against your lips. "I only want you. Always have. Always will."

You broke then, a little sob escaping with hiccuped apologies, and Anakin shushed you gently, pulling you into his chest, tucking your head under his chin. With one hand holding your back, the other twisted to the side to turn the lights off, causing the darkness to touch the room. Then he cuddled closer to you, keeping a rhytmhmical tune slip from his mouth as he pulled a duvet over both of you, tucking you into the bed. "You don’t have to apologize," he said softly, rocking you slightly.

"You’re allowed to feel. You’re allowed to hurt. But don’t you dare talk about my girl like she’s anything less than a fucking masterpiece."

You clung to him, breathing in his scent, feeling the steady thump of his heart against your ear. And for the first time in days, the knot in your chest started to unravel. Anakin shifted slightly, hands stroking your back.

"You wanna know what I see when I look at you?" he murmured, voice thick with emotion.

You nodded wordlessly.

"I see my home," he whispered. "My safe place. The love of my life."

You sniffled, laughing a little wetly. "You’re sappy."

His lips curled in a little tired smile, a light sound of silent chuckle briefly following "I don't remember you complaining before, Rapunzel" he teased, kissing your hair once again "Thought you loved your Flynn Rider"

And god, you did.

You loved him.

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @babybell-cheese @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca @rubiesarepretty @luluartpop @cloverina @nikiloveshayden @cherriies-snake @skywalkerssgirl @fredswrite

[olderthannetfic]

I fucking hate Americans and their whiny "baaah! you didn't use the right word! why didn't you use the ideologically pure word?" shit whenever I use the word smut. I get it, you're all so fragile mentally that if I don't say porn, you'll slit your wrists, assuming you can get to it under all the layers of fat you people have. Because if anyone uses the wrong word to describe a thing, they're a loser and this is deeply upsetting to you people for some asinine reason.

I honestly wish the kind of piece of shit who flips out at the word 'smut' would actually, genuinely die. I'm tired of writing 7k of the sexiest work I can and then getting "uhhh why didn't you say porn like a grown up?" Because I was too busy fucking your mom to give her a child she can actually love. Die mad and fat and ugly and poor about it, you piece of shit.

Should I start putting trigger warnings up for this? "Warning: the author tagged this as Smut and Fluff, meaning he's one of those sickos who thinks smut is an okay word. Get your razorblades ready before reading the tags, everybody!"

You people would not survive on the old internet. Forget crying about using the word smut, I used to regularly encounter unmarked, unwarned for gore and murder and rape and torture. And yet I managed not to shit myself about it, let alone go, "Wow, you said gore? What an anti. The correct term is graphic violence lmao"

--

Much like using the very silly word 'smut', this ask makes you sound like a child.

[sunrisecaminus]

Heya! Anon here I just discovered you and you're really really good at writing, so hear me out on my request megatron please with human female reader who kidnapped her and became the assistant in the lab she's beautiful and has big brown eyes, black hair olive tanned skin and freckles and she thinks she's ugly or basic but she damn pretty and wears the hoodie to hide l( I'm writing these features BC they're mine,I was bullied since I was a kid and felt insecure about them ,I talked about it with my friends and family at the dinner table and they said it was a lie and I'm beautiful I ended up crying and got confidence for the first time, I know this is a big fat ass request but feel free) I would like it to be comfort and nsfw thank you and take your time:3

Message - I like the idea, but I usually don't like describing specific details/characteristic on the reader, because I want the fics to be for everyone to imagine themselves or whoever they want in the scenario. I still kept the jacket, but I didn't specify the colors. Hopefully it is still a good fic and enjoy :3

Megatron x Human Reader NSFW

Summary - Megatron treats his human pet to make them feel better about themselves even if they think their ugly.

Warnings - NSFW

Type of Fanfic - Hurt/Comfort/NSFW

Being an assistant for Shockwave was pretty weird. Everyday he would have you do something really important, but than next he would just have you clean the floors. You were really good at helping him grab things that is too small, while also finding details he missed (which is very rare he says XD). It was nice to be able to do things around the ship that was useful, but there was one thing keeping you from being the best. Your confidence was so low, it could be down in the earths crater. You always wore a j/c (jacket color) that covered your hair and a bit of your face. You didn't like how you look and your body wasn't any different. You had a few spots on your body that you thought was fine, but other than that, you hated how you looked from head to toe. These bots weren't emotionless creatures, so not only you have to deal with the beauty standards of Earth, but also you need to figure out if you were beautiful on, what the mechs would call, Cybertron. Should you ask? No! Do you know how embarrassing it would be to ask these people? Knockout might be a good person to talk to about it, but he seems like a mean girl and call you ugly, which you don't need to be reminded. Soundwave could be a nice person to talk to, but you always thought he talked shit about people with that quiet aura and mask that covered his face. You were also kind of jealous these mechs had a fashion choice to cover their entire faceplate, you freaking wish humans would do that.

Megatron has grown fond of you, it has been a few weeks when he told you that you were is personal pet. Now you are visited by him for reports which was odd because shockwave did most of the reports. Megs surprisingly was one of the only ones that asked for your opinion on things he doesn't know too much about, and it was nice to be able to listen to him about his past. Being a part of his life would never be boring, and you would honestly like to watch Cybertron be rebuilt and live there. Society has done you so wrong that you wish to start on a new planet and see what happens. You haven't told Megatron any of your thoughts on this, you honestly believe he would hate a human wanting to come and be on their planet. You don't know any of the language or culture, so it would be horrible for a human unless they studied at least one of their languages. It has been a while, but Megatron has taught you a bit of Kaonian which was nice. It sounded like a strong and proud language, which was the exact opposite of you. Everything you repeated in the Kaonian language was hard, because you had to be a bit loud with it and sound more confident then your shy, soft tone of voice. You mess everything up in your mind, Megatron has been a bit disappointed lately and you knew it was because you couldn't say things right and never was able to get the accent down.

Today you had been cleaning Shockwave's tools when you see the clock, showing it was time to head to your bedro-shit they call it birth room. You had to write the terms down a few days ago and it was easy to study on most of them. Grabbing your bag, you head over to Shockwave and told him you were going back to your quarters for the night. He agreed and lets you leave. Today has not been too busy, so it gave you time to think about stuff. It was so hard to get the tiny thoughts out of your head, repeating to you all the negative things you tell yourself. Everyday goes by, increasing your regret on not going to the doctors and getting medication to shut your brain up. Opening the door, you find yourself with the massive room they have for you. You had a ramp that when up to the birth, so you walk up it and set your bag down. It has been so long since you have touched the dirt of your planet, but honestly would you even want to? The horrible things that go on can't be helped by someone like you. No one would care if you just left this planet for good…ok maybe your parents. They are probably worried sick about you, trying to look all over Jasper. You have been trusted by Megatron for you to sneak in the house when they were at work to write them a letter about your ware abouts.

Speaking of Megatron, you hear familiar footsteps walking over to your door as some knocking is heard. "Are you awake, pet?" Megatron was waiting for an answer, which you give by telling him to come in. He opens the door and steps in, closing it behind him. He stands above the birth and watches you put stuff away from your bag. "I was informed by Starscream you have been delaying plans for our next experiment, would you explain yourself?" You stopped what you were doing and thinks about it. The last experiment you heard Shockwave plan was to finally do a health exam on you to see if you can handle G-force without any risks. They have been planning on taking you to places when they finally fix their light speed travel, but it was necessary for you to not be harmed during it because of your usefulness to the faction. The reason you have been delaying Shockwave was because they want you to strip in front of him. Now it wasn't him that made you feel like you couldn't do it…ok it might be a little. You have never done something so inappropriate before and never wanted to show Shockwave or Megatron your figure underneath the baggy clothing. If they realized how gross you were, even more than Megatron thinks humans are, than you would be killed from Megatron not being interested in you anymore. You don't want anyone else to judge you as much as your own brain does, so delaying that check up is the best thing you can do for you and everyone else. You have been thinking for too long and Megatron was getting a bit impatient. "Well? Answer me, human! Or is the silent treatment a way of you telling me you are a traitor?" He sees you react in a scared and frantic way. You cover your face more with your jacket and mumble. "Sorry, I just…don't want-" Your voice was so quiet he asks for you to speak up which made you a little more shaken up about it. "Sorry! I don't want you to look at me!" You put your hands over your face and was ready for him to yell again, but all you got was confusion. "What? That is the whole experiment, you can't stop this from happening." The sigh of stress comes out of your mouth. This big mech doesn't know anything, you can't believe you are going to have to tell him.

"You said it yourself, humans are a very gross species. I am not even good looking in the eyes of my own people. They call me ugly all the time, so I know you would think worse of me once you see my whole body." Megatron loads in his processor what he was hearing. Since he was so big, Megs never really got to take a real good look at your face before. Now he may think Organics are gross, but that's because of their insides. They can pop if he stepped on them and he never wanted to even think about cleaning his pedes of sticky gross organs. He is honestly a bit offended you thought his judgement was going to be the same of tiny little humans. "How dare you compare my processor to a humans brain! I will never know if you are lying about being so hideous unless you show me." You feel his claws start to touch your jacket, which made you tense up a bit before you felt the whole coat being taken away from your body. You are now just wearing a tank top with pants, showing your arms and a bit of your chest. You make a "eep!" noise and tried to grab your jacket again, covering yourself the best you could. Megatron ignores your pleading and observed how you looked. When you tried to cover your face again, his servo grabs you and tightens around your arms so you couldn't move. He stares at your face and presses his thumb against your cheek. This was making you panic, his purple eyes were staring into you like a predator, a hawk ready to just gut you at any movement. He didn't show any disgust, but also wasn't showing he liked what he was looking at. Megatron's emotions were unclear, and you just wanted to run away without wanting to see this ship again. Your plan to go to Cybertron with these mechs were off the table now, you probably won't even make it stepping off the ship's cargo ramp to leave.

Megatron was taking every inch of you in account. What you didn't know was he was loving what he was seeing. The skin, how soft you were, the innocent face. Your body looked cute in his eyes; Your body shape he wished to hold on forever. He mass displaces, having his servo still hold onto your chest. "Don't ever lie to your leader ever again. I don't see anything ugly in this birth right now." You feel one of his digits rub against your chest, making you squeak and moan a little from the nice feeling. He hears your tiny noises, and does it again. His optics dilate a bit, peaking interest by your reaction. He keeps rubbing one of your boobs while slowly taking off your pants and underwear with his free claws. You don't understand why he is giving you such pleasure, and the way he complimented you? You felt a fuzzy feeling in your stomach and lay your head back from the friction he is giving to your chest. Megatron looks at your legs and switches up your position, having his servos grab you by the legs and his digits rubbing against your crotch. You tried your best not to moan, and sees him trying to take off your shirt. Now since your arms are free, your hands stop him and try to cover yourself again. "You try to disobey me?" The second he said that, his digit presses against your crotch a bit more, making you gasp and let go of your shirt. He feels your flower leaking onto his servo and tears off your shirt. Megs leans closure to you and licks down from your lower stomach, all the way up to your neck, sliding in between your boobs. Your hand presses against his face plate as you shakily moan again from the touching, not feeling this before in your life. The love and desire Megatron was feeling right now, he was never going to tell anybody and you better not either or he was going to do worse to you. It lasts for a little while until you cum on his servo, it now dripping all over down on the bed. Your vision was blurry and you felt dazed from the quick interface you just had. Megatron sets you down on the covers and gruff. "You're beautiful, tell me who ever calls you something other than that." Your eyes start to water and smile from such a kind thing he said. Megs will never forget that smile for the rest of his living life.

[jensettermandu]

oxytocin - jennie kim

genre; smut with some plot, fluff by the end

pairing; jennie x g!p reader (enemies to lovers)

content; oral (reader receiving), fingering (jennie receiving), degrading/name-calling, p in v :D

description; Something you and Jennie always did was hate each other, bickering every chance you two got, not caring about how others' ears fell off from it. Although, you two get put in a situation where you both need to try not to kill each other.

words; 13k+

masterlist

You shoved Eunwoo into the lockers with force, the guy hitting them and actually creating a dent, making you both stop and look behind him. "It's either that I am hella strong or you are just getting fat, buddy." You commented, your best friend turning back to look at you seeing the shit-eating grin on your face he decides to shove you back into the busy hallway. It was one thing when you pushed him since you pushed him into the lockers while he pushed you into a crowd of people. "Watch the fuck out, Y/n." Taehyung grumbled out as you got pushed into him, you looked at the guy. "Shut the fuck up Taehyung, no cares about you anyway." You said and the guy huffed as he continued to walk with his friend, he was one of your friends so it was ok to be mean.

