#he has so much love to give and so many inner musics to listen to

[yuttikkele]

i realize now i'm actually a really big luka couffaine enjoyer. i enjoy making fun of him

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Failing

Summary: Joel made many mistakes. The biggest was leaving you.

Pairing: past Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 1.3k

Rating: G

Warnings: angst, a lot of inner thoughts, panic attacks, Joel and Ellie do not talk, Joel is a mess, lots of talk about being a failure and not good enough, messy breakup, unplanned pregnancy

A/N: This has been going through my mind since I saw the new pic yesterday. This is really different from everything I write usually, so let me know what you think. And yeah, come yell at me in my inbox

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part one of invisible string

He knew he should have stayed home tonight.

He could have worked on… something. He could have talked himself into picking up his guitar and pretend everything was okay.

He could pretend that he wasn’t a failure.

He could pretend Ellie was still talking to him.

Instead he was here, the people around him celebrating god knows what, music playing, people dancing and he?

He was hoping to at least get a look at the girl that had become like a daughter to him. The daughter he lost because he lied to her.

Turned out his mother was right, lying was not getting him anywhere. 

He hadn’t talked to her in weeks, not getting more than a fleeting look at her from afar like a creepy stalker.

Tommy was right, he needed to give her time.

But somehow he felt like time was running out. 

Tommy had been right in a lot of things lately. Something Joel was not used to, still having the irresponsible young man in the back of his mind he had been before outbreak.

But Tommy wasn’t that man anymore.

He was a husband, a father, a respected leader of the little community he had helped build.

And Joel was…. He did not feel like he changed much. He was still angry all the time.

Angry at the world.

Angry at the people.

But most of all angry at himself.

The way he was feeling now? Alone and lonely?

He had no one but himself to blame for it.

It was moments like these that you came to his mind.

You would know what to do. You would know how to fix this mess that he got himself into. You always did. Until he had pushed you away for good, almost six years ago when he got even more involved in the underground in the Boston QZ.

Meeting and falling in love with you had been the only good thing that had happened to him since the outbreak. You had seen him, the real him.

The broken man that was desperate for… something.

That something seemed to be you.

But like every good that happened to him, he managed to fuck this up too. Not at first, but definitely in the end. 

And he tried. He tried to become a better person. Tried to become the man you deserved, not listening to you when you told him that he did not have to become a better person.

That you fell for him the way he was. With all flaws he thought he had.

But maybe if he had worked on himself he wouldn’t have reacted so poorly when you told him that you were pregnant.

Maybe he wouldn’t have blamed you and you only, taking the easy way out and telling you he would not go through this again.

He should have talked to you, instead of lashing out, should have told you how fucking scared he was about losing another child. About losing you. About raising a child in this fucked up world. About fucking up.

He did so anyway.

He chose to forget about the whole conversation the two of you had after you told him that you were pregnant and that you were intending to keep it from his mind. Or he tried. God, did he try.

But now, deep in the night, when he was laying awake and alone in bed, only the shadows of the night in his company, the words he spat to hurt you creeped back into his mind, not that they had ever been gone.

I don’t love you.

Get rid of it.

Get out of my life.

I never loved you anyway. 

He could still see the way your face crumbled, tears running down your cheeks. 

He broke you that night. And he broke himself. 

He thought about this last argument, this breakup a lot if he was honest with himself.

He never told you, not in words, how much he loved you. He took you for granted. He shouldn’t have been this surprised to learn that you had left the QZ days after he broke you. 

Not a day went by that he wondered what happened to you.

If you were alive.

If you kept the baby.

Would it have your eyes and his hair?

A boy or a girl?

Where they as stubborn as Sarah was?

Did you still love him as much as he still loved you?

Shaking his head he took a sip from the surprisingly good beer someone had offered him when he came here, his eyes wandering through the room, sneaking glances at Ellie who smiled at Dina, deep in conversation with the other girl.

Sucking his bottom lip in, his hand flexing on his side as he tried to find the courage to walk over to Ellie and ask her if they could talk, again, when he heard laughter behind him.

Laughter he heard before, a long time ago.

A laugh he heard in his dreams when his mind allowed him to dream about you instead of the nightmares that plagued him. 

Narrowing his eyes he tried to remember why he was hearing that laugh, why that voice that spoke in low tones now, made his heart flutter, when he saw Tommy walk towards him in a fast pace, his face worried.

“Joel,” he said but Joel wasn’t listening to him.

He was busy preparing for a breakdown that was creeping slowly into his body. 

Joel’s heart seemed to make the connection before his brain did, heart beating widely in his chest as he slowly turned around, his brother’s hand on his shoulder to keep him for turning. He shrugged it off with a grunt, bracing himself to be let down, that he was finally turning insane and imagining you when his eyes landed on you.

Blinking his eyes in disbelief he released a shaky breath when you were still there. 

You were sitting at one of the picnic tables, still as beautiful as he remembered a small smile on your face. A man had his arm wrapped around your back and in your lap sat a girl not older than five who had your eyes and his brown curls.

His heart stopped, he was sure of it.

“She got in yesterday. You were on patrol, I was trying to find you and tell you but….” Joel heard his brother say, but he ignored him.

You were here.

You were here.

And you were alive.

And you had a girl sitting in your lap that was….

His eyes widened when you leaned back and he saw a little boy sitting in the lap of the man next to you that looked like a mini copy of Joel himself.

His chest felt heavy.

Closing his eyes he tried to take deep breaths, but he just couldn’t.

This was too much.

This hurt too much.

This was the happiest he ever was.

“Joel?” he heard his name from his side, Ellie looking down at him worriedly as he pressed his hand against his chest, his eyes watering.

This was the first time she had talked to him in weeks and it might as well be the last time from the way he felt right now.

He was having a panic attack.

But it felt so much worse than it had ever before.

Looking away from Ellie he turned his head back towards you, finding you now looking at him with wide eyes.

“Deep breaths brother,” a strong arm came to pull him up and his frantic eyes found Tommy’s.

“In and out,” he said, trying to calm down his brother. Joel’s hands grabbed his brothers shoulders. Trying to mimic the way he was breathing but couldn’t.

“Joel?” he heard your voice, his head now turning towards you, finding you looking at him worriedly.

Joel shook his head, dark spots at the corner of his eyes.

“You’re here,” was the last thing he whispered before he passed out.

