#but then there's also the 'your body is fundamentally broken' of it all so

[birgittesilverbae]

really shoulda just stuck to primarily-physical work

[shhhsecretsideblog]

Denial

Co-written with the gorgeously talented @gravid-transluna Thanks so much for picking up this RP starter, so happy we’re collaborating and writing fics. I’m having a blast! 💜 [fpreg, 7.7k words, birth denial, clothing birth, public birth]

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Alex had a million and one things to do in the office before she went on maternity leave. The day was disappearing fast and she’d barely sat down; with back to back meetings, numerous phone calls, it was non-stop. It seemed her body wasn’t too keen on being pushed so hard this late in her pregnancy, if the constant braxton hicks were anything to go by, but she powered through assuring herself that she’d be resting soon. Just get through today.

The Exec waddles into the lift, heading to a meeting room a few floors below. The doors were just about to close before a young employee jumped in lightly after her. They stood in relative silence facing the exit, until the sudden screech of metal clanged all around them. The floor shook, jolting suddenly, and the lift was brought to an abrupt halt.

Alex’s curled hair swung around her face as she glanced at the tiny screen which usually displayed the floor level - it was now flashing a warning error image. “Eugh, is the lift broken?” Alex gruffed, annoyed.

“Looks like it.” The anxious looking subordinate replied, clearly worried and apprehensive at the thought of being trapped in here. “H-Have you got your phone with you?”

“Damn. No, it’s on my desk. You?” Alex asks, frustrated her pregnancy brain had struck again, making her forget something as fundamental as her phone. Seeing the other woman’s expression Alex quickly realised neither of them had a phone.

Thankfully the lights stayed on, but the metal box quickly started feeling too small. Another cramp rolls across Alex’s large, full-term, belly and she can’t help but grimace.

“Oof…mmmnghh….” A moan slipped out under her breath, she rubbed the side of her twinging bump as the other hand automatically reached to the wall of the elevator for stability. “Hooohooo… not now…” Alex whispered.

The other woman looked at her nervously.

Colleen had two fears: contained spaces and her boss, Alex. Unfortunately for her, she was trapped in with both of them today. Alex’s pregnant belly straining the buttons of her work blouse did nothing to diminish her fearsome personality; if anything motherhood had only made her more intimidating, still a commanding presence in a roomful of men even with a swollen, overdue baby belly hanging off her frame.

Worse, her boss seemed a little more than uncomfortable in this situation. She’d seen her bite receptionists’ heads off her a wrong coffee order, but still, seeing Alex wince and rub her belly, which seemed to have dropped even lower this week, she felt compelled to hesitantly ask, “Ma’am, is everything alright? I’m sure they’ll realize we’re in here eventually.”

Alex gave Colleen a quizzical look, but on seeing where her colleague's gaze was, she realised she was rubbing the right side of her large pregnant stomach. She stopped, letting her arm fall limp at her side.

“I’m fine,” Alex replied curtly. “I just don’t have time for this today.” She sighed and looked around the cramped space, what she was looking for she didn’t know, but there must be someway to get someone’s attention and get them out of there.

She knew she was cutting it fine; both by how late she was going on maternity leave but also with how much she was trying to cram in to her last day. Her feet were aching in her 3inch heels having been on her feet for most of the day, in meetings and presentations and walking around the office trying to make sure everyone in her team was well equipped to continue things during her absence. She was heading down to the third floor for her next meeting with the team leaders, that was if the lift hadn’t so inconveniently broken down.

“So you don’t have your phone on you or any method of communication at all?” Alex griped, asking her mousy employee yet again. Hoping the woman would miraculously have a way of contacting the security team or something.

The baby in her womb seemed just as uncomfortable as Alex in this small space, shifting and kicking harshly against her taught and stretched skin. His head was sitting so low in her pelvis it felt like her hips were being pulled apart. She’d be happy when this pregnancy was over, she was done playing host, she wanted her body back. Though she continued to dress in her staple pencil skirt, blouse and heels, pregnancy be damned.

Alex began to pace around the room, finding herself needing to move, shifting the aching from her hips. Another braxton hicks decided to add to her problems, she huffed under her breath and faced away from the doors into the corner, blowing out a silent exhale through the twisting pain.

Colleen could tell by the way that Alex’s gaze flicked over her that she probably only recognized her face by sight and not by name. She seemed impatient, which wasn’t unusual for such a busy, ambitious, work-minded woman, but there was something else in her impatience, an almost shifting restlessness that seemed to match the restless movements in her packed womb. The fabric of her blouse was almost see-through, stretched so thinly around her massive swell, and Colleen could observe visible ripples against the tight skin of her belly. She winced. Colleen wasn’t at an age where she had seriously considered children, but her respect for her boss had grown immensely, seeing her waddle around the office in her pencil skirt and blouse, seemingly as efficacious as ever.

Alex’s restlessness became even more pronounced when she turned away from Colleen, as though hiding her big belly and whatever was going on inside it.

“I don’t have my phone,” Colleen said helplessly, hoping it wouldn’t result in a chewing out. “I left it in my handbag on my chair.”

Alex let out a disgruntled sigh, half from annoyance at her staff’s serious lack of organisation - who goes anywhere without their phone anyway? - but also from the way in which this false contraction was starting to bite.

The practice pains had been a consistent thorn in her side all day and it was really starting to get on her nerves. She’d successfully managed to grin and bear it through this morning's presentation to the board but by lunchtime they were starting to take her breath away. Still, Alex carried on. There was just too much to do and not enough time. It was why she was working right up to her due date, not that she told the company that. They’d have forced her out weeks ago if they knew she’d technically passed her due day on Tuesday.

When the pains passed, Alex spun around and walked determinedly towards Colleen who appeared to brace herself for something. She always got a warped joy when they did that. Leaning past her employee, Alex began pressing buttons on the lift and found the emergency call button. “Let’s try this shall we.” Alex smirked at the hesitant Colleen. Unfortunately the emergency button did absolutely nothing at all.

“Umm,” Colleen scratched awkwardly at her neck, trying to disguise her growing panic. She didn’t like the idea of being trapped, but more so she knew as things continued to go wrong her boss’s mood would continue to sour, and didn’t want to remotely be in her vicinity when it did.

She tried not to look at the immense belly taking up most of her field of vision, though it was hard not to glance at it, especially when making eye contact with Alex was such a terrifying experience.

“We could shout for help?” Colleen suggested. “Maybe someone will hear us from whichever floor we’re on.”

“Eugh… if you want to shout then go ahead.” Alex dismissed, and continued back to her pacing around the small space.

They stayed in awkward silence, the only sounds were the clack-clack of Alex’s heels on the metal floor as she did loops around her section of the lift. She had one hand on her back, knuckles pushing into the base of her spine as it ached and spasmed. She’d managed to breathe her way through a few more of the annoying cramps but they were soon joined by a serious increase in pressure.

One particularly forceful twinge made her gasp and stop her pacing, one hand flying to the wall to lean against as the tightening got stronger and stronger and stronger. She couldn’t stop the low hum she made in her throat as the cramp continued its assault.

Colleen didn’t dare to open her mouth to shout, knowing she’d probably receive a dirty look and a complaint about a headache for her troubles. Instead she watched as her boss paced, again noting her restlessness and the hand bracing her curved, strained back as well as the hand constantly circling and resting on the broad shelf of her belly, as though to soothe the baby inside. This time, though, she noticed Alex’s walk, the way she waddled as though encumbered not only by the weight of her huge bump, but a pressure of sorts between her legs.

She more than suspected Braxton Hicks at this point, but her worst suspicions were confirmed when her boss finally leaned against the wall as though unable to support her own weight or trying to escape a deep pressure from her womb. She hummed, lowing as though she’d momentarily forgotten Colleen was there, absorbed with sensations from her pregnant body.

“Ma’am, are you okay?!” She stepped closer, hands spread like she didn’t know what to do with them. “You’re having a contraction, right. Oh god. Oh, this is so bad.”

Alex waved a hand away at the approaching colleague, keeping her at arm's length. “Don’t be ridiculous. Hoooo…. It’s nothing, it’s just a c-cramp that’s all… mnghhh…”

Her hand drifted lower and brushed along the underside of her stomach needing to try and find some way to ease the ache that was gnawing through her belly. She could feel her knees start to wobble and she breathed steadily, her weight supported by the wall, until it passed.

“See, it’s gone now. I’m fine.” Alex stated confidentially, her work facade firmly replaced. “Someone better get us out of here soon, I’m gonna bloody fire that security officer.” Alex muttered aloud.

She wanted to resume her pacing, her hips needed the constant movement, but her feet were far beyond protesting the high heels - they were downright screaming at her. Too exhausted to keep up every one of her professional fronts, Alex resigned herself to the comfort of bare feet and uncharacteristically kicked off her shoes.

Colleen nodded furiously at Alex’s dismissal of the pains. “Right! Of course, just a cramp. I shouldn’t have assumed anything.”

The young employee didn’t know much about pregnancy and birth, but she’d seen enough media about it to know that Alex closely resembled that of a woman in labor: the characteristically low, dropped belly, the consistent cramps, the restlessness. But…. that’d be impossible, right? There was no way she’d had the misfortune to be trapped in a lift with her boss of all people, and especially not an Alex in labor. That was not an encounter Colleen particularly wanted to be around.

She reassured herself. Even if those cramps coursing through Alex’s obviously overdue belly were labor pains, labor could take days, right? They couldn’t be stuck in here for more than thirty minutes, someone would absolutely notice Alex’s absence if not Colleen’s. She was too important to the company. Then, Colleen could get back to her emails and Alex could be sped off to the hospital or wherever she preferred to drop that kid.

These hopes wavered when Alex kicked off her shoes, pacing in her stockings. Colleen’s eyes widened. This was a ridiculously unprofessional move for Alex, she knew that for sure.

Without her black patent heels Alex shifted anxiously on flat swollen feet around the confined space, gradually feeling the temperature rise and the air thicken. There was no circulation in the small box, no air conditioning or fresh air coming through any gaps or vents. She could feel sweat start to dampen the back of her neck, her curled hair sticking to the tacky skin. She ran her fingers through her hair, arms stretching up and belly sticking out, picking up the ringlets from the back of her head and lifting them off her neck allowing some air to cool her overheated skin.

The Exec huffed an exhausted sigh. “How long do you reckon we’ve been in here?” Alex asked breathlessly to her subordinate.

She had given up on pacing and resorted to standing at the back of the lift and next to the metal railing that ran across the width of the back wall. Her hips swayed side to side, she breathed slow and deep, and occasionally would place a subtle hand on the railing for support.

The persistent braxton hicks were grating, chipping away at her resolve. It was probably just the confinement and heat, being stuck inside this metal box, but it felt like the intensity of the cramps were getting worse. She caught herself moaning under her breath when they struck, she tried to swallow the noise but it was never quick enough to remain totally silent. She wasn’t in the mood to field questions or concern from Colleen so she had to get those moans under control. Unfortunately for Alex, when the next contraction appeared it came on so suddenly she didn’t have time to prepare. The pain lanced across her stomach and Alex doubled over gasping, hands flying out and gripping the railing tight, an unusual groan rumbled from her throat.

Having watched her superior endure what were undeniably contractions at this point, Colleen’s concern had only multiplied. If she hadn’t been certain when Alex kicked off her heels (swollen, aching feet weren’t exactly uncommon in pregnancy, right?) or when sweat began to bead on her forehead in contrast to her usual inclement coolness (well, it is hot in here with no air conditioner, and she must be dying carrying around all that belly in such cramped quarters), there was not a doubt in Colleen’s mind when Alex clutched at the railing and moaned, low in her throat. It sounded so unlike Alex’s clipped, sharp tone. Almost animalistic, like something natural, a sudden instinct to vocalise as her belly contracted.

“Er—ma’am?” Colleen kept her distance, eyeing Alex’s heaving swell. “Are the, um, cramps getting stronger? They seem—well, they seem like they’re closer together too. Almost like—”

She didn’t dare say the word. Alex, she knew, didn’t like contradictions to what she said.

Instead she answered her boss’s previous question. “It’s probably been, oh I don’t know, maybe an hour or so?”

At the other woman’s panicked questions Alex managed to grit through her teeth a dismissive “… I’m fine!… mnghhh!” Alex tried to straighten up, to preserve appearances, and found she couldn’t - not while her muscles were still seizing. Instead another groan slipped from her mouth before she could clamp it shut.

“I-I think- they might be more than just cramps…” Alex panted as the worse seemed to fade away. “I think these m-might be… hoooo practice labour pains.” The Exec admitted hesitantly to her employee, removing one hand from the railing to circle around the heavy weight of her hanging bump.

She had a reputation to maintain, appearances to uphold, and Alex didn’t want to show any kind of weakness to anyone with an employee ID card. But as the waves continued she was forced to admit to her one companion she was indeed suffering from Braxton Hicks contractions. But that was fine, Colleen was only one person and after today she would be going on maternity leave and wouldn’t have to see anyone for months.

But this baby better quit practising for the main event soon. The false pains were aggressive and forceful, the weight of the baby’s head pressing so hard against her pelvis it felt like it was about to drop out any second. She hoped by the time they were rescued the baby and her body would have settled down. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take.

“They better get us out of here soon…” Alex breathed heavily and quietly. Then realising her company added “I’ve got a meeting at 4pm with the CEO.”

Colleen tried to keep her face neutral, even as her boss doubled over groaning, her belly tight around her middle. Alex’s thighs were wide in her pencil skirt and Colleen could tell by their restless shifting and the slight bending of Alex’s knees that she was feeling the urge to spread them even more, not quite a squat yet but unable to stand with any poise anymore. Inwardly, though, her thoughts were racing. Braxton Hicks weren’t powerful like this, were they? After all, if they had forced a woman like Alex into a panting dishevelled mess, they must be pretty strong.

‘Should I tell her it sounds like she’s having contractions?’ Colleen deliberated. By the minute, she could tell Alex was progressing into her labour. Even as she struggled to maintain her image her body was getting her ready for birth, and Colleen knew that even her boss’s willpower wouldn’t halt such a natural, primal process. Then again, if Alex wanted to be in denial, it wouldn’t make much of a difference. They still had to wait in this lift until rescuers showed up—Colleen might as well not lose her job on top of it.

Instead, she nodded again. “Yes, ma’am. Of course, practise pains. I’m sure they’ll subside before long. They’re supposed to be quite irregular.”

“Exactly… hoooo… I just need to ride them out. It’s fine. Hoooo…” Alex’s usually assertive voice sounded somewhat unsure. She didn’t like it.

Both hands returning to the railing, facing the wall, Alex found her weight shifting from hip to hip. Her stance was wide - when did that happen?- and her blouse was damp with sweat. The boss was grateful there was not a mirror in this lift, dreading to think what she looked like.

The false pains didn’t seem to be fading anymore, staying at a constant ache in her womb with agonising peaks shooting across her back and down her thighs. She prided herself on her ability to handle any challenge, but for the first time in her life she doubted her willpower to make it through. If this was practice labour she did not want to experience the real thing. Perhaps she should organise a c-section when she gets out of here.

The pressure in her pelvis was getting almost unbearable, and combined with the false contractions that continued to strike, she felt herself losing control of her autonomy. Her body was shifting and moving of its own accord and ghastly noises were coming from her mouth. Her hips were on fire, a weight pressing and splitting them apart. She bent over gripping the railing, flat back and hips shifting backwards. Her legs tried to stand further apart but were stopped by the tight fitting pencil skirt around her thighs. The groan that left her mouth was unrecognisable, like she was possessed. As the pressure built and built, she could feel an urgency sinking lower and lower. Before she knew it the sounds from her mouth had deepened, her heavy breathing ending with an animalistic grunt.

Colleen continued to observe as Alex made noises that she couldn’t even reconcile with the aloof, in-control Alex that she knew. Wide-eyed, she couldn’t stop staring as the laboring woman paced the tiny space. Her grunts, the way she hissed through her teeth, with every sound she appeared closer and closer to giving birth. Her waddle was pronounced, almost bowlegged as though there was a deep weight between her legs, forcing them apart and pulling her closer to a grounded position. ‘Holy shit,’ Colleen thought. ‘She’s about to drop her baby!’ She didn’t know a thing about midwifery or delivering a child. Much less delivering for a mother who refused to even admit she was in labor.

Colleen tried to track Alex’s contractions in her mind as they ramped up in both frequency and intensity, but found it hard without a watch or a way to tell time. Eventually she gave up, reassuring herself that the next stage of labor wasn’t yet upon them, and that unless Alex broke her waters the baby would remain inside her womb until they could call some paramedics. Still, she didn’t like the fact that Alex appeared to be losing her calm, composed self. Drenched in sweat, grunting and groaning through contractions, her body was obviously telling her it was time, and Colleen wondered if she’d even let her help if it came down to her pushing her kid out into her pantyhose or exposing her heavily pregnant self to a random colleague.

Alex’s grip on the railing tightened as she felt her legs start to tremble. Pressing her forehead against the cool metal wall, she released a shaky exhale. She couldn’t think… hell she could barely stand. Every part of her entire being was consumed and overwhelmed by the pressure and pain between her legs.

In some buried corner of her mind an instinct was telling her to get lower to the ground, to remove her skirt and tights, to open up her legs and hips. Alex fought against the idea, she’d already lost enough dignity trapped in this lift with some entry-level employee, she was not going to make it any worse. But when the next contraction struck, any fighting spirit she had seemed to evaporate.

“Ohhhh god!!!! Mnnnghhhh!” She groaned, long and deep, rocking herself forwards and backwards and clinging on to the only thing keeping her on two legs. “The pressure….. hoooooo…. There’s so much -mngh!- pressure!!! Mnngghhhhh!!!”

Her body sank back deep into her hips, knees dipping slightly in her tight pencil skirt and belly hanging to the ground, her backside swaying in the centre of the confined space. She could feel her muscles squeezing with the force of contraction, trying to do something. The baby dropped even lower and smashed through her cervix. She felt so full, the mass in her pelvis so heavy, and her body screamed at her to bear down.

“No…..” Alex cried aloud against nature's call. “No… don’t…” but her instincts took over and suddenly the mother-to-be was pushing.

“Ma’am!” Colleen cried, startled by such a stark display of utter abandonment from her boss. Her waters hadn’t yet broken. She couldn’t be pushing, could she?! Yet Alex was squat-standing and clutching the railing, the backs of her thighs trembling with an immense groaning effort. It sounded more forceful than just enduring the pains in her belly. It sounded as though Alex was actively doing something, putting in a hard, straining effort. Working with her body without a thought in her mind except birthing her baby. Between her spread thighs, Colleen could see the underside of her stomach, hanging low, uterus clenching her belly into a hard, tight ball. The way she bent her knees periodically, grunting uncontrollably each time… it was as though she was trying to force something low and heavy through her bottom. Everything about Alex seemed heavy, gravid.

She groaned again, and Colleen gasped, “Ma’am, are you pushing?! You can’t push, not yet!”

Tentatively, she placed her palm against Alex’s swaying lower back, curving with the weight of her belly. She began to rub and massage the tense muscles, not knowing what else she could do to help. The way Alex seemed consumed with birthing, Colleen didn’t think she even noticed her.

“Unnhhh- I’m not pushing! I’m not- ohhhhhhh- I’m not in labour damn it!!!” Alex’s staccato breaths carried her continued denial of what was happening to her body.

She gasped, breath holding in her lungs, and her body pushed again without instruction. Alex ignored the faint relief that was gained with the push, the satisfaction of the productive contraction, the moving of the baby as it neared its exit. But then the urgency faded, the contraction eventually dimmed, and Alex could think again. She had control again.

It was then she noticed the hands that were rubbing her lower back. Startled Alex abruptly stood upright and glared at the presumptuous woman beside her. “What on earth are you doing?” Alex sniped, waving an arm and shooing her away.

The nervous employee recoiled back and Alex shifted around the space again, both hands holding the large belly about to burst out the sweat-dampened blouse. “I am not in labour.” Alex repeated firmly, forcing the confidence as if willing it to be true. “I am not having this baby, and I don’t need your help.”

Colleen barely managed not to gape. Here Alex was, belly gleaming with sweat under her soaked blouse, contractions ramming her incessantly, curly hair damp and mussed in the heat of the lift. Her cheeks were splotchy and red with exertion and her chest was heaving, from the release of the contraction or from the force of her obvious pushing, Colleen couldn’t tell. All she did know was that her boss was actively bearing down, that much was clear. She would have thought anyone else was joking, but she didn’t think Alex had a sense of humor. She had to be in denial, Colleen concluded. To squat down and push like an animal like that, then brush off help like it was nothing—if nothing else, Alex certainly had willpower.

Of course, modesty and willpower goes out the window when you have a baby coming out of you, and from the noises and pushing grunts Alex had been making, it couldn’t be long now.

“I-I’m sorry,” Colleen stuttered. “Those…. practice cramps seemed so intense. You seemed like—well, like you were—“

Under Alex’s exhausted glare, Colleen faltered and trailed off.

“Uhh, I told you… I am not in labour- hoooo- I am fine!” Alex swallowed a moan before it slipped out her mouth. “When are they gonna bloody get us -mnnnnh!- outta here!” Standing by the lift doors Alex stared at the vertical line where the two sides of the sliding panels met, glaring at it willing them to open.