"You have no chill Eunwoo just pushing me into a crowd of people." You huffed out and he gave you a smile. "Who told you to call me fat?" He asked and you pinched his side, making him squirm away. "Was that a little fat roll? Getting big are we?" You asked, knowing that he had nothing against it since you two were super close and always joked like that, he would call you fat and you would do the same, he would call you ugly and you would do the same and so on. There were no feelings getting hurt since if that would be the case one of you would say something. "The only thing big here is that attitude of yours." He bit back and you were just about to shove him back into that locker only for him to push your hands away and land his hands on your shoulders giving you a harsh shove instead of you shoving him.

This time you weren't lucky enough to get pushed into one of your friends or some random, but the biggest bitch you could possibly stumble upon in this entire universe. Her feelings of hate were mutual. The second your back collided with her side she pushed you right back the way you came from with much annoyance. "Get your herpes-infested body away from me!" Jennie yelled after shoving you away from her and you turned to look at her, the girl standing with a pissed expression, a scowl on her face as she fixed the purse hanging on her shoulder with the cross C's on it. "The only infested thing around here is that big mouth of yours with the yapping virus." You bit back and her eyes went up to you, looking away from her baby pink purse, her eyes sharp as she locked gazes with you although you weren't one to falter.

Jennie clenched her jaw in irritation as she couldn't even stand the thought of you.

"At least I'm not fucking braindead." She huffed out.

"Well...That's debatable." You commented and heard Eunwoo stifle a laugh behind you and you nudged the guy so he wouldn't laugh.

"What's debatable is you still not being in special ED class." Jennie said and her close friend Nayeon stood behind her just like Eunwoo stood behind you.

The two are used to the everyday bickering between you two that always happened. Everyone at school was used to it. No one knew why you two hated each other so much, you two just simply did even if there was no actual bad history between you two. You were the school's popular delinquent, known for that while Jennie was a popular kid, you assume mostly because of her family status because there was no way that it was because of her personality as it seemed quite rotten from your point of view. It's not like she was mean to everyone or a bully, the only person who she was a bitch to in their face was you and it was kind of the same with you.

Before you could say much more the bell rang and pissed about not getting to say the last word as Jennie started to walk, you tripped the girl for your own satisfaction. Jennie stumbled forward but quickly regained her balance as you had a big grin on your face until she without any hesitation turned around with her baby pink Chanel bag swinging towards you, covering and it hit the back of your head instead of your face. Groaning as the metal cross C's collide right with the back of your head. "You fucking bitch." You grumble out as she flips you off and walks away with Nayeon as if she didn't almost fall face first and then didn't assault you with her purse after.

That was just your first encounter with Jennie today.

-

The only reason why you were in this art class was that your friend Chaeyoung forced you to join it. It wasn't that you were bad at art, you would just prefer to do something else than sit with a canvas in front of you and paint whatever you were told to paint. Looking past the canvas that was in front of you. There sat Jennie very invested not in her half-finished painting but in her phone, you took the paintbrush and glanced at Chaeyoung beside you.

"Can I borrow that pink paint?" You asked her and she shrugged, taking the paint palette and holding it out for you to take the pink paint, watching you scoop up as much as possible onto your brush. Thanking her she went back and you moved your stool to get a better view of Jennie who was in front of you.

Taking aim, you whistled to catch her attention which seemed to work, Jennie flinched in her seat the second a big splat of paint flew right at her face. She stood up so abruptly that her stool flew back, grabbing everyone's attention. Her phone was discarded to the side as you watched her face turn red from anger, her jaw clenched as she with closed eyes wiped away the paint, only smearing it on her face and you finally started to laugh. "Jennie and Y/n-." The teacher got cut off as Jennie had finally charged up and her outburst came.

"You fucking idiot! I will fucking kill you!" Jennie yelled at you and you widened your eyes as she grabbed onto the pair of scissors that were laying beside Lisa. Jennie charged towards you and you grabbed onto your canvas, quickly holding it out when she swung the scissors your way and you realised that this girl was serious about killing you. The pair of scissors went right through the canvas.

"You ruined my makeup, you dickhead!" Jennie continued as the scissors fell to the floor with the canvas.

"If anything I only fixed it...You look more like your true self now, you know a clown." You said, adding fuel to the fire.

"Hey, that's mine." Minho beside you complained when Jennie took his colour palette and yanked it at you when you said that, the paint splattering everywhere and Chaeyoung beside you becoming a victim of Jennie too as some got on her shirt, the colour palette landing on your pants.

"Y/n and Jennie!" The teacher finally raised his voice at the childish behaviour coming from the two high-school seniors.

You stop as you with a clenched jaw remove the colour palette from your crotch to see a big colourful stain on your black pants, a mix of red, white and blue.

"Great, now I look like I have the American flag on my crotch." You complained, letting the palette fall to the floor, the mess getting bigger and the teacher angrier.

"Shut the fuck up." Jennie snapped and the teacher slammed his hands on his table.

"That's detention to the both of you after school, you two will stay and clean this entire classroom!" He angrily let out.

-

Soon P.E came and Jennie was one of those girls that always had an excuse for not being able to participate and would sit on the bench the whole school year and somehow still get a P.E grade by the end of the semester by picking up a ball and then throwing it a foot in front of her, her friends praising her together with the teacher. You would like to assume that she sucked off the P.E teacher for that grade, but the man was gay and married so you assumed that she paid him as she could swim in her family's money as Scrooge McDuck did. She was that rich.

After that art class, you had to change into the pair of sweats you had packed for P.E and luckily for you, this was your last class for today so you wouldn't have to walk around in them for the rest of the day as that wouldn't feel too fresh. Sitting on the wooden floor of the court as you stretched with Eunwoo on your left and Wonho on your right, sitting in the middle of those two big guys as you were a lanky fucker, tall (5'9) and skinny.

"Did you really get detention?" Eunwoo asked in a hushed tone and you sighed.

"Yeah."

"Awh come on, we were supposed to hang out after school." Wonho complained and you shrugged.

"Well, I will be spending it with Jennie, the girl who tried to stab me with scissors in art class." You said, not actually feeling safe doing this as you looked up in front of you to see Jennie sitting in all her glory on the bench.

The girl was for sure beautiful and you were aware of that, her personality sucked but that was probably because she was a privileged kid that had gotten everything she wanted her whole life. Always quick to judge people simply because of what they wore for example, although she never went up to someone and straight up bullied them. She did that from a distance, talking about whatever person would pass her and her friends, quickly exchanging looks with her group of friends before getting to judging.

You mostly liked to mind your own space that you were in with your friends and if someone got into that space you would quickly give them a look or say something so they would scurry away. You were the school delinquent and people were usually quick to judge you for that so you just lived up to their judgement instead.

"You had it coming for flicking that paint in her face...Poor Chaeyoung became a victim of Jennie's wrath caused by you." Eunwoo said and you looked away from Jennie and at the guy before letting your gaze fall on Chaeyoung who now had her gym shirt on, sitting with Jisoo and stretching.

"I apologised to her and to be fair Jennie was the one who had it coming for hitting me with her purse, I think I lost brain cells when that metal logo hit me." You grumbled out and winced internally since whenever you would touch that spot it still hurt. Wonho and Eunwoo both snickered and you sent both of them a look.

"I doubt that it's possible to lose more brain cells if you have none left." Wonho laughed out and you kicked the guy's shin, making him wince in pain.

Ignoring what the P.E teacher was talking about as you turned to Eunwoo and punched him too as he was about to comment too.

"Y/n, you don't seem to be paying too much attention to class either way so how about you go and help Jennie with getting the volleyball balls from the storage for tomorrow morning as the team has early practice." The teacher said and you stopped at that, he couldn't be serious.

You could see in the corner of your eye Jennie already rolling her eyes in annoyance as you got up without protest not needing much more detention after school than what you already had. Looking at Eunwoo and Wonho with a scowl before walking away as the teacher handed you the keys to the storage room.

You walked ahead, Jennie following right behind you as you pushed the big door open and walked out of the court.

"You ruined my favourite pair of pants, you know." You grumbled out still pissed about your favourite pair of black pants being ruined by paint.

Jennie scoffed and you glanced beside you where she was walking by your side with the distance between you two.

"You can buy a new pair, you ruined my makeup and I had to redo it." Jennie replied.

"Or you could buy me a new pair for ruining them, you have the money...plus ruining someone's makeup and pants are two different things- like you said you fixed your makeup." You explained with your hands in your pocket, looking in front of you as you walked through the empty school hallways.

"I don't do charity cases and plus you would never catch me in one of those cheap stores." You gave her a distasteful look at that, you weren't serious about her buying you a new pair but she didn't have to go as far as call you a charity case before judging the places you could afford to buy clothes at.

You took out the keys from your pocket as they jingled, approaching the door leading to the storage that should have the volleyball balls stored.

"Thank you for rubbing your wealth into my face and I wasn't serious about it either." You spoke as you unlocked the door before pushing it open and going inside after finding the light, walking into the small storage.

"You're welcome and I know how to read sarcasm but I still like to put it out there." Jennie let out with sass and you scoffed before looking back at her as she stepped inside just looking around the small space.

"Whatever, brat." You said and pushed her aside to push the door closed as the balls seemed to be behind the door.

"Who are you calling a brat?" Jennie angrily asked as she never liked being called a brat, she despised being called one because she wasn't one, not in her opinion at least.

"Definitely not you." You said and spotted the net with balls.

"I thought so." Jennie firmly stated and you chuckled at that.

"I thought you knew how to read sarcasm, brat." You said and turned to her.

Jennie looked confused for a second before a scowl appeared on her face and you knew that she caught on. Your eyes widened as she gave you a harsh shove, making you stumble back and trip over the net with balls. Reaching for the first thing to not fall you grabbed onto Jennie's wrists. A squeak left Jennie who definitely wasn't the best choice to grab onto as the girl seemed to lack strength and only fell with you as you closed your eyes embracing yourself for the impact.

You groaned as you landed on the bunch of soccer balls that were there too, Jennie falling right on top of you. Opening your eyes you were met by soft darkness.

"Am I in heaven or hell?" You mumbled out confused.

Jennie quickly with wide eyes pushed herself up to sit when she felt your hot breath hit her cleavage as her chest landed right on your face.

You bit back a smile seeing that the soft darkness was her boobs in your face as the girl was straddling your waist.

"I guess it was heaven after all." You mumbled to yourself with a smug look on your face, Jennie's cheeks getting coloured together with her ears at what you said as she managed to hear it.

"You fucking perv!" Jennie exclaimed and slapped you quickly.

"The fuck! You were the one who pushed me." You complained and cupped your cheek, bucking your hips and pushing the girl off of you as she wasn't moving fast enough.

You sat up on the floor and caressed your cheek as the girl stood up, still angry as she fixed her clothes furiously.

"You fucking molested me! You fucking freak." You frowned at that and looked at Jennie.

Jennie stopped for a second at the flash of hurt in your eyes, knowing that she didn't watch her tongue.

"That's low of you, Jennie-" You mumbled, looking down as being called a freak wasn't something pleasant as you had been called one ever since you were a kid until your 16th birthday when you changed schools at last which is this school. Growing up and getting hormonal your classmates didn't find you a freak anymore but found it attractive instead and cool, girl's instead of avoiding you would throw themselves at you. Although that didn't mean that it still didn't hurt you when you were called one. It wasn't your choice to be born with a dick.

"And I didn't molest you! It was an accident that was your fault, to begin with!" You exclaimed and Jennie let out a huff at that, with a roll of her eyes and a judging look she turned around and yanked at the door handle to leave.

It got quiet...

She yanked at it again.

Nothing.

With that she started yanking and pulling on the door handle, trying to open the door that did not want to open at all. You frowned and looked at the girl who was struggling to open a door, wondering if she was incompetent and did not know how to open doors since she probably had people do it for her ever since she was born.

"Are you that fucking stupid that you don't even know how to open a door?" You commented and she stopped pulling on it with a frustrated sigh, turning to you with her usual scowl that only you seemed to fall victim to. "I am not you moron, it's not opening...try for yourself." Jennie let out and you got up from the floor, wiping your hands on your sweats as Jennie stepped aside to give you space in the already small room.

"You just pull-." You cut yourself off as you pulled but nothing happened, frowning you tried to push instead, but still nothing. Bumping your shoulder into the door as you tried to force it open. "Now who's stupid?" Jennie asked, seeing that you couldn't open the door either. You let go of the handle and took in a deep breath because there was no way that you were stuck together in this cramped room with someone like Jennie. Your ears were bound to fall off if no one would come and open the door for you two before gym class would end.