[undying-love]

Datalounge comments compilation

Remember to take everything here with a grain of salt:

“Ok guys someone told me about this site and i have been loving it so far. Anyway my great uncle who lived in Liverpool told me a story some years ago. He told me that John and Paul actually were living together at some point during the sixties (John even stated it in a 70’s interview) and he is invited by a friend of his to a party that John and Paul are having at their house. He said as he walked in he saw Paul, who was walking around in nothing but a white shorts and John some feet away playing pool. He said throughout the day John and Paul is behaving like a regular couple and he is shocked since so many other ppl are there. Later in the evening as he is getting ready to leave Paul casually walks over to him and thanks him for coming and he leaves. He told me this some years after John’s death because he was sure Paul would have admitted they were a couple, well it has not happened and I don’t think he ever will. I really don’t know what to make of this story since he was the first person I ever heard claiming John and Paul to be a couple but apparently he is not the only one! ”

“Since everyone is anonymous here, I guess I can give a bit of info I got from a female friend of mine who at one time was Paul worked as one of Paul’s assistants. According to her Macca is a bisexual, who makes no secret of this when he is around his inner circle. She does not know for certain if John and Paul were involved but she suspects it since to this day whenever John’s name is brought up he acts in her words ‘like a widow’ and he also addresses John in present tense. He would say things like, ‘John thinks that the music should be like this,’ and during his bitter divorce from Heather he was saying, ‘John says that this is getting nasty.’ Kind of creepy."

“Isn't it well known that Starting Over was written about Paul? At least I heard someone in the music industry mention it, and that Paul knows it. Also, it was reported that Paul locked himself in his music studio and listened to the song repeatedly after John died.”

“I worked in the music industry briefly from 67-70 and I have seen for myself some very revealing things but I don't find it appropriate to dish it out here. One day it will be revealed, definitely not while Paul or Yoko is alive maybe soon after. I'll return here to read all the threads. The most I can say for now, is Yoko gave a very watered down version of the names the Apples' staff gave to Paul, though they also gave a very derogatory name for John as well.”

“Actually the John and Paul rumours did not only emerge in our time. As early as the middle sixties rumours were beginning to spread in the music industry about what exactly the J/P relationship was involved. My grandfather was a entertainment journalist in the 60's and he stated that people were becoming suspicious about John and Paul as early as 1964. He also said that someone had made a comment about seeing John and Paul holding hands backstage during the music Lennon and McCartney tv special, though no one believed the person at the time. According to him the Beatles' camp began to go into panic mode and even went so far as to demand John and Paul no longer sit together in interviews. So believe me this John and Paul thing is nothing new. People have been creating stories about people's 'gayness' for years.”

“This John and Paul thing is so dated. I am from Liverpool and since the 60's rumours were swirling about John and Paul possibly being 'queers.' At the time I didn't think much of it, since it was guys who fought with them as kids who were spreading the rumours and so I assumed it was jealousy that fueled the rumours.”

“My uncle was a sound engineer for Granada tv studios in 60's and actually met the Beatles because he worked on 'the Music of Lennon and McCartney' special. He actually chatted with Ringo behind the scenes briefly but didn't speak with the others. I remember him telling me years ago that he was surprised by Paul's mannerisms because as he put it, it was overly 'swishy.' He also stated that John and Paul acted very strange throughout the evening. According to him they followed each other continuously even when it was not required, as one got up so did the other, as one sat so did the other, they would finish each sentences, and they were often seen staring at each other for excruciating periods of time (his exact words) he said behind the scenes people were joking about them being a couple because they seemed so close. My uncle told me this years ago but I always summed it up to their brotherly relationship. I am now reconsidering my position.”

"The one time I was ever actually in a room with Paul, zillion people between me and him (and no way I'm gonna bother him, all of us who travel in celeb circles have people we're fans of and all of us inexplicably try to hide it to seem "cooler"), he was hitting whiskey a little hard, and apparently it makes him confessional because he started talking loudly about himself and John, and how hard it was not to have him there. (Of course I paid attention and scooted a little closer; when a Beatle speaks about a Beatle, and you've heard rumors about both of them, you want the tea.) I remember him saying something along the lines of not a day passing that John's not still in it with him, but it's not like he can pick up a phone and say, "Hey, just needed to hear your voice today," and even when he got craggy responses, he still missed them. He misses it all, and it's bothering to him that he misses him more as time goes on -- it doesn't heal, he just learns new ways to bandage the wound. Went on and on, and stopped just short of saying too much. He was waxing rhapsodic about John's hands, and finally I think the people he was with noticed interlopers paying attention, and changed the topic".

“Saw this thread and decided I should post what I have heard. I can tell you that John and Paul never hid the fact that they were together in the 60's and they were referred to as music’s 'first official same sex couple' by those in their close music circles. I found this out from my mother who was a 'go for' for a music director in the 60's. She worked behind the scenes for the 'Help!' music video. She has seen John and Paul backstage and always refers to their behaviour around each other as cute, and claims after spending a few minutes with them it was obvious they were deeply in love. She said that George and Ringo would always excuse themselves whenever John and Paul began chatting up each other.”

[sorcerersandskillusers]

Bungou stray dogs takes forgettable characters and turns them into flushed out fan favourites, without it seeming forced or rushed

This series can take completely random characters and in just a few panels/lines get me fully invested in there stories and lives.

There are so many examples of this

Tachihara: No one really cared about this guy at first, a lot of people (myself included) even got him confused with Tanizaki, he was the definition of forgettable.

Then boom, they reveal that not only is he a traitor, but he is also struggling with his identity and finding a place to truly belong, this inner conflict making him feel way more human and making him a fan favourite.

Rimbaud: During 'Dazai Chuuya 15' I just thought Rimbaud was a typical " I have to kill you for power and I'm evil bad guy" and I never thought I'd end up liking him.

But then in 'Stormbringer' with less then 10 pages worth of story, He was transformed into an incredibly tragic figure who desperately wanted save his partner from the pit of despair and loneliness he was falling into; but couldn't, and in the end had to give up his humanity to prove that he really loved him. and suddenly I'm crying over him.

Aya: When she was introduced I just thought she was purely motivation for Kunikida, she was kind of annoying and seemed like a very one off character.