The weight of the baby’s head had started to press against her opening, Alex’s legs forced even wider apart with the sensitivity. Buried under layers of denial and facade, the unconscious sense of urgency had been joined by desperation and it was making its way to the surface.

Her fingers pulled at her blouse, freeing the thin satin from her skirt and letting it drape down from the significant curve of her belly. The pressure between her legs was beginning to return, Alex could feel it coming. Her arms lifted, hands palming the lift doors, and before she knew it she was banging on the metal to try and get the attention of someone outside this tin can.

The banging didn’t last long before Alex was stopped by the sheer force of the next contraction. Her fingers slowly slid down the lift door as her body crumpled in half over her tight, rock-solid belly. Double over she braced herself against the lift door, thighs widening and knees buckling in a semi-squat, and her body bore down with everything it had. Whether she wanted to or not every muscle was tense and squeezing, pushing the large round shape down down and out of her body. A rumbled grunt echoed from her lungs as she strained and pushed and contracted, and the heaviness between her legs started to burn.

Colleen was hyperventilating, barely able to register her own thoughts over the din of Alex’s furious pushing, grunts and groans erupting from her throat without pause or respite. The baby had to be coming soon, with how forcefully and urgently Alex was bearing down. Colleen’s mind swirled. As Alex pushed she took up the mantle of alerting any outsider to their situation, cupping her hands to her mouth and shouting over Alex’s uncontained moans.

“Help! Help us! We’re trapped in the lift and there’s a pregnant woman in here! She needs help, FAST!”

Alex’s voice rose to a deep bellow, trembling as though she was fighting an exhaustive battle against the baby inside her, bending her knees and opening her hips as wide as they could go in an attempt to drive it down and out. As her voice took on a higher, strained quality, Colleen began to suspect that something astonishing was taking place under her pencil skirt, that with all the pushing she’d been doing, the baby couldn’t possibly be very far from its only way out of her.

“Alex,” Colleen cried desperately. “What should I do?! I don’t know what to do!”

“You- mngh- don’t need to do anything cos mngh- I am not having this baby!” Alex grunted out, palms flat on the metal door, legs bent and wide beneath her skirt. “I am not in labour- hooo- I am not in labour…”

The exec panted the mantra over and over, fighting against her body’s urges to bear down. This baby was not being born in an elevator. She just had to breathe through the pains and she would be in the comfort and safety of a hospital soon, having a c-section damnit. That is what would be happening, not whatever the hell this woman was panicking about. Alex was in control, she always was in control, and the birth of her baby would be no different. She pushed herself off the doors and tried to move, to breathe through it, but the second she turned around her body doubled over and she gripped the railing to keep herself on two legs.

And then the burning got worse - the weight pressing lower, stretching apart her lips. The instinctual need to bear down was no longer a strong suggestion but a screaming demand. Alex was barely aware of her body’s actions anymore, she just wanted it all to stop. All she could do was gasp for air in between the bursts while her body forced the baby lower and lower - the head spreading her most intimate part around its giant surface. I will not have my baby here I will not have my baby here she chanted with every uncontrollable push.

Her thighs pulled the skirt as wide as it would go trying to make room, her whole body weight thrown forward as she leant over gripping the railing, arms locked and knees bent. But her hips weren’t wide enough, her body was too restricted by clothes, yet Alex was frozen to the spot as she grunted and roared with every wave. Soon the growling noise from deep in her throat turned into a pained whimper when the baby’s head pushed right through and fully crowned into her thong and stockings.

Colleen watched in horror as fluid suddenly spurted from between Alex’s thighs, soaking the floor of the elevator, filling the contained space with a musky, almost fertile scent. Alex shivered, lifting onto her toes as she gripped the railing. She looked as though her entire body was being pulled downward with the force of her descending baby. Her stockings were drenched—Colleen could scarcely believe the amount of fluid Alex’s body had let out, and it was still dripping and leaking from inside her skirt. She felt nauseous looking at the spreading puddle beneath Alex’s feet, and thought to herself, no doubt about it, there’s her waters. The release didn’t diminish Alex’s groaning efforts, though; if anything, the sudden breaking seemed to only renew her utter need to birth, nothing impeding or delaying its progress any more.

Except, of course—

Colleen gasped. “Ma’am—Alex—your skirt!”

Alex’s thighs trembled and quivered, spread so far that Colleen could see the hem of her skirt cutting into the flesh of her legs. She was trying to instinctively widen them, Colleen realized. She needed more space, even with them spread so far already, and Colleen could barely imagine the sheer size of the baby coming out of her boss. Then she didn’t have to imagine. As she watched, Alex’s skirt began to tent out slightly, tight against her backside as she doubled over, back flat. Whenever Alex grunted loudly, bending her legs and clutching the railing, the bulge in her skirt grew. That’s the head, Colleen thought, her own head spinning. My god, it’s enormous. It was a miracle they hadn’t been found yet from the noises Alex was making, letting loose guttural groans and roars that echoed in the enclosed space. Her entire face was twisted with effort, teeth clenched and eyes squeezed shut. All her strength was going into giving birth to her massive baby, but still, it didn’t seem to be enough, not with her skirt keeping her legs too narrow, her hips too closed. Alex’s skirt lifted and tented more and more, until it seemed to reach a peak. Alex’s voice slipped into a whimper and Colleen blinked, never having thought she’d hear Alex make such a vulnerable, sensitive sound. Then, Alex dropped into another hard push. The tent in the fabric stayed put.

“Your skirt,” Colleen said again, and hurriedly bent to pinch Alex’s skirt up. “Your skirt’s—“

From this angle she could finally see the crown, and drew in a breath. Her boss’s most intimate region was stretched and distended beyond recognition, lips taut around the huge head making its way out of her from behind her thong. The narrow strip of black fabric just contained the head’s huge circumference, cupping it tightly, barely allowing any more space for it to progress. Without room, Alex was stuck with a full crown between her legs, unable to push it out into her stockings.

With her boss barely able to speak anymore, Colleen made an executive decision. “I’m sorry, but we have to get this skirt off. Your baby’s coming, Alex. I can see the head! It’s coming out of you, and you need to let it, okay?! Come on, please listen to me.”

“No….unghhhh!” Alex mewled “I’m not having this baby… not here- ohhhhhhhh!”

The Exec had completely lost all semblance of control; doubled over, hanging onto the railing, legs wide and dipped as much as they could go. Alex couldn’t move. She hissed through her teeth, panting as her labia stretched thin, the baby sitting between her folds. But the baby couldn’t come now! It just can’t. She was at work for fucks sake! And worse, she was trapped in the lift. Real labour takes hours, days, there was no way she was pushing a baby out right now…

Her body argued against her thoughts as everything tightened and contracted once more. Gasping for air Alex tried to fight the muscles bearing down against the ridiculously large mass in her vagina, but panting through the pain didn’t do anything to stop the automatic pushing. Primal and animalistic noises left her mouth as her body pushed, her deep lowing reverberated off the walls.

Grunting at the end of each push, Alex tensed and strained, the instinct desperate to expel the child from her womb. But it wasn’t moving, slipping only the tiniest millimetre into her underwear. Heart racing Alex felt panicked - fighting hard against this birth and yet simultaneously trapped as the baby was stuck, held in by her tight stockings.

“Oh god!!!! Get it out- get it OUT!!!” She cried.

It was all too much; the burning, the fullness, the weight, the pressure. Alex collapsed under it all. She let go of the railing, legs shaking, and she clawed at the hem of her skirt trying to pull it higher, to give her hips more room. It was so tight, and her legs were so wide, her nails scraped across the surface of her stocking covered thighs as she gripped and pulled the black fabric of her skirt up towards her hips. But another wave crested and with it she was consumed by the need to bear down once more. Abandoning her skirt she held fast to the metal railing, her knees buckling trying to pull her down into a squat, but the pencil skirt creaked as the fabric stretched to its limits and she could only dip down slightly and push the baby against the strained clothing.

“I-it’s stuck!” Colleen stuttered. “The head is—” she raised her voice, tried to get through to Alex, but could barely even hear her own words over the almost-inhuman noises escaping from Alex’s throat as she fought desperately against the elastic of her thong, caught between the need to birth and the unyielding fabric of her stockings and the black fabric containing the massive head tightly in her vagina, shoving forward with powerful muscles as it wedged back inside her with just as much force.

She couldn’t open her legs any wider, Colleen saw. They shook violently as she threw back her head and let loose another deafening moan. From Alex’s furious face it was obvious that Colleen didn’t even register as a presence anymore, that the only thing in the world that Alex was thinking about in this moment was the head lodged between her tensed, opened lips.

Only when Alex started screaming that she needed it OUT, right now, was Colleen galvanised into action. She lowered from her crouch until she was kneeling between Alex’s legs. For a brief second, Colleen was in awe of the sight before her; the woman she’d known as a fearsome presence, a powerful executive, had been reduced to a groaning, sobbing mess, birthing into her skirt. Yet, this was her transformation into motherhood, and there was something powerful in that too.

“Alex,” Colleen said. “Alex, you have to stop pushing. I need to get your skirt down.”

She doubted Alex even heard her, but nonetheless she grappled with the clasp of Alex’s pencil skirt. The waistband was held taut by Alex’s widened legs as she tried to allow the baby to pass through, and Colleen was unable to undo the clasp.

“Shi-it,” she licked her teeth and then grabbed both ends of the waistband, pulling hard. The clasp tore off, and immediately the skirt loosened and sagged around Alex’s hips.

“Oohhhhhh… get-it-off-GET-IT-OFF!!” Alex yelled, feeling the tightness of the skirt loosen around her middle.

She had to push, she had to get this baby out now - location and present company be damned - the torturous stretching and excruciating pain had to stop. And Alex knew there was only way in which it would.

Her employee, whateverhernameis, was pulling the skirt over her widened hips and Alex squirmed and shifted with the fullness and desperation to bear down. When the skirt hit the floor Alex immediately stepped out of it and dropped down fully into a deep squat, roaring with the effort of another push. The woman was behind her, she thinks, but she barely notices… Alex’s arms stretch upwards, hands still gripping the railing, her body hanging off the support and almost swinging in her squat.

Her underwear and stockings were still covering her lower body but the freedom of being able to fully open her legs meant the baby could move further out. Alex pulled in a deep breath and bore down with everything she had. Silent in her efforts as all her focus went inward.

Part of her wanted to feel, to know how much of the baby was born and how much there was left to go, but she daren’t release her vice-like grip for fear of collapsing and losing her pushing position. She gasped, her throat scratched and raw, and clamped her teeth together and growled another push. The baby was coming, she could feel it slipping out and this time it wasn’t retreating. Harder and harder she leant into the push and finally the head popped out into her stockings. Alex sobbed with relief and collapsed back into her member of staff.

Colleen cried out in surprise as Alex fell back into her arms, leaning her entire body weight into them as though she had used up all of her strength, drained from pushing the huge head through her overstressed opening, and beneath her more fluid flooded the floor of the lift from the sudden release. Colleen gingerly caught her by the armpits, and Alex’s knees jackknifed apart, jutting upward as she lowered her bottom and hips beneath her, the head dangling between the apex of her thighs. She moaned, breathless, closing her eyes. Tear trails marked their way down her cheeks. Damp and shivering, with a baby hanging out of her, Alex was totally vulnerable to Colleen, hardly seeming to even notice her exposure or dependence on her.

Colleen couldn’t help but smile down at her superior as she swayed and panted in her arms. An hour ago, Colleen might have received a harsh glance for even brushing her fingers as she handed her a coffee. Now, she was holding her up while she prepared to push her baby into the world.

“Go on,” Colleen urged. “Feel the head. It’s out now. You’re almost there.”

“What? Hoooo… it-it’s out… the head?” Alex could barely catch her breath to form words, her full breasts heaving up and down on her belly as she gasped for air.

Somehow the mother-to-be was still upright in her squat but no longer holding the rail, somewhere in her mind she knew the other woman was quite literally holding her up to birth but Alex couldn’t bring herself to pay it any mind. Her only focus was her child emerging between her legs. With a trembling hand she placed a hand downwards and felt, through the sheer stockings, her baby’s head.

“Oh my god… hoooo… I’m having the baby…”

Through all the denial Alex’s brain struggled to compute what was happening. She had fought against it so fiercely, so vehemently, and yet very clearly beneath her fingertips was a baby’s head.

“My-my tights… I’m still wearing my tights?! Oh no… the baby…the tights are over his head… have to get them off!” Alex shifted awkwardly, unsteady in her movements but seemingly desperate to free her emerging child from the confines of her stockings.

“Hoooo…. Ohhhh no….” Alex suddenly whimpered. “Ohhhhhhh I n-need to p-push again…. No… need-tights-off…Don’t push… mnnghhhh…”

“Hold on,” Colleen muttered, working out the logistics of removing Alex’s stockings with her squatting and crowning a baby into them. She heard Alex’s hushed voice, articulating her primal urge to bear down once again.

“Just a moment,” Colleen said, crouching lower while supporting Alex’s labouring body, wrapping her thumbs around Alex’s waistline.

She was close enough to smell the subtle aroma of Alex’s deodorant and the natural odors of birth on her, and see the sweat beaded on her neck. She saw every one of Alex’s muscles tense, her tendons standing clear. Alex moaned, already in the forceful grips of another contraction. Her moan tightened and deepened, and Colleen had listened through enough of her contractions to know that she’d begun to push against her will.

“Alex! No pushing, just hold on a few more seconds,” Colleen said, frantically tugging the stockings down her waist and glutes. Unfortunately, Alex didn’t seem to have any more seconds in her.

“Ohhhh GOD,” she bellowed. “Oh, I’m PUSHINGGGG!” She bore down relentlessly, and Colleen saw the head give a surge against the tight fabric.

Colleen cursed again. Between the baby being squeezed into the stretching fabric and Alex’s parted thighs and widespread knees, there was no way Colleen could even slide the stockings past her crotch. Which meant she couldn’t access Alex’s underwear either. The tent grew and shoved down toward the floor impossibly as Alex sank into her push.

Hopefully, she won’t be too mad about this, Colleen thought, then she seized fistfuls of fabric and tore, ripping a seam large enough for the head. Then she looped her finger around the thong and quickly pulled it to the side.

‘Okay! Okay, I think it’s free!” Colleen announced.

“Ohhhh fuck!!!! It’s coming outtt!!!” Alex cried, gasping a desperate breath in between her body’s involuntary pushing and she felt the burning ring return.

A deep and gravelled roar rattled her throat as the shoulders stretched her sore and sensitive lips. Her baby… it was coming out… in the elevator at work! She couldn’t quite believe what was happening. Gripping her knees she fully leant into the contraction, using every bit of it as her hips sank towards the floor and her muscles pushed.

Suddenly she yelped and jolted in Colleen’s arms as one shoulder slipped free and Alex quickly and instinctively let go of her knees to put both hands between her spread thighs. The baby’s head and neck were in her uncertain hands and she grunted, low and long, desperately calling on every ounce of strength she had left to get the infant out.

With a roar-turned-wail Alex cried out as the baby slipped from her body and shot into her waiting hands.

Up. She had to bring him up, had to hold him. In a fraction of a heartbeat Alex had pulled the baby from between her legs and held the slippery newborn against her chest.

“Y-you’re h-here… oh baby… you’re here…” Alex sobbed, wiping the blood and fluids from his face. It was scrunched and red, eyes not yet open, his body curled up tight. Then his fists pushed against her breast, legs kicking and discovering new sensations, and the little bundle let out a high-pitch cry as he opened his eyes.

Colleen let Alex slip from her arms to the elevator floor, cupping her baby gently in her arms and murmuring softly. She rocked slightly, and even in the enclosed space it seemed to Colleen as though Alex was in her own world, far away from anyone or anything else. She backed away, allowing Alex her moment to meet the child she’d worked so hard to carry and birth. She didn’t think she’d be able to see Alex as she had before, the untouchable executive. Instead, she’d witnessed Alex’s most intimate, vulnerable moment, even helped her through it. She smiled to herself and Alex cooed, her face close to the baby at her breast.

The quiet peace of the lift was disrupted by a banging on the metal ceiling.

“Hey—! Is someone in here? And, is that a baby crying?!”

Colleen met eyes with Alex, and laughed weakly. “I don’t suppose this qualifies for a promotion, does it?”

[nottobehornyonthemain]

Ok, it’s actually very simple.

Will is the protagonist, but he is not the hero.

Jack Crawford is the hero and he is fundamentally good.

Jack Crawford’s enemy is Hannibal Lecter, but he doesn’t know that because he thinks his enemy is the Chesapeake Ripper.

Hannibal is not always the Chesapeake Ripper, but no one else is allowed to be, because to take someone else’s place is Rude.

Bedelia DuMauier is not Rude by Hannibal’s standards, so she believes herself safe, and she is until she takes Will Graham’s place, then she joins Randell Tier and Francis Dolerhyde, in making Will Graham feel as though he is not Unique, then she is fair game to be hunted.

Hunting is different from fishing because the concepts of Stalk vs Lure.

Garrett Jacob Hobbs is a Stalk, and Will kills him as such despite the fact that Will is actually a Lure, but so is Abigail. Will is god, but not Jesus, except for when he’s Abigail. Hannibal is the Devil except for when he’s god.

Alana and Abigail both make deals with the Devil, which they know will eventually lead to their deaths, but Alana isn’t divine, she is always human, so Hannibal looks more human when she’s with him, but Will looks less human when she’s with him because she accentuates where he fails.

Will is a dog, but he isn’t a dog at all, he’s a wolf.

Margot is a horse but she isn’t allowed to run free until she’s a human, but she is not divine, nor is she good or evil, which is why Alana gets close enough to break her curse.

Mason is a pig amongst pigs, and is not even fit to be eaten, unless it is by something as vulgar as himself.

Gideon stole someone else’s identity, so he was forced to watch and partake in the systematic deconstruction of everything that made him himself.

Hannibal is the Wendigo, because the Wendigo is his true nature, but he is not the Stag, however sometimes the Stag is the Wendigo, because the Stag is a representation of the relationship of two people and Hannibal is never really Will, even when he’s pretending to be, but sometimes Will is Hannibal, and sometimes they’ve become too conjoined to tell apart.

Miriam Lass is Jack’s greatest failure, because she was an innocent he threw into the jaws of a monster, and she came back forever broken, but then Jack’s greatest failure was Bella, who was not a failure at all, just someone he couldn’t save, which to him is the same, although her loss is without spectacle or bloodshed, and then Jack’s greatest failure was Will, first in not believing him, and then in ignoring all evidence in order to believe in him out of guilt, but not trust.

Fredrick Chilton strips away the dignity and autonomy of others, so he gains the gift of an identity he tried to pawn off, and the destruction of his own body while he survives to bear the next indignity.

Freddie Lounds speaks truth, but she also lies, and is often believed.

Hannibal lies and is believed, but he also speaks truth and is not.

Will lies through not telling the truth, the deepest truths he speaks are ignored until it’s too late even though he is expected to know all truths.

Molly is no one and nothing, until Will, and then she is alone in a world of monsters.

Hannibal desires attention, and to be admired for being clever. Will has the ability, but he doesn’t have the initial desire because Hannibal does not interest him.

Will does not have a desire to be understood, but he does desire to be seen as unique.

Chiyoh has mastered the balancing act. She can kill, but does not overkill, has been manipulated, but not blinded, understands, but does not overstep into claiming to know, she can see violence as love, but she understands the abnormality of that, so she survives and gets to walk away without a scratch on her.

To love is to accept death, whatever form that takes, your partner’s, your own, those your parent has caused, or the ones you have caused.

It makes perfect sense that the most absolute form of love is to cause death by your partner’s side, and wish for both of your deaths in return.

[marymary-diva17]

Broken mask

Jake x reader x neytiri

The exo mask is a fundamental devices that was needed by all the humans, who were on pandora. As human couldn't breath the air on pandora, as told before and one without a mask it could end horrible. One wrong mistake could result in have a hard time breathing and tragic faith in the end, if the mask was not given in time. So what happens when the incident befallen someone.

Y/n " ......." you are walking in the human base hallways towards the door, it had been some time since you and other humans had set up camp here.

norm ' good morning y/n heading off to see the kids and your spouse"

y/n " yes I would use my avatar body but that was no go for max, as him and his team are still setting up the links"

norm " yeah it sucks now most of who use our avatar bodies are stuck as humans"

women " the metekayian not seem like big fans human right now thanks to the RDA, being their greedy and cruel selves as well"

man " I have to agree even as well we can't blame them for how they feel about us, it had taken some time for few forest clans to trust us after battle"

y/n " yes but if we do our best and not cause any trouble we will be good, and maybe in time they will trust to be around us"

norm " y/n is right we use need to wait and see we have also have enough mask and oxygen packs to last, for a long time so no need to worry"

y/n " yes but still be careful everyone on break or the mask ripped off we are in trouble, even when the oxygen pack messed with as well would be bad"

women 2 " got it but we of have the new devices that we all carry, that will help us breath if anything happens"

norm " but it sucks that it only last for short while not long enough"

man 2 " we can make ones that last longer later on"

y/n " we have done well we will discover more solutions later on as we have gone, like we have done in the past" everyone had nodded their heads, once that was over you soon left the base and started heading towards the village.