You inspected the door and saw that you needed the keys to open it from the inside. "Oh, we just need the keys." You quickly stuck your hands into your pockets, but the only thing you felt was your cardholder. You looked up at Jennie who was leaning against the wall and waiting for you to open the door, her fingers fiddling with the strap of her purse.

Clearing your throat nervously as you did not have the keys. "Did you perhaps remove the key from the door before entering after me?" You questioned and looked as her face fell and anger was boiling inside her eyes.

"Are you fucking kidding me! You didn't remove the key!?" Jennie angrily let out and you watched as her hands clenched onto the strap of her purse.

"I thought you would do it, you bimbo!" You defended although you knew that you should have removed them since you were the one who inserted them.

The word bimbo must have ticked Jennie off a lot because the purse swung right your way again.

"Don't. Call. Me. A. Fucking. Bimbo." She stated with each hit as you covered your head, trying to move away as she landed hits on your body with her baby pink Chanel purse.

"Goddamnit!" You complained and managed to push the purse away at last making her stop. You grumbled to yourself and fixed your hoodie that she messed up, taking a safety step away from her before leaning against the wall and sliding down to sit on the floor.

"What are you doing?" Jennie asked and you shrugged. "I am not going to stand and wait-" You glanced at your wristwatch before continuing to explain. "P.E ends in 40 minutes and that's when they will come here." You stated and tried to busy yourself with something to make the time pass faster, grabbing onto the small baseball ball that layed on the floor not too far from you as it had rolled from its place after your and Jennie's fall.

Jennie sighed and looked around the small and cramped room before moving over to the corner and sitting on top of the storage drawer that contained new volleyball jerseys.

It got quiet as you rolled the ball around on the floor.

Glancing up at Jennie who opened her purse and took out her phone, shaking your head slightly as she tried to call whoever it was she was trying to call...there was obviously no signal here as the room was very isolated and in the furthest corner of the whole school.

The girl gave up on trying to call one of her friends for help and with a grumble opted on playing games on it while the two of you were waiting.

-

You glanced at your clock to see that it had been 45 minutes already, P.E ended five minutes ago and you knew that no one walked in this hallway, but the P.E teacher would definitely come here to get his keys back.

Jennie was still seated on top of the storage drawer with her phone and you were still playing with the baseball although it was starting to get boring.

"What are you playing?" You questioned and looked at Jennie who glanced up from her phone at you, sending you a look, obviously not up for having any conversation with you. "Mind your business." She only replied and you heaved a sigh, picking up the baseball in your hand and thinking about throwing it in her face, but you wouldn't do that since that would hurt her...and hurt you even more since she surely would start beating you with that purse again.

You opted on just looking over Jennie who was wearing a black skirt with black pantyhose, a baby pink v-neck shirt with the small Chanel logo on her cleavage that was barely visible since it was the same colour as the shirt, black low doc martens and the damned purse to match her outfit and a hairband holding back her perfect brown hair.

You already knew that you found her extremely hot, but that was it- her personality was rotten and very unattractive which prevented you from ever actually hitting on her. Rolling your eyes at your own thoughts and averting your gaze at the door that hadn't been touched by anyone from outside yet.

"What if no one comes?" You stated, putting the possibility out there and that seemed to get Jennie out of her focused bubble. She looked at the time on her phone to see that it had been 15 minutes since all classes had ended and you two hadn't heard a single person even pass by the door.

"Then you are fucking dead because it's all your fault since you are a dimwitted fucker." Jennie snapped, not liking the idea of being stuck in this room much longer. "Same with detention, you always ruing everything for me." Jennie said angry with the fact that she also was supposed to have detention right now although that wouldn't happen now that she was stuck here instead.

"Hey, hey, hey...how is detention my fault?" You asked since in your opinion it was her fault.

"Because you flicked fucking paint in my face!"

"That's cause you hit me with that pitiful purse of yours."

"Watch it! It's Chanel."

"Should have gotten a bigger one 'cause that one isn't nearly big enough to fit all of that attitude in it."

"You surely have an ego way too big for the prick that you have in your pants."

"Your mother should have swallowed to spare everyone your aura of idiocy." At that Jennie gasped and reached for the first thing in sight, throwing the dodgeball at you as you shield yourself, the ball bouncing off you and you grabbed it throwing it right back at her. The girl slapped it away from her before it could hit her and reached another throwing it at you, hitting the top of your head.

"Yours regrets that she didn't." Jennie fired back and huffed, getting off the drawer and walking up the door, banging on it, as she couldn't stay in there for another second or she would totally flip.

"Someone open this fucking door!" She screamed and banged on the door, getting to yanking on the handle as you rolled your eyes at what she was doing. No one would open that door for you two, not until someone would need to get something from this room and that would be tomorrow morning when the volleyball team has practice.

Instead of wasting your energy on what Jennie was doing, you got up, ignoring her banging on the door and trying of yelling for help. You sighed and walked over to the three shelving racks that stood beside each other that were filled with stuff. Kicking the few balls to the side that were in the way and rummaging through them to maybe find something interesting, not minding the few things that you knocked over and fell to the floor. This caught Jennie's attention, who gave up on trying to get someone to hear her as most people had already left the school property and she looked at what you were doing.

She leaned against the door with a small pout from the anger and frustration this and you were causing her as there was only this much she could handle of you every day and today the limit had been crossed. Jennie never knew why the two started to bicker in the first place, but you two just did and it had been going on since you moved to this school- two years now. Well, she knew that she liked having your attention on her and what better way to get it if not from being a bitch...Seeing you all frustrated and angry because of her sent dopamine to her brain...oxytocin too...but that was something only she would know and no one else.

Your fingers stumbled upon a permanent marker and you knew that it would be enough to occupy you for a few hours since you were the type of person that could get entertained by an empty paper roll. Jennie watched as you turned and removed the cap from the marker with your teeth and walked over to the wall where you sat earlier before sitting down and busying yourself with doodling on the wall.

-

"Nooo." Jennie whined when her phone battery died only managing to catch a glimpse of the time before it died. School ended three hours ago- it was 7 pm now- and you two were still sitting in the cramped room, Jennie had managed to make herself comfortable on top of that drawer and you were still on the floor. None of you uttered a single word to each other for three hours as it seemed like you two only knew how to bicker.

She discarded her phone beside her and sighed in boredom, her eyes falling on you to see you still doodling on that wall- you had taken occasional breaks between. At this point, you had drawn everything you know how to draw. She looked at the things you had done on the wall and tried to come up with something to say as she would die out of boredom if none of you would say a word.

You got snapped out of it and looked beside you to see Jennie crouching down next to you, double-checking to see if you were tripping or not. There was no way that Jennie was right beside you without having any malicious intentions. Her expensive perfume invaded your space as she always smelled so feminine that her smell and looks slightly made up for that rotten attitude.

"How do you draw this?" Jennie asked and pointed at the 'Cool S' graffiti sign that everyone always did on every surface possible although Jennie had no clue how to do it. She had wanted to learn ever since she first saw it which was when she was still a kid. You looked at her slightly baffled, wondering why she wasn't throwing insults your way or hitting you with her purse.

"What?" You questioned to make sure you heard her right, Jennie rolled her eyes and pointed at it again, your eyes following her finger. "Teach me how to draw this." Jennie demanded, of course without a, please.

"It's really easy." You said as you shifted as you were sat cross-legged. "You just- draw six lines...connect this with this...then these too and lastly these and...done." You showed her step by step and finished it, looking at Jennie who was still crouched beside you, a small frown on her face. Sitting this close to her and with peace was different and it let you look closer at her features and she didn't look as dangerous as when she was angry.

"Here, try." You said and carefully held the marker out for her, Jennie looked away from the wall and at the marker, taking it from you. You leaned a bit closer to her to look at her doing it. Watching her do the first step and then moving to the second one. "No- this one goes to this." You corrected and pursed your lips when she scowled. "That's what I am doing." She huffed out, mad at you for correcting her. "I know what I am doing, Y/n." She continued and went back to the S that she was doing wrong. "If you knew then you wouldn't ask me how to draw it, Jennie." You commented and tilted your head at her attempt as it didn't look right at all.

"It's stupid." Jennie concluded and dropped the marker after failing, she was about to stand back up but you grabbed her forearm gently and pulled her back down. "It's not...come on, it was your first try and you're already giving up." You said and tried to hand her back the marker, now wanting to teach her how to do it. Jennie looked at the marker with raised eyebrows and then at you. "It is stupid...it's just an S." Jennie said in distaste as she never did anything twice if she failed on the first try.

"I know, but it's a stupid S that you wanted to learn...Why give up after just trying once?" You questioned and used your free hand to open her hand, placing the marker in her dainty hand before making her hold it. Jennie was wondering why you were this patient with her if she herself wasn't, she always gave up after her first try if it failed. "Fine." She gave in and you smiled.

She did the first lines and then looked at you for you to explain what to do further. "Connect this one to this..." You pointed and she followed your instructions.

"See, it wasn't that difficult." You said as she managed to do it on her second try. Jennie tilted her head at the S she did and then looked at the ones you did. "Yours look better than mine...Why?" You stifled your laugh when Jennie's head snapped your way. "Is my failure funny to you, Y/n?" She seriously asked with a threatening voice and you shook your head with a smile. "No...It's not that- it's- it's not important." You let out since you only found the way she asked it cute, but saying that out loud would not happen. "Just try again and it will get better with time." You said instead and watched as she shifted on her feet a little.

"Why won't you sit down?" You questioned confused since it couldn't be comfortable to be crouched down like she was. Jennie rolled her eyes at what you asked as she started her new S, trying to make it look better this time. "Because I have a skirt on Y/n, the floor isn't something I would like to sit on without jeans on." She stated the obvious since she only had thin pantyhose on. Suddenly you were in sort of a dilemma and contemplated whether or not you should offer her your hoodie since you had your t-shirt under. One time wouldn't hurt...just because you and she always bickered didn't mean that you were a complete ass.

You pulled off your hoodie while she was busy perfecting her S, taking it off just as she finished and the girl looked at you. "Here...uhm, you can sit on it...unless you don't want to." You awkwardly offered her and Jennie looked, a bit taken aback as never in a million years did she think that this type of generosity would happen between you two. About to just as awkwardly retreat your hand while cursing yourself out in your head, Jennie took it from your hold. Without knowing what to say to you, she placed it on the floor before sitting down on it. Jennie cleared her throat and went back to the wall as you watched her try another one.

Seeing that she was invested in doodling on the wall now, you stood up and walked back to the shelving racks. Just when you were about to look, your eyes landed on the paper that had written tomorrow's date on it as it layed on top of a box. Being curious you walked over to the box and dragged it away from the wall before removing the paper from it and opening the box. It was water and snacks for the volleyball team that had a game tomorrow after school. "Do you want water and crisps?" You questioned Jennie as you crouched down beside the box, not giving a single fuck about the volleyball team because you weren't about to starve for their sake.

Jennie hummed confused and you dragged the cardboard box over to her, where you had been sitting the whole time. You slumped down beside her in a v position with the box between your legs as you looked down at it. "Here." You said and took out bottled water, handing one over to her. Jennie took it as she reached for the cap of the marker, closing it to not get her clothes dirty. You both sat by the corner so you leaned against the wall where the corner connected as she sat leaning against the other wall, being a good two feet away from each other.

You took out water for yourself and placed it beside you before taking out a bag of crisps. "Do you want some?" You questioned Jennie who was drinking some of the water you had handed her, she shook her head and you frowned slightly. It wasn't like you cared, well as a decent human being you somewhat cared, right? But that was cause you were a human being and nothing else. "Why not? Aren't you hungry?" You asked her quite baffled as you opened the mini pack and went straight to eating the crisps since you were starving. "I am, but...it's not part of my diet." She murmured and looked to the side, her eyes gazing around the storage room, pretending it was interesting since she wasn't used to you being generous and somewhat caring towards her.

You laughed at that although groaned in pain when the heel of her doc marten collided with your shin. "Why are you laughing you dickhead?" Jennie asked pissed as she clutched onto the plastic bottle in her hand. You rubbed your shin. "Because you are stupid." You replied and quickly moved your leg away when she was about to hit you again. "How?" She asked with a scowl. "Who's here to see if you are following your diet or not? No one. And I certainly do not care...but suit yourself and starve." You said and continued to finish the mini bag of crisps before crumpling it up and flicking it away somewhere on the floor. Grabbing onto another one and opening it while Jennie crossed her arms and leaned against the wall behind her.