But then they bring her back as one of the most important characters in the current conflict, and are showing us her backstory. which is a horrifyingly realistic case of child abuse, and a parent who loves the memory of his wife and daughter more then the real daughter still Infront of him. And now I just want to hug her and tell her that she is perfect the way she is.

There are loads more so here some rapid fire.

Higuchi: Wan gives her the chance to fully embrace the #girlfail lifestyle she has in the show, which made me like her a lot more

Gin: Seeing her have a life outside of the mafia, and that not taking away from how terrifying and competent she is as an assassin, expands her character and humanises the Port Mafia as a whole.

Bram: Not just making him "I am the lord of darkness, who just wants to consume the whole world and destroy everything because evil"

But instead making him feel like as much of a victim as the agency in The Decays plot and letting him want a radio so he can listen to music.

There are loads more but you get the picture.

So if you ever feel like a character was completely waisted, or that they never had a satisfying arc, just give it time and have faith in Asagiri.

He takes his time sometimes but keeps surpassing my expectations.

Characters Im excited for in the future:

Margret Mitchell.

Agatha Christy.

Alexander Pushkin.

Q

[irkimatsu]

I wanted to write a paragraph about a slow night of sex with Husk and it ballooned in a monster, oops. Here, have some romantically horny Husk/Reader rambling

Husk needs the occasional romantic night with his partner where all focus is on the two of them. It starts with the two of you bringing dinner up to his room (hopefully not something he attempted to cook), and having the room to yourselves as you eat, drink, and chat. He's already got some of his favorite mood music playing, slow jazz led by a saxophone; you know exactly what he's after, and you're more than happy to see it through with him.

After you're finished with your meal, he invites you to slow dance with him. He can linger like this forever, arms rested chastely around your waist while he occasionally gives you the most fleeting of kisses. Despite knowing how wild he can be, you know this side of him is just as genuine. It's not a facade he uses to impress you; Husk has no facades at all. He simply adores these tender moments with you just as much as the wild ones.

You love every single side of this man's adoration for you.

He never outright asks to move things to the bed; you simply find yourselves laying down around the same time his kisses become more heated. He undresses you deftly, not shredding your clothes for once; tonight's outfit is much too beautiful for him to destroy. Once you're both stripped down to underwear, he stops undressing you for a moment. He's happy to hold you close like this, touching and kissing every exposed part of you and occasionally letting his mouth tease the areas that are still covered. He's in no hurry to move things along, no matter how tense either of you are getting. Tonight is going to last. You can't call the teasing agonizing; as much as you want more, you'd never complain about the way he kisses you, complimenting every part of your body before lightly grazing his tongue over it...

Both of you are near a breaking point by the time he climbs on top of you and finishes removing both your clothes and his own. Despite being pent up, he's not letting that inner beast of his out tonight. He moves so slowly inside you, the ridges and barbs teasing your walls so deliciously. He doesn't speak much, only murmuring the occasional sweet compliment in between kisses to your lips and neck. "So good, baby... love ya... so much..." There's no dirty talk tonight, only his pure affection for you.

Your climaxes both build like gentle water, washing over you in soft waves rather than striking in an explosive burst. He lays beside you, breathing heavily, and he holds you close and kisses you.

"Doing good so far...?"

You nod as you kiss him. The two of you lay in silence for a while, and you let yourself get lost in the atmospheric music and his soft purring, his warm body holding you, wrapping his arms and wings and tail around you as if he can't have you close enough. You don't know how many times the music has looped at this point, but it fits the mood so much that you don't care how long you listen to it. That music will always make you think of your nights with him...

Eventually, he's pushing against your body. "Can we do it again?"

As soon as you agree, he's kissing you deeply as he rolls you over and makes love with you again.

You continue in that pattern for a while, cuddling and even napping a little in between lovemaking sessions. He never gets rough or crude; all he wants tonight is to be close to you, to kiss you and tell you how much he loves you, to try to give you even some of the pleasure you always give him.

Sunrise doesn't make much of a difference in hell. Oh, how he misses feeling the sun on his face as he finishes with his lover one final time, before settling down for a quiet day in. Instead, all he can get is the red sky turning just a little lighter to let him know just how long this has been going.

He lays next to you and clings to you, and a light snore lets you know that he's not moving for the next while. You pull the blanket up to give you both some privacy for when Niffty inevitably comes in to collect your dinner dishes, then settle in next to him, allowing the music and his breathing to lull you into sleep.

(No one will bother you to come downstairs today. Everyone knows by now that when that music starts playing from Husk's room, it's best to leave you guys alone until you come out on your own terms. Angel calls it "that vintage porno record".)

[ten-shi-fandoms]

Cute things they do Blue Lock Addition pt 2:

___________________

Cw: Characters x Reader, Gender neutral Reader, mentions of love bites (Ryusei), kissing, showing Reader off (Ryusei), just pure fluff

Characters: Ryusei Shidou, Sae Itoshi

______________________________________

Sae Itoshi ⚽😮‍💨:

In all honesty Sae isn't cute-

Like this man is hot, cool, sexy, and all that but he isn't cute.

Even so he has some cute things he does

Things like dancing with you whenever theres music playing, swaying you around the kitchen even though he only did it to get something, leaning closer to you as you speak are just some of them.

And he does them almost everytime he sees you.

Since Sae is a pro football(soccer) player he isn't home often so he makes it up when he's there.

He'll even be extra nice if he's been gone longer than he expected too.

He'll hold you so gently that it makes you fall asleep, but right before your eyes close you can sometimes can just barely make out the small smile on his face as he watches you drift off.

But if he isn't there expect gifts, and lots of calls.

The gifts are full of everything.

Things from expensive jewelry all the way to the two feet plushie you saw that one time you got them.

Calls with Sae are sweet too.

He always makes sure to ask how your day was along with other questions before he even talks about himself to you.

He also will tap small messages in morse code on a surface if he's in public and doesn't feel like listening to people question who he's talking to.

Though there is one thing that is the cutest thing with him.

It's his kisses.

Sae isn't really a vocal person, so he makes up for it in other things.

The only way to really see Sae's inner thoughts are through his kisses.

His kisses are bold almost fiery, yet passionate and loving.

His kisses always leave you in a state of shock, but you get brought out of it quickly when you see a gentle smile gracing his lips at your reaction.