????? " mama" you had looked up to see tuk standing around, with some kids you had know from the clan along with some reef kids as well.

y/n " hey baby girl"

tuk " you are here"

reef girl " she your mama but I thought your mama is navi like you"

tuk " oh she is but she a dream walker she my mama as human and navi"

reef kids " ohh"

y/n " what tuk says is true I'm human still but have an avatar body as well, that makes me navi like you all"

reef boy " so tuk has two moms and dad"

y/n " yes she does and the same is for her siblings as well mostly, so what were you kids doing anyways"

tuk " we are going for a swim mama over there and there, are some sea otters that we want to see as well"

y/n " well you say in eye of the village tuk tuk and that goes for all of you kids"

tuk " yes mama"

kids ' yes y/n"

y/n " you are free to go now have fun" the kids soon cheered and ran off together leaving you standing there smiling at the whole situation. You soon started walking once again hoping to to run into your older kids and spouses as well.

????? " here caught this"

????? " you sykwang you tossed it to far" When someone came dashing by you along and soon jumped into the water, after doing a spin. It had taken you not the long to see it was lo'ak as you look at him, wonder where he had came from anyways.

lo'ak " come on lets go get it ... oh hey mama"

y/n " hello my son so what are you and other kids playing"

lo'ak " well you see we are trying to see which ones of us has the best moves, sorry about that mama I didn't mean to come out of anywhere like that"

y/n " it okay"

kiri " hey mama"

y/n " hello my daughter it good to see you where is your other brother and cousin"

neteyam "we are here mama"

spider " hey aunt y/n"

y/n " hello kids so how the game going"

kiri " it will going well it seems like our team is in the lead"

lo'ak " forest navi for the win"

aonung " this game is very fun"

tsireya " yes I have to agree and we can alos play it in the water as well"

rotxo " good morning y/n"

y/n " good morning childern I happy to see you are getting along well, like the younger kids"

neteyam " we had the day off our yes dad and mom are not here at the moment, as they went with tonowari and ronal to see the other clans leaders"

y/n " oh well I see them later on today"

lo'ak " will you be heading back to the base right away"

y/n " no I will not I will spending some time out here relaxing and collect data as well"

spider " cool will my dad being around as well"

y/n " he will be out soon when he can"

spider " I understand"

aonung " hey let go back to the game I want to see what other moves you forest kids can do"

y/n " have fun kids but please stay in sight of the village and safe"

kids " yes ma'am" the group had soon taken off leave you alone on the sandy beach, as you are collect some data and enjoying some relaxation as well.

tuk " mama we need help"

y/n " what the matter tuk tuk"

tuk " well there was some rocks we had been standing on when a wave had crashed against us, sending us falling down we got scarps on us"

y/n " oh yes I can see that"

little reed girl " that healers seem to be very busy and our parents, are not around right now"

tuk " don't worry my mama can help us right mama"

y/n " yes I can come over here and I will help you all" you had spray on that that had helped heal, injuries on the kids or help healed them half away. There had bene some homemade bandage places on the kids as well to heal with the healing.

reef boy " how did you do that"

y/n " well this spary here has healing herbs that are suitable for everyone, but you still need to be careful as the cuts will hurt if they do go visit ronal"

reef girl 2 " okay you are an wonderful healer"

tuk " my mama is a healer she used to heal many of clan members"

forest girl " yes y/n is a good healer she has helped us feel better, when we had been sick due to a flower"

forest boy " she has even received praise from moat as well"

reef boy 2 " thank you"

y/n " your welcome and please tell your parents of what had happened today, so they can make sure you all are okay later on today" the kids had nodded their heads and soon took off, still enjoying the wonderful day.

sometime later

y/n " maybe I should make some lunch for me and the kids..."

????/ " human women" you had heard someone yelling gaining your attention, as you saw a women walking towards you and she was mad.

female navi " I'm speaking to you"

y/n ' umm hello there"

female navi " you decide to harm my sister son you demon women"

y/n " wait no you misunderstand the situation"

y/n " no please let talk about this"

male navi " this is the women the child talked about" a male navi soon showed up with his spear, and he was mad as well.

male navi " I will make you pay for your actions against the boy and all the other clan children, you and the rest of your kind are a bad omen on us all" the man had swings his spear at you making you run away, from him as she was chasing you. He had tossed his spear as she glazed your arm and leg, making you fall down in pain.

y/n " ahhh" there is so much pain rushing throat your body as you look at the pair, the man had grabbed his spear and swag it again hitting your arm as you tried to protect yourself. There had been some damaged you had gotten as well.

male navi " this is for the sake of my family and clan....." the man had soon been tackled to the ground, you had looked up to see your sons and spider.

neteyam " how dare you attack my mom"

kiri " mama" kiri and tisreya had come to your side as you try getting up, as aonung and rotox went to the boys.

tsireya " what have you done attacking her like that"

male navi " she caused harm to my son"

tuk " no mama didn't do anything she was being nice and helping us"

y/n " my mask ... I cant..."

spider ' he mask it broken she losing oxygen"

kiri " no no"

y/n " my pockets there is a spare one .... I ....."

kiri " I found it"

lo'ak " mama it going to be okay we are here" kiri and tsireya had removed the mask slowly then placing a new one on your face.

spider" she still in endanger we need to get her back to base, she baldy hurt and that speared cause enough damage"

neteyam " I will carry her on my back mama can you hear us"

mama " yes ... I ...can"

lo'ak " we are getting your help right away spider run ahead and tell your dad and uncle max... tuk go get grandma and tell her" tuk had nodded her head and ran off right away with the other kids.

spider " yes" spider had ran off as the kids helped neteyam place you on his back. The sully kids had ran off with you including tsireya who came as well to be helpful.

male navi " she she most ...."

aonung " enough you will not to anything else you have done, enough today along with your mate my father will learn about this"

norm " kids get her inside quickly" neteyam and lo'ak had gotten you to the door entrance as spider, and norm had taken you from their arms and placed you gurney.

max " we need to get her in the medical room now"

lo'ak " we are coming"

norm " no you kids wait out here please I will come with updates"

kiri " mama"

women " it will be okay kids we are going to help your mama" the door had locked and close, as the kids watch you being rolled away from them. Tuk and mo'at had came after hearing the news, mo'at stand with the children to watch them and comfort them as well. Neteyam had called Jake and neytiri about what had befallen you today, and panic had set in for the whole family and clan.

Neytiri " children" neytiri had landed her ikran and got off right away, as she ran toward the base worried about your safety.

neteyam " she been in there for hour mom"

Jake " kids we are here"

tuk " dada mama was hurt my very mean guy just for helping"

Jake " we are here now baby girl"

tonowari " what has happened here please explain kids"

aonung " one of our warriors and his mate had started yelling at y/n, blaming and saying she hurt a boy when she didn't ... he then attacked her"

neytiri " where is she I will make him and his mate pay"

tsu'tey " neytiri not yet"

mo'at " my daughter your kids need you right now"

neytiri " okay"

ronal " son can you and any others point this couple out"

aonung " yes we can"

ronal " we will speak with the couple and the boy coming from your word, he would be their nephew so we will call his parents as well"

tonoari " I think his parents were the warrior that came with us on visit today"

ronal " Jake and Neytiri we will speak with this pair and make them, any for their actions against your mate"

norm " hey everyone"

Jake " norm how is she"

norm " she is stable now the kids got here on time and she will need time to recover, from her injuries we are lucky that spar didn't do anymore damage then it has done"

neytiri " thank you great mother thank you"

Jake " may we see her with the kids they have been awful worried"

norm " yes you all can"

tonowari " we will leave your family to be with y/n we will deal with, the others"

Jake " thank you" the sully family had went into other part of the base to see you laying in a bed.

y/n " hey"

tuk " mama" tuk soon hugged you happy to see that you are okay and no longer in pain.

tuk " mama I'm sorry if we didn't say anything ...."

y/n " there nothing for you and the other kids to say sorry about my loves, I'm fine now no need to worry"

kiri " we are happy to see that you are doing okay mama we thought, we lost you when the mask had broken"

y/n " I'm not going anywhere my loves"

neytiri " ma y/n we are happy to see that you are safe but that couple will have to pay for their actions"

y/n " I had a feeling that might happened"

Jake " please don't scary us like that ever again"

y/n " I promises"

lo'ak " we are sorry for attacking the man mama we know, we made a promise to not cause trouble"

neteyam " yes mama we are sorry"

Jake " son none of you did anything wrong you had been protecting your mama, and that makes me proud"

neytiri " we are going to be here for you during your time of healing, but we will make sure no one see messing with you as well" you had smiled and nodded your head, the family had spent a few more hours with you there and camped outside that night. The couple had been brought to tonowari and ronal, along with their nephew and the boys parents. Where tension had been raised as the couple had been scolded by both sides for their horrible behaviors, they had been order to stay away from you until further notice and being punished as well. The boys parents had apologized for the couple actions to you and the family, they had been forgive by you as they were not to blame for what happed that day.It will take you days to recover and soon enough you will be good, and back outside with the family having a good life on pandora.

[burningcheese-merchant]

Can you do a Yan! Burning Spice x Golden Cheese one-shot?

It's okay if you don't want to.

I was going to save this for a later date (and also direct you to my fics on AO3, there's plenty of Yandere Spice in those lol)... BUT SINCE DEVSISTERS DECIDED TO JUST GO AHEAD AND DUMP SOME QUALITY MATERIAL INTO MY LAP, I'LL TAKE THE COSMIC HINT AND DO IT TODAY! This one's for you, Anon! You can thank that extremely suspicious trailer for this!

"Mine Forever More" - BurningCheese Short Story #5

WARNING: This is one-sided BurningCheese/GoldenSpice, with Obsessive, Possessive, Yandere-esque Burning Spice. This is not like the other wholesome shorts with the budding romance and cute bickering, Burning Spice is a sick and dangerous man in this one. I politely demand that only adults read this one, please and thank you.

Cold... Why is it cold...? Cold and damp... Where...?

Both light and shadow flickered and danced across Golden Cheese's vision as she struggled to remain conscious. She was... being carried. Someone had peeled her off of the ground, plucked her from the blood-soaked dirt in which she lay beaten and broken, and cradled her in their arms as they ventured away from the cliff and off... somewhere. Somewhere... dark. Dark and cold and damp. A far cry from what she'd come to understand this strange place to be.

Someone... No. She knew who it was. She recognized the strong chest her head was being held against. The thick, powerful, tattooed arms enveloping her body, holding her close to his own. Though she couldn't see his face, she nevertheless sensed his fiery eyes staring down at her. Devouring her. Swallowing her whole.

"You disappoint me, little thief," Burning Spice told her. He spoke quietly, with chilling calm; his words were meant for her and no one else. "I expected better from you."

She did not respond. She wouldn't, even if she could. Even if that wretched taste of iron didn't fill her mouth so completely and the skin and flesh of her back weren't on fire.

"I waited for this. For you. For such a long time... You are not weak. You know this, and so do I. Destiny finally arrives for us both... and you choose to turn it away. You devastate me, little thief. Truly."

There was less vitriol in his voice than she imagined there would be. From screaming bloody murder right into her face as she dangled from a cliff, to... murmuring to her with such... disappointment, for lack of a better term. Sadness, even, if she dared to read into it any further. Perhaps she'd underestimated his... investment in their duel, after all.

"You're lucky..." he told her. "You are very lucky I care for you. You were wise to have stolen my heart as well as my Soul Jam all those eons ago. I would have drawn and quartered you otherwise."

"Care... for me?" Her voice came as a pained rasp, rising from an aching throat and forcing itself through bloodied lips. "Stolen... your... what...?"

"Of course I do," Burning Spice said - so simply, as if it was a fundamental truth of the world. "Would I have dedicated so much of myself to you if I did not? To hunting you? To our battle? Do you think you would be here now, safe in my arms as I carry you to your shelter, if I did not care for you?"

"Shelter...?"

At the cost of a worsened migraine, Golden Cheese opened her eyes wider and focused, scanning her surroundings the best she could. Torches hanging on the walls - the only true sources of light, as far as she could tell. A long, dark corridor. Walls of cool, jagged rock, all dyed deep blues and purples and reds. Dark. Cold. Damp.

A cave... No. Worse. A dungeon.

"Of course," Burning Spice said again. "It wouldn't do to leave you by the cliff, now would it?"

"But-" She coughed harshly. Little droplets of blood splattered onto Burning Spice's chest. She felt him tense instantly, his grip on her tightening. He held her up higher, bringer her head closer to his face... and she felt him lean down and... nuzzle his face into her hair...?

"Hush," he murmured. "We're almost there."

She did not hush. "Why..." Another harsh cough. Another tight, instinctive squeeze that accidentally (or was it?) agitated her aching wounds. Something wet and surprisingly soft pressing into her forehead. A gesture she knew of, one meant to be comforting... but how could he give this to her? Why?

"W-why... why didn't you kill me?" she finally managed to get out. "I don't... understand... Not... like you."

"'Not like you'? You claim to know me so well, pretty bird? I'm flattered." She could hear the teasing smile he wore as he spoke. It made her head ache more. "But if that was true, then you would know why I didn't kill you."

She shook her head weakly. He chuckled.

"What would I get out of killing my beloved?" he told her. "You are the woman I've been waiting for. It was you and your image that kept me alive and sane in that prison. That unspoken promise of a great duel, a struggle for power between me and my other half... I am sorely disappointed in your embarrassing loss, my little thief, but not even that is enough to make me want to kill you."

Beloved? Other half? What in the world?

"No... I simply want you, little thief. I wanted our battle. I wanted your eventual defeat. I wanted my Soul Jam... but I want you, too. Desperately."

He was smiling at her. Grinning. Sharp teeth glinting in the torchlight. A starving predator, ogling his captured prey.

"I hunger for you, Golden Cheese," he whispered to her. "I craved you from the moment I laid my eyes upon this pretty face of yours. I waited ages for this moment... for the day we could be together at last." He brought a hand to her pretty face, caressing her cheek with startling gentleness. "And you look so beautiful," he purred. "So stunning, even like this... I can see why they called you 'Your Radiance'."

The words 'Your Radiance' made her suddenly jerk up, eyes wide. "M-my treasures," she stuttered. "My kingdom, my- my p-people- I- I must-"

"Ah ah." The loving hand on her cheek quickly morphed into a punishing one, reaching up and yanking hard on her hair, earning Burning Spice a wince and a soft cry of pain. "No more of that," he growled. "No more of them. No more of your so-called treasures. They're gone. Crumbled to dust. It's time you make peace with that, little bird."

"N-no," she said, turning her head just enough to be able to shoot him a weak glare. "Nonsense. They... they're here. They're mine. I... I'll never let you..."

She paused. Suddenly, her eyes widened again. "Smoked Cheese," she said, her face now frantic. "W-where is he? What did you do- mmph!"

Now that hand was clasped over her mouth, silencing her. Squeezing her face, digging its sharp nails into her cheeks.

"Be quiet," Burning Spice hissed at her. "Your precious little pet is following along behind us, chained up by the spice warriors."

He saw her gaze soften. Felt her shoulders sag, if only the slightest bit. She was relieved.

He hated it.

"Why do you still cling to your little possessions?" he asked. "To these worthless creatures? Those hero friends of yours, where are they now? Where were they, when I took your wings from you? Where were they when your precious kingdom fell? Hm?"

She couldn't answer; not with that large hand still covering her mouth. But the pain and sorrow that briefly flashed in her eyes was answer enough for him.

"I am here," he told her. "I have always been here. Through our Soul Jam in the past, and now standing beside you in the present. In the aftermath of your near-death. Is Smoked Cheese cradling you in his arms while you can't stand on your own? Is Smoked Cheese graciously taking you into his house and home? Is Smoked Cheese willing to look past this act of grand larceny and keep you by his side, for he's come to value you just as much as what you stole from him?"

The visceral hatred that dripped from Smoked Cheese's name made her wince. She tried to lift her head again, aiming to peek over Burning Spice's shoulder and at her old friend - but that hand forced her head back down the moment she did so.

"I will make you see," Burning Spice said. "You're a clever woman. You will understand eventually. None of this matters. None of it! My way is the only way that's fair. That's interesting! You will see it, when I raze this miserable world to the ground."

He stopped walking. He finally pulled his hand away, letting her suck in a breath. The air tasted slightly less stale in this spot. A pale light shone in the corner of her eye- from a hole in the ceiling far above, she eventually saw.

This one beam of light, trapped behind thick, iron bars.

Burning Spice stepped aside and allowed the soldiers behind him to take his place before the cell door. It was open with the swift insertion of a key; the loud, shrill screech that came as it scraped along the ground rang in her ears. She saw Smoked Cheese - hurt, but still alive - being ushered into the cell and forced to the ground wordlessly. His eyes were downcast, his mouth set in a deep, tired frown.

"You look displeased," Burning Spice cooed. "I'm well aware of your high standards, greedy bird, but this nest will have to do for now."

She shot another glare at him. Stronger than the last. Had the sight of her friend invigorated her?

"Don't fret, though," he continued. The corners of his lips curled into a sultry, sinister smile. "It won't always be this way."

He leaned in close, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. What he said next nearly stopped her heart.

"When you recover," he whispered, "I'll bring you to my bed."

So hard and frantic was the roar of her pulse in her ears that she hardly even registered when Burning Spice commanded the soldiers to leave. They did so with a bow; and as they disappeared into the shadows, Burning Spice stepped into the cell and knelt down, holding Golden Cheese in his lap.

"Look at me. Hear my words."

Against her better judgment, she did just that.

"When I'm done with you," he said, "I will wipe everything you ever held dear off the face of the earth."

At this, she tensed up (how enticing to his senses it was, to feel her muscles clench in his grasp). She gave him the harshest look she could muster - and he let her do so, offering a look of smug endearment in return.

"You... will not crush MY treasures," she spat out.

He chuckled. "We'll see about that." Then he leaned down and crushed their lips together.

Burning Spice heard a sharp gasp off somewhere beside him; he looked up and saw Smoked Cheese watching them, his eyes wide and mouth agape. Frozen in place, powerless to save his beloved queen. With or without the chains binding him.

Good.

The corners of Burning Spice's mouth once again curled into a dark smile, and he stared right back at the hooded prisoner as he deepened his and Golden Cheese's kiss. The only resistance she offered came in the form of nails digging into his arm and a gasp as he lapped up the blood on her lips and forced his tongue past them, into her warm, sweet mouth. She tasted delicious. Just as he always knew she would.

When he eventually pulled back, a thin rope of bloody saliva still tethered his tongue to hers. How he hated seeing it break when he put enough distance between them... but it was alright. There will be more opportunities. They had so much lost time to make up for, after all.

"Consider that my payment for allowing this worm to live," he said to her, gesturing dismissively at Smoked Cheese. "And know that I will keep tally of every single day that he continues to do so, and celebrate when he no longer does."

At last, he laid her onto the ground. Slowly. Gently. His final act of mercy on her. On his beaten, broken, beloved Soul Jam thief.

"Sleep well, birdie," he said as he rose to his feet. With a quick heel-turn, he was out of the cell and slamming the door shut. Back to the darkness he returned, out of sight of them both.

"Your Majesty!" Smoked Cheese called to her frantically, finally regaining some of his dignity and willpower and rushing towards her. He knelt down beside her, trembling hands hovering just above her shoulders. "Your Majesty, speak to me!"

She did not. She was beginning to struggle to even parse his words. Exhaustion was taking hold of her at long last.

"What was that?! Why- why did he do that to you?! What nonsense is all of this?!"

She used the last of her strength to grasp at her headdress - at her Soul Jam. Gone. The headdress felt dull and cold. The socket was long empty. When had Burning Spice taken it? How could she have not noticed?

"Your Majesty, you must stay awake. We need to plan our escape. The Beast has gotten hold of the Soul Jam, we must take it back immediately!"

The room looked foggy. Smoked Cheese's features blurred. The light shining down on them began to dim.

"Your Majesty? Your Majesty! Golden Cheese!"

The pain and exhaustion became too much, and Golden Cheese's eyes closed, her mind giving way to dizzying blackness.

--------------------

Burning Spice threatened to kill Golden Cheese in front of him if Smoked Cheese made the slightest noise while they journeyed to the prison cell. He was bluffing, of course; he'd never allow his precious golden thief to die. But Smoked Cheese didn't know that. Nor did he need to.

[thecoffinsys]

Slay the Princess is the perfect demonstration of trauma, dissociation, and systemhood.

I NEED MORE PEOPLE TO TALK ABOUT THIS. And it's NOT just for the reasons you may think. Yes, it is due to the multitude of voices, but that isn't all there is to systemhood. Slay the Princess dives into almost every fundamental stage of grief, trauma, stress, and body sensations regarding traumatic events that we as a collective have ever experienced. Stay with me.

SYSTEMHOOD

Not only does Slay the Princess display systemhood through the multitude of voices, inability to come to a conclusion on outerbody decisions, and having different methods of how to survive specific situations— it also displays systemhood through loss of time, depersonalization, loss of identity and sense of self, alters having abilities over the body that others do not, looping the same trauma over and over again, and rapidly splitting due to traumatic experiences — even down to not being believed by family members when you tell them something horrible happened to you.