"Damn these are good." You moaned out on purpose just to get on her nerves and watched as her nostrils flared from the pissed exhale. Taking a sip of your water before eating more and chewing a bit louder and watched as her jaw moved in anger at your behaviour. "Oh, these barbecue ones are delicious...good thing you don't want any, more for me that way." You said and reached for a new pack, taking it and opening it, using your hand and trying your best to make the delicious smell of the barbecue crisps reach her proximity. Jennie groaned at how annoying you were and finally spoke up. "Why do you even fucking care if I eat or not...fuck off, Y/n." She let out pissed because not even her closest friends cared enough to make her eat.

"Because...we are staying here until tomorrow morning and you will feel uncomfortable if you sit hungry." You rolled your eyes and sighed. It was almost 9 pm. "Plus, it's not like I do it because I care specifically about you, but because I am a decent human being, but you wouldn't know that now would you...You only associate with rich people in the end so why would you ever get to know me...plus I am a freak aren't I?" You let out and took out a new packet and threw it in her lap before going back to your opened one.

Jennie licked her lips as she looked down at the small bag of crisps on her lap, pouting slightly as she felt really bad for calling you a freak earlier. With a sigh, she took the bag of crisps and opened it. "I don't only associate with rich people." She corrected while still keeping her gaze on the bag of lays. You looked up at her, watching her just looking into that bag as if she was actually contemplating if she should or not eat. "The barista at Starbucks doesn't count, Jennie." You said and watched as she, at last, ate some, rolling her eyes at you while being at it. "You don't know me either, Y/n just how I don't know much about you." She stated as a matter of fact and you hummed, agreeing with her.

"Still, the Starbucks barista doesn't count." You reminded her and the girl groaned, throwing a crisp your way. "Hey!" You complained and threw one at her too, her hard gaze met your eyes and you knew this would not end well. "You braindead fucker, it's Chanel." Jennie exclaimed and threw more your way and soon you two were throwing crisps at each other.

You took your whole bag of crisps and yanked it in her face. "Ha, gotcha big ass forehead!" You laughed and Jennie's blood was boiling as she grabbed inside the box and took an unopened pack, moving from her place you tried your best to cover yourself to not get hit in the face although Jennie wasn't having it.

"Stop. Fucking. Covering. Your. Face." She gritted out and pushed you over, making you lay on the floor, pulling on your arms to get them away from your face, the bag of crisps already discarded as she needed both of her hands since you were much stronger than her. Jennie managed to grab hold of your wrists and with all her strength yanked them away from your face, pinning them down beside your head. Your breathing was heavy as her chest heaved up and down, you both swallowing as she ended up straddling you. Her hair which was being held back by the hairband gently fell down her shoulders but kept all her hair out of her face.

Jennie took this awkward position as her chance to apologize because she knew that it couldn't get worse than this. "I am sorry for...calling you a freak earlier...I didn't mean it." Your lips parted at her words and you pursed your lips slightly. "I just...uhm..." She trailed off not knowing what to say without exposing herself too much to you now. "Well, I am sorry for molesting you." You apologized too and she shook her head. "No, you didn't do anything inappropriate, I was just..." Jennie trailed off and her grip tightened on your wrists for a second as she looked away since a blush was threatening to cover her cheeks again.

"No, I am sorry because I clearly made you uncomfy and that's my fault." You stated, because no matter how much you two would bicker and push and pull, your intentions never were to make her uncomfortable. That made Jennie look at you and her cheeks were slightly flushed as she was quick to clear it all this time without beating around the bush. "No! Really, it was because...I got really flustered and didn't know what else to do or say...So, I just slapped you and accused you when it was clearly all an accident." She finally explained and you were very surprised to hear that you made thee Jennie Kim flustered. It was something you thought that you would never get to hear or would never think would be true.

"I believe you." You said and she tilted her head at that. "I mean, look at you...you're as red as a tomato right now." You said with a smirk and Jennie clenched her jaw as she knew that it would be a bad idea to boost your ego like that since it was already big. She let go of your wrists at that and pulled away, sitting up straight about to get off you, but you stopped her, grabbing onto her forearms as you sat up with the girl straddling your lap. You glanced down at her chest subtly to see how her breath hitched. "I knew that there was something more to you than just liking to get on my nerves." You stated the obvious and her eyes darted around the room to avoid yours. "Like what? There's nothing else, I just enjoy making you mad and that's it." Jennie sassed out, trying to slither her way out of this somehow.

"You're attracted to me." You cockily said and watched how her pink chubby cheeks got a little brighter with your words, her skin flushed and probably hot. "I am not...Your ego is way too big right now and that's far from attractive." Jennie replied and still kept her eyes away from you, looking behind you instead as you still gently held onto her forearms. "Ok then, can I try something? If you don't find me attractive just stop me right away, Jennie." You said and she finally met your eyes with hers that held curiosity and she gave a hesitant nod at that. You wetted your lips and didn't waste much more time as you pulled her closer to you, her eyes widening at that but her whole body freezing and going into shock when you pressed your lips against hers.

You just gently pressed your lips against hers, you closed your eyes and started to move your lips against hers, waiting for her to either push you away or to start moving her lips against yours. Loosening your grip on her forearms, Jennie's eyes closed and her hands came around to your nape, her lips moving against yours. The amount of comments you would like to make right now just to get her mad and worked up were right at the tip of your tongue, but you decided to push it into her mouth instead of annoying her. Her nails dug into your nape slightly as she opened her mouth more. Wrapping your arms around her petite waist you tilted your head slightly to have more access, a hum left her mouth at how your tongue pushed against hers.

Although you pulled away when you felt her warm thighs that were straddling you squeeze slightly, obviously looking for some sort of friction. "Don't be a wuss and stop now, Y/n...finish what you started." Jennie firmly demanded through the blush covering her cheeks and there was the attitude you knew her for and not the shy little Jennie she was just a second ago. "Or are you afraid of some pussy?" Jennie quipped and quirked an eyebrow just trying to provoke you to get what she wanted. You bit your lower lip with a smile and lifted the girl off your lap, making her sit back down on your hoodie. You watched the frustration on her face from that before you stood up and reached your hand out for her. Jennie took hold of your hand and you pulled her up to stand.

"Still seeping with attitude even though you're the needy one." You commented and a small gasp came from her mouth when you pushed her up against the wall. Her hands gripped your shirt as you held her waist, pulling her into you before leaning down and kissing her again. This time more assertive as you knew what she wanted from how much attitude she had even when being desperate to get fucked by you right now. A moan slipped past her lips and her hands kept pulling onto your shirt, definitely ruining the material with her neediness. Your knee went between her thighs, parting them as they were so desperately rubbing against each other for friction. She shuddered at the contact with your knee and gripped onto your shoulders just in case her knees would buckle beneath her.

Feeling her hips roll against your thigh that was between her legs as she continued to kiss you fiercely, too focused on chasing her high to realize what was going on. Your hands let go of her waist and went under her skirt, gripping the thin material of her pantyhose, Jennie groaned right into your mouth when you ripped their seam, exposing her cunt- inner thighs too- that was only covered by her cheekies now. Moving your hands to her hips as she rolled them, grinding right onto your thigh that was pressed between her legs. You pulled away from the kiss, Jennie's lips were wet and parted as her head fell back and rested against the wall, her eyebrows furrowed as she lost herself in chasing her orgasm that was growing in the pit of her stomach.

Seeing that she was too busy to even try and kiss you now, you leaned down to her neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses on the skin while your left-hand untucked the pink v-neck from her skirt. Sneaking your cold hand under it, goosebumps formed on her hot skin as you ran it up to her breast, fondling it through the bra she was wearing. "Oh fuck." Jennie breathed out, her nails digging into your shoulders while you sucked on her neck, squeezing her breast as you reached your hand inside her bra, your fingers busying themselves with her hardened nipple. Jolts of electricity went through her body at the pleasure that her body went through, starting to feel light-headed from it. Breathless moans came through her mouth mixed with cries as she was so close but yet couldn't reach the orgasm that was right there.

"Fucking rub my clit or something you fucking- fuck yes!" Jennie got stopped from cursing you out of frustration- letting out a cry of pleasure instead- when you let go of her breast and moved your hand between her legs, snaking your hand through the waistband of her panties and finding her swollen clit. Her legs tensed up and her movement halted as she moaned continuously, not being able to stop her moans even if she did not want you to think that you were good at this which you very much were. She wrapped her arms around your shoulders, holding herself up as her legs were giving up at this point when her orgasm came at last. "F-Fuck." She breathed out before gasping when you did not stop rubbing her clit for even a second.

She choked on her breath as it didn't make it past her chest, her whole body burning from the inside at the feeling. Her legs were shaking the slightest as you removed your hand, watching her chest heave up and down, holding her up by her hips. She continued to pant, trying to catch her breath as quickly as possible although she hadn't had a good orgasm in a while since her own hands did not satisfy her enough. "Come on." You ushered and tried to pull her away from the wall. Jennie finally moved her head that was resting against the wall and looked at you confused. "What?" She questioned confused and you chuckled, reaching into her hair and removing the hairband that was in it gently before throwing it on top of your hoodie. "You know...I want a release too." You pointed out as you were very fucking hard right now.

"I'm not sucking your prick." Jennie let out and you raised your eyebrows at her. "Who said anything about sucking? And even if I was talking about sucking, why the fuck not?" You said, kind of offended that she wouldn't want to suck you off. You were very clean. "Because why waste talent on a one incher?" She tsk right after and your mouth went agape. "Plus, I don't have any condoms."

"One incher!?" You exclaimed and she rolled her eyes at you. You reached into your pocket, taking out the cardholder while praying to the seven goods of fortune. They seemed to be on your side when you took out the unopened condom with a big grin on your face. "Wanna do the honours?" You questioned as you held the wrapper in front of her, throwing your cardholder into the pile of other things. She was about to take it but you changed your mind. "Nevermind...why would you waste time on a one incher, right?" You said and shrugged, putting the condom in your pocket. "Unless you are saying that because you...well, in simpler words suck at giving blowjobs...I will go with my version." You provoked and saw how something literally flicked in her eyes at your words.

One thing Jennie hated was to be bad at things, anything, it didn't matter and she despised people who said that she was bad at something when she knew damn well that she was a pro at it. It triggered her so badly and she knew that she needed to work on it because it wasn't healthy to always feel the need to prove herself. You bit your tongue when Jennie literally dropped down to her knees in front of you. She was going as far as bruising her knees right now just to prove to you that she was not bad at this and she wasn't sure why she went this far because the Jennie she knew herself as would never, NEVER bruise her knees for anyone even if her life depended on it. Yet here she was, on her knees before you.

This made her not want to look up and meet your eyes. Instead, she looked at the print through your grey sweats and she could tell that you were not a one incher, definitely not. Her hand went up to the hem of your sweats as she tugged them down, the sweats pooling around your ankles. You looked down at her, watching her every move carefully as she reached her hand up to your dick that was trapped in your boxer briefs. Taking in a deep breath when she ran her fingers gently along your length up to the hem of your boxer briefs. Her lip was between her teeth as she pulled them down, curious about your size and excited.

You smirked when she finally removed your boxers, watching as she squeezed her thighs when her eyes landed on your dick. Jennie wanted it inside her, didn't matter what hole as long as it was inside her. Her hand gripped onto the base as she stroke up, your tip leaking with precum that she gathered before spreading it along your length. "Ever had anything this big in your mouth before, brat?" You groaned when her grip around your leaking tip tightened in response, Jennie wasn't sure if she liked your big ego or not. Instead of responding she let her tongue out and licked up the precum, your dick twitching at her kitten licks, wanting much more. "Come on...Anyone can do that...thought you were a pro." You added fuel to the fire.

Jennie ignored you because she knew very well what she was doing. "Don't cum too fast because I still want you to fuck me." She only said and you noted to not let go too fast to not embarrass yourself. Not after getting this far with her. Your lips parted as you watched her take your tip into her warm and wet mouth, her lips wrapping perfectly around it. You hummed as you put your hand into her hair, pushing her hair back for her as she swirled her tongue around your tip before pulling away. You watched in a daze as she finally looked up at you, using her hand, she guided your length, running your tip along her plump lips, covering them in your precum, you tried to push it back into her mouth but she did not open her mouth and you rubbed against her cheek instead which she didn't seem to mind, almost nuzzling into your leaking tip, rubbing it back to her lips.

"Are you that into teasing?" You questioned and she looked at you through her lashes with a small smile, her tongue only poking out to clean her lips before she bit down on her lower lip. With that she opened her mouth and took you into her mouth, your grip tightening in her hair as she gradually took more and more into her mouth. She hummed as she hollowed her cheeks, sucking back up and swirling her tongue around your tip. Stroking what she didn't reach with her hand while her other hand went to your balls, kneading them and making a moan escape from your lips. She continued to take you in as much as she could before sucking and swirling her tongue around your tip, fully focused on the dick in her mouth.