If you point it out he will stop smiling and tell you to call a uber home-

___________________________________________

Ryusei Shidou ⚽😈:

This goblin is on demon time-

He will rarely do anything cute, romantic, sweet, etc.

He is the definition of a gremlin and its so much worse when your dating him.

To him your his property so he can do what he wants with you which ends up in lots of fights both verbal and physical (he tries to pull his punches when you fist fight unless you really piss him off)

The only cute thing goblin will ever do with you is sleep.

Thats it.

Nothing else.

No sweet kisses, no soft hugs, no prasie, nothing just sleep.

Okay all jokes aside- he doesn't do many cute things with you.

Sure you play fight, have sweet banter, and play pranks on each other (his worse than yours- like dog food for breakfast-) but they aren't cute.

When you play fight he aims to make you laugh or scold him there isn't anything cute about it (except his cheeky little smile), when you have banter he swings on you out of fun or gives you noogies, the pranks are usually downright gross on his part.

But when your sleeping its different.

Ryusei is a loud person, but when you sleep he tries to stay as silent as possible.

He loves being close to you and having your sleeping body close to his makes him admire you.

He'll run his fingers in your hair, along your back, kiss your ears, gently rub the curves of your face but he only does this when your sleeping.

Sure he loves your smile and the sound of your scolding but when your sleeping he gets to admire the peaceful beauty of your features.

Everything is still and he loves it.

Sometimes he gets carried away with admiring you that he will bite you.

Yes you heard me bite you-

He does it for three reasons.

One because your so adorable when your sleeping that you looked tasty-

Two he loves biting you to watch you squirm subconsciously-

And three, he does it to make sure your real and he isn't imaging it.

That your there and in your most vulnerable state nonetheless.

It fills him with so much pride that he'll show you off.

He'll purposely rub his hands along your neck or collarbone even going so far as to pull up your shirt to your stomach to show off the marks he left on your skin.

Its a sign of ownership and its a sign that you belong to him (bonus points if you bite him to because now its shows the world your each others).

He can't help it.

I mean how else is the world supposed to see his beloved?

[megantrancyfanfics]

Devils choir | Sukuna x female reader smut

Warning: orgasm denial, overstimulation, size kink, praising, clit stimulation, creampie, corruption kink, Sukuna being soft afterwards

Notes: Sukuna has been absolutely rotting my brain for MONTHS so I’m gonna allow myself to wild for this fanfic. Buckle in.