The entire idea of jumping from one alternative world to the next after dying or making the incorrect choice perfectly displays a repetition of the same traumatic memory over and over again, the mind trying to logistically think of what could have been done differently as a means of coping with what really happened. When you fail to save the world in one reality, your mind restarts the entire scenario again, trying to find a better option to the mistake you've already made.

The Stranger rout perfect displays depersonalization, dissociation, loss of self and identity, and confusion regarding time. The second you step down a staircase, you completely and utterly forget yourself in the mundane action. Forgetting who you are, where you are, what your purpose truly is - and sinking deep within your own mind, until suddenly you're right where you are meant to be and have no memory of how you got there. It's so perfect in how it shows the confusion and distress.

This game is about becoming. whole. Gaining. A sense. Of self. And purpose. Gaining more perspectives, more understandings of what it means to be a person. (Oh my god I'm screaming)

In The Nightmare, the voice of the Paranoid displays perfectly symptoms of not only paranoia regarding trauma, but symptoms of OCD due to trauma. He has an ability that no other alter has, which is to keep their organs running by participating in his own compulsion. Which really displays how some alters have abilities that other do not, because to be a system, you must be fragmented. Several shards of glass attempting, to the best of their ability, to be a functional mirror- but never having the exact strength. And different shards will hold different capabilities than those who are smaller, weaker, and carry smaller and/or more specific burdens. Paranoid is a very big shard, I think.

Following that — mirrors are a huge motif of the game. Not only do you continuously see them in every rout, but you end each rout by finally looking at yourself and seeing you for you. And the more perspectives you gain, the less "you" you truly feel. You become tired, withered. But it is all in the efforts to "become whole". To make this being of perception finally understand what it means to be more than just broken worlds creating branching understandings.

In A Moment of Clarity, dozens of voices begin to cloud our understanding due to the very traumatic thing we experienced in the last world. A rapid split because of trauma! We become more broken; "losing ourselves". Now there are even more conflicting thoughts, feelings, and opinions regarding how we should go about surviving- and it displays our further descent from our sense of self. Which is ironic given the name of the ending!

And finally (but most definitely not finally, I could keep going on and on but no one would want to read all of that), The Narrator never believing you when you tell him you've been here before, have experienced horrors that he could never imagine, and have been through countless nightmares. But not only does he not believe you, he will also ridicule your idea, and go on to say "you failed because you didn't listen to me" or "you damned another world because of what you did". Puts the blame on us, once again. It's the same thing a lot of systems do experience in the real world. You try to reach out, you try to explain to someone you trust that something horrible happened to you, but you're met with disbelief and shamed for your own trauma. Made to feel like the guilty one when you are in fact the victim- the survivor. That one stood out to me very personally.

. . .

I really want to go on but this is already a billion paragraphs and I worry no one will even get this far. But this game means a lot to us as a system and as someone who experiences things very similar to what is displayed in the game on a daily basis. Slay the Princess might be one of our all time favorite games as of right now, especially considering the guy who traumatized us for 200 episodes straight is the main guy voicing the entire thing- that also helps with sentiment-

Uhhhh thank you for reading if you made it this far :]

[f0point5]

MAD MAX FIGHT SCENE WHEN?? I have never needed a written piece more than right now

I also reserve the right to imagine Emilia throwing a shoe at someone in this scenario. Idk why i just feel like it could happen. She is not happy about it

MAD MAX FIGHT SCENE NOW!!!

Tell me why this went four different ways before I came to this version. The alternate version took place in a club and had Emilia spraying champagne at a bunch of people but fundamentally it didn’t work as a written piece because you can’t hear what anyone’s saying in a club for shit 😂 No shoe throwing but I hope you like it anyway 😂

Me writing action scenes is like something out of that book After it’s so bad I’m sorry but I hope you got where I’m going 😂

✨set after the Monaco Grand Prix 2018✨

I don’t regret it one bit, ‘cause he had it coming

Another Monaco GP, another yacht party. You’re not even sure whose yacht it is but you don’t care. During GP weekend, drivers can pretty much walk onto whatever boat they want. You, Max, Clara, and Laurent had wandered onto the biggest boat with people having a party and set about forgetting Max’s nightmare weekend. The party is chaotic, you’re not sure how long whoever is in charge of the marina will let the noise and overcrowding go on, but you’re enjoying the high, four shots down with Max on the upper deck, lazily moving to the music emanating from the DJ playing his set downstairs.

“Where’s Laurent?” Max asks, practically shouting in your ear. He’s tipsy, which he deserves to be, his arm slung over your shoulder as he looks around, jerking your body as he turns. He’s out way too late, you can tell by how his t-shirt is clinging to him, and the fluffy top of his hair has completely broken free of the gel hold. He looks positively feral. You don’t hate it.

“I don’t know,” you shrug, pushing up onto your tiptoes so you don’t have to shout. “Probably fucking Clara in a bathroom somewhere,”

Max chuckles at that, taking a sip of his Red Bull. He offers it to you but you shake your head.

“I thought you were supposed to be supporting me,” he jokes as you avoid the can.

“Not by rotting my insides,” you tell him, squirming in his hold as he bops to the Dua Lipa remix he’ll pretend he’s never heard before. He manoeuvres you in front of him as if you don’t even have feet, wrapping his arm around your stomach so that you’re still trapped, but comfortable.

“Je bent niet leuk, schatje,” he says into your ear. The air on your neck makes you shiver against him, and he must think you’re cold because he holds you tighter.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” you tell him, which makes him smirk. “And I’m not your baby,”

“Ja, maar-“

“Max!”

You twist in Max’s hold when a guy you don’t recognise appears from somewhere in the crowd. Max lets go of you to greet him, and without being entirely engulfed by 80kgs of Red Bull and audacity, you realise you’re parched. You tell Max you’ll be right back and scoot out of reach before he can say anything. You creep through the crowd and then downstairs to where the drinks are without twisting your ankle, which, given how drunk you felt back upstairs, sort of surprises you.

There’s several ice buckets lining the edge of the deck and you peruse the options. You’ve certainly had enough to drink but one more vodka couldn’t hurt. You glance over at the cans of Red Bull and make a note to take one with you as you pick a glass off the table.

“Do you come with the bottles?”

Well, that’s a choice of opening line, talking to a girl like she’s a phone charm.

You turn to see what, not whom, actually felt comfortable saying that out loud and there he was. The epitome of a guy who would say that. He’s older than you, maybe mid to late 20s, all tan and tight jeans, dark hair cut in a fade, gold watch that could be seen from space and those Louboutin loafers. His cologne smells like Dubai.

You look him up and down very slowly and deliberately. “Not if you’re buying them,” you say, turning back to the ice bucket.

“Aw, come on, don’t be like that,” his voice is closer now, almost in your ear. You turn only slightly and find his face already next to yours. ”Come have a drink over here,” he nods over to a seating area where a few guys sit with girls that look too young to be there.

You know the type - down on a girls trip for the weekend with only party outfits in their bags, they’d likely hung around the marina until the pack of jackals had brought them here to ply them with alcohol they didn’t have to pay for. You’re half offended that this guy thought you’d be anywhere near that easy.

“I’ve got enough, thanks.” You say, firmer this time, as you give up on the vodka and just grab one of the many bottles of champagne in the ice bucket. When you turn to leave, you practically collide with the hunk of meat now towering over you.

“Who do I have to speak to to get you to come have a drink with me?” He asks, as if that’s meant to be sexy.

You roll your eyes. “Your hairdresser.”

“Come on, just one drink. I’ll make it worth your while,” he says, his eyes glancing down. You follow his gaze, already steeling yourself for some vulgar gesture, but he pulls out the edge of his wallet from his jeans.

You roll your eyes again. “I’m not pay for play. Now leave me alone.”

You step around him this time, starting to make your way back towards the stairs when this experiment in protein shake consumption blocks your way. You almost trip trying not to crash into him, not that he would have minded if the way he leans into you Is any indication.

“Look, I’m not some nobody, baby, I’ve got real fucking money. I’m what all you pretty girls come out here in your skimpy dresses for,” he says, the noxious smell of chemicals and tequila almost making your eyes water. What makes you feel sick is the way he uses his height advantage to look down your dress. “So have a drink with me. It’ll be fun, I promise,”

Only now does he employ an actual smile, the kind that you’d never want to be in a room alone with. Suddenly, you don’t feel like making any more jokes, you just want to get as far away from this guy as possible. Turning on your heels, you figure you’ll double back around the deck, but a hand tight on your wrist stops you in your tracks.

“Don’t walk away from me,” the words are growled, and you feel your pulse spike. Now you’re scared, but showing it will get you nowhere.

“Get off me,” you snap, trying to shake the giant cretin off you without causing a scene. He doesn’t let go and you’re just about to bottle him over the head when you hear Max’s voice.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Max strides towards you, looking as angry as you’ve ever seen him. He must have been watching from up by the railings of the top deck.

“Oh, here we go,” the guy grumbles, rolling his eyes as he looks at Max. You take the opportunity to wrench your arm free of him. “Don’t worry, bro. You can have her back when I’m finished with her,”

“You arrogant piece of shit,” you snarl at the guy, almost taking a step towards him before thinking better of it.

“Watch your mouth,” he snaps back, pointing a finger at you. “Your ass isn’t that nice,”

“The fuck did you just say?” Max yells over the music. He guides you behind him effortlessly and you don’t argue, though you do keep hold of his arm.

“You heard me, you prick,” the douchebag says, flashing Max a cocky grin. That won’t go down well.

You pull on Max’s arm. You can tell from the set of his shoulders that this is getting out of hand.

“Max, leave it,” you tell him, pulling him again, and this time he listens, sighing and shaking his head. He knows he has to let it go.

“Jesus,” the arrogant pig sneers, and you cringe. “Has this bitch got a magic pussy or something?”

You don’t even have a chance against Max’s reaction speed. He’s moving before your eyes can even follow, shoving the guy backwards so quickly that the drunkard stumbles slightly, but not as much as you thought he would.

“Shut the fuck up,” Max growls at him.

Dickhead doesn’t take this well, shoving Max back. You’re too scared to get in the middle now. People are starting to stare, a couple of them even have their phones out.

“Max,” it’s more of a plea than anything. “Stop it,”

You know Max isn’t going to just drop it. He doesn’t know how to walk away from a fight, it’s just that normally his fighting involves being protected by a ton of carbon fibre, not that he thinks he needs it.

“You don’t want to mess with me, man,” the guy shouts, looking over Max’s shoulder to glare at you. “Certainly not over some dirty yacht slut,”

Once again, you’re no match for Max’s reaction speed. You don’t see his arm move. You’re barely able to process his fist connecting with the guy’s face. You just see Dickhead fly backwards clutching his jaw as he tumbles to the ground.

“Max!” You scream, but this time he totally ignores you.

“Fucking pussy,” he yells, at the same volume but now that the music has been turned down so that everyone can pay attention to the spectacle, it feels like the whole marina can hear him.

He steps towards the disoriented drunkard on the floor and this time you manage to catch up with him, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him backwards.

“Max, come on,”

He’s fighting it a little, and you press your nails into his skin as you fight harder, dragging him away from where Douchebag’s friends have swarmed around him trying to help. You know they’re looking in your direction but you ignore them and you’re hoping Max does, too.

He turns to look at you and it’s like barely recognises you, his face is flushed and his pupils are dilated and you don’t entirely recognise him either. It knocks the wind out of you, and for just a second you swear everything stops, even your heartbeat.

“You’re okay?” Max asks you, through frenzied breathing.

Your mouth is dry but you speak anyway. “I’m fine.” You don’t know if you’re lying. “Let’s just go,”

You don’t give him time to argue, and it seems he’s calmed down enough to realise now is a good time to cut your losses, because he follows you without complaint.

You don’t let go of him until you’re on the concrete pathway up towards the stairs that have street access. More accurately, that’s when you become aware that you’re still holding onto him. When two toasted revellers try to walk between you but can’t, and shout something at you in Spanish for walking too slow. You let go of Max but he still doesn’t say anything. You keep stealing glances at him as you walk. His shoulders are still tight, his jaw is clenched. His hands are clenched into fists at his side. He still looks livid. That’s why you’re nervous, that’s why you can’t catch your breath, that’s why it’s hard to look away from him. You’re worried about him.

“Well, that was stupid,” you say with a sigh, once you’re sure your words won’t come out as some kind of breathy invocation of a worse kind of chaos than anything you’ve already been involved in tonight.

“That guy was stupid,” Max shoots back, grinding his teeth.

“You could have got hurt, Max,” you tell him, shoving him in the arm. He rolls his eyes. Of course. When taking your own life in your hands is what you get paid for there’s not much you can afford to be scared of. “What would have happened if you’d broke your hand? Your dad would actually kill me,”

“My dad would have done the same thing I did,” Max counters, and you can tell by the several expressions that cross his face in quick succession that he doesn’t quite know how to feel about that.

“Your dad is an idiot,” you remind him. He doesn’t argue. “And so are you,”

He scoffs. “So I was just supposed to let him talk to you like that? Touch you like that?” It’s not really a question, more a general statement of unadulterated disgust and you can’t really blame him. “Fuck that. I’m not going to just-“

He cuts himself off, his jaw ticking again. Neither of you have ever spoken about it, but you know men behaving like sentient sewage is a sore subject for both of you. Maybe, you think, you shouldn’t make him feel bad for standing up for you. You’d never needed anyone to stand up for you, and you still didn’t, but the fact that Max always did means more to you than you know how to articulate.

You lean over and kiss him on the cheek, catching more of the corner of his mouth than you intended, but he doesn’t say anything. He just stops walking and looks at you, the left side of his lips twitching.

“You kiss idiots?” Max asks, tongue darting out to lick at his bottom lip.

“Exclusively,” you shrug, “judging by my dating history,”

That makes him laugh, a proper one, with that bark he does when he’s surprised how funny he finds something. All traces of the menace from the boat filter out of his body, and something in the back of your head tells you it was just in time.

“Hey,” a loud, obnoxious, and lovable voice rings out behind you. You turn around and see Laurent walking towards you with a well satisfied Clara on his back, holding a large bottle of pilfered champagne. “Where the fuck have you two been?”

[boredflautist]

quotes that keep me alive

"all the people are fake, they're made out of metal. But I like you, and that is not fake" -young royals

"I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world." -song of achilles

"No one ever says goodbye unless they want to see you again." -turtles all the way down

"I want to be with you. If we have to keep it a secret then... So be it, if thats the only way... But no more secrets between us. I love you" -young royals

"Why does the word 'love' from you hurt me so damn much?" -Only Friends

"I've always thought Ray was my 25th hour, my extra hour. But the truth is, everyone has the same 24 hours in a day. And within Ray's 24 hours, I'm not part of it. I'm not that special." -Only Friends

"If I'm gone, I won't be anyone's burden anymore, right?" -Only Friends

"You were wearing corduroy, acting like a poster boy" -poster boy by Lyn Lapid

"I would recognize you in total darkness, were you mute and I deaf. I would recognize you in another lifetime entirely, in different bodies, different times. And I would love you in all of this, until the very last star in the sky burnt out into oblivion" -song of achilles

"Tell me every terrible thing that you ever did, and let me love you anyway" -edgar allan poe

"The closer I get to you, the worse it gets. The thought of not being with you... I can't breathe. I'm haunted by the kiss that you should never have given me. My heart is beating, hoping that that kiss will not become a scar. You are in my very soul, tormenting me... What can I do? I will do anything that you ask." -anakin skywalker

"If changin' my clothes would make you like me more, if changing my hair would make you care, then I'd grab the kitchen scissors and cut myself to slivers" -jigsaw by conan gray

"'Sorry' doesn't make up for everything you did to me." -heartstopper

"You were my brother Anakin. I loved you." -revenge of the sith

"The truth is what I make it. I could set the world on fire, and call it rain." -red queen

" But isn't it also that on some fundamental level we find it difficult to understand that other people are human beings in the same way that we are? We idolize them as gods or dismiss them as animals." -paper towns

"And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like 'I love you'" -somethin' stupid by frank sinatra

"Tell me it isn't true. Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me I'm blind. Tell me you love me. " -shatter me

"I do want to be your friend. I want to be the friend you fall hopelessly in love with. The one you take into your arms and into your bed and into the private world you keep trapped in your head. I want to be that kind of friend." -shatter me

"The truth is a painful reminder of why I prefer to live among the lies" -shatter me

"'Don't ask me questions you already know the answers to. Twice I've laid myself bare for you and all it's gotten me was a bullet wound and a broken heart. Don't torture me,' He says, meeting my eyes again. 'It's a cruel thing to do, even to someone like me.'" -shatter me

"Everything's a game, Avery Grambs. The only thing we get to decide in this life is if we play to win." -inheritance games

"The world was collapsing, and the only thing that really mattered to me was that she was alive." -the last olympian "You think I didn't fight the same fight? I halfway convinced myself that as long as Avery was just a riddle or a puzzle, as long as I was just playing, I'd be fine. Well, joke's on me, because somewhere along the way, I stopped playing." -the Hawthorne legacy

"When you're ready, if you're ever ready, if it's going to be me - just flip that disk. Heads, I kiss you." His voice broke slightly. "Tails, you kiss me. And either way, it means something." -the Hawthorne legacy

"Hell is empty, and all the devils are here" -william shakespeare

"But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all" -10 things I hate about you

"It's just like the novels, side characters end up alone" -footnote by conan gray

"You made us past tense," I said, my voice cracking, "not me." -betting on you

"Because when they write the history of my life, I want it to include you" -red white and royal blue

"My life is the crown, and yours is just politics, and I will not trade one prison for another" -red white and royal blue

"Or maybe it was when I realized the bruises on your neck were fingerprints and wanted to kill them all over again just so I could do it slowly. Maybe it was the first time I recklessly kissed you or when I realized I'm fucked because I can't stop thinking about doing more than just kissing you. Does it even matter when, as long as it changed between us?" -fourth wing

"Oh darling all of the cities lights, never shined as bright as your eyes" -car's outside by james arthur

"I would rather lose this entire war than live without you, and if that means I have to prove myself over and over again, then I'll do it. You gave me your heart and I'm keeping it." -iron flame

"Because pain in the body quiets the pain in your head. It feels good - like a kill switch for your brain" -kill switch

"Then take your punishment like the pathetic creature that you are" -cruel prince

"Most of all, I hate you because I think of you. Often. It's disgusting, and I can't stop." -cruel prince

"If you're the sickness, I suppose you can't also be the cure." -the wicked king

"I hate you. I hate you so much that sometimes I can't think of anything else." -the wicked king

"Yes, my sweet villain, my darling god. I will be as sober as a stone carving, just as soon as I can." -the wicked king

"She is my wife," Cardan says, his voice carrying over the crowd. "The rightful High Queen of Elfhame. And most definitely not in exile." -the queen of nothing

"By you, I am forever undone." -the queen of nothing

"Come home and shout at me. Come home and fight with me. Come home and break my heart, if you just. Just come home." -the queen of nothing

"I wasted all those yesterdays and am completely out of tomorrows" -they both die at the end

"For what it's worth, I doubt I will ever like anyone else in the world as much as I like you." -book lovers

"I'd never thought about my favorite color before. It never seemed important. Not until I looked into a pair of ocean-blue eyes and realized that perhaps drowning was a beautiful thing" -powerless

<3

if you've made it to the end good god please get some sleep

[literary-motif]

Sacred Scars

Isaac Rhoades x Reader

You see Isaac's scars.

“I never thought we’d get it done this fast,” Isaac said, closing the folder and with it the case you two had solved together in no time, setting a new personal record. 

“I told you I’m getting good,” you teased, smirking at him as he rolled his eyes in false annoyance. 

You had gotten good. 

Your attention to detail often made him pause in awe when you pointed out something seemingly insignificantly small that would lead to unraveling the entire cluster of names, places, and events making up the case.   

He loved working together with you. Not only did it allow him to spend even more time in your company, but you worked together so efficiently — as if you had been doing it all your lives, as if you understood each other's behavior and thinking on such a fundamental level — that it made every case fly by in the blink of an eye. For the first time in a long while, Isaac felt truly alive when he sat behind his desk. 

You nudged his shoulder, snapping him out of his thoughts. “I also had an excellent teacher,” you said, shooting him a smile that turned genuine as you stared into his eyes. 

He looked so happy. You had never seen Isaac practically radiate with silent contentment. 

The overwhelming love and gratitude you saw in his expression made you avert your gaze, feeling like you were peeking into the very depths of his soul. You never wanted to pry, and although he had revealed his heart to you piece by broken piece, you knew expressing vulnerability was still hard for him. 

You cleared your throat, risking a glance at him. Isaac had a content smile, looking at the empty cup of tea in his hands as if it had given him the gift of happiness. “Do you want to call it an early night?” you asked, reaching out to ruffle his black hair and lighten the intensity of the moment shared between you. 

He gave you a disapproving look, but could not keep the smile off his face as he leaned into the touch. “That would probably be best,” he said, taking your hand and moving it to his lips. “We have a meeting tomorrow at noon, after all.”

“Right,” you said, carefully freeing your hand to hook two fingers under his chin and tilt his head up. He craned his neck, closing the gap before you had the chance to take him off guard. “Right,” you said again as he broke the kiss, smirking mischievously at you. “I’m going to make some chamomile tea before bed. Do you want some?”

“No, thank you,” Isaac replied, standing from his office chair. He raised his arms above his head, twisting his upper body from side to side in a long overdue stretch. “I’ll get ready for bed. Join me when you’re done?”