"I've had better." You groaned out, Jennie's movements almost halted, but she continued because she was just getting started. She sucked hard with her cheeks hollowing even more up to your tip, another moan coming from you, pulling out and licking up the spit that almost fell from your tip before entering you back into her mouth. A loud mouth left your lips and you felt your thighs shake while Jennie let out a shameless moan, enjoying this more than you at this point- when with one smooth and fluid motion she loosened her throat muscles before they tightened around your tip with her lips around your base. The girl deep throating you and making your free hand hold onto the wall beside you as her throat muscles squeezed your tip. "Oh- Oh fuck." You shakily breathed out, not knowing what to say as you hadn't had anyone do this to you yet. You were so fucked.

Jennie released your tip from her throat and slurped back up, the spit running down her chin as her hand squeezed your balls, your hand tugging onto her hair only making Jennie moan and you watched your tongue, to not say anything without thinking it through at first. With another lewd moan coming from Jennie when her throat opened for you again, her nose tickling the skin of your stomach as she had her lips around your base again. "I'm gonna cum if you don't stop." You moaned out because there was no way you would be able to hold yourself if she was going to take your dick like this. Flexing your stomach to not cum when you looked down and met Jennie's eyes, who had your dick shoved down her throat with her eyes watering slightly.

You gave her hair a tug because you were going to bust any second and reluctantly Jennie slurped back up before letting your dick out of her mouth against her own will, but she didn't want this to end yet. You took deep breaths to try and collect yourself, baffled that you had to collect yourself and you hadn't even had a release yet as you pulled your sweats up. "Fuck, how- how?" You breathed out, Jennie rolled her eyes although on the inside she was smiling because she managed to get you like this and it made her feel different things. Instead, she reached for the hem of your shirt and used it to wipe her chin and mouth. "I- you bitch." You grumbled and grabbed her wrist, removing her hand from your shirt to already see that it was too late as the spot was wet on your white t-shirt. "Fuck me like one." Jennie said and you snapped your head back at her as she stood up, your lips parted and eyebrows quirked.

"You know what, I fucking will." You let out and Jennie let out a yelp when you manhandled her and turned her around, pushing her down on the drawer where her purse was laying in one smooth and quick motion. You pinned her front down on the drawer, her hands gripping onto its edge as her chest pressed down on the wood. It was the size of a desk but was used as a storage drawer and now you were going to use it to fuck Jennie into it. "J-Just...don't forget the condom." Jennie basically whimpered as she felt your hand caress her ass slightly through the pantyhose as they were only ripped on her crotch. You hummed at that.

Just when Jennie was about to push herself up because it was taking too long for her liking she hummed out a whine when you pushed her body back down, flush against the drawer. "You fuck like a grandpa." Jennie complained because she wanted you inside her right now since her wetness was already threatening to run down her thighs. You chuckled as you moved her skirt, flipping it up to get a view of her ass that was covered by the black lace cheekies and pantyhose. "Fucked a lot of grandpas?" You questioned and she groaned at what you said. "That's not what I meant!" She grumbled out and you crouched down, removing her doc martens as she let you do whatever you pleased so far.

You yanked down the pantyhose that were already ruined, hearing how they ripped more together with a gasp coming from Jennie, throwing them away in a corner since she wouldn't want them anyway. Still crouched down, you ran your hands up her smooth thighs, looking right up at her cunt that was covered by her panties that were soaked, seeing some of the wetness that was on her inner thighs. Holding them when she tried to close her legs for any friction, preventing her from doing so. "Damn, you're so fucking wet." You commented, slowly pulling down her panties that were basically clinging to her drenched pussy. "And you're so fucking annoying that I would rather fuck a grandpa at this point. Do something already!" Jennie let out frustrated, her nails digging into the wood of the drawer.

You stood up after getting her panties off her and stuffed them into your pocket, taking out the condom and pulling your sweats down. Ripping the packet and taking out the rubber as you discarded the packet somewhere on the floor. Pulling the rubber down your length to the base. You grabbed onto Jennie's hips that were exposed together with her ass and glistening cunt, her skirt flipped up above her hips, licking your lips at the view. Jennie reached behind her, wanting to speed up the process, but you grabbed her wrist, making her hiss as you pinned it against her lower back. That's how she knew that she was going to get fucked literally and in other ways, may it be emotionally or physically.

You took hold of your cock, letting your tip disappear into her folds, collecting the wetness as you run it between them before finding her grasping hole. Choking on your breath as you pushed into her, the tightness of her in this position making your stomach twist as her walls took you in with ease from how wet she was, the tightness only making it difficult to thrust. Jennie whimpered as you stretched her out, her hand that was held by you balling up into a fist and her free hand gripping hard onto the desk before a loud moan spilled through her lips.

You started to move slowly in and out of her, feeling how her walls were squeezing around you. "Fuck- Oh fuck!" Jennie cried out when your pace just picked up from nowhere as you didn't feel like going easy on her, not after what she put you through today. Letting your frustrations out on her. "You know what your mouth is actually good at?" You groaned out and thrust deeper into her, she let out an uneven hum, her voice unstable from how her body was being fucked into a drawer by you. "Sucking dick." You stated and she moaned when you pressed your hand more onto her back, making her feel your dick right on her spot, rubbing her g-spot just the right way because of how her lower stomach pressed into the drawer, making it easier for you to reach her wet, spongy spot. It made her legs shake. "Fuck you, Y/n, and fuck me better!" Jennie bit back, wanting more from this.

You removed your hand from her hip and took it up to her head, gripping her hair before pressing her face harder into the top of the drawer. Jennie's cheek squished into the wooden top, her moans and cries echoing in the tiny space that got hotter from the sex. Having her hand pinned behind her back, her legs shaking from pleasure, the lewdness of her wet cunt swallowing your dick and your hips meeting hers, taking over your senses as it all sent you into a frenzy because you were fucking Jennie Kim who was a big bitch and a brat for all you know, but here she was letting you fuck her as if she had no dignity at all.

You groaned as you pushed harder into her, hearing how the drawer banged into the wall with her purse falling off it although Jennie was getting fucked too good to even notice. "Y/n..." Jennie whined out and her thighs spasmed, clenching hard around you, making your movements go uneven and you instead tried to thrust harder into her. She choked out whines at the feeling of your tips continuously brushing her spot, the twitching of your hard cock, making her want to clench harder to feel more of you inside her. All her sticky wetness just ran down her thighs and she knew that she would never redeem herself when it came to this.

"God, you're so fucking tight, Jennie and you take dick so good." You praised and she let out a shaky hum at that. "You're the first person to fuck me this good." Jennie admitted with her tears of pleasure hitting the wooden top, her cheek still squished into it, her free hand, digging its nails into the wood as she tried her best to grip it. She needed so much more to grip on, the way you were fucking her brains out, your dick stretching her tight walls and she wasn't sure if she wanted more or if she wanted you to stop, her mind getting clouded.

"Fuck, please...I want more." Jennie begged like never before and you let go of her hand that you had pinned down, reaching it around to her front Jennie's whole body tensed up when your fingers came in contact with her clit, her body momentarily flinching at the contact. "That's too much!" She cried out although in pleasure, not wanting you to stop, you kept going, her both hands gripping onto the drawer that was sounding like the last screws in it wanted to leave right this moment. "Yet you're taking every bit of it, aren't you?" You questioned and pressed a tiny bit harder on her clit that you continued to rub and she gasped big, your dick still rubbing on her spot inside of her.

Her mind went blank, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as she whimpered at the orgasm that went through her toes all the way to her ears that were ringing, her legs feeling numb with her walls pulsating in rhythm with her heart which she could feel amidst her orgasm- the throbbing of her clit and wall- her hips pushing more into you as she let out moan after moan. "I- I- I can't...Y/n." Jennie managed to whine out as she needed you to stop, her clit and walls throbbing from how intense her orgasm was. You removed your hand from her clit and let go of her head, making it easier to breathe for Jennie who was panting.

Holding onto her waist, the feeling of her slick walls, throbbing and clenching around your cock made you burst within seconds as you had been holding long enough. You pressed your body flush against Jennie, your face in her neck, burying it in her hair as her perfume attacked your nose as you busted into the condom, filling it like never before with a slight whimper. It got quiet in the small room that you two had been trapped in for a good six or seven hours now, both of you panting and swallowing to get rid of the dryness in your throats. Waiting for your legs to not feel like jelly as you rested on top of Jennie who had her eyes closed, trying to just breathe normally.

You took in a breath and placed your hands on each side of Jennie's body on the drawer, pushing yourself up before pulling out of her and pulling down her skirt for her. You took hold of her shoulders seeing her still struggling to push herself up fully, getting her up and making her turn around. Jennie leaned against the drawer and you stopped yourself from leaning over to her and kissing her since you were scared that she would find it too intimate. "Just- wait a second." You quickly let out and Jennie didn't care and just listened as you lifted her to sit on the drawer.

Removing the condom and tying it as you cringed at it before throwing it somewhere on the floor. Pulling your sweats back on fully with your boxer briefs, you turned to where your hoodie was and wondered what you were actually doing since you never acted this domesticated. You shoved your cardholder into your pocket that was on your hoodie, took her hairband and then picked up your hoodie and a water bottle before walking back over to Jennie. Cringing internally at yourself because what the fuck was up with you? "Here, put it on." You let out and placed the water with her hairband beside her, even going as far as putting the hoodie on Jennie, who yawned after you pulled it down, feeling drained.

"I don't- uhm, I don't have any paper or tissues..." You trailed off, going too far for your own liking and Jennie pointed to her baby pink chanel purse on the floor. You picked it up and like an idiot opened it, ignoring all the tampons and whatnot before taking out the pack of tissues. Jennie saw as you stopped after taking them out, seeing how you were contemplating what to do. "I can just do it myself, if you really don't want to, Y/n...You don't need to act-." You cut Jennie off as it wasn't like that. "It's not like that...I just have never even thought of doing this much after sex for someone and here I am wanting to do it...so I am just a little confused with myself." You admitted and looked away from Jennie and down at the tissues. This made Jennie just as confused cause she never had anyone go the extra steps for her and yet she wanted you to do it. God you two hated each other for this.

"I haven't had anyone go the extra step for me." Jennie decided to admit since you two were at it so there was not much more to lose here. "I mean even the hoodie was more than I have ever received." She said, people weren't even decent enough to pull a duvet over her let alone a hoodie and to think that the person she "hated" the most and was "hated" by the most was the one to show the most care. She would at first think that you were just a really generous person, but you did admit just a second ago that you never did this for anyone else before...so that meant that you actually cared for Jennie.

"But at this rate, I rather do it myself, you dingus." Jennie said and tried to reach for the tissues in your hand because the stickiness was starting to get too overwhelming after being there for so long, but you moved them out of her reach. "No...I got this." You firmly stated, for some reason wanting to leave an impact on her- which you already had done today in multiple ways- this time by being the first one to go the extra mile for Jennie. She rolled her eyes and just let you do it as you took out two tissues and helped her clean up while she took the water bottle and drank from it, liking the princess treatment she was receiving from you.

Once you were done you looked at Jennie who was looking at you with a knowing look. "I need my panties back." You groaned as you hoped that she wouldn't have caught you and reached into your pocket, handing them over to Jennie as you had been caught red-handed. Jennie took them from you and you helped her get down from the drawer and stand on her feet before averting your attention to look around the room, ignoring the corner where you had made a mess with the crisps and the other part of the floor that had her ripped pantyhose, the wrapper and the condom. You looked at the place where the soccer balls were and saw what you knew you had seen earlier, walking over to them and reaching for the rolled-up yoga mats, taking three of them.

Jennie watched as you walked over to the clean part of the storage room and rolled out the mats, placing them on top of each other before you heaved a sigh and slumped down, sitting in the corner and leaning your back against the wall. You glanced at your wristwatch before looking at Jennie. "It's only 11 pm...the volleyball team doesn't start training until tomorrow morning at 6:30 am." You informed and gestured with your head for her to just sit with you, looking at her as she stood with your hoodie that reached mid-thigh on her, making it look like she wasn't wearing much more. With that, Jennie walked over to you.

Feeling needy for cuddles after what you did to her, Jennie settled down between your legs, taking you by slight surprise but either way, you wrapped your arms around her waist wordlessly as she leaned her back against your front. "You're not really as arrogant and spoiled as you pretend to be? You're no snob." You questioned after a few seconds of just silence. Feeling Jennie shift slightly at your question before she rested her head against your shoulder, looking at the door in front of you two. "...Not really no." She replied quietly and you nodded as her fingers started to fiddle with yours.

"Then why do you always act like that?" You curiously asked.