Minors DNI

Enjoy💗

~~~~~~~~~~~~

God he loved getting you how you were now. All riled up, legs on either side of him as you hover over his stomach. The tongue on his stomach begging to get a taste.

“Don’t be shy darling. Give into your desires.” His voice silk like milk chocolate as you slowly lowered yourself down. His tongue was quick to land a quick swipe to your clit making you jolt. With a tch, your impatient king grabbed your hips, slammed you down. His hands working with your breasts and nipples, but all of your attention was focused on what was happening to your little cunt. His tongue dipped in and out of your wet hole, experimenting here and there by sucking and pushing your clit while moving in circles. God it felt amazing, your head was spinning. Your grip with reality fading. You wanted more: NEEDED more. You rested your hands in front of your legs on the mattress below you two. Leaning forward, Sukuna took this option to snatch a nipple into his mouth and sucking as you roll your hips, letting out a loud moan. You had never thought you’d be riding your kings stomach but at this point you were desperately chasing the orgasm that was building up in your stomach.

“Please Sukuna let me cum. I want it so bad please.” You begged, whining like a bitch in heat.

His piercing red eyes locked with your eyes, a playful smirk plastered on his face as he licked your nipple. You knew he wasn’t going to allow you to cum, your begging is falling on deaf ears, but still you pled as your or practically grinding on the mouth on his stomach. Your legs began to shake as you started to unravel. Your moans becoming quicker and whiner as sweat begins to build around your chest area, just to be pushed onto your back, legs up by your chest. You nearly cried at the loss of contact on your cunt. You were frustrated as you felt your orgasm fissile away.

Sukuna’s eyes traveled over your body. To be honest, he was trying to collect himself. You were making so many pretty noises he could cum just by listening to you. Your voice soft it was almost angelic. It sounded like dirty music to him. He was the conductor, and you were his 1 woman choir. God he wanted to ruin you, you looked so irresistible to him. Your cheeks red, your chest rising and falling as you come down from your almost orgasm, sweat starting to form on your legs, most importantly, your cunt was dripping from a mixture of your juices and his saliva.

“Darling you have such a pretty body.” His husky voice spoke as he dragged his long nails on inner part of your leg, making you whimper. He watched as your slutty cunt fluttered around nothing. It was adorable to him that your body was also begging for him.

In a swift motion, Sukuna shoved 2 fingers into your cunt, pushing upwards to abuse your gspot with the pads of his fingers as he thrusted. It didn’t take long for your orgasm to build right back up. Desperate to have a release, you bucked your hips as you pled for him to allow you to cum.

“My bitch is so desperate, just look at how much of a slut you are. You’re riding my fingers..how pathetic.” He says quickening his pace and adding a thumb to push on your clit. That’s all you needed to finally allow your orgasm to wash over you.

“Good girl. Such a good girl.” He cooed, his fingers slowing down, allowing you to ride out your high before pulling them out and licking them clean.

“You better make me feel good now.” He almost demanded as he removed his underwear. His tip was puffy and red, precum formed at the tip, waiting to spill at any second.

“Please let me suck your cock Sukuna”

The way you said his name made him feel like he was at heavens gates as chill bumps littered his arms.

“You better take it deep and not disappoint me.” He says as you nod eagerly, getting off your back, onto your knees before kissing his tip. Your tongue quick to start to abuse his hole before spitting on his cock. You locked eyes with Sukuna before putting most of his cock in your mouth. You gagged, coating his cock with your saliva making your king let out a moan. “You know how to make it sloppy.” He breathed out before you started to quickly bob on his cock, gagging every now in again.

Sukuna must have really been into this fuck session. This man is a man of only grunts and breaths, so to hear him letting out quiet moans and quiet dirty praises was making you soaked.

His hips softly started to roll as his hand pushed your head down a little farther. He may be the king of curses, but he is gentle with you when it comes to face fucking most of the time.

With a loud groan, thick hot cum coated your throat, so much you couldn’t keep all of it in your mouth as you lifted your head up.

“Your mouth is always so messy” he started, watching your throat bob, signaling you swallowed his cum making him bite his lip before pushing you back onto your back. His cock rubbing against your soaked cunt. “Let’s see if your cunt is better at holding my cum.” He mumbles, pushing just the tip in, hearing your moan before pulling out and going back to rubbing.

If he said he didn’t have a size kink he was lying. You were just so tiny, your cunt begged for his big and thick cock, but your so stretched by just his tip. He loved watching your little pussy become red when he pushes his whole cock in, your moan mixed with a bit of pain as your mouth hung open in an “o” shape your legs shaking. You were stuffed and he knew you loved it. You had become such a whore for him. You were so sweet and innocent when you two first started hanging out when you summoned him but now..you’re summoning him as your fingers are pushed deep into your cunt, crying how nothing can fill you like he can. You get so sexually frustrated so quickly and rightfully so. You’re taking a kings cock after all, you should be thanking him.

And you do. When Sukuna finally pushes his cock all the way in, your pussy is filled and stretched just the way you like. Your body is filled with so much pleasure you can’t help but to shiver.

“What should you say for getting stuffed with my cock?” He asks quickly rolling his hips before stopping.

“Thank you.” You moan out, earning a raised eyebrow and a tch.

“That’s it? I haven’t even fucked you yet, so you’re not fucked dumb. Don’t tell me you’re already cock drunk. I’m not some random guy you decided to fuck. I’m the king of curses. You thank me right or we’ll stop right now. Don’t be a brat. Brats don’t get to cum.” He says before harshly slapping your cunt.

“T-thank you Sukuna for stuffing my slutty cunt with your cock I love feeling so full.”

“Good girl.” He softly says as he pushes your legs up so they’re by your chest again before ramming himself into you.

He loves watching you as he destroys your little cunt. Your toes curl as your eyes sometimes roll in the back of your head. Mouth hung open as his little devil makes the sounds he adores so much. Your breasts bounce as your cunt tightens around him.

“You like this baby? I love how much of a slut you are for me. You’re so pretty like this. I want you to coat my cock with your cream ok? Can you do that for me”

“Yes anything just please don’t stop please.” God you’re so pathetic, but you can’t help it. You want nothing but to cum over and over on his cock.

Your first orgasm was building up, your pussy tightens around his cock more as you grab fist fulls of the sheets. “S-Sukuna.”

“I know. Cum for me darling ok? I know you can do it you’re such a good girl. My good girl.”

You couldn’t even make a sound as your orgasm came washing over you, but Sukuna never stopped, if anything, he went harder. He wanted to make sure you to never feel pleasure from anything but him ever again.

Your legs began to shake harder as Sukuna praised you before making a mouth appear on his hand before placing it on your clit.

Your moans were so loud and gorgeous as your body shook underneath him. It was a sight to behold. You were a mess. Your only concern was being a cum slut and being fucked dumb. Mumbling how good he felt and how big he was. He wished he could do this for hours, but god your pussy was just too good. You were too good. He was already pussy drunk, and adding a mouth onto your clit wasn’t helping.

He grunted before speaking. “You’re going to take my cum like a good cum dumpster ok? You’re going to thank me for coating your slutty walls with my cum got it?”