“Do you want a massage?” you asked, observing the furrow in his brows and the tight clench of his yaw as he rolled his shoulders. They seemed particularly tense.

“No need,” Isaac said quickly, dissolving your concern with a gentle smile. “Don’t be long.”

If anyone had predicted this future for you, standing in the kitchen, making yourself a cup of soothing chamomile tea while the man you loved was getting ready for sleep upstairs in an enormous and gorgeous house — and being happy, so utterly, soul-crushingly happy that you felt like your heart would burst — you would have called them a sick liar, descending into despair at being taunted with a life you so wanted but which you could never have. 

So much had changed in the time you had known Isaac. Some days you felt hardly deserving of all he had done for you. 

You pushed open the door to the bedroom with your shoulder, cradling the cup of steaming tea in your hands. “You realize if we hadn’t met, I would be—” You cut yourself off at the image before you. 

Isaac sat on the bed, his exposed back to you as he rummaged through the drawer of his nightstand for a shirt. You could see his shoulders tense when he heard your voice, hastily pulling out his shirt and throwing it on. 

It was too late. You had already seen the myriad of scars littering the skin of his back. 

“Pickle! I—” Isaac exclaimed, turning to face you. “I— uh—” He trailed off, unsure where to begin. You had never seen his scars, and he had never told you about them. Your expression was one of mild shock, still frozen in the doorway as you tried to settle on what to say. He swallowed, averting his gaze and sitting down on the edge of the bed. 

You approached him hesitatingly, sitting down beside him. You reached over, placing the tea on the nightstand before fully turning to face Isaac, holding your hands out for him to take. He obliged without hesitation. 

“Who did this to you?” you whispered, your heart breaking at the pain he must have suffered. 

Isaac chuckled sadly, shaking his head. “That’s hard to say,” he answered, thumbs rubbing circles into the back of your hands to distract himself. “It was not one single person. It’s the— the collateral damage to this line of work, I could say. Sometimes cases don’t go as planned.”

You stayed silent. There was a heavy feeling in your chest at the reminder that Isaac, too, had a past. He had suffered like you had, facing the brunt of the heavy legacy he carried. You wished you could have been there for him sooner. The idea that he had to patch himself up in this grand, empty house after one of his cases had taken an unexpected turn left a bitter taste on your tongue.

“Can you show me?” you asked quietly. 

Isaac’s jaw clenched. “Not tonight,” he said. “I don’t like thinking about it. Another time, maybe. I don’t feel up to it tonight.”

You nodded, squeezing his hands comfortingly. The past felt like something heavy for you, too. On some nights it came easy talking about it, on others it sat in your throat, stealing your breath as you tried croaking out the words. 

“That’s alright,” you said. “Would you like a sip of tea?”

“No, thank you,” he whispered, picking up the cup and handing it to you before encircling your waist with his arms and leaning his head on your shoulder. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest from how he was snuggled up against your side. “I only need you right now to chase away the shadows of the past.”

The moment felt painfully personal. It was a sacred thing, to be cradled gently and never spoken of outside the secure walls of your shared bedroom and its bulletproof glass that allowed you a peek into the night. 

Sometimes even the night of shadow needed a little light.

[the-boy-meets-evil]

some habits are hard to break | feat. jungkook

(where you know that jungkook is the last person you should keep running back to, but neither of you can seem to let the other go.)

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader genre: angst, smut, est. relationship rating: explicit, minors DNI word count: ~12.5k warnings: the relationship isn't healthy (but they're very human), miscommunications, misplaced hope, bad habits, unhealthy coping mechanisms, cheating (reader on unnamed boyfriend), mentions of past trauma (reader), mentions of therapy, mentions of mental health struggles (reader), explicit smut: unprotected sex (don't do this), fingering (f. receiving), oral sex (f. receiving), handjob, semi public sex (behind a closed door at a club), teasing, hair pulling, light choking, i think that's it but let me know if i missed anything

a/n: she is finally here! i did not expect this fic to take me this long, but here we are. thank you to one of my favorite humans @ugh-yoongi for reading this over and assuring me they weren't terrible, just human. this story feels personal to me so that was reassuring.

a/n 2: lauren has asked for a pt 2, so i’ll be writing that after i get through both my collabs due in august 💕 banner/divider credit: my bby @classicscreations who always comes through tagging: @pjmparadise @axialitae

Every single thought is the same. You know better than to send the text sitting on your phone. You know precisely why it’s wrong. You know that nothing is ever going to change.

Here’s the thing. You’re in a healthy, stable relationship with someone who’s good to you and for you. He’s honest and caring, funny and sweet. Despite all of your baggage, he never makes you feel less than, never makes you feel broken. This is the first time in your life that you’ve been able to lay all your shit on the table and have someone accept it unconditionally. And he always does what he says he’s going to. You’re never up waiting at 2 in the morning, wondering where he is because he hasn’t called or texted.

So, yeah, things with him are good, great even.

But…

And that’s the thing, isn’t it? As soon as there’s a but, it’s like you can’t see all of the good. It’s all just a placeholder before what may be the worst three-letter word in the English language. You wonder if it means there’s just something fundamentally wrong with you. Who looks for the “buts” of every situation? Why can’t you just appreciate all the truly wonderful things in your relationship?

Because you’ve had the one thing you’re missing. You know it exists and it’s hard to forget.

Your boyfriend is great, perfect, even, in almost every way that matters. It’s just, you’re not exactly…satisfied. And you know that you could guide him to be better for you in that way. He just seems a bit sensitive about it at times and you don’t want to make him feel less than since he never does that to you.

This is exactly why you’re staring at your phone. Paralyzed because you both want to send the text and know you really can’t. Your body remembers his, remembers the way the slightest touch sent your heart racing. You try to also remember every word he’s ever uttered to you, too, because he’s always been very clear about who he is.

It’s fucked up that you’re even considering it, beyond wrong that you typed those 5 words out in an empty conversation thread. (Even though you usually keep every conversation, you deleted this one after you got serious about your boyfriend. You say it’s to keep the temptation away, but really, how well is that working now?)

You: what are you up to?

Just like that, your need to fill your desires wins out against every other rational thought you have. Part of you hopes that he doesn’t respond. It’s been months since you last spoke and you know he’s got a short attention span. Maybe he’ll spare you having to make a final decision.

Jungkook: out getting some drinks with friends

He doesn’t. His answer comes in far quicker than you expect it to and you get that same feeling in your stomach. Like anticipation mixed with desire. You’re so fucked.

Jungkook: what are you up to?

Tomorrow you’ll look back and realize this is a chance to bow out, to realize that this is a mistake. That you hadn’t sealed your fate when you sent the first message. You could still just bow out and walk away, leave the message unanswered.

You don’t.

You: nothing, just at home alone Jungkook: what about the boyfriend? You: away for work

You know that you should feel bad now. A normal person might realize that this was destructive behavior, that you’re purposely sabotaging your own long-term happiness for instant gratification. At least, that’s what your therapist tells you.

Jungkook: I can be home in 15 minutes, I’m just around the corner

The message is really your last chance, whether you consciously think about it or not. There was no preamble with Jungkook. He assumes you’re texting him so you can come over. And he’s right, isn’t he? You weren’t exactly texting to catch up with someone you weren’t ever friends with anyway. No, you’re both adults and you know what this is. Just like you’ve always known.

You: give me 30 and I’ll be over

Was there really any other outcome? From the moment you opened Jungkook’s contact to start a text, this was the inevitable end. You can pretend that you have control and you were on the fence. But, you know the truth, and so does Jungkook. He knows it from the moment your name appears on his lock screen. This only ends one way, the same way it’s ended countless times before.

Thirty minutes later, after cleaning up and getting dressed, you stand on Jungkook’s doorstep. There’s a moment where you genuinely question if this is smart. Smart is the wrong word, you think. Of course, this is fucking stupid. You could ask 100 people and every single one of them would probably tell you to turn around. So no, this isn’t smart.  The real question is if you’re going to do it anyway.

Jungkook opens the door before you even knock and the question dies. There he is, in baggy sweatpants and a t-shirt, like the true fuckboy you know he is, and your body remembers. It remembers every kiss, every touch, every tremble. It starts to react without your permission.  By the smirk he’s wearing, you can tell Jungkook remembers too.

“Right on time,” he says, leaning against the door frame like he needs the support.

“Are we gonna have a whole conversation out here?” It’s a challenge and a mistake all rolled into one.

He doesn’t answer, just moves aside so that you can step past him. There’s a moment, as you’re stepping past him and glancing around his apartment, of nerves. Of wondering what the fuck is going on. But his apartment hasn’t changed, not that you expected it to, and neither has he.

“Want anything to drink?” he asks, moving around you to the kitchen. He looks back over his shoulder at you, a confident smirk on his lips. “We could do a couple shots.”

“Trying to get me drunk?” you wonder. Still, you follow him into the kitchen.

“No, definitely not.” His answer is swift and his eyes roam over you, appraising. “You just seem a little on edge.”

“Wonder why that is,” you huff out.

Jungkook leans back against the counter, eyes still trained on you. “If you don’t want to be here…”

“I didn’t say that either,” you respond.

There’s this weird tension settling between the two of you and you’re not really sure what to do about it. Not really sure how to get out of your head for even a second. That’s when you feel Jungkook’s hands on your hips, pulling you back against his body where he still leans against the counter.

“I don’t want you to feel pressured,” he says and dips his head to kiss along your jawline.

“I don’t,” you respond.

“Do you want me to stop?” he whispers against your skin as he continues to kiss down your neck.

The only thing that comes out for a second is a hum when Jungkook lightly sucks at the base of your neck where it meets your collarbone. “No.”

“Are you sure?” He’s pulled back now and looking you directly in the eye.

You take a breath and then another when your heart starts to speed up. The only thoughts are of his lips on yours, his fingers grazing along your body. Slowly your fingers trail up his arms and he doesn’t move at all. Just watches you and waits for you to make your decision. Leaves it all up to you.

So you do the only thing you can, the only thing you were going to do once you sent that text. You let your fingers find purchase in his hair and you press your lips hard against his. He’s turning the two of you around in an instant so it’s you pressed into the counter. The kiss is hard and desperate, like you’ve both been starved and this is the only way to solve that. His hands feel like they’re everywhere and it’s still not enough, not completely what you need. Nobody has ever set your body on fire just from kissing the way Jungkook does. It’s bliss the way your brain goes almost silent except for thoughts of him. And you know he’s just as turned on, can feel it in the way he’s pressing against you.

Jungkook kisses down your neck again and you don’t even bother to hold back the moan. When you feel him lightly sucking into your skin before pulling away, part of you wishes he’d do it harder. Wishes he’d leave a mark. Wishes for something to show what you’re doing here tonight without you having to say it. He doesn’t, though, and you know he wouldn’t even if you asked.

Instead he pulls away, smirks at your whimper from the lack of contact, and reaches for the hem of your shirt. He’s still asking permission, so you give it. Your shirt and bra disappear in record time and his mouth is back on. Softly kissing down the space between your breasts and across the underside of one. It’s too much, the way he knows exactly what you need, the way his lip ring teases you as he moves across your skin, the way he stops to just look at you when he knows he’s driving you crazy.

Well, you think, two can play at that game. Before he even realizes what you’re doing, you’re spitting into your hand and reaching inside his sweats and boxers (since he’s annoyingly still clothed). You’re slowly dragging your hand along his length, moving painfully slowly. He groans when you slide your thumb over his tip and pulls back.

“Fuck,” he says and slowly pulls your hand out.

“What?” you ask, actually confused.

“Come on, I can’t fuck you against this counter but if we don’t get out of here, I’m gonna try,” he says and pulls you along into the bedroom.

Jungkook kisses you hard and lightly pushes you back onto the bed. You prop yourself up to watch him quickly undress. You love watching the way his muscles contract with each movement, love the lean lines of his body, absolutely love everything about him. If he sees you watching him, which you’re sure he does, he doesn’t say anything. Instead he leans over you, kisses you hard again as he pulls your pants and underwear off nearly in one motion.

“Eager,” you taunt.

“You won’t be saying that when you can’t walk tomorrow,” he says.

Before you can answer, Jungkook is flipping you over so that you’re on your hands and knees, pressing down on your back so your ass is in the air. You’re a little surprised, because usually he takes his time with you. Not that you’re complaining. He moves on the bed and then you hear a bottle opening seconds before you feel the cold liquid at your entrance. He may be a lot of things, but he always makes sure you’re taken care of.

Despite his words, he still slides into you slowly and lets you adjust to him. His hands grip your hips tightly as he rolls his hips into you almost carefully, like he’s not sure if you’re adjusted. It’s bordering on painful that he’s so still.

“Fuck Jungkook, move,” you whine.

“What’s that?” he asks.

“Just fuck me, please fuck me,” you beg and you hear the low chuckle.

“Thought you’d never ask,” he says and snaps into you hard.

“Fuckkkkkk,” you draw out.

Removing one hand from your hip, he presses you back down into the mattress. You arch your back further so he has a better angle and let the pillow muffle your moans. It mixes with his own groans and the slap of his skin against yours every time he buries himself fully inside you. There’s something frantic about it and you’re sure this is what you’ve been missing. Sure this is what you need. He removes his hand from your hip again and roughly slaps your ass.

“Oh my god, Jungkook,” you yell.

He slaps your other ass cheek and it makes you scream out again. Yes, this is what you need. Someone to be a little rougher with you. Someone who doesn’t treat you like you’re going to break or worry if you can take it because he knows. He knows exactly what you can take and exactly what you like. Him pulling on your hair is only further proof of that.

And then he’s pulling you to him, so that your back is against his chest. The new angle has him hitting deeper inside you, reaching that spot that nearly has you seeing stars. Jungkook moves his hand out of your hair around your neck, gripping lightly.

“Do you like that, baby?” he whispers roughly in your ear.

“Yes,” you moan out.

“Because I fuck you the best,” he continues.

“Jungkook, fuck, just fucking choke me, please,” you beg, unbothered by how much you’re begging him.

That doesn’t need any answer from him beyond his fingers tightening around your throat. It’s the perfect pressure too, just like every other time he’s choked you while fucking. It makes you feel a little lightheaded but also like everything feels that much more amplified. Every hard thrust into your cunt pushes you closer to the edge. Every breath sounds louder. Everything is just more.

He also knows your body to know when you’re close. You almost whine when he removes his hand from your throat because you felt like you were about to come. And then he rubs a thumb over your clit, continues to make sure you come first, like always.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna come,” you shout.

“Come on baby, I wanna feel you come,” he says into your ear.

It’s the only permission you need as you let go. Somewhere, in the haze of your high, you can tell that he’s coming too, that his release comes just after yours. It’s all you can do not to slump against his body, though. His arms are strong around you as he pulls out so that both of you can lay down on the bed.

A few minutes later, after he’s cleaned you both off and you’re lying together in bed, you wonder how you’re going to extract yourself. You’ve never really felt awkward around him, so you’re not really sure why you do now.

“I should be going,” you say and start to sit up.

Jungkook is quick to pull you back down. He meets your look of confusion with nothing but desire. You think, not for the first time, it’s the kind of look that you drown in. The kind of look that ruins you.

“And just where do you think you’re going?” he asks.

“Home?” you offer.

“Why?” he fires back.

“I don’t know, Jungkook, we already fucked,” you say. Part of you is a little exasperated at having to spell it out.

“Do you really think I’m going to let you leave here when I haven’t even tasted you?” he asks.

Fuck.

(He follows through with exactly what he says. It’s slow and measured, like he wants to pull apart every thread you have one by one. Like he wants to ruin you for anyone that isn’t him. Like he doesn’t know he already has.

The lip ring is new since the last time you fucked him and you’re not sure if you’ll even be able to tell when he’s between your legs. Until you’re praising him so loudly you’re sure his neighbors must hear. Or maybe it’s just because he’s so good at getting you off. Even if tonight, he takes his time, brings you to the edge over and over before finally letting you slip over.

It’s the early hours of the morning by the time you’re both worn out. You offer to call a ride, only to have him insist you stay. It’s much too late to be going anywhere when he’d be worried if you were safe or not. So you stay and it’s the best sleep you’ve gotten in awhile.)

The wait is excruciating. Your boyfriend comes home tonight and it’s terrible timing, you know, but you also know that you have to tell him what happened. It isn���t fair to him to just go on without knowing. He’s one of the kindest people in the world, doesn’t deserve this. He’s not broken like you, something you’ve pointed out since the beginning. Maybe those intrusive thoughts were right and you just aren’t built for healthy relationships.

Although you haven’t told many of your friends what happened, you had to confide in a few. Each of them tells you that you shouldn’t tell him what happened. They say that it’s just one of those things where confessing might make you feel better, but it’ll only make him feel shitty. It’s hard to know how he’ll feel. Shitty is probably fair. But, you think they’re wrong about how you’ll feel. Getting this off your chest will just replace one weight with another. Wanting to come clean isn’t about clearing your own conscience. It’s about honesty and him having the ability to make an informed decision.

It actually goes far better than you thought, somehow. He’s hurt, how could he not be? Despite that, he’s calm in the conversation. Instead of breaking it off there and then, which is what you expect, he suggests taking a step back. It’ll allow the relationship to be less defined and maybe less serious. You can’t really believe it when he says that he’s there to work things out with you and give you the space to figure out what you need. It breaks your heart a little bit more, somehow, to see him so patient with you. You don’t deserve it.

Instead of seeing this as a failure, he wants you to see it for what he sees it as. This is just a slip, a step back. There’s been so much trauma in your life that it’s natural for you to have moments where you slip. He’s hurt, yes, he’ll admit that, but he’s not angry with you. At the end of the day, he genuinely cares for you and he’s willing to do whatever it is the both of you need in order to move forward. You both agree that therapy as a couple might be important. However, he insists that it can wait while you sort through how you’re feeling.

Overall, you think you feel okay about it. Things will look different with him for the time being, but you can actually see past this moment in time. That’s new for you. You’re feeling hopeful for the future and you even let yourself imagine a future with him in it. Maybe this isn’t the end of the world after all. Maybe this is just something you actually needed to close a chapter.

Weeks go by. Therapy is back to being once a week, sometimes twice when the sessions fit into your work schedule, and you do trust this therapist. Really, you do. She listens to everything you say and interjects in meaningful ways. It’s clear that she’s actually listening to you and giving you genuine feedback, rather than some previous therapists that only asked how something made you feel. Sitting in that office has forced you to face a lot of deep-seated issues, everything from your childhood to past relationships to the deepest recesses of your mind. Sometimes you don’t really want to relive those moments, but she’s always done a good job of explaining why you need to do the work.

But…

And there it is, again, that stupid three-letter word that brings everything to a screeching halt.

Despite all your therapist’s work, there’s a part of you that doesn’t see the future anymore. Therapy is wonderful and you’re actually really thankful you found this therapist. You’re sleeping better, you feel lighter, and the world doesn’t feel like it’s going to crush you every day. Maybe she’s a little too good at her job, though, because you’re wondering how to move forward. Your boyfriend is perfect…for someone. And you’re not sure anymore if that someone is you.

It’s been weeks and he’s still just content to take the backseat while you do whatever work you need to do. It’s stupid, you know it’s stupid, but you want him to fight for you. You want to see that he is actually upset over what happened with Jungkook. It’s not healthy, you know that and your therapist reminds you it’s not healthy. You’re doing everything you can to make your brain catch up that it’s not healthy. You can’t shake it, though. All the doubts and insecurities creep back in when he still doesn’t seem bothered.

So you do the only thing you can think of, the thing your therapist disagrees with. Well, disagrees with the reasoning, not with the idea itself. You break off the relationship. He tries to approach it in such a way that leaves the door open for you both to come back to it down the road. You don’t want loose ends, so you lie. It hurts to see his face crumble when you say you just don’t love him and he should find someone that does. It’s cruel. You hate yourself for doing it. But you think it’s easier this way. This is too comfortable and you don’t want to string him along.

Then, you make the second decision your therapist disagrees with and text Jungkook. After seeing she can’t make you see her perspective on the break-up, she suggests spending some time alone to learn more about yourself. That’s terrifying. If she could hear your thoughts, surely she would not suggest leaving you alone with them. They’re intrusive and self-sabotaging and just loud, so loud.

Unsurprisingly, Jungkook is happy to hear from you, happier still to know that you’re unattached again. Not that he minds being discreet, he’s happy to confine things to the four walls of his apartment. It’s just that he also likes to get you dressed up and go out. He’s always liked having someone pretty on his arm, even if he’s just at some local sports bar.

That’s not where you end up tonight, though. Your head is especially loud and you want some quiet. Need to get lost in something other than the potential mess you’re making of your life. When Jungkook suggests a club a friend of his owns, you say yes before he even finishes asking. The place is familiar to you and it’s perfect, in all its noise, low lighting, and crowded spaces. There’s no better way (at least as far as you know) of quieting your brain than going somewhere even louder.

It’s easy to get lost, several drinks in, as you press your back into Jungkook on the dance floor. The tight dress that seemed like such a good idea rides up your thighs now, with a little help from the light sheen of sweat covering your body and a little more help from Jungkook’s hands that grip you tightly.