"It's my personality Y/n." Jennie stated the obvious.

"I don't mean the attitude, that's obviously bitch syndrome." You groaned when she nipped your thigh at what you said. But you knew that the attitude was just part of her although the rest wasn't. "But seriously, I know that the spoiled brat and arrogancy isn't you...not from what I have seen today, you're no snob."

"People don't like rich people that are humble." She shrugged and you moved your face to look at her, the girl just looking down at your hands that she played with.

"How do you know?" Jennie sighed at that and you were worried that maybe she would snap soon for pushing this far since you two never had any real conversations.

You could see that she was a bit reluctant but decided to just say it. "Because I tried at first...I had to change schools because of how much they bullied me for it." She explained with a frown, remembering how much everyone just pushed her around when they found out about how much money her family had and yet she was one of the most humble people they had met. "You can't know if now will be the same if you try to just be your humble self." You tried, seeing no reason at all for her to be the snob that she pretends to be.

"Exactly, that's why I don't want to risk it...I don't enjoy flaunting wealth, but people don't like it when someone with money tries to be humble, they think that we do it out of pity or something." She reasoned and you could see it from both sides.

"Do you?" You asked her.

"No, I don't do it out of pity, I do it because wealth had never been the most important thing to me, I am thankful that we have money, but that's it..." Jennie had always been grateful for having money, but she never saw it as something that would define her until people made her use it as something to define herself as. They didn't like her humble self and bullied her for it, most people who were not as wealthy hated her for how she was like right now, but they at least didn't bully her and she associated herself with other wealthy people who were nice towards her. "I just don't trust it." She concluded, not trusting people with trying to be herself in front of them.

You thought about it carefully, knowing that this could very much ruin even the bickering between you two, but with a sigh, you just went for it just like you had the whole time ever since getting trapped here with her. "Maybe...you could give me a chance to prove to you that it doesn't have to be the same." You suggested, knowing that it wouldn't hurt to get to know thee Jennie Kim especially since she proved you wrong- her personality wasn't rotten and she was hot, but you already knew that since you weren't blind.

Jennie chuckled and turned her head, coming face to face with you...small blush on her cheeks because well, Jennie had always been attracted to you and bickered with you for your attention and because she liked it and now you were basically asking her out. "This is my pussy preceding me, isn't it? I am sure this is out of order, Y/n." Jennie let out another chuckle as everything that went down today was not in order. You shrugged as you gazed around her face, momentarily glancing down at her lips that had been places today and had let out different sounds and words before looking her in the eye.

"I mean...kind of is, but the sex isn't what's making me ask this." You cleared it up since Jennie had made you feel a few things you hadn't really felt with anyone else yet and the same went for her...You made Jennie feel like a normal human being and didn't kiss her ass just because of her money- you never did as you were basically the only one at school that didn't care about whether she had money or not and then showed a bunch of care ever since getting trapped and no one had really done that either.

"What is then?" She asked, wanting to know what your intentions were if it wasn't sex.

"I would actually like to get to know the real you...unless you really can't see yourself with someone like me, then it's fine and understandable since-." Jennie rolled her eyes at your rambling.

"Fine. Plus I just told you that I am not like that...money doesn't matter to me." She cut you off, reminding you about what she had told you not even five minutes ago.

"Fine?" You asked baffled as you expected her to be a bit harder to get to agree, but here she was...but only if you knew how you made Jennie feel every day and especially today you would understand right away why she so easily agreed.

"Yes...but no sex until you take me out on a few dates and we get to know each other." Jennie leaned more into you and licked her lips before leaning in and leaving a peck on yours. "That's just to close the chapter for what happened today." She explained as you never kissed her after fucking her so good. "No more." She said and put her hand on your lips when you tried to kiss her again since you weren't ready for that peck. "I will only kiss you once we are together...you can kiss my cheek." She let go of your mouth and pointed to her cheek, making you lean in and peck her soft cheek before the girl sighed and closed her tired eyes after today.

-

Soon the morning came and it was 6:35 am when the door to the room opened, the light waking you and Jennie who was snuggled into your chest while you were still leaned against the wall. The girl who opened the door gasped and you widened your eyes at the way too-familiar voice. You only managed to cover Jennie's face (although everyone would still know that it was her) who groaned awake before the flashlight of Yeri's phone lit up the whole room, taking a picture of the mess, capturing everything from you and Jennie- her bruised knees- to the condom and ripped pantyhose- Yeri the school's biggest gossip girl ran away right after.

"What was that?" Jennie asked pissed as she sat up straight, you cleared your throat and swallowed.

"Yeri." It went quiet.

"Hold me or I swear to God she will be 6 feet under." Jennie let out and was about to stand up, but you pulled her back down.

"Wait...is what we said yesterday still...you know valid and not something in the moment?" You asked to make sure, Jennie rolled her eyes at that.

"Of course, you fucking moron-" She confirmed, still having that attitude of hers that you always loved before she gave you a quick kiss on the corner of your lips before shrugging your arms from around her. "Now let go so I can threaten Yeri and the next five generations of her family, Y/n."

You smiled and she quickly stood up, running out of that room you two had been stuck in for 15 hours and 15 minutes together...it was all the time you two needed to get something between you two started.

Let's say that it didn't take her long to introduce you to her parents...she knew that you were staying for good and you had no plans of leaving Jennie once you had gotten to know her better.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

I'm so happy you like my "oblivious König with severe mommy issues" prompt :3 I'm sorry if I made a few mistakes here and there cause English is my swcond language :(

I'm also thinking about König being absloutely snappy and bratty to reader as a defense mechanism, because he's not a baby! He can make his own lunch (frozen pizza), thank you very much, you are not his Mutter!

And reader is just standing there, smiling because she finds him so endearing when he's angry, not taking him seriously at all. She coos at him in her soft voice, saying she's so sorry, she just worries about her baby so much, he's not been feeding himself very well and look- look at your tummy, baby, you used to be bigger and healthier than that, how can I not be worried for my sweetheart? Of course she's stroking his tummy and whispering in his ear while she says that, and he has to stand there frozen or else he will let out the most pathetic whimper known to man.

He will then have to sit there and eat the most delicious meal ever while he's grumbling, frowning while reader offers him cut up slices of peach, his cock leaving a wet patch against his pants.

It gets even more pathetic in the bedroom because reader is just so full of instructions and praise for him. She's not bossy, she guides him with gentle instructions and calls him the worst names when he obeys, like her Perfect Baby and Big Boy and he just gets so riled up (because he's a military man, of course! he likes orders and that's all) he gets frustrated at his own horniness and decides to drill into her harder, and all she can do is call his cock big and he just cums and cums, groaning and whimpering into her neck :((( one day he will she her he is NOT a baby!

YES I love this for him this is exactly what he deserves!!!!

He thought he’d get a helpless pathetic girl to fuck on weekends but now he’s the pathetic one here, gritting his teeth to prevent himself from getting hard when she rubs his scalp and praises him for every single little thing he does. Every time he comes to see her there’s a big warm meal waiting for him, fat wet kisses and a hushed voice pressed next to his ear, asking him whether he had a rough week, poor thing. Poor baby must be so tired, working himself to the bone like that… His cock is pulling and leaking in his pants from her voice alone now, which is just great, just what he needed.

She says he doesn’t need to worry, says she’s here to ease his stress, and he already knows what it means; she’s going to give him infernally good head that will dissolve him into atoms and make him moan so pathetically he’ll never survive the shame that follows. Which means he must prevent it from happening, any way he can, and so he fleshes out a plan to rearrange her guts later from behind so he doesn’t need to look into those loving, nurturing eyes, always praising him for doing so so good.

The whole female population is looking at him through those eyes, cheering him on with love and gentle care, and he wants that shit so much he’s about to punch a hole through a wall and then slump on the floor to have a big fat ugly cry but he can’t do that, no. He has to stay strong and conquer… whatever this is.

And then the plan backfires horribly when she kickstarts a handjob before he’s even finished his meal. After only a minute or two he finds himself staring up at her, eyes wide and helpless and his cock jerking and throbbing and twitching in her hand as she continues to give him slow, long strokes that are sending him to braindead bliss already.

She babbles in his ear and tells him he can cum whenever he wants, he’s deserved it… And before he knows it there are long, thick strings of cum shooting out, a painful, desperate whine of a moan punching through the air. He never knew he could sound so needy. And pathetic... And needy.

His head drops to see the mess he just made, but she’s already cleaning it up, dabbing his lap with a clean, wet towel, looking up at him with a bright, loving smile.

Scheisse…

[larissareadings]

It’s okay, love.

➤ pairing: Draco Malfoy x gryff!fem!reader (house barely mentioned).

Request: None

tw: eating disorder; mentions of bullying and anxiety attack.

Note: I’ve wrote this based on personal experiences and what I needed at the time. DO NOT read this if it’s not comfortable for you. If you or someone you know is struggling with an eating disorder, please reach out for help.

English is not my native language so I’m sorry if there is any mistakes. This is my first fic ever so it might not be so good. I hope you enjoy it though.

Summary: Y/N is a keeper at the Gryffindor (barely mentioned) team, who has been developing an eating disorder and Draco Malfoy seems to be only one who noticed it.

Y/N always had problems with her body image. At her early teens at Hogwarts she used to be mocked, mostly by Pansy Parkinson and her friends, because she was too thin. When Y/N turned 14, she started gaining weight since she was eating too much due to her increased anxiety, and then she was again being mocked, except now because she was getting fat, and everyone talked about it, even when they didn’t want to be mean, saying things like “you should get on a diet”. By 16, Y/N started focusing on her weight loss journey, she was finally gonna be health, delicate and beautiful as the other girls her age.

Some months later

It was right after the quidditch match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. They won, of course, since you’ve let too many quaffles go through the goal hoops. You’re a keeper at the Gryffindor team, and you’re good at it. When you’re not dizzy anyway.

“It happened again, didn’t it?”

you heard the familiar voice behind you. It sounded soft, which was not a usual thing. You closed your locker and turned around to face Malfoy. The others had already left the locker room, so now it was just you and him.

"It happened what again, Malfoy?" you asked him, trying to sound indifferent, when you were all, but that. He had some power over you, it was irritating actually, how nervous you would get when he was around.

Malfoy has been acting weird these past few months, he didn't tease you anymore. When his friends said anything about you, he would either just leave or just stare at you, but never laugh with them, never contribute to their bullying. He was the only one in the group who said nothing about your recent weight loss. The others did. Pansy would never loose the chance to say you finally learnt to shut your mouth.

You hated that he hadn't said anything, you worried you hadn't lost enough weight for him to notice, and you wanted him to see that you could be pretty too.

He looked in you up and down, checking you, before focusing on your eyes again and said "Dizziness."

You didn't understand why he was saying this, why he would notice you feeling dizzy. "Yeah.. just a little. I'm bit distract that's all". A few seconds went by where he said nothing, just stood there looking at you. Was that concern in his eyes? You couldn't tell. "Look, uhmm, I don't know where this is coming from, but I have to go. If you have any jokes to make about me being a bad keeper, or an ugly, fat bad keeper or whatever" you noticed him flinch at that, as if it had hurt him. "say it now or leave it for tomorrow 'cause I'm really tired and just wanna go to my bed"

He walked towards you, enough for him to talk low and look closely into your eyes, making you even more nervous, and said "You have to stop this, Y/N, it's making you sick."

"I don't know what you talking about"

Now he let out a breath in disbelief. "Oh, you don't know what I'm talking about? Let my clarify to you, then, It's a very simple concept, really, I thought you would know it by now." He was actually getting angry. "In order to live, people have to eat. It's the only way to get nutrients into your body. Really, Y/N, that's basics"

"I know about that. It's a good thing I eat, then, right?'' You said also angry now with his sudden aggressiveness.

"Do you though? 'Cause what I'm seeing-" he said gesturing to your body "is a girl fading away, a girl who plays with food at lunch instead of actually eating it, a girl who who used to be a great keeper, but now can't barely stand in a broom because is too weak to do so." He could feel his heart in his throat. He was so nervous, so scared you would fall off that broom. More than he could ever admit. He was keeping his worry to himself for months, hoping you would stop, hoping someone would intervene, but no one did. People just kept either praising your weight loss or humiliating you. But he couldn't stop himself anymore, if you had got hurt today, he would never forgive himself.

You felt your heart skip a beat at that. He was worried. Really worried. You didn't know how to react. You felt seen, someone saw what you were going through. But you also felt good, reassured. So you WERE thinner, and he noticed. “You know what? I don’t get it. Weren’t you and your friends the ones who said I was too heavy to play quidditch? that my weight would slow me down? that I would fall? that the broomstick couldn’t take it?” you now had tears in your cheeks. Your vision was blured by the tears and, God, you were so tired.