“Please give me your cum Sukuna I want it so bad please” you begged, tears in your eyes. Such a cutie when you beg, he was in no position to deny you, you were too cute.

With a few hard sloppy thrusts, your body was filled with warmth.

“Thank you for giving me your cum Sukuna..”

“Make sure you keep it inside of you until you cum ok?” Before you could ask anything, your lower back lifted off the bed, you were practically laying on your neck as Sukuna made another mouth appear on his other hand before allowing them attack your nipples, meanwhile Sukuna locked eyes with you.

“I’m gonna say this once more so make sure you listen ok? Keep my cum inside until you cum. If any of it spills out you’re not gonna cum.” With that, his tongue pushed into your entrance, doing the same thing the tongue on his stomach did earlier. You cried out his name, begging him to either stop or slow down, you were way too sensitive to be playing these games. Your whole body was shaking, you were limited to only a few words as your brain was mush.

“I’m gonna cum Sukuna oh my god please don’t stop please let me cum ple-” a loud gasp was heard before you came undone. A bunch of “good girls” spilling from sukuna’s mouth before laying you back onto your back and watching his cum leak out. As much as he loved the sight, he was quick to grab a few tissues and clean both of you off before capturing your lips with his. When he pulled away, his hands cupped yours. “You’re such a good girl for me I’m so proud of you for taking me so well.”

He had fucked you enough times to know that he had to carry you to and from the bathroom. Once you were finished the two of you cuddled up under the blankets. Sukuna kissed your forehead, allowing his eyes to take in every detail of your face. “How are you so pretty? My little devil.”

“Sukuna..” you softly said, earning a “hm?” From the king.

“Shh..let’s cuddle and sleep please..you fucked me too good I’m exhausted I can’t even keep my eyes open..”

He let out a soft chuckle before nodding. “Who am I to refuse my little devil? Sleep well darling.”

Who knew the king of curses would have such a soft spot for someone so much smaller than him.

End

[hatshepsutrossignol]

Astarion x m!Tav

Everything could have been so perfect if they had met at another time, two hundred years ago. Astarion doesn’t remember the color of his eyes, but he has no doubt: if they had talked for twenty minutes, he would have lost his head. So handsome, with his stern look and a strict line of mouth, so righteous; Astarion would fall in love hopelessly and quickly, young and unbroken.

They kiss, lying together in one sleeping bag, under the quiet crackling sound of a dying fire. Tav doesn’t touch him below his waist, doesn’t try to get his hands under the shirt. He licks Astarion's fangs and his tongue, and everything could have been so wonderful if Tav wasn't aroused. Astarion rests his forehead on his shoulder; the silent demand for pleasure resonates in him with a tense, almost painful expectation of something bad.

Tav kisses his hair.

Something bad never happens.

Everything could have been perfect. Asrarion would count every kiss, but now, when the count goes into thousands - does it matter? Tav asks - is it all right? - every time before he touches, and Astarion hates that he knows, but it would be even worse if he didn’t.

Tav wears a scarf around his neck to avoid questions, and every night Astarion touches his neck with his lips, presses the vein with his tongue, before he bites, and doesn’t ask: Gods, what do you want from me.

Everything could have been a little worse if they had met later, in a dark tavern, over a glass of disgusting beer. People like Tav don’t go after a stranger to pin them to the wall and fuck, don’t sell themselves for sweet words and promises of pleasure. People like Tav want it to be real, even if they have to open themselves up and down for it, they are ready for pain, which has nothing to do with pleasure. If Tav had followed him then, everything that could have happened that night still would be much better than a couple of decades of hopeless waiting and two hundred groveling for the sake of survival.

They sleep on the floor in the tiny room in Last Light Inn, through the cracks in the boards Astarion can see a silver shield, and behind it darkness squints. A hand on his waist is something about a desire to protect, not about a desire to hold.

It would have been better even if Tav came to him in the darkest, hopeless year of punishment, like he came to many unlucky idiots who don’t yet know that they have no one to count on but themselves. Astarion gets angry every time, every time - somewhere deeper: you are always where you need to be, why wasn’t you there for me?

It isn't his fault, Tav wasn't even born yet, but Astarion has to blame someone.

Astarion buries his nose in Tav’s hair - he smells of pine needles and fire - when Tav giddily talks about Halsin’s offer he never thought to accept. The two of them only kissed, nothing more.

“Don't you want anything?” Astarion asks.

Tav looks surprised.

“Only with you.”

They could make love - if only Astarion knew what it means and how to do it.

In the Elf Song Tavern, Astarion and Tav have a separate room. Alfira invites them all to listen to her music, but Astarion rejects the offer and, for the first time in a long time, he is left alone.

He wants to try to feel something.

Astarion thinks about everything that hasn’t happened and undresses, leans back on the cool sheets and closes his eyes. He touches himself like a shy lover; rubs a nipple inquisitively, runs his fingers between collarbones, strokes his inner thighs with gentle touches. He says out loud: “I want this.”

Astarion touches his dick with his fingertips, trying to get aroused by the sight, when the door makes a quiet sound.

“Well, of course,” Astarion groans and drops his head on the pillow.

“Astarion,” Tav says hoarsely, and embarrassment and confusion in his voice could be amusing if Astarion wasn’t so annoyed. “I can… leave.”

Astarion gives himself a few seconds to think, then raises his head from the pillow.

“Don't.”

Tav looks at him. Even in the meager light Astarion can see how his eyes have gone darker, and he suddenly has a feeling: everything will work perfectly well.

“Stay,” he asks, licking his lips.

Few people are bold enough to object Tav, and even fewer dare to order him around.

“Okay,” Tav says.

Astarion takes his dick into his fist; there is no lubrication, and it’s unpleasant, but he has high pain tolerance.

“Tell me something,” he asks. “Anything.”

“I love you,” Tav says immediately.

“Something else,” Astarion shakes his head. “That's good, but make it better. You make everything better. Even me.”

Tav handles words in the same way he handles his sword. Astarion has to learn to take a blow. Now Tav is not so sure, as usual, he is shy, and exhales sharply when Astarion spreads his legs wider. But he doesn’t move, because Astarion said so. And yes, yes, yes, it’s good to feel wanted, to be heard. Astarion got hard every time salty blood filled his mouth, but it wasn’t him, no more than the scars on his back or every memory of dirty, painful and always doomed intimacy.

“Touch me?” Astarion requests and closes his eyes.

Tav asks - yes? - so many times that Astarion is ready to hate him for it.

“Let’s do everything as if we met two hundred years ago,” he asks, running his fingers through Tav’s hair.

Tav kisses his neck, rubs the old bite scar with the tip of the tongue, and excitement boils hotly inside Astarion, mixing with the cracked expectation of inevitable punishment.

All good things come at a price, and Astarion had nothing better than this.

“You have to wait two hundred years for it,” Tav promises and smiles, stroking his sides, slightly shaking with excitement. He looks into Astarion’s eyes, and this, of course, is another promise.

Astarion laughs on the edge of tears and hugs Tav like everything will end right now, everything will turn into a deception of the hag, false hope, sleep in a boarded coffin.

Something bad never happens.

[always-is-always]

My initial thougts, on 3D.....

First of all, the whole package of song, video, colab choice, and hype is completely what I would "expect", given the market it is aimed at. The target is the Western/American market. That is a VERY different market from that of K-Pop. Everything is different.