Everything is familiar. You’ve been here before, to this exact club with Jungkook, more than once. And it’s the kind of easy you’re looking for now. As his hand inches further up your thigh, you press further back into him, looking to erase any space between the two of you. Tonight is just to forget and Jungkook is excellent at that.

Maybe if you were a little less drunk, you would stop his hand. You are in public, after all. As it is, you really don’t care. He likes to tease, gets off knowing someone may see, and you’re not in the mood to put a stop to it. Tonight, he seems even more daring than usual. He lets his thumb graze the thin layer of fabric at your core, likely feeling how much you want him. You shudder as his warm breath tickles your ear.

“There’s a storage closet in the back that might be unlocked,” he says, voice low with desire.

And that’s new because you’re certain that of all the times you’ve fucked Jungkook, none of them have been at the club. It’s been close, getting a little carried away under the table in one of the VIP booths, running his hand up your shirt on the dance floor, but you’ve never fucked him here. You’re also a little too tipsy to register that at the moment when all you want is him.

It’s too loud for you to answer him so you just squeeze his hand and nod. That’s all the permission he needs, anyway. Before you can give it a second thought, he’s pulling you off the dance floor and down a hallway. He looks around like he’s not completely sure where he’s going and then sees a door.

The door opens and you’re both in without another thought. Jungkook crowds your space, pressing you against the closed door and stealing your gasp with his lips on yours. Your hands find purchase in his slightly shaggy hair and one of his hands digs into your hip, holding you firmly in place. Like there’s anywhere else you would rather be in that moment.

From the moment his lips make contact with yours, you remember why you ignored your therapist and walked away from your relationship. It’s just a kiss, granted a pretty heated one, but still. It’s just a kiss and your whole body is alive in a way it hasn’t been since the last time you were with him. As he trails kisses across your jaw and down your neck, you can feel the heat he leaves behind with each touch.

Jungkook also never makes you feel self-conscious about the way your body responds to him. Not that your boyfriend, ex-boyfriend now, ever said anything about your moans, but he was also really quiet in bed. And you stopped reacting as much, because it wasn’t the best part of your relationship. Not that you want to be dwelling on that now. Not as Jungkook is working his way down your body, clearly just as turned on as you, eliciting soft moans as he goes.

When he drops to his knees in front of you, you think you may really be done for. He lifts one of your legs and rests it on his shoulder, your dress hiking up around your hips in the process. You lean back against the door for support as his tongue makes contact through the thin fabric. It’s another tease, a Jungkook specialty, and you find you don’t much care. Thankfully, he quickly moves the fabric to the side. The movements of his tongue, fast and slow and fast again, are perfect. Your brain goes blank, just the kind of blank you need. No thoughts except for his tongue on you and the bliss of it. Even the thud of the bass out in the club dulls to background noise. Every one of your senses is present in this moment in a way you haven’t been lately.

His movements quicken and you knot your hands in his hair both to find purchase and to let him know that you’re close. Not that it’s hard to tell by the increase in your moans. He knows what he’s doing and he knows that he’s got you on the edge. You want to tell him that you want to feel him inside you and can’t make yourself speak the words. A second later it doesn’t matter. He slides one finger in, then quickly adds another and your brain goes fuzzy.

He pushes you over the edge too fast, you want to savor more of this moment, more of him. You register that somewhere in your bliss coming down from the orgasm. You need more of him, more contact, more of whatever it is that makes your brain go quiet. You’re catching your breath and refocusing when you notice his pants down around his ankles. Did he get that hard just from getting you off? He’s already pulling a condom on and you’re almost relieved.

“You didn’t think I was done with you yet, did you?” His confidence drips off of him when he’s like this and you wish you were the kind of girl who had something witty to say back. You wish, at least now, that he didn’t affect you like this.

Instead, all you do is shake your head at him. You don’t trust yourself to speak and he doesn’t seem to mind. In one movement, he puts his hands on the back of your thighs and picks you up, still keeping you pressed against the door. The next second, he’s slowly sliding into you, letting you adjust. It’s the only break he gives you before setting a fast pace. Your legs tighten around him and your nails dig into his back. You’re sure they would leave a mark if he didn’t have a shirt on. Part of you hopes maybe they still will.

One of the best parts about Jungkook is that he doesn’t ever need to ask what you want, he just seems to know. He knows what you like and when you want something faster like this or when to take his time. It’s like he’s mapped your body with the way he’s able to hit just the right spots in just the right way.

Your head rolls back against the door, eyes closed and brain numb. Even then, he manages to bring you back to him, kissing up your neck until you meet his lips. The kiss is messy, capturing each of your moans as they escape. Jungkook’s grip on your thighs is as strong as the pace he’s setting and it isn’t long before you’re falling over the edge again.

A pleasant daze settles over you as you do your best to look presentable so that you can leave the club. (You don’t succeed and you definitely look just fucked, but the club is in full swing and the only people who might be able to tell are the poor workers that have to stay sober).

“Do you want to come back to my apartment?” Jungkook asks the question, one hand gripping yours while the other pulls up Uber on his phone to order a ride home.

And it’s kind of funny, how he asks like he doesn’t know the answer. In the time you’ve known him, Jungkook has been a lot of things, but he’s always been confident above all else. So it catches you off guard that he asks.

“As long as it’s okay with you,” you say and he smiles that easy smile.

“Of course,” he says.

You can’t really place the feeling that settles over you at such a small exchange, everything is crowded with the lingering effects of alcohol and sex. But something feels different and you think you like it. Almost like a part of you is waking up.

The next few weeks pass in somewhat of a blur. You’re happier than you can remember feeling in a while, much more fulfilled in all aspects of your life. Despite some reservations that your therapist has, you agree to start seeing her every other week unless something changes. You’re hoping to drop it back down to once a month but understand her hesitance to make such a big change so quickly. It would be a shame to ruin all that forward progress, after all.

Most of your free time is spent with Jungkook, a fact that your best friends are quick to point out with some version of the same cautionary advice. They want you to be careful, want you to remember your history with him, don’t want you to get ahead of yourself. It seems like they just don’t understand. Yeah, you and Jungkook have been here before, multiple times, but this is different and they just haven’t seen that.

Every other time led up to this. It took a relationship falling apart for you to realize that none of the other times with Jungkook were failures, they were just your “right person, wrong time” moments. Now the timing is right for both of you.

You knock on the door to his apartment, surprise take out in one hand, realizing belatedly that maybe you should have given him a warning of some sort. What if he was busy or had already eaten?

“Oh hey, what a nice surprise,” Jungkook answers with a smile as he steps aside to let you in.

Suddenly, you feel kind of silly for the momentary worry that showing up like this would be too much. Jungkook seems like he meets you at each point, so this shouldn’t be any different. It also helps that you’ve known each other for years and you know the way to his heart (through his stomach with only his favorite foods).

The whole thing feels surprisingly normal in a way you weren’t expecting. Jungkook makes small talk as he gets plates from the kitchen and sets them down for you to eat. He offers you a drink from the fridge, gets one for himself, and it’s just…easy. The whole thing with him is easy and you’re so thankful that you took this chance. As it turns out, he’s exactly what you need. Maybe he’s even the reason your last relationship ended the way it did. Not that you would ever say that. For all his outward strength and his image, Jungkook can be surprisingly sensitive. The last thing you’d want would be him feeling responsible for causing other people pain.

You’re not really sure why you do it, but you mention that your friends have a lot of warnings about the relationship. In what should be typical Jungkook fashion, he brushes it, reassures you that you know what’s happening and that’s all that matters. It doesn’t matter what your friends think because you’re both happy and living in the moment. You smile at that. This is definitely the best kind of happy.

Once you’ve gotten plates of food, you settle down together and Jungkook pulls up Netflix. He’s got a whole list of movies and shows that you can pick from, all things he wants to see or thinks you’d like, he tells you. And that’s sweet, isn’t it? That he sees something on Netflix and saves it in case you want to watch it together. It makes your heart constrict a little bit. It doesn’t feel like something you do with someone who’s only casual. Surely his thinking about you, when you aren’t around, is a positive sign.

You sigh happily and let him decide what it is he wants to watch. Not that the two of you ever really finish anything. It’s the thought that counts though. And Jungkook seems to be thinking of you. For a second you wonder if this is just the list he’s created for anyone he has over, you haven’t talked about seeing other people. Until you realize that most of them are thrillers. It’s your favorite genre but probably not good for generally inviting girls over. You really need to stop second-guessing everything with him.

Another few weeks go by as easily as breathing and that small part of you that’s waiting for the other shoe to drop gets even quieter. You’re not even thinking that this feels different anymore because it is different. Instead of late-night (or really any odd hour of the day) texts, you’re making actual plans on when you’re going to see each other. It doesn’t feel like a fuck buddy, it feels like someone you’re moving along with in a different way. There’s a lightness to every space of your life now, a lightness that looks a lot like Jungkook.

Of all the things Jungkook is good at, and there’s a lot, because he’s hyper-competitive and doesn’t like losing, cooking is decidedly not one. That suits you just fine, though. Cooking is an absolute favorite of yours and cooking for someone you care about makes it all that much better. It had taken a little more convincing for Jungkook agree to you coming over and cook for him, he didn’t want to be a bother, but you were glad to be here now.

“I know this isn’t really what we do, but I have a family wedding to go to, for my cousin, and I was wondering if you’d come with me? It’s kind of last minute, I know. I just wasn’t expecting to have to go alone,” you say and Jungkook puts down his fork. You’re nervous again and you’re not quite sure why.

“Sure, why not?” Jungkook says easily.

“Really?” The question is out before you can stop it.

“I like spending time with you,” Jungkook says, “we have fun.”

“We do, yeah,” you agree. “It’s just…it’s like 2 hours away, so I got a room. And you’d obviously need a suit.”

“This may come as a surprise, but I have been to a wedding or two before, so I have plenty of suits. And what kind of idiot would I be to turn down an overnight date with you?” Jungkook is smiling as he says this and it puts you at ease.

“It’s in 2 weeks, which is really soon,” you say. Jungkook pulls out his phone.

“Friday or Saturday wedding?” He’s looking through his calendar to see what he’s got going on.

“Saturday,” you say and he puts his phone down.

“That’s fine, I’ve got something going on Friday, but Saturday and Sunday are all yours,” Jungkook says.

Easy. Everything is just easy. You weren’t even really thinking of asking him to come to the wedding when you decided to cook for him. It just seemed like the right timing to ask and your cousin had just texted you that afternoon asking if she should change the seating chart. Although she said it wasn’t a big deal, you know she’s secretly going to be relieved to not change anything.

Not planning things also really is your motto these days. You weren’t planning to stay over at Jungkook’s when you offered to cook. Yet you wake up in his bed the next morning all the same, like it was a foregone conclusion the second you stepped over the threshold.

You figure now that Jungkook is coming with you to a family wedding as your date, that your friends will get off of your back about him. And most of them do. It’s been over two months of seeing him, which makes it feel more stable. Mostly, they’re happy if you’re happy and know you’re enough of an adult to handle your own life. Most days, at least. It’s just one of your closest friends that’s holding out. Not that he doesn’t like Jungkook, because he does, he’s just also been friends with you since you were kids and he’s seen how this has gone.

“It’s different, Jimin,” you say for what feels like the hundredth time.

“Have you had The Talk?” He doesn’t put quotes around it, but you can hear them in his tone anyway.

“No, we haven’t had The Talk,” you say, matching his tone. “We’re both adults, like actual adults, I don’t think it’s necessary.”

“This time around with him started with you cheating on your ex,” Jimin says in a not-so-subtle reminder. If it were anyone else, you would leave.

“Thanks, I remember,” you bite back.

“I love you, you know that. I just want to make absolutely sure you’re not going to get hurt with this. I need to know he’s in this as much as you are,” Jimin says.

“Can you ever really know that?” The question seems valid enough.

“No, everything in relationships is a calculated risk. But it’s on you to make sure you have all the numbers before doing the calculations,” Jimin says.

“Meaning?” You think you know what he means, but it’s best to be sure.

“Meaning,” Jimin says with faux exasperation, “that the talk will let you know where he stands and allow you to be on the same page. He could lie, but then that’s on him if you get hurt. If you get hurt now, when you haven’t had the talk, that’s on you.”

“Little harsh, Jiminie,” you say, using the nickname to try and soften him.

It doesn’t work and he just shrugs. “We’ve done this song and dance a few times, maybe too many times. I just don’t want to see this end badly.”

“Then have a little faith, he is coming to a family wedding,” you say.

“And some of the way the conversation went makes me a little uneasy,” Jimin admits.

“Just have some faith. This time is different, I can feel it,” you say.

There’s a lot more than Jimin wants to say, a lot more he wants you to hear. But he’s also known you for years and seen you through every one of the Jungkook phases. People change all the time, he knows that. As people grow, the things they want or need evolve. Until you have an actual chat with him, though, Jimin is not ready to say this time will be different. It’s silly because he also knows that you’re going to do what you want, you always have. Not in a bad way, you’re just very stubborn when it comes to listening to advice. All he can do is hope for the best and be there if you need a shoulder. He tries not to think when you need a shoulder. As much as he likes being right, he likes you a whole lot more and he wants this to work.

The wedding goes well, great even. Jungkook is a hot topic of conversation, with a number of your family members gushing over how attractive he is and how good you look together. It gives you a small amount of pride to hear it too, even if it shouldn’t. It’s also good to have someone to retreat to when your family gets overwhelming. The added benefit of them not knowing him is that you both can slip out of conversations much easier. He’s never met anyone in your family and they don’t have as many questions for him. You also did an excellent job of establishing that you and him are very early on in the relationship, so questions about getting more serious are off the table.

Staying in a hotel with Jungkook is also a much better experience than you thought. You’ve stayed at each other’s places countless times over the years, but you’ve never gone away somewhere together. Even though it’s only a few hours from home, everything feels different. Everything feels more intimate.  And there’s something to be said for hotel sex too. Everything is new and more exciting.

You reach out to Jimin the day after you get back to let him know how things went. And you’re a little surprised by his response. Instead of being excited for you that it’s going so well, he asks again if you’ve talked to Jungkook about where you are and where you’re going. It’s kind of a buzzkill and you’re quick to tell him so. But Jimin is stubborn too.

Jimin: I love you, you’re my best friend in the entire world, but I’m scared you’re going to end up hurt Jimin: I’ll be here to celebrate once you talk to him and I’ll say sorry when it’s all cleared up, but until then, I can’t fully support it

That hurts. It’s like he doesn’t realize that in not wanting Jungkook to hurt you, he’s hurting you instead. You shake that thought off as quickly as it comes, though. It’s not his intention to hurt you and somewhere deep down, you know he’s making sense. Jimin has been your go-to person for everything in your life since a matter of months into the friendship. The two of you were able to click in a way you haven’t really experienced with anyone else. So yeah, maybe, on some level, you get where he’s coming from and maybe you’ll understand later. Not right now, though. Right now you’re just hurt and a little angry at your best friend for not supporting you the way you want him to.

(Jimin, to his credit, does think he’s supporting you. It may not be in the way you want him to and you may not see it, but it’s the way he needs to support you. There’s a moment where he thinks that he’s the friend you deserve, just not the one you need right now. So he’ll let you be mad at him as long as you need to. Or maybe he’s been watching Dark Knight too much lately.)

This is where you know you’re not always the best at being an adult. Whether Jimin is right or not becomes irrelevant because you’re more concerned with not letting him win. It’s like he tells you something and you have to do the opposite, just because. Which, really, that’s probably something you need to address in therapy. It’s probably not a healthy approach, but it’s where you’re at for now.

Things feel…a little different. Not good different, either. At first, you were positive that it was just the lingering effects of Jimin being Jimin. Even when he’s not speaking to you, since this is not the first time he’s done this, he’s very loud. But days go by and the pit in your stomach only gets deeper. You can’t separate your own thoughts and anxieties to see if anything with Jungkook is actually different.

When you stop to think about it, though, everything with Jungkook should be different. It’s been around three months now. Three months of you spending a truly absurd amount of time together. Three months of movie nights in, dinners out, random trips to the park. Three months of ending up in each other’s bed every time you went over. Three months of you not seeing anyone else. Was he seeing other people, though? Surely not. Would there really even be time?

But…

That nasty word coming up to haunt you again. But, could you really make any assumptions where another person was involved? After all, your ex had no reason to think anything was wrong with you, no reason to think the relationship was coming to a screeching halt. Yet, it did. It did because you stopped talking to him. Well, you didn’t stop talking to him, you said a lot of words. You just didn’t say any of the ones that actually mattered.

It’s impossible to keep the last conversation with Jimin off your mind. You will never tell him he was right, but you’re also constantly wondering if it’s time for that talk. Lately it’s been taking Jungkook longer to do everything. Longer to text you back, longer in between seeing each other, longer to come out of his phone if he checks it while you’re hanging out (something he never used to do).

And, okay, from the outside, you know how any of those things look. It’s just, you’re still really happy and you’re not really looking to give that up. You think that maybe what’s best, for now, is just to take a slight step back, not be the one to reach out to him and make plans. Either he’ll make plans with you or you will have the final push to have a conversation you should have had weeks ago. (Really, you should’ve had this conversation before you blew up your life, but who’s counting?)

Jungkook: hey, things have been kinda crazy with work, but can i see you tonight?

Which answers that, doesn’t it? You ignore your smarter thoughts, most of which are driven by Jimin’s words playing on repeat, and answer quicker than you should. Even though you offer to stop on your way to pick food up, Jungkook says he’s already picking something up and to just meet him at the apartment.

It’s all different now. Before, when things were only happy, you’d be excited that he knew you well enough to pick up takeaway for the both of you. Now, you wonder if he really has been busy with work. There’s something about the text that implies something’s shifted. You hate it and you want to just go back to before. Maybe tonight will be the perfect chance for that.

It’s not.

The silences are awkward and what’s worse is that you can’t tell if Jungkook feels awkward about it as well, or if it’s just you. Actually, what’s worse is you don’t know which you’d prefer. Then there’s this weird space between you while you’re watching a movie. It’s like you’re not really close enough to cuddle and you’re not really far enough away for it to be a normal, friend-sized space between you. It’s just this awkward limbo and you’re trying really hard not to overthink the space being a metaphor for where the two of you are in this weird relationship.

Jungkook is on his phone a lot throughout the movie too, which only worsens the way you feel. He says he’s still got a lot going on at work, that they’re in very real danger of missing deadlines and he’s so sorry. The rational part of you really wants to let it be that. The louder part of you, the one you know is irrational, can’t leave it alone. At least internally. You know you can’t say anything out loud and have it come across right. Your internal monologue is another story, though.

But, that’s the thing, isn’t it? You made a lot of assumptions about where you were with Jungkook, about what the two of you were doing, about it being a relationship. The reality is you’ve been fucking regularly for months now and haven’t bothered to define things. It was perfect at the beginning, when Jungkook insisted that the two of you knew what was happening and what other people thought didn’t matter. It made you feel like it was you against everyone else. Which should’ve been a clue. A relationship should never put you against the people outside of it. A healthy relationship should be able to integrate into your regular life.

You don’t stay over at his place that night. Jungkook offers and even makes it seem like he wants you to. You might even believe him if he didn’t mention getting up early for work and checking his phone. That annoying voice in the back of your head is shouting danger, danger, danger. The ugly thoughts wonder if he actually wants you to stay at all or if he just doesn’t want to be the bad guy for sending you home.

He gives you a kiss in the doorway and you’re on your way out. The last little bit of positivity in the back of your mind is hoping he’ll change his mind, that he’ll come rushing out and say he’s been stupid. Of course he wants you to stay and of course it’s worth it being tired at work tomorrow because he’s missed you, things have been off, and he wants to make sure he fixes them.

But, he doesn’t do any of those things. The doubts firmly take hold of your brain.

The next day, you’re still thinking over what you want to do when you get an unexpected text from him. He’s got a function after work, the kind of thing where you have to go to a bar and pretend you want to be socializing with coworkers off the clock, but it’s okay because the boss usually buys a few rounds. It’s the kind of thing someone might ask their partner to come to, so they’re not so bored.

Jungkook’s message is clear. He wants to see you. After he’s done with the work function, which he warns might not be until later. So he understands if it’s too late for you to come over since it is still during the week and you have to work tomorrow. He seems genuinely excited when you say you’ll definitely still come over and your heart constricts for a second.

You need to set your phone aside, just for a second, just long enough to let your heart settle back down, because you’ve made up your mind. It’s time (past time, honestly) that you have a real conversation with Jungkook. This last exchange proves it. You’re back to being the girl he calls up after a night out at the bar, the booty call for sex. Admittedly, it is the best sex you’ve ever had, but that’s not the point. For a bit, you were the girl that he made plans with. And, yeah, he’s asking you before he goes to the bar if you’ll be there after. But, the fact is, it’s still same day and it’s not really anything more than a hook-up text.

The text from Jungkook letting you know he’s heading home comes and you take a couple shots to give yourself the confidence to go through with The Talk. You weren’t planning on driving anyway. No matter how this goes, you’re not planning to head home afterwards so having your car seems more inconvenient than anything.

Apparently, Jungkook only beats you there by a few minutes, which might’ve bothered you in any other situation. The way he says it sounds accusatory in your mind. All you can see now is talking before you lose the little bit of liquid courage you have.

“Do you want to watch a movie or do you just want to…” Jungkook asks, trailing off suggestively.