Malfoly’s heart might’ve actually broke in that moment. He was so angry at everyone who didn’t notice you hurting yourself, when he was actually the who drove you into it.

‘‘I am so tired.” you kept talking now, tears rolling down your face. “Why is it never enough? I’m tired. I’m thin, I’m ugly. I’m fat, I’m ugly too, and disggusting. I need a diet. I do a diet. and now fading away? OH well, just let me be happy for once.and I am happy now, ok? I’m finally beautiful.” You were talking so fast and you were feeling so weak. Malfoy saw that, so he immediately hold you in a hug, preventing you from falling. Your head were now in his chest, and you were trying to stop crying, trying to make your heart go back to it’s normal rhythm.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, love.” He said stroking your hair. “I’m sorry” he said almost inaudible.

After a few minutes you heart and breathing were finally stable again. You detached yourself from his harms, although his hands were still in both sides of your arms. You looked up to him with watery eyes. You hated crying in front of people. "I'm sorry" you said.

"It's okay." He said again, looking back at you. Taking his hesitant hand, like he was afraid to actually break you, to clean your cheeks from the tears. "I promise".

"Why are you doing this?" you were really confused. You had never seen Malfoy this gentle and.. scared?

He caressed you cheeks while looking from your eyes to your mouth. He then joined your foreheads and spoke really low, like a whisper. “I need you, Y/N.”

“what?” you said also in a whisper. you couldn't believe what you were hearing.

“I need you, and I need you to get better. This is making me crazy. I’m scared all the time. I’m scared you’re gonna fall off the stairs, or the broom. I’m scared of you getting hurt. Please.. just- just let me help, ok? Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. Anything.”

“Can you.. uhmm. eat? with me, I mean” you asked detaching your heads to look in his eyes.

“Sure” He said immediately. “Is that all?”

“No.” you let out a breath in relief with his answer and smile a little. “But it may be a start. I think”

“Ok.” He returned your smile. “You should probably talk with someone else, though. Someone who could help more. A professor, maybe. I’ll go with you, if you want me to.”

“Yeah.. ok. Can we go to McGonagall, then? Not now, please. When I’m ready.”

“Of course. Anyone you want, love.” He said looking back at you before you hugging him again. Letting your head rest in his chest while he stroke your hair again. This felt like home to both of you. You were so scared, but he was hopeful. He would do anything for you to feel better.

This whole not eating thing made you so tired, but it was also so addictive. You didn’t know if you could ever get better, but maybe this was a start. Having someone to lean on, someone who cared.. it certainly helped.

[mad-hatter-memes]

Shirts That Go Hard

A collection of dialogue prompts from sentences printed on shirts as seen on the blog shirtsthatgohard. Feel free to adjust quotes as necessary.

TW: Swearing, suggestive references, death references, drug references, just a whole lot of mature references.

"You say...Lesbians eat WHAT!!?"

"I do not serve cunt, I am cunt's servant."

"Contrary to popular belief, I have a dad."

"When I die I might not go to heaven. I don't know if they let cowboys in."

"Do you guys ever think about dying?"

"Sorry I missed church, I was busy practicing witchcraft and becoming a lesbian."

"I went to the Garfield Fan-Con In Cleveland, Ohio and all I got was pregnant."

"I have a lot of thoughts about the 2006 Adam Sandler film "Click"."

"I make my mom sad with my choices every day."

"I gotta see the candy first, then I get in the van. I'm not stupid."

"Your shirt says "Cocaine and Caviar" but your face says "Fish Sticks and Fentanyl"."

"Sorry I shoved a Rice Krispie Treat in your DVD player..."

"My parents said I could be anything, so I became an asshole."

"After all that surgery you are still ugly, and that is what gets me."

"Calling me fat is not an insult. I'm sorry my mom bought groceries and not crack.

"Denny's is just Waffle House for people who don't know how to fight."

"The only thing I like more than reading books is fucking."

"I am going to punch you in the mouth! With my mouth...softly...because I like you."

"You constantly amaze me, but not in a good way."

"If she is your girlfriend, why is she playing with my mullet?"

"What have you done to deserve your legs?"

""What's Updog?" how about you shut the fuck "Updog"?"

"I feel like 2007 Britney..."

"Jesus loves you, but I don't. Go fuck yourself."

"I don't know what's wrong with me but I can name several prescription medications that haven't helped."

"Sorry for having great tits and correct opinions."

"Everything I want to do is illegal!"

"I haven't lost my virginity, because I never lose."

"I ain't afraid to love a man. I ain't afraid to shoot one either."

"I believe in you! I also believe in Bigfoot so don't get too excited."

"Jesus loves you. It's just the rest of us who think you're an asshole."

"I just took 12 gas station dick pills and now I'm on my way to Applebee's."

"You can go to hell, I'm going to Toyotathon."

"I wish Italians were real..."

"Not now, sweetie. Mommy's cyberbullying the mayor."

"Baby girl you're so damn fine. Though, I'm trying to know if I can hit you with a pinecone.

"In this group is a Fox News viewer. Can't find them? That's because they live among us, be afraid..."

"You're not a "Bad Bitch", you're a bad person."

"If there's no Bingo in heaven, I'm NOT going."

"Toes are just thicker fingers."

"I'm gonna identify as a fucking problem."

"At least get me some coffee before you start in with your horseshit."

"You're twisted, perverted, and sick...I like that in a person!"

"I don't need life, I'm high on drugs!"

"Hating popular things doesn't make you an interesting person."

"Sorry princess, I only date women who might stab me."

"Kindly keep your bullshit to your fucking self."

"We're all trying to kill time, while time kills us."

"What the fuck is really going on?"

"If you heard anything bad about me, believe all that shit and leave me the fuck alone."

"Bigfoot is real and he tried to eat my ass."

"If you think I'm a bitch, you should meet my sister."

"Sweating sucks, I'd rather be embraced by the cold chill of autumn."

"Oh I don't drink, just drugs for me thanks!"

[lunarthecorvus]

After being a part of this fandom for a while, I have seen quite a few posts about people asking artists to draw Nina as fat, because we know she's curvy and isn't slim like some artists draw her. I've seen the debate around not telling artists what to draw and there is a lot to say, but I'm not here to talk about that. I just think that a part of Nina's appearance is obviously the fact that she isn't fitting the slim type that almost all women characters are.

Nina is (to quote the gv wiki) tall and curvaceous, and to quote Kaz "built like the figurehead of a ship carved by a generous hand". These descriptions are not descriptions of a thin person. I have scene people be offended by people drawing Nina larger than they think. The thing is we don't know her exact appearance, even the official art of her fluctuates, BUT from the descriptions it is so easy to tell that she is not slim/skinny/thin.

I grew up surrounded by people who were harassed, relentlessly for years bullied and ridiculed for their weight and the fact that they were bigger. Often the world fat is used as if it was a derogatory word, and I have seen it be used that way, which and I may be wrong here but I think people hate picturing Nina as fat and hate that people says she's fat because in most of media and in real life, fat is used as if it was a negative word and means bad/ugly but we shouldn't think that (and of course there are fatphobic people) because fat is not a bad or negative word, its the people that use it as if it was bad that are the problem. Being bigger/not slim is not bad, there is no better body type, Inej is described as slim, neither body is 'better'. I've strayed from the point I'm trying to make-.

To get back on track, what I'm trying to say is that for someone to see representation of their body type not being used as a derogatory way or a comedic way is so amazing, it will help people feel more comfortable with their body type and see the beautiful human being they are. And we know Nina knows how to dress well and is feminine which is quite rarely shown in body types that aren't thin, it feels so refreshing to have that, as characters who are bigger are often not dressed as well as the slim characters.

Also for Nina to have confidence and to be the icon that she is, she doesn't care that she's seen as loud or that people judge her for that. These aren't traits that are commonly seen in characters that aren't thin and if someone who isn't slim is loud they are made fun off and bullied for it. We know Nina was bullied, yet she is always unapologetically herself and doesn't squash that to satisfy how someone else thinks she should act.

I know there will always be a debate as to how 'fat' she is, everyone will have different ways of picturing Nina, but all we know for sure and is 100% is that Nina is not thin, and is curvy, there's still so many ways she could look but she is not slim. (We all should know that there is not just two body types, there are billions of variations and I know my terminology probably isn't the greatest but I hope you know what I mean). There are so many characters that are described as slim, leave alone Nina to not be drawn that way because it is explicitly canon that she isn't thin.

There are so many ways you could draw/represent Nina with a curvaceous body just because she's bigger does not mean that she only has one body type, again even the official fanart represents her in different ways, she just is not slim. I also want to reiterate that I do not think that all Nina is just her body type, I actually felt uncomfortable only writing about this because people like to put down women just to their body, but she has so much more to her than just her appearance. She is NINA motherfucking ZENIK for saints sake.

This post probably won't be posted because some people probably won't like it.

[missmoonfrost]

Seeking help - a wolfstar microfic

Remus opened the door, well aware that Sirius had asked him to call so that he could pick him up and not have to walk all the way from the bus stop. He was prepared to use any excuse: that it was nice weather, that he liked the walk. Anything that spared him from admitting he felt too worthless to waste Sirius' time.

Sirius' first question was another, though.

“How did it go?”

“I suck.” Remus declared calmly.

“The doctor did not say that”, Sirius answered even calmer. To calm. I’m-dealing-with-a-mental-patient kind of calm.

Remus let himself be led to their kitchen and accepted a big cup of tea.

“No”, he admitted, “he didn’t say that. In fact, he told me well done for seeking help. But he must have thought I’m a bad case since he prescribed me medicine, put me on half-time sick leave and referred me to a psychologist.”

The tears were there again, burning his eyes. Crying was all he did nowadays.

Sirius put a gentle hand on Remus’ arm.

“I tried to be positive and said, ‘nice, then I can work until noon and then go home and sleep.’ Do you know what the fucker said? ‘Absolutely not. You need daylight and activation. Take walks. Work in the garden.’”

 “You used to love working in the garden,” Sirius says slowly.

Remus looks down at the table and spins his teacup in his hands a couple of times.

“I used to love working in the garden. But nothing is fun anymore.”

“That’s why you need help. That’s why you did the right thing today.”

“What is my boss going to say?”

Sirius shrugs. “What can she say? You’ve got a doctor’s note.”

Remus drinks his tea. Sirius offers him a cookie, which he doesn’t take.

“I’m going to get fat by the medicine.”

“You’ve never been fat in your life, you lucky arse.”

“I’m not making this up,” Remus protests. “Increased appetite and weight gain are among the well-known side-effects.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s going to happen to you.”

“I’m going to get fat and ugly and you are going to leave me”, Remus presses. Just because he can. Just because he knows he’ll get the reassurance he wants.

“I’m never going to leave you. Never ever. Besides, if you get a little more appetite that’s only good for you, then I don’t have to force you to eat that often.”

He reaches for Sirius and he is there in an instant. Wrapping his arms around him, providing just the safe spot he needs when everything else is chaos.

At least this is a start. He’ll try this. If it doesn’t help, he’ll try something else.

This is me, in case anyone cares. I'm Remus. Imagin if I had been married to Sirius and come home telling him about today's visit to the doctor.

[sloasis]

Okay . I literally have SO much I want to say about this scene , first of all , his smile is so gorgeous . Idk what the secret is to Oliver's perfect white teeth but he's so handsome and beautiful . Anyway . Second of all , the framing in this is actually chefs fucking kiss . He's framed in the middle of them , a man and a woman = his bisexuality . Like this is actually a huge fucking tease and just straight up foreshadowing . Buck literally starting this season with oh I feel like something is missing and there's a part of me I'm still searching for and wanting , I just have to open myself up TO THE POSSIBILITIES . Literally he just said that right before this scene . Huge fucking analogy to his sexuality like idk how you guys lived through this tbh I would've been going crazy and be ' reaching ' to analyze everything he says in this arc relating to Buck figuring out he's bi too which obviously IS CANON and goes canon after this but with the context that Oliver was gonna play Buck bi anyway and it got shut down and they didn't know if season 6 was gonna be the last season or not is just really funny seeing this whole thing of Buck just being told left and right that he's searching for the ' key to happiness ' and ' opening up to possibilities ' will help him figure out what he's feeling he's missing in his life and then he goes and talks to this couple who reached out to him on purpose cause Connor knows his dick WORKS and is BIG AND FAT . Anyways I'm getting carried away but this whole thing is literally just a replacement for his queer arc cause it got shut down by the stupid ugly men who control the entertainment industry and gets to tell writers what they can and can't show ..... This is also a thing about Buck and his need to be useful and his yearning for his own family . Like really , if you take away Eddie and Chris being such a prominent figure in Buck's life .. Buck's the only one in the show who doesn't have a kid , doesn't have a love of his life / serious significant other , doesn't have a family of his own . Maddie's his family of course but she has Jee and Chim and her new baby , Buck is the ONLY one on the outside who is independent , I guess . This arc is about that too like the way Buck jumps at to help this couple who's been struggling with infertility because a part of him wants something like that for himself , someone he can come home to and love with everything he's got and an awesome kid to take care of . All the best of it and the worse of it . The conversation Buck has where he says isn't love supposed to be when you are at your worst and you still try again gets me every time . I genuinely think about that every day . Buck wants all of it , the gritty , the arguments , the fear of losing them , the love and sex , the sheer intimacy , the domesticity , the jokes and smiles . Everything that comes with having a LIFE partner , he craves it . And he's really almost fuckin' got it . Eddie's just gotta LOCK IT IN MAN . And BUCK needs to stop DENYING it , he needs to face it because seriously man , everyone fucking knows it , the showrunners know it , the actors know it , the audience , and THE CHARACTERS WITHIN THE SHOW . LOCK IT IN BUDDIE .... Also Buck was definitely thinking about Connors dick when he said he doesn't have ' enough swimmers ' like okay dude . Uh um , that must be tough . That's why your uh , all pent up . Well , wish I could help .