Jungkookie has personally set a goal based upon his own desire to be a global star. Global meaning, Western. Make it BIG in the West and every other market falls into place eventually. A truly unfortunate truth.

With his goal of becoming BIG brings in a number of requirements, players, outsider opinions, culturally crafted visuals(to appeal to the Western market), songs in English, giving creative control to those who are the power-players in the West, and a host of other things. It is a huge goal and it requires a lot of different types of choices as well as a willingness to enter into a very different arena creatively.

Hence, the girls, girls, girls. Hence the allusion to hetero-sex. Hence the use of collabs with artists that really don't get Jeon Jungkook, and probably never ever listen to any of his previous music (solo or BTS). We are seeing Jungkookie attempt to enter into a very foreign world of Western Music in a way that isn't exactly in integrity with Who He Is, as an Artist, as well as a Human Being.

The Western Music Industry would eat him alive, if they could. There are a LOT of darkness-driven powerful people in the music industry and entertainment industry, here in the States. Thankfully, Jungkook has strong Guardian Angels to protect him. There's so much darkness in the music industry here in the US. (I digress!)

Regarding the song, it is what it is. I like it, yet don't love it. Nice beat, I do like his choreo (with Brian and his team), and don't mind the women included. It's catchy and I see the real JK in there.

As far as Jack goes, his lyrics and presence add nothing to the overall song or visual. There's no true energetic chemistry between him and Jungkookie. Jack is involved as a way to attract the US market, AND Jack is involved as a way for him to attract interest and make $$ from ARMYs. All Western high-level music moguls KNOW that any connection to BTS or a Member =$$$.

I'm reminded that any musician, singer, artist will evolve throughout their careers. It's the nature of being a Creative. AND, I'm probably not going to always like what a favorite Artist produces. The number of times my favorite bands or soloists released music I didn't love is a lot. It happens. How many videos have those bands or soloists released that I didn't like? Many.

So Jungkookie is exploring, doing, and navigating according to his own Inner Compass. Even if that means doing things that may not please everyone, including himself. He learns by doing. He won't know until he tries, and then learns from the experience. What matters is that he is taking steps forward on his Path, learning, growing, developing, and hopefully attaining some joy along the way. He's got to do what he's doing, as it is how he is wired in this life. This is a part of his Soul's Plan.

All of what we are seeing is temporary, as Jungkookie is also gearing up for his eventual enlistment. What we have now is all that we have. What we will have on the other side of enlistment will be a different version of Jeon Jungkook. That is important to remember. All of this is temporary, until MS is complete...

The most important thing in my opinion is to be supportive of Jungkook, even if his music isn't what one would want. It is just a piece of the journey, and it will evolve, just as Jeon Jungkook evolves.

Let's continue to love him and see him achieving his Highest and Best Life, as it is his life after all. Even if that entails choices that we don't particularly care for. Bottom line is that Jeon Jungkook will always be a changing and evolving Human. It's in his DNA. 💜

[borathae]

↳ Index [Day 22 - Fisting & Masturbation]

Pairing: Sanguis!Jungkook Solo feat. him thirsting over the others

Kink: Vampire!JK, male masturbation, thigh rope bondage, self spanking, cock spanking, self choking, biting, self blooddrinking, anal fingering, anal fisting, mirror sex, handjob, lube, subdrop, the aftercare!!!

Wordcount: 4.5k

a/n: i was the one who requested this and i am not ashamed to admit it jsjsjs. have fun besties, i promise that you’re gonna get so many more horny stories with SA!Koo in the future🖤

Jungkook is looking at himself, twisting and turning in front of the mirror. He is playing his music loudly. Grunge. He hopes it’s enough to mask what he is planning on doing. If he wasn’t playing his music, the whole castle would probably listen in and Jungkook is way too shy for that. He doesn’t mind when he’s fucking other people, but when’s alone, he feels a certain shame about the whole act.

Jungkook tugs his jumper right above his belly button, inspecting his legs and cock. He wrapped red rope around his thighs and hips in a pretty Shibari pattern. Jungkook turns and looks at his butt. He framed it with the rope, making it look bigger than it actually was. He makes it jiggle by giving it a spank. It leaves a faint burn on his skin. Jungkook squeezes his thighs together in reaction. He spanks it again, releasing a shaky moan because of it. It feels so good to spank himself. Jungkook gives the heated flesh a soft squeeze to soothe it. This really felt so good…

He drops his jumper again, making it fall over his butt and exposed dick. It ends just a little under where his relaxed cock would end, the sleeves are just a little too long, hiding his hands in big sweater paws. Its black colour matched with the red of the rope and the ivory of his skin. 

Jungkook drops to his knees, eyes locking with his own reflection in the huge mirror of his bedroom. He places his hands on his inner thighs and drags them up to his cock. He tilts his head up slightly, releasing a shaky sigh. The rope feels nice under his fingertips, his skin is sensitive and tingles oh so much. He touches the hem of the jumper. His eyes flit down, waiting for the moment he exposes his cock.  

One tug 

He gasps.

There it is. 

His cock. Almost completely hard. Jungkook blames the act of self-tying on his boner. He loves self-tying so much. When rope is on his skin, he feels such a sense of control and power over himself. As if for as long as the rope is on his body, he won’t turn into a monster. Jungkook feels safe jerking off when he is tied up.

Jungkook places the jumper behind his cock and dances his hand back to this thigh. He gives both of them a harsh squeeze before running his hands up to his dick. He uses just his fingertips at first, tracing his impressive veins all the way up to his tip.

He moans softly when his fingers come into contact with his cockhead, thighs squeezing together and cock twitching into his touch.

Jungkook doesn’t have to be alone right now. He has multiple options to choose from if he wanted to. Hoseok and Seokjin are working out in the ballroom gym right now. He is sure that if he got them drunk enough he could have “some fun between friends” with them. You and Taehyung returned from your museum date twenty minutes ago. Jungkook can hear you cooking together. Taehyung is currently pretending to fight you while you tell him in a giggle to “put the cucumber down, darling. It’s not a sword”. Jungkook is sure that you would have agreed for some fun. And Taehyung. Well Taehyung.

Jungkook grunts, locking eyes with himself. His brows furrow. His fingers close around his cock and begin moving up and down.

Jungkook is sure Taehyung would have joined too.

“Fuck”, Jungkook presses out, massaging his frenulum with his thumb. His cock has hardened completely by now, sitting in his palm heavily. Jungkook moves his hand around it quickly, eyes falling back to it to make the sensations twice as intense.

Yoongi is home too. Jungkook can’t hear him currently, but while Jungkook was tying himself, he could hear glimpses of guitar play which was very distinctively Yoongi. The Creator must be in his wing, making music like always.

Jungkook parts his legs, ass coming into contact with the wooden floor. Like this his thighs are stretching the ropes to the point where their only escape is to dig into Jungkook’s skin. The pressure and tension feels so fucking good that Jungkook is chasing the sensation by opening and closing his thighs repeatedly to apply less and more pressure. All the while his hand is tugging at his hard cock in a needy rhythm. It almost feels as if he is riding cock like that. All that was missing was the cock.