That pit in the bottom of your stomach worsens. The unfinished question hangs between you like a glaring sign saying he just wants to fuck you. It all just feels really cheap and like another waste of your time. Just another in a long line of mistakes. Only one way to find out, though, and so you take a deep breath and dive in.

“Actually, I kind of wanted to talk to you,” you say and that brings him up short.

“About what?” Jungkook asks.

He seems defensive. It’s all wrong. Something in you had been holding out hope that this would go exactly the way you wanted it to. That hope gets harder to hold onto.

“Just…this, us,” you say, hating how you sound so unsure.

“Us?” Jungkook asks and somehow that makes you angrier. Is he being fucking stupid on purpose?

“Yeah, Jungkook, us,” you say with more bite than you intended. “We’ve been doing this dance for, what, like 3 or 4 months? What are we doing, exactly?”

Jungkook’s confused. He gets this look on his face sometimes, like he’s trying to work out a really complex calculus problem and just can’t make things make sense. It makes him look younger, more innocent. It makes you want to protect him. But you can’t afford to think that way, and he doesn’t need to be protected.

“We’re just, I don’t know, we’re hanging out. We’ve been having fun, you know, everything is just easy, which is nice,” Jungkook says.

“Just hanging out and having fun? What, are we back in college?” Your voice raises an octave because, despite all your planning, you really aren’t ready for this.

“I’m not really sure what’s happening here,” Jungkook admits.

“I’m just confused,” you admit in return. “Like we’re always together, we go out on dates. You came with me to a family wedding for fuck’s sake.”

“Yeah, because I like hanging out with you and the wedding seemed important to you,” Jungkook says.

“It was important but still, what is this?”

Jungkook really still looks helpless and you’re constantly reminding yourself not to take care of him. It’s not what either of you needs. “Why does it have to be something defined? Why does there have to be this big deal?”

“Because we’re grown now, because I can’t keep blowing up my life for…” you start, but cut yourself off, quickly closing your mouth again.

“No, blowing your life up for what? For me?” Jungkook asks and you look away, unable to see him looking at you like that. “I never asked you to blow up your life for me.”

“You didn’t exactly turn me away that night either. You knew I was in a relationship,” you say and he scoffs.

“Yeah, I did know. But last time I checked, it’s not my responsibility to make sure you don’t cheat on your partner. I wasn’t the one in a relationship,” Jungkook says.

“No, because you’re never in a relationship, you’re always just having fun,” you say, voice dripping with disdain.

“And what’s so wrong with that? I’ve never been anything but honest about exactly who I am and what I want,” Jungkook says.

“People change all the time! Excuse me for thinking you’d grow the fuck up and realize actually being with someone isn’t that bad,” you say and Jungkook rolls his eyes again.

“What do you think I’ve been doing? I know being with someone isn’t bad. We’ve been having a great time for months until whatever the fuck this is,” Jungkook says.

“And how many other girls have you been having a good time with at the same time?” The question is out before you can even figure out if you want to ask it.

Opposite you, Jungkook rolls his lips together, like he’s trying to give himself a minute before answering. He can have a short temper at times.

“I’m not really sure why the answer to that question matters,” Jungkook says and you shake your head.

“I should’ve known,” you say.

“None though, for the record. Like I told you, I’ve been busy at work. So, I’m either there, working out, playing video games, or with you,” he says and you come up short.

“What?”

“Don’t take that the wrong way,” Jungkook says quickly. “I haven’t fucked anyone else in months, and I haven’t wanted to either. I’ve been having a great time with you. But, that also doesn’t mean this is something more than it is.”

“Meaning?” The balloon of hope pops just as quickly as it formed and you’re feeling even worse than before.

“Meaning,” Jungkook starts. “I don’t want…this. I don’t want to be fighting with you about some bullshit definition of what we are or where we’re headed. I like you, I do. But my answers to those still haven’t changed from the first time we hooked up 7 years ago. I don’t want that super committed relationship with expectations and check-ins and eventually marriage. I don’t want a house and kids and a white picket fence so the dog doesn’t get out.”

“You make it sound like a death sentence,” you say, completely deflated.

“I don’t mean to, it’s just not for me. It’s not what I’ve ever wanted and I’ve never kept that a secret,” Jungkook says. “I mean, I don’t know, maybe it is like a death sentence for me.”

“It feels like a slap in the face,” you admit and Jungkook bristles at that.

“Why? Because I don’t want the same things as you?”

You struggle to find the right words because that’s not what you meant. “Because you must have known it’s what I wanted and yet we still kept going.”

“I guess I figured you heard me when I said, over and over again, that it wasn’t what I wanted,” Jungkook says. “I figured you heard me and you could make your decisions on what you wanted.”

“It just seemed like…” you start and frown. “We’re always together, it felt like more.”

“So you just assumed that it was something more without even asking me about it?” Jungkook asks and gets a glare in response.

“Okay, that’s a little extreme,” you say.

“Is it? I can see it. You’re mad at me, which I get, kind of,” Jungkook admits. “But also, I don’t get it? Because none of this had to happen. If you’d talked to me instead of building it all up in your head…”

“Wow, that was kind of a dick move,” you retort and he shakes his head.

“Or is it a dick move to create a whole relationship in your head and then make me the bad guy for not being on the same page?”

That brings you up short again. Does he have a point? Is that what you’ve been doing all this time?

“I do actually care about you,” Jungkook says. “I know that may be hard to believe, but I do. It’s also really fucked up to create a whole world in your head and then turn me into the bad guy for not being on the same page. I always said we were having fun, that it didn’t matter what friends thought, that we’re just going a day at a time.”

“Because you knew, Jungkook, you had to,” you say. He furrows his eyebrows at you. “You’ve always said things like that and for what? What reason do you have to constantly remind me what this is if you don’t think there’s confusion?”

“Once again, it is not my job to force a conversation you may want to have. Weren’t you just saying we’re not still in college? That goes both ways,” Jungkook says.

Round and round and round in circles you and Jungkook go. You’re mad at him for something that he may not even be able to control, something that you’ve always known about him. And you’re mad that he’s known you probably weren’t on the same page for a while. He’s mad that you’ve had so many of these conversations in your head or with friends without cluing him in. He’s mad that he feels like the bad guy.

The whole fight feels pointless, honestly. You both are mad at the other and maybe you both have a reason to be annoyed. Maybe he has a point and maybe you need to take a step back to examine some of the decisions that you’ve made too. Maybe he’s not the only one bringing this house of cards crashing to the floor.

And maybe that’s not something you want to deal with tonight.

The rational part of your brain knows you should leave and call an Uber straight to Jimin’s apartment. That same part knows that even if he has someone over, he’ll drop everything to make sure you’re okay. He won’t even start the I told you so until tomorrow. Because Jimin can be a giant pain in the ass when he wants to, but he’s got the biggest heart in the world. Going to Jimin’s is absolutely the right decision.

That’s why you call an Uber and head to the bar.

After a few drinks, the empty seat next to you is taken by a stranger with fluffy hair and an easy smile. Despite your protests, he takes over your tab so that you can keep drinking. It’s a bad idea, you know it’s a bad idea, and you don’t really care. You don’t really have any room for good ideas right now.

For his part, he actually seems like a decent guy, if you were sober and present enough to notice. He tells you his name, his job, about his friends. You think he even mentions movies he likes. Nothing about it feels like the normal situation at a bar. Then again, it’s a Wednesday night, not exactly prime time to be out picking someone up.

The next morning, you wake up in a too bright room in an unfamiliar bed and immediately start piecing things together. The conversation with Jungkook and your subsequent decision to get completely shit-faced come rushing back. A sense of shame washes over you. This is the part where some attractive guy, usually one you somehow know, walks into the bedroom, maybe wearing just a towel, and you realize what you did.

Except this isn’t a movie, thankfully, and somehow you’re actually clothed in the bed. You’re in an oversized t-shirt and gym shorts, but you also still have your bra and underwear on. Likely a sign that nothing happened beyond you getting embarrassingly drunk last night. Actually, looking around the room, it looks more like a guest bedroom than the master. Did you actually manage to find a decent guy when you were hellbent on making bad decisions?

You aren’t really in the mood to figure any of it out. Your clothes are folded up beside the bed and, when you get up, you hear the shower running. It’s the perfect time to leave without having to have an awkward conversation. And since you were at your quota for those, you grab your phone from beside the table and slip out, thankfully unseen.

First up, your text thread with Jimin. Which is a mistake, of course you had texted him and of course it was barely coherent. But bless Jimin, honestly, because you see he had taken care of calling you out of work. Actually, bless him for having all your passwords and being able to sign into your email to send the message. You know part of him calling you out is also so that he can carry out his Jimin-approved therapy, but you’ll take it. You’ll even take him telling you he was right.

In a slightly uncharacteristic move, Jimin is waiting outside your door when the Uber drops you off. He’s already been shopping for the essentials and he’s got his arms open for you to collapse into him before even crossing the threshold into the apartment. There’s nothing on his face except for care and concern, which really isn’t surprising. His beating you to your own apartment may be surprising, but him being the best friend you’ve ever had isn’t.

Everything kind of pours out of you at once when you and Jimin sit down on your couch, the tears, the self-loathing, the anger, the confusion, the pain. So much pain. Pain over your ex, pain over Jungkook, pain over past shit that you really thought you were over. It’s like the past months with Jungkook were just a bandaid, putting off the day you would eventually feel everything. There’s no putting it off anymore though. Now you’re in it and you’re so thankful for a friend like Jimin to hold your hand.

He’s surprisingly quiet throughout the whole thing. He listens to your thoughts, comforts you during the gaps in speaking, makes sure you have snacks and something to drink, keeps music playing quietly in the background because he knows you hate the silence. He asks questions that are gentle, nothing too heavy or accusatory. The only time he gets firm is when you cry about not deserving a friend like him.

“Yeah, you can be an asshole sometimes, but don’t ever let me catch you talking that way about yourself,” Jimin says, unmoving. “You’re human and we all make mistakes. We learn and we move forward. I won’t let you be mean to yourself, though. That’s what you don’t deserve.”

Once you feel like you’ve said everything that you could possibly say, Jimin informs you that you’re taking tomorrow off as well and that he’ll be staying over. Just like when you were in college. The order for the night was trashy TV and junk food and no wine for you because you’re still hungover and no talking about feelings at all. You can pick all that up again tomorrow, but tonight is about giving your brain a break.

It takes much longer than you expect to really come to terms with what happened between you and Jungkook. You haven’t seen him since you walked out the door. In fact, you hadn’t even texted him until reaching out yesterday to see if he was willing to meet up. It wasn’t to work through things, though, as much as it was for you to heal. And hopefully for him to heal as well.

The past few months have been some of the scariest and most rewarding of your life. You’ve never really been alone, separate from a partner. You’ve gone from one relationship to the next for as long as you could remember and ignored anyone suggesting to take time nearly as long. The fight with Jungkook had been a wake-up call, an unwelcome one at the time, but one that you can now see the value in. It forced you to really look at yourself, at your choices, at everything that led you to that moment, to learn what you actually wanted.

And you don’t really know what you want, but you think it’s somewhere between your ex and Jungkook. Yes, you want something stable and comfortable, someone that you know and that you can rely on. At the same time, you want someone that will challenge you, excite you, keep you on your toes. It was unfair of you to put all that onto Jungkook. Whatever mistakes he may have also made, you want to own yours. Part of you knew that he was never going to be what you needed him to be and rushed forward head first anyway.

Everything led you to this point now, where you wait for Jungkook to show up. He had replied quicker than you expected and seemed happy to meet, despite you being clear on needing to talk to him. Maybe there were things he needed to say too.

The tinkling of the bell over the door catches your attention and you watch Jungkook walk through the doors, somehow exactly the same. It’s only been a few months, you remind yourself, not like he could change entirely.

The next part feels awkward, how do you greet him? You stand, considering what to do, when he saves you the trouble and goes in to give you a quick hug. Nothing too serious and also nothing too formal.

“Thanks for meeting me,” you say and he smiles.

“Of course,” he says. “I’ve been thinking about everything that happened too, honestly, so it felt like a good time.”

And just like that, it’s easy to talk. Really talk. Jungkook lets you go first and you lay out everything you’ve learned over the past couple months. He lets you make your apologies and makes his own. You’re able to take ownership of the mistakes you make, because you really understand them after months working through your shit, and feel like he’s forgiven you for how you handled things. You know that you can never fully expect to get closure in life, but this feels close. It feels like you can actually close the door on a chapter to move forward.

Apparently he’s been doing a lot of work on himself too. He admits to knowing that you were in deeper than he was and letting it go on anyway, something he’s not proud of and something he hopes you’ll forgive. He’s not there yet but he’s working on better communication, letting partners know what he can give and what he can’t. He’s trying to figure out what it is he actually wants and what he doesn’t. Even though you don’t need him to say it, he also wants you to know that, as cliche as it sounds, it wasn’t you. Not entirely at least. He got so caught up in how good the physical side of things was that he didn’t consider how you were both hurting each other.

Neither one of you is really sure how to leave things. Part of you, and you can see part of him too, wants to ask if there’s a way to move forward as friends. He’s been part of your life on and off for the past 7 years, since meeting when you were only 18 years old. You take the plunge, though, and say that he’s always going to have a place in your heart. You’re just not sure he can have a place in your life, at least not now. There’s a moment of relief on his face. Like he’s happy you were the one to make the call because he isn’t sure he could. He really does have a lot of work to do, he says.

“Do you know him?” Jungkook asks as the conversation is naturally winding down.

You turn your head to follow his eyes on a man wearing dress pants and a nice shirt. He seems caught up in whatever he’s reading on his laptop, slightly shaggy hair slipping into his eyes. You’re about to say no when he looks up and meets your eyes. There’s something…familiar about him. Like you know him from somewhere that you’ve forgotten. Almost like the memory is hazy and you can’t fully grasp it. He smiles, a really nice smile, and then looks back down at his laptop.

“I don’t think so,” you finally answer.

“He keeps looking over here,” Jungkook comments. You look for any sign of anything negative on his face, but it isn’t there.

“Yeah, I don’t know, if I do know him, I can’t figure out from where,” you admit.

“Maybe you should say hi,” he says and you just smile.

“With you here?” you ask.

Jungkook smiles with a shake of his head. He’s standing up the next second. “I actually have to go to an appointment with my therapist.”

“I’m proud of you,” you say and stand as well to give him another hug. Slightly less awkward this time.

“I’m proud of you too, proud of us, really,” he says.

“Take care, Jungkook,” you say.

“You too,” he answers with a smile.

Just like that, he’s heading out the door. He looks back once to smile at you and you wave. You’re wondering if that’s the last time you’ll see him. Maybe it is and maybe that’s exactly how it should be. Things feel better now, easier. There’s no lingering doubts and even though you know you still have a ways to go, you think that you can really do it this time.

But before you can retreat further into your own head, a voice breaks through your thoughts.

“This seat still taken?”

You look up to find the man that Jungkook asked about moments earlier and that’s when it clicks. Yes, you do know him and you finally remember from where. The world certainly works in mysterious ways.

i hope you liked it, it was definitely a ride writing it <3

[gold-rhine]

Afab! Scaramouche x GN! Dom reader first time

A\N: I guess technically it’s hurt\comfort. sigh. I don’t like to center my writing of trans characters on negative emotions, if you’ve read my previous stuff, you know when I write afab! male characters it’s like. Just guys, who happen to have pussies, having sex. And that’s how I initially started to write Scara’s afab first time prompt, but his canon storyline is so overtly about struggle of dysphoria, anxiety and self-hatred that it felt wrong to not incorporate it into my explicitly trans fic. So I had to rewrite it completely and I’m taking his part out of the compilation so ppl who want to avoid heavy topics and just have a good time reading smut can skip it. Otherwise, give it a try if you like complicated brats, I think it’s one of my good pieces and it has a happy ending.

Warnings: not sfw. graphic descriptions of dysphoria, anxiety attack, dissociation, angst, self-hatred, allusion to self-harm. Fingering, edging, overstim, spanking, oral (character receiving), vaginal sex. Cock stands for strap too, as usual.

Wordcount: 2k

You try to start slow and gentle with him, but he huffs mockingly.

“How long are you going to be wasting my time?”

“This is literally your first time, you little git.”

“Maybe you mortals need to be coddled, but I’m not a weakling.”

But despite his bravado, he’s tense when you kiss him, he doesn’t know how to properly kiss you back and what to do with his hands, so they just limply hang down. When you start opening his clothes to reveal his chest, he’s becoming more and more wooden. You try kissing him, his cheek, his neck, but it doesn’t relax him and he refuses to meet your eyes, still painfully clenched up, jaw locked tightly, like he’s preparing for something bad that he needs to just get through. He is not out publicly yet, still clinging to the belief that if he conforms to her expectations well enough, his mother will accept him. He’s so critical of himself all the time, especially of his body, which is just horrible and wrong, he hates seeing it himself and hates even more the thought of someone else seeing him naked.

“Hey, are you okay?” you ask quietly. “We can stop.”

“No!” he snaps. “I’m great. I don’t need to stop, are you stupid?!”

He wants you, is the thing. He wanted you for some time, got butterflies in his stomach, fantasized about you at nights. He wanted you more than anyone else in his life. So if he can’t bear even for you to see him, to have sex with him, then obviously something is deeply, fundamentally broken in him, no hope for him at all.

So desperately, he tries to find a roundabout solution. He’s still wearing a skirt, which he normally hates, but now it’s convenient, you could fuck him without taking it off.

“We don’t have to take off my clothes. There’s nothing good to see anyway. ”

He sounds frantic and frustrated, eyes alight with anger, and this does not look like a good situation to continue to you.

“It’s not a big deal, we can do it some other time when…”

“It’s just a cunt, you don’t need to see it!” He finally meets your eyes and you realize the brightness in them is not from anger, it’s from held back tears, because he believes you are rejecting him no matter what you say, “Why wouldn’t you just fuck it?!”

He hates his body and he doesn’t even want to have a pussy, but somehow subconsciously he feels like the one he has is also wrong, not even good enough for fucking, that whoever sees it will also recoil in disgust, as he does when he sees himself in the mirror. It’s ridiculous and he knows it, but he can’t help feeling like this, and he hates himself even more for this idiotic, nonsensical weakness, so this spirals into this vicious, unending cycle of self-disgust that he can’t see a way out of. What the fuck is so wrong with him that he can have a person he wants so much touching him and still be petrified, when it’s so easy for everyone else, and when…

You scoop him into your arms, turn him around so he doesn’t have to face you and hug him close to your chest. When he gasps and tries to protest, you clasp your hand over his mouth, kiss his ear.

“Don’t worry baby, I won’t look. But you need to calm the fuck down.”

He wants to struggle, but he’s so touch starved that when you embrace him, your warm breath on his skin makes him melt, especially combined with the wave of relief from your promise. He stops fighting you, curls up into a little ball in your arms, hiding his blushing face in a pillow, humiliated by how good it feels to be held, how little it takes.

“You don’t want me,” he says, miserable, but stubbornly proud, when you let go of his mouth. “You just pity me. I don’t want you to be here just because you feel bad for me.”

“I want you. I just wouldn’t want to fuck someone while they’re having a nervous breakdown. You or anyone else, for that matter.”

“It’s fine,” he says firmly. “I’m fine. I will be fine. Just do what you want to me, ignore my reactions, and soon I won’t even feel anything. It’s okay. I’m a puppet.”

It’s the conviction in his voice, the absolute certainty that there’s no better option that breaks your heart a little.

“Fucking hell, do you even hear yourself?”

“Why?” he says, face pressed against pillow, but calm, limp in your arms, a puppet with cut strings, and you hate it. ”It’s true, I am not like normal humans. You don’t have to treat me as one. It’ll be easier for the both of us, in the end.”

Maybe I just want you to feel good, baby.”

“Pffft,” he snorts like it’s ridiculous, like you’re naive and this option is not even on the agenda, and also so stupid he doesn’t even want to argue about it. “Even for humans, first time is supposed to be painful.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“No, everyone knows it, and…”

You clasp your hand over his mouth again and he starts squirming, noises muffled by your palm, but his protests die down as soon as your other hand starts siding down his body. 

“You’re so bossy for a little brat, aren’t you?”

You flip up his skirt and slap his ass, and he jolts up in your arms, gasps against your skin. You stroke the affected skin first gently, then with more and more pressure, until groping it, fingers digging into his tender flesh. “Maybe be a good doll and let me handle this for you.”

He didn’t know it could feel like this, not even when he came thinking of you before, so good, like he’s safe, being taken care of, but also so sweetly helpless, unable to resist. His head is light and dizzy with desire when you caress his thighs, nervously and instinctively clenched up, and he can’t remember his millions of concerns when you whisper “Open up for me, baby.”

He lets your hand between his legs, you slide into his panties and find him already wet, but when you stroke his clit and quietly tell him “Good boy,” it runs through him like lightning, eyes opening wide, moan escaping from his lips, his entire body arching up against you. 

“Yeah, that’s right, baby,” you keep caressing his clit, and he writhes more and more against you. “Doesn’t it feel good?”