[velvetvexations]

I feel like a lot of the trans women saying that masculinity/manhood is always rewarded in everyone because patriarchy often forget that the opposite is true, actually, for people who are seen as women/put in the "woman" category.

Because yes, trans women are usually forced into manhood and "rewarded" for being men, and punished for being women. But that's not because manhood is universally rewarded in everyone, but because partriarchy sees having been born with a penis as "man".

It also sees being born with a vagina as "woman", and every deviation from that is *also* punished.

Yes, people who are seen as women/girls may have more freedom in expression of gender (depending on where they are from. I hate when ppl act like people afab everywhere can just dress like men without punishment. There are so many countries with laws on what "women" (and those treated as women because of their agab) can wear, and if anyone believes for one second that breaking these laws is REWARDED in any way, they're so fucking deep in their own head and need to talk to someone from these countries) but that freedom was fought for by feminists! Feminists have fought to be simply just allowed to wear pants. It's ridiculous to look at how it is now (in the western world) and make conclusions on that without looking at *why* it is that way now and how it was before.

And people are usually expected to grow out of their tomboy-"phase" by the time they reach their late teens, or early twenties at latest, and become a feminine woman, wife, and mother. If you don't do that, your masculinity gets punished.

And the masculinity of people afab is also only (begrudgingly) accepted (in SOME places in the world) as long as they're still visible as women or girls and their masculinity is hot and serves cishet men. As soon as they step "too far" out of these roles (by being non-binary or men, or being "ugly", fat, or anything that would make them "undesirable"), their masculinity gets punished. Horribly.

It's really infuriating when (trans)radfem trans women try to act like their experiences are universal and whenever someone says something that disagrees with them, they must be lying or "delusional" (yay, ableism! so progressive /s) for thinking that they were, in fact, punished for their masculinity or manhood...

Sorry for unloading this on you, didn't know where else to put it. And thank you so much for listening.

I think a major issue here is that no matter how much we try to reason things out and work through why they act the way they do, radical feminism, trans or cis, ultimately comes down, at some point, to a deliberate decision to prioritize egocentrism and their own desires over seeing other people as real, actual people - not even other transfems, who they just sexualize and try to control, or call a TERF if they can't. And it's hard to reason with that.

Like, they have to know on some level that they hyperinflate trans women in particular being "socially murdered"* to use as social capital and terrorize younger** transfems into isolating themselves. Maybe a very long time ago for some of them it came from the distress they felt from the legitimately immense danger transfems face in a variety of contexts, but they've shot far beyond that now and just don't really care. They've built a cage of unreality around themselves that makes me feel like I'm talking to aliens.

Like the other day, I was talking to one who insisted that the tee-em-ees will not show up for me. Like, I said they did, and she said they won't, and I was like, but they DO! They have! Always! I've seen it with my own eyes, directly for me specifically! But it was just "who hurt you," "let yourself be angry," "don't settle for just scraps," "they won't treat you better if you throw yourself at their feet," "social murder," and it's like WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? ARE YOU HAVING A STROKE? WAS THIS A DREAM YOU HAD?

And what about the deliberately cruel fuckery, the constant derision of the most petty things like forcemasc? What the fuck do they get out of wrongly asserting that women are never punished for masculinity and never have a problem with being viewed as masculine, like why are they doing that, what is their goal? Because it seems like it's literally just "mock and invalidate the sexual interests of others and deem it an inferior copy of our thing."

What do they get out of misgendering cis and trans men for forcefem funsies and telling them to suck it up? They don't really believe that their forcefem joke is the only thing that might make an egg crack. That's extremely obviously a lie. They're doing it because they want to, because it's their kink, because they don't care about the feelings of other people, and they can use transmisogyny as a convenient defense when people ask them to moderate literally any of their behavior for the comfort of everyone else to literally any extent while demanding everyone else shut up and defer to them on every single topic in every single situation.

And this stuff with D20 and Ophiuchus and the transmasc character being treated better? A lie. Just fully making it up. Inventing it. Fabricating it. For attention.

I've never had one acknowledge it when I've tried to explain that I first learned about all of this from transmasc friends bringing it to me so they could defer to my opinion.

They're determined to stay like this. It sucks.

*truly a phrase that makes me livid to even think about now, they reduce it to about the same level of seriousness as forcefem jokes, every single time it's so thoughtlessly hollow and self-obsessed but you could guess that from it being a fair description of every thought they externalize

**let me make this clear, I'm referring to young adults, I am not accusing anyone of being predatory towards minors nor am I saying the motivations are necessarily sexual anyway, although clearly transradfems don't care about the effect their hyperbole will have on the mental health of minors exposed to it and trained from a young age to never trust anyone, so underage transfems are very much a concern here, but not in the sense that they're being directly and personally abused in any way

[out-there-tmblr]

Young zaundads wip (30)

***

Reporting to the office takes longer than Vander would like. They spend too long standing over maps of the mine, trying to guess the route they took to get out. It's nearly shift end by the time the supervisors are satisfied and let them go.

Vander just wants to go to bed, to close the door on that little room of theirs and ignore everything outside. But Silco stops when they get to the mess hall.

"You should let your friends know you survived," he says. He hides his scratched fingers in the pockets of his jacket.

"And what are you doing?"

"I should check on the foundlings. There might have been survivors."

Because most of the workers on level three were kids. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"Honestly, I'd prefer you weren't there," Silco says with the kind of honesty that comes from complete exhaustion. "We might have to take someone to the river. That would break your heart."

Vander leans in for a hug, holds Silco close. Cheek to cheek, he says softly, "Pretty sure it would break yours too."

"I'm far better at hiding it," Silco replies and Vander can see his point. Vander's never been good at hiding what he feels; it shows on his face and in his voice. If the kids need someone controlled and certain, someone to do what's needed, Silco can hold a steady face.

"Come meet me in the mess hall afterwards?" Vander asks and Silco nods. Maybe the right thing to do would be to run after him, to insist on helping, but Vander’s relieved to avoid it. He's not in a rush to bury teenagers.

Instead, he heads to the mess hall and finds himself tackled by Felicia. It's instinct to catch her.

"Vander! You're okay!"

"A little bruised, but in one piece," Vander says, putting her down. "We got back this afternoon."

Felicia blinks up at him, eyes soft and concerned. "And Silco?"

"The two of us," Vander says and she sags in relief. "We had to dig most of the night, but we made it. Did anyone else��?"

Felicia shakes her head. "Nearly all of level three collapsed. A few miners made it back to the elevator as it came down, but everyone else was lost."

That's nearly two dozen people. Half of the foundling bunks will be empty tonight. Vander has a twinge of conscience, wondering if he should have gone with Silco, and then Benzo's voice is thundering across the courtyard.

"Vander! More lives than a cat, this one!" Benzo has one black eye and an ugly purple bruise across his cheek.

"What happened to your face?" Vander asks, even as Connol walks up with a fat lip and a matching black eye. "Did you two get in a fight?"

"With enforcers," Felicia answers sharply. "These two idiots didn't believe the company when they said level three was unsafe. They tried to sneak in and override the lock on the elevator, and found a bunch of enforcers instead."

"Felicia's just mad that we didn't tell her the plan," Connol says. It looks like it hurts to talk. "It's only because she was arguing with the supervisors, trying to convince them to let us try digging you out."

Vander grins at his friends, bruised and furious on his behalf. Who would have risked their lives to try to save him. "Sounds like the first round's on me. I'll buy the drinks and you can tell me about the daring rescue attempt."

Vander gets to hear the whole story. That it was a handful of miners that complained, not just Felicia, when they announced no rescue attempt. That the supervisors declared it unsafe and locked the elevator, so even if they had managed to dig out that direction, they still would have been trapped that night.

While the supervisors were being yelled at by angry miners, Benzo and Connol took their gear into the mine and pried open the elevator controls. They'd disabled the elevator lock and were working on the grating lock when five enforcers marched on the scene.

"As you can see," Benzo says, nodding at Connol's face, "we weren't stupid enough to fight back."

They all know what happens if you land a lucky punch on an enforcer. A quick transfer to Stillwater and if you're lucky, they'll let you back out in a few years' time.

In turn, Vander tells them about digging their way out and the hidden shrine they found down there. "I think it was Janna," Vander says, shrugging. "It was old. Had an inscription on the wall. Zaun."

Benzo takes a big swallow of his ale. "Could be. My granddad prayed to Janna, and he said his granddad did before him. Maybe people have been praying to her for centuries."

"I'd offer to show you guys but I don't know if we'd find our way back. I stopped paying attention to how many turns we took."

"Pity," Connol says, finishing his drink and standing up. "Does everyone want another?"

Felicia nods, and then curiously watches Connol walk away. She spots Vander noticing, and shrugs it off. "What an idiot. Fighting with enforcers."

Vander grins at her. "Is that what you really think of him?"

"Oh, look," she says, distracting him from his teasing. "It's your other half."

Silco stands in the doorway, scanning the crowd. Anyone else might see the proud tilt of his chin, the judgemental twist of his mouth and assume it's just Silco, mean and cranky as ever. Vander sees something brittle in his expression, like he's holding everything together by willpower alone. "I think that's my cue to leave."

Felicia stands up to let him walk past, and then follows Vander while Benzo protects their table.

"Felicia," Silco says smoothly, giving her a nod. "Good to see you."

Silco looks stunned when Felicia bounces forward and wraps her arms around him. Freezes in place.

"We're glad you're not dead," Felicia says, giving him one more squeeze and then stepping back. "Really."

"Me, too," Silco says wryly.

Felicia smiles, bright and charming. "I mean, can you imagine how Vander would mope around if you hadn't made it out? He'd be insufferable."

"I'll keep that in mind," Silco promises. "But if you'll excuse us, it's been a very long day."

Vander ignores the look Felicia shoots at him. Sometimes Silco – with his sharp mind and love of books – talks like a Piltie and it puts everyone on edge.

"See you tomorrow," Vander says and leads Silco away before Felicia says anything. When the noise of the mess hall is safely behind them, he asks, "Are you okay?"

Silco presses his lips together tightly and shakes his head. They walk back through the old mine, picking their way back carefully through the tunnels, and don't say a thing.

Even when the door is closed behind them and safely latched, Silco only says, "I'm so tired."

"Then let's go to bed," Vander says and leads him to sheets that smell of them, human warmth and animal sweat. He pulls Silco against him and holds him tight.

***

[fightingalgth8rs]

"But don’t pretend like she hasn’t packed on the pounds."

Who the fuck cares if she has?? And how shallow do they think David is that they think she needs to be (their definition of) hot next to him anyway?

Of course they're not really fans of him are they? Just their fantasy version of him while hating their fantasy villain of her

Listen @notnov8or used the phrase 80lbs and starving to death in that last post. Trust me it's so true. I'm saying this is a 84lbs skinny person. I wish that some miracle would happen that would make me chonky. I'm all about empowering the anorexic but sometimes I really really want to be healthier. So it really eludes me when these people call her fat or ugly. Because there's a lot of people that would kill for her (don't know if I wanna be her or do her....either way what bliss).

Also he does think she's hot. Because he's not dumb like them. They're the only one who don't think she wasn't looking hot next to him. In fact she was looking SO hot next to him that she made him look like Just Some Bloke (tm).

You're right anon. They're not fans of him. I wish they wake up someday.