His hand grips abruptly at your wrist, his slender fingers digging deep, and for a moment you think he’ll try to tear you off him, but then you realize that instead, he presses you closer to himself. You smile against his neck, the hand that kept at his mouth slides down, stroking his throat and down to his chest. At the same time, you slide your other hand deeper in between his legs, find his wet, pulsing entrance. You push two fingers into him, and he shudders against you, his fingers clenching at your wrist, but his cunt is wet and ready for you, stretching sweetly and leaking, his hips bucking against you. His breath is quick and frantic, heart beating rapidly, and then his fingers find your hand that isn’t buried inside of his pussy, leads it down his chest and then under the clothes, under the bra, to find and caress his small tits, and he whines sweetly, arches up, hard nipples poking at your palm. But when you take your fingers out of his pussy and press the head of your cock against his entrance, he tenses up again, his muscles spasming.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing! Just do it! It’s supposed to feel good for you when it's tight, isn’t it? So just fuck it, I can take it!”

He shuts up with a tiny gasp when you press your teeth into the side of his neck, which lets you keep groping his tits.

“I’ve never met someone, for whom a ballgag is so obviously needed for survival before. It’s going to be okay, baby, relax.”

You stroke his clit and massage his breasts, cutting his protests short, his hands clutching helplessly at yours, not trying to stop you, but just trying to be grounded. 

“What if it’s not going to be okay?” he asks quietly, his face buried in a pillow. “What if I’m just built wrong, if it’s just always going to hurt when you try to fuck me?”

“Then we’ll figure out something to do that doesn’t involve penetrating your pussy. It’s not that hard, baby.”

“You would do that for me?”

“Of course, don’t be ridiculous. I’m not going to leave you just because I can’t fuck your cunt.”

“Really?” he asks, choked, trying for sarcasm, but failing badly, a raw edge in his voice. 

you would just switch to eating him out, but he seems pretty hung up on the inability to take you in, but from how easy it was to fit your fingers into him, how he seemed to enjoy it, you’re pretty sure the issue is psychological. So you stroke his clit, squeeze his breasts and kiss at the side of his jaw. You can feel his entrance involuntarily pulsing open and you push the head of your cock into him, feeling him stretching wider. He turns his head to you in alarm, but you catch his mouth in a kiss, keep caressing his body and slowly moving deeper into him. His fingers move from your wrists to intertwine with your hands, and when you squeeze back, he comes so quickly in your arms, before your cock is even fully sheathed inside of him. 

You hold him through the orgasm, then slide out of him, but then he turns in your arms, until he’s under you, he’s looking up at you, instead of being held. 

“I want more,” he breathes out, hot and heavy, and before you can think of the answer, he pulls his clothes open, opening his bra and revealing his chest, and then tugs his skirt and soaked panties down. He lies under you, both trembling and determined, his breath fast and nervous for exposing himself to you after trusting you won’t be disgusted with him, that you’’ll *want him*. 

“You’re so beautiful,” you run your eyes over him and kiss him, hard, and he presses himself against you, kisses you back with desperate abandon, but still when you break away from each other, he asks, his voice small. “Really?”

In response, you pepper him with hungry kisses, from the neck down the chest, ribs, stomach until you cover his swollen pink pussy with your mouth, while he’s leaking sweetly under your lips. When he comes, and he comes quickly, moaning loudly, you pull him close and kiss his lips with the taste of his own arousal.

“Really,” you tell him softly, while he’s blushing, soft and squirming against you. He shoots you a wry little look that you already came to associate with trouble coming, and says, trying to sound superior, but failing because of mischievous little smiles breaking his act

“So you like this body? That’s so degenerate of you, who would even like something so ugly and…”

He yelps and shuts up when you forcefully turn him over to lay on his stomach and slap his ass, but he looks pleased afterwards.

“There are much better ways to get spanked, you little brat.”

He arches his back, popping up his ass and spreading his thighs to show off his wet flushed pussy, entrance pulsing up open for you. Then he looks at you over the shoulder, eyes glinting in excitement, and sticks out his pink little tongue at you.

“Oh really?”

[weebsinstash]

(bnha/mha spoilers) i've still got attachments to the characters and still think of certain concepts and stuff for them and all that but like, are any of you feeling like BNHA is just going the exact same route as Naruto did where they spent the entire series talking about how cool heroes/ninjas are, then started discussing "but wait, not everything is as it seems! There's evil afoot, and not just any evil, SOCIALLY SYSTEMIC evil!" and then just completely shelved those discussions so the Hero could punch the Bad Guy in the face and then the series ends with everything being fundamentally exactly the same if not in some ways objectively worse

Like im sorry but looking at things thematically, if you told me Endeavor got off completely scott-free and his family still talks to him and he never even went to prison and still gets to keep his job as hero, but Shigaraki who was failed by society and literally poached and groomed as a child to become a villain while still forming bonds with his found family of other abused people and minorities is just KILLED AND DIES SMILING, I would say something like "oh is Horikoshi trying to make satirical commentary on how the broken corrupt system will fight like hell to uphold itself and this is actually metaphorical?" but nah it's just legitimately presented as a good thing and a good outcome

Genuinely? The way the series is ending is making me agree with Overhaul. If you think of Heroes and Quirks as a service or product, then tools can be invented to serve those same purposes. The way that Quirks developed in the universe of MHA is that they became used almost exclusively for combat based purposes, and to even use your quirk, which is also a part of your body or identity, you need special permissions and a license which I bet you costs money to apply for, so now you have the government regulating integral parts of people's identities, and also Quirks that change people's appearances are discriminated against and there aren't really any laws protecting against that

In a way, Overhaul was and still is entirely justified for thinking Quirks should be disposed of because the series is literally ending showing that Quirks are just being used to uphold government and corporate interests rather than actually do what's right? Quirks are literally increasing the severity with which humans can harm each other to the point it completely overshadows the good? Oh yeah I'm really glad we have a hero with super speed to help stop robberies, meanwhile the government has like a secret agent who is creating like nuke strikes on foreign countries, like... the good that Heroes can do? Can be easily done by humanity with tools

Like the way BNHA is ending is in my opinion, extremely dark? Deku was kind of just a clueless foot soldier upholding the dark government of his country and now All Might has no powers, Deku is gonna be Quirkless again, and everything is exactly the same? You could argue the only "win" that's coming out of the ending is that AFO is dead, but like.... someone with AFOs exact same powers could just be born again? Except maybe this time he can be, like, a government employee or a cop or something to really fit in with the core themes of the series :)

[bisthefairy]

I've never actually played Ultra Sun/Ultra Moon but...

I fucking love Necrozma

At first glance, it's.....an edgy prism monster? Absorbs light? Design's a bit awkward tbh BUT THERE'S SO MUCH MORE!! This thing is the agonised, partially reconstructed remains of another dimension's god of light!! It's torso is a fucking skull, its legs protrude from nostril holes, its unwieldly arms are huge feet stuck to the ends of frail wings!! It was once a dragon which shone with a blinding light, which illumined its home dimension, but the people there sought to control that light and in doing so destroyed it, wounding Necrozma and plunging their world into darkness

Necrozma absorbs light because it's driven by the single minded goal of regaining its true form!

Which is why it chases after and attempts to assimilate the emissaries of the sun and moon! In the hope that it can use their light to reconstitute itself! And yes, using the light of both, it is able to

It's still clearly incomplete, but it almost doesn't matter, what's missing is filled in with raw power!

LOOK AT THIS THING! It's Beautiful, shining golden crystal bathed in liquid light, it's like a star in beast form, a dragon of plasma!

A broken god, reconstituted, beautiful (this art is fucking official btw, how often does Pokemon go this hard?)

Speaking of Pokemon going hard, this thing is an absolute nuzlocke ender! An uncharacteristically extreme super boss for a series that usually gets criticised for being too easy

Also, you hear that theme?????? Holy fuck - Epic - Glorious - Majestic - Terrifying - Melancholic?...O-oh Yes, melancholic Because, despite everything, this refound glory is fleeting. This is a transformation, not an evolution, and fundamentally Necrozma is still not complete, you can only fill in the cracks with stolen energy for so long

(Note this animation apparently gets cut off in-game before you get to properly see it? This footage is from a BDSP mod hednjd) Canonically the player character wins that battle, and if you catch Necrozma we see that its ultra form is a temporary transformation, so one way or another that taste of glorious, beautiful, shining completeness is fleeting. ' - ' Necrozma is still incomplete, but for a moment you see the light of what once was,,,,,idk!??! that's kinda rad, kinda wild, I feel bad for this creature??? Like, isn't there something so fundamentally relatable about, knowing your potential, knowing the version of yourself that you're supposed to be, striving to be that version of yourself at all times, but only getting to feel that power for a brief moment, when everything falls into place?

It's implied that the Z crystals (items which allow Pokemon access to once a match special moves) are all shards of Necrozma's original body...Even though the original, full, Necrozma is gone, the embers of its power are spread far and wide

In conclusion: I just really like Necrozma c: it's a very specific mix of - powerful - beautiful - cosmic - devine - tragic - melancholic - and trans probably that just speaks to me ; 0 ;

[sam-keeper]

Halloween Film: Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1978)

I always loved the ending of the 1956 Invasion of the Body Snatchers, the classic sci fi film about replicant humans being grown from strange alien plant pods and taking over society. Well, I loved what was the ending, before the nervous studio tacked on a prologue and epilogue giving the film an optimistic (and contrived) conclusion. You know, where the main character runs out onto the road, desperately trying to halt oncoming traffic, to get anyone to listen as he cries, into the night, and finally directly into the camera at the audience, "They're here! You're next! YOU'RE NEXT!" For all the film's been interpreted as expressing red scare paranoia about communist infiltration (and even that's contested--others see it as a cry against McCarthyite witch hunts), the sheer manic shrieking energy of that finale lodged itself in my brain ever since I watched the film as a teenager. It was fearful, but it also was relatable, almost a kind of perverse power fantasy. Imagine, just imagine, screaming out from every theater screen and tv set: don't you see what's happening all around you? Look away from the screen if you like--they're already here!

The 1978 remake is actually a weird kind of precursor to our new phenomenon of the rebootquel: a short ways into the film, the main character of the original (literally--it's Kevin McCarthy, the original's star) slams into the car of our protagonists, ranting that blood curdling monologue. In this version, however, the pod people swiftly dispatch him off screen, and we get a creepy shot of a crowd of them standing silently, dispassionately, over his bloody broken body. That sums up the film's sense, contra the original, that it will already be too late by the time anyone notices anything wrong.

What a creepy film this is. It's astonishingly shot, full of striking images and brilliant camera work. Like, if you want reflections and shadows and distorted views of characters to feel fresh again, like they're more than hackneyed metaphor but really, viscerally unsettling, this is the film for you. There's a pervasive sense throughout that the worst has already happened, the world already gone strange when you turned your back. Instead of zombified mania and violence, there's a flatness to everything, a cool impassivity. The cast enhances this impassive flatness through contrast: it's a film full of brilliant weirdos as heroes. Scope Jeff Goldblum in this, for example, as a self absorbed neurotic owner of a mud bath house, and Veronica Cartwright as his Star Child wife. Even the relatively well adjusted main couple has their oddities: early in the film Brooke Adams as Elizabeth has a moment where she does this, fuckin, crazy thing with her eyes to make her friend Matthew laugh that's genuinely very funny and unsettling, and it immediately lends her character so much off beat humanity. These are people who have dedicated their lives to the department of health and they've got the zealotry that comes from being genuinely a bit of a weirdo for both bureaucracy and science. Indeed, Elizabeth's husband gets replaced early in the film by a pod she brings home to study out of pure curiosity about the world.

Elizabeth, soon after realizing there is something fundamentally wrong and alien about her husband, remarks to Michael that San Francisco feels suddenly strange to her, like an alien environment full of alien people. I feel this sometimes in Seattle. Oh, everywhere, but pronouncedly here, interacting with boomer or gen xer artists in my area who casually talk about the homeless like they're subhuman, with people on the street who will freely monologue about who we need to cleanse from the city, with our repulsive mayor and city council who verifiably think I and queers like me are disgusting. You get to thinking, or at least I do, that surely people don't have that much cruelty in their heart, and then you run up against the flat casual way a stranger will condemn a fellow human to oblivion, simply for the crime of being an unpleasant reminder of poverty. Every supposed red line gets crossed--local leaders pump money into already bloated police budgets, people shed their masks, politicians race to be the most xenophobic and border-paranoid, and the state department and media shovel dirt on the fire of each exploded Gazan hospital or butchered aid convoy. Am I supposed to feel secure in this tough new environment? All I hear is the panicked cry: YOU'RE IN DANGER! YOU'RE NEXT!

Donald Sutherland's character Matthew has a belief in institutions that's at once charming and completely exasperating. He's a health inspector who clearly cares deeply about doing his job and doing it well, and so is almost totally unequipped to respond when every social system transforms into a weapon to hunt and replace him. The number of times this man calls the police, often seemingly out of civic duty!! Meanwhile Leonard Nimoy plays a psychiatrist who manipulates and shepherds the cast. He's a pod person, of course, but it's totally unclear whether he was one the whole time or became one late in the film. The suggestion seems to be that it doesn't matter: his role as a professional is to smooth over social ruptures and keep the state of things running as stress free as possible, so he seamlessly adopts his role in the new dispassionate world order. I can't stop thinking, too, about a scene where Matthew and Elizabeth are caught out pretending to be pod people because they react with terrified revulsion to a homeless man who's accidentally been grotesquely fused with his pet dog. The pod people, of course, do not react to this sight, but go about their business. All that seems to have changed in pod person world is that the whole machinery of society carries on without emotion or meaning. The horror is that instead of ending, the world just keeps going.

Sarah and I discovered after watching that there's two other takes on The Body Snatchers, one in the 90s and one late in the Bush era 2000s. I guess that means we're about due for a new generational interpretation of the story. It's not quite like clockwork; maybe it's more like a seasonal bloom. Every 10-20 years, someone feels a compulsion to run to the cinemas and shout, to anyone who will listen, that they're already here, the pod people have already taken over while we were sleeping. And maybe they already have.

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[asexual-society]

This might be a stupid question but what exactly is "internalised gay-/bi-/ace- etc. phobia"? Is it only called that if I'm ace and wish I wasn't for example? Or is it also internalised phobia if someone claims to be accepting of a sexuality but secretly isn't?

And how do I know if I have internalised phobia and how do I get over that? I'm aroace and I'm fine with the ace part but the aro part troubles me sometimes. I can't help but see it as a huge personal loss. I know about qprs but I want the romance, I want the feeling and I'm not capable of it. And that bothers me. And yes, it makes me feel broken.

So. We live in a society. Most of us live in a society that is misogynistic, that is racist, that is homophobic, that is ableist, etc. Everyone who lives in a society like this will spend their life internalising these messages, so even if they are a part of one of these groups, they may still hold bigoted views towards other people of their same group (or towards themselves). I'm going to explain to the best of my understanding but people are free to correct any mistakes I might have made.

A common example of internalised homophobia might be if a gay man is distrustful of other gay people who are especially over the top in expressing their queerness, or has a dislike for effeminate gay men, or a lesbian who thinks gender nonconforming or butch lesbians are ugly. Internalised -phobias and -isms can also be self-directed having been enforced for many years by others, such as a woman who shaves her whole body because she views having body hair as being "unhygenic" for women, or a woman who genuinely believes that she, and all women, are less intelligent and more emotional than men.

A person with internalised acephobia may have learnt from society that being a virgin or not having sex, or specifically being asexual, is weird or embarrassing or cringe, and feel the need to have sex just so as not to be one of "those people".

Crucially in order for some form of bigotry to be called "internalised", the person has to be a member of that group, so if an Asian person is racist towards a black person, that isn't internalised racism, it's just regular racism (or specifically anti-black racism). If an alloromantic asexual person says something like "I'm ace but don't worry, I can still feel love", that's not internalised arophobia, it's just regular arophobia (but it might also play into internalised aphobia if they feel that the only way they can deal with their asexuality is to throw themself as hard into their romantic endeavours as possible).

Lots of aromantic people struggle with the effects of amatonormativity, and feeling that their life will be incomplete without romance, or that they're missing out on a fundamental human experience (this is not true, you can live a happy and fulfilled life without romance or any form of relationship). You could be what's known as Cupioromantic, which is a label under the aro umbrella that describes aro people who enjoy being in romantic relationships and seek them out, but it's important to understand the distinction between wanting to be in a romantic relationship because you enjoy it, and wanting to be in a romantic relationship because you feel like you won't be happy any other way.

Unfortunately (if you see it that way), wanting not to be aro will not make you magically allo. Wanting to be another sexuality has never been able to turn someone into that other sexuality, that's why conversion therapy doesn't work. You have to find a way to live with it, and there's no surefire way to accept your orientation, but having other friends who share your orientation can be one of the best ways to feel less broken and less alone. Personally, I like to write about aro characters who are like me, mostly because they don't really exist anywhere else, and it helps me to remind myself that I'm not the only person like me in the world. But you could also listen to more music that isn't about love, or see if you can avoid specific things that you know make you feel unhappy in your aromanticism. I'm not saying it's easy, and I'm not saying that path to acceptance will be linear, but I do think trying to work towards that acceptance is worthwhile.

I hope this helps, and that you feel better about yourself soon.

~ mod key

edit: the reason i hesitated to call "wishing i weren't aro" "internalised arophobia" in that post, is largely because it depends where the desire not to be aro is coming from. if it's from a profound loneliness that many aro people experience due to their aromanticism, being misunderstood or even abandoned by their friends, having difficulty connecting with people who aren't aro, that's very different from a person wishing they were aro because society tells us we aren't whole without a partner, or that we're missing out on this experience, or even that we're broken or mentally ill for not being able to experience this sort of attraction.

[cassiesdevblog]

Mario 64's Perfect, Beautiful, Pure Control Scheme

(and how later Mario games gunk it all up)

Hello gunky gloopers! Let me take you on a journey. So, Mario 64's controls are like this:

Joystick: Run

A: Jump

Z: Crouch

B: Punch

But in my beautiful, perfect mind palace (and probably yours too, even if you never thought about it), they're actually more like this:

Joystick: Lateral

A: Up

Z: Down

B: Attack

And now, through abstraction, we are beginning to see the light

Part I: Utopia

Each of these main 4 inputs has a consistent association with one of these directions (or attacking). 64 understands that, while a 2D platformer could use just the stick or D-pad to cover both of its axes of movement, a 3D game's joystick is working full time controlling just one plane, so the orphaned up and down inputs were rehoused to A and Z

That's how Mario 64 builds out an intuitive moveset much wider than just 4 basic actions. In fact, essentially every combination of these main 4 inputs creates a logical outcome

Press down in the air and, predictably, Mario will go down via ground pound

Combine some lateral movement with both a down and up input and you get the long jump: a long, low jump that you can think of as resulting from the upward and downward forces cancelling out

Press attack while holding down to do... the crouching breakdancey low kick move thing. It's highly redundant, but it's a monument to Mario 64's dedication to this idea of a complete palette of moves intuitively resulting from combining these fundamental inputs

Even in particular contextual states like climbing poles or hanging on ledges, you can rely on these directional associations to control Mario without even thinking about it. Nobody ever told you you could press Z to drop down off a ledge or tree, but you might have done it anyway without being told

Now, these associations are stretched or broken in some contexts, like when flying or swimming, but I love the wing cap so much you'll never get me to slander it. Future Mario games, however...

Part II: Decay

While 64 flirted with impurity in specific contexts, future games would start to let impurities seep into Mario's core moveset

In Super Mario Sunshine, the L button centers the camera and makes Mario sidestep when on the ground... and it also makes him ground pound when in the air. I am currently doing deep breathing exercises

In Super Mario Odyssey, pressing ZL/ZR in the air and then Y leads to... a forward dive. Now, Y does have a relatively consistent association with forward movement in this game, but down and then forward resulting in a move that only pushes Mario forward is pretty tenuous, especially given how often players will use this move. And, while most of Odyssey Mario's moveset is consistent enough about using ZL/ZR as down buttons... you can't use them to drop off ledges. I try to every time, and every time absolutely nothing happens and a piece of my soul leaves my body to wander the cosmos forever

...well, at least the game is more diligent about keeping these directional associations alive when in the water than Mario 64 is...!

Part III: Change

Now, look. The loss of the purity of the control schemes in 3D Mario games is absolutely devastating and I still have not recovered. But... I do recognize that later games had particular goals with their movesets that couldn't so cleanly just be mashed into the standards of purity that SM64 set. Not without sacrificing some of what their movesets were all about

Sunshine needed a button to help with aiming FLUDD, which wouldn't have really been helpful in the air anyway, so it's understandable it was also used for the ground pound. Odyssey needed a way to disambiguate an aerial Y/"forward" input into either a cap throw or a dive so you could do cool fancy tricks and find those coins everyone lost their minds about on top of that underground building. And if they patched in the ability to drop off ledges with ZL/ZR, then the lost pieces of my soul would return to my body with a newfound wisdom gained from wandering the stars, and I would ascend out of my physical body to a new, heightened mode of existence and lose the ability to touch a controller, and then I'd never get to spend my evenings gleefully, repeatedly dropping off ledges with Z in Mario 64 again :(

(By the way, a game I worked on just came out! It's a tough 2D platformer with a surreal, haunting aesthetic and I'm honored I got to get into all the little crevices and polish them all up because it's such a cool project. It was spearheaded by my friend @zombielesbean. Go play it!!!)