Jungkook thinks again. He is sure that Yoongi would have already waited for him with some sort of toy or his cock out, if he had decided to ask him. His teacher always knows what Jungkook wants even before he could voice it. So many times Jungkook didn’t even know that he was horny while Yoongi was already ready to jump in and take care of his poor aches. So many goddamn times, their training ended with Yoongi having to take care of Jungkook’s neediness which the feed triggered in him. Yoongi assured him that this was normal for a Ripper Youngling like Jungkook and then presented his cock wordlessly for him to find release on.

“Yoongi”, Jungkook whimpers, hand falling over his mouth a second later. His fingers have stilled around his cock, his body is tense. He didn’t mean to say his name. He was too lost in the fantasy and said what he thought about. Oh god. Did he hear him? Jungkook holds his breath and listens through the loud fog of grunge music. He can’t hear anything. He must have been lucky.

Jungkook exhales shakily and drops his hand from his mouth, gripping his own thigh. He begins moving around his cock again and locks back onto his own eyes. He has to be more careful from now on. Yoongi may be the last person listening in like a creep, but Jungkook is very well aware that out of all the vampires currently present in the castle, Yoongi was the one most likely to accidentally catch a glimpse of what Jungkook was doing. Three thousand years do that to one’s senses. Jungkook can’t risk being caught. It would be so embarrassing.

Jungkook lifts his butt from the floor, now truly kneeling in front of the mirror as he keeps jerking off his big cock. The rope is digging into his sculpted thighs, tensing nicely around his crotch area as well. Jungkook uses the surge of electricity the pressure gives him to twist his hand around his cockhead and slip his left hand between his legs. He cups his heavy balls, rolling them between his fingers in a sensual massage.

“Ah god”, he whispers, dropping his head just to look. He is so huge already. That’s so embarrassing. He wasn’t supposed to grow out of his human size already. Not that soon. He hasn’t even started with what he actually wanted to do.

Jungkook slows down his hand gradually until he comes to a full stop. Doesn’t matter that he is bigger. He just has to act so much quicker then.

Jungkook gets on all fours so he can reach the bottle of lube he stupidly enough put too far away from where he was kneeling. He manages to reach it by arching his back and getting on his elbow.

He sits back down on his heels once done and prepares the next step of tonight’s fun. A red dildo, currently fixed to the floor by its suction cup. It is way smaller than his cock, his human cock and especially his vampire cock. But Jungkook still likes it a lot because the shape is nice and it’s easy to take. Jungkook jerks it off to spread the lube, breathing heavily in excitement. 

He can’t wait to get it inside. He wants nothing else than to bounce on dick as he jerks off his cock. 

Jungkook positions himself in front of the dildo once it's covered in enough lube. He lowers himself and tries to slip it inside. 

"Ah", he gasps, flinching back. 

It’s so big. And he is so tight. 

Trying to take it actually hurt. Jungkook looks between his legs at the toy, furrowing his brows. Why did this actually hurt? 

Jungkook tries again, lowering himself only to instantly give up when his hole burns and pinches.

"Fuck", he presses out, reaching behind himself to trace his rim, "why am I so tight?" he wonders out loud, massaging his hole to get it to relax again, "calm down Kook, take a deep breath", he tells himself, wrapping his hand around his cock to jerk it off for motivation. He takes a deep breath, releasing it shakily now that he is massaging both his cock and hole. 

Maybe he was being too greedy. He needs to give his body time. Yoongi always scolds him for being way too impatient. He has to listen to him. He has to take it slow. 

His fingers are still wet enough from the lube, but Jungkook wants more. He reaches for the bottle and opens it with his teeth. Then he hovers it over his cock to wet it. He spreads it eagerly, staring at it with ruby eyes. 

Slap.

"Hngn", Jungkook mewls, cock burning where he spanked it. He couldn’t help himself. His cock is so wet and big. All he wants to do is spank it and make it hurt. 

Jungkook gives himself one more spank, fucking his own fist desperately. He wants to keep going, but spanking gets him way too close. He has to stop even if it hurts. 

"Please", he begs himself, knowing very well that he won’t give in, "oh god, wanna be spanked", he keens, touching his cock normally even if he doesn’t want to.

Slap!

One last time. He had to try one last time. 

Jungkook falls on all fours, feeling his fangs come to light instantly. He mewls loudly, back arching and tensing. He is going to cum. The spank was too much. He played with fire and got burned.

"Control yourself", he orders, slapping his own face, "calm down." 

His cock throbs against nothing, covering the floor with a puddle of precum. It aches so, so much. 

"Calm down, it’s okay", Jungkook whispers, soothing his cheek with a soft caress. The worst part is behind him. He gained back control. He won’t climax against his will. 

Jungkook exhales in relief and rewards himself by covering his fingers in lube and connecting them with his hole. 

He closes his eyes and parts his lips in bliss, concentrating on his soft touch. He traces his hole, massaging it gently until it feels oh so sensitive and needy for more. 

Jungkook pushes his middle and ring finger inside. They slip in without resistance, barely even giving him a stretch. Jungkook slips in his pointer finger instantly. There it is. A stretch. It may only be a soft stretch, but it was a stretch nonetheless, leaving Jungkook to sigh in bliss.

He fucks his fingers in and out of his hole slowly for just thrree strokes and then he grows impatient again. He speeds up, giving his needy ass a rough finger fuck. 

"Yes", he moans, "holy fuck, yes."

His digits feel so nice in his ass. They are just a little smaller than Yoongi’s, but a lot bigger than yours. Jungkook likes to think of those two pairs of hands when he jerks off because they each brought him the most pleasure he ever felt. The day at the church still plagues him perfectly. The day at the gym still haunts his memories. Jungkook swears it was one of the best days of his life. And all the days on the road still keep him up at night, not in agony but in pure happiness. Jungkook really, really loves your hands and Yoongi’s too. 

Jungkook curls his fingers, tickling his prostate out of hiding. The touch feels like a gentle warmth for now. Jungkook really likes it, sighing to himself as he keeps on moving his fingers. 

He is so proud of himself. He is taking it slow. He is giving himself time. Yoongi would be so proud of him. Yoongi would call him a good boy and then he would feed him another finger.

Jungkook slips his pinky inside, whimpering loudly. The stretch is a lot more now. The warmth against his prostate grows too.

"Yoo-", Jungkook stops himself before he could mess up again, wrapping his own hand around his throat and pressing down hard, "ngng", he lets out, feeling his cock leak onto the ground. It feels like a constant stream of wet warmth leaving him. Yoongi’s name is tickling his tongue. Your name is close second. The pressure on his veins is so nice. His fingers feel so good in his ass. Jungkook pushes deeper only to fail because lube was missing. 

"More", he begs himself, "please more."

He knows he has to give it to himself. There is no other person in this room, even if in his fantasy he is currently with Yoongi and you. 

"Please", Jungkook sobs softly and drops his hand from his throat even if he doesn’t want to. He reaches for the lube with trembling fingers and slips his hand free from his ass.  

The emptiness makes him sob again and work oh so sloppily just so he can get stuffed sooner.

Jungkook covers his entire right hand with the lube, using so much that it actually runs down along his wrist and forearm. He doesn’t want to risk anything. 

He drops the bottle without closing it, getting on his hand and reaching behind himself. Jungkook propes at his hole with his whole hand. The longer of his fingers slip in first. Jungkook barely feels the stretch. He pushes deeper, gasping when his pinky slips in too. And then his thumb. 

"Oh god", Jungkook croaks, pushing more and more. He forgot that the hand position he chose enables his thumb to stuff him too. It feels so good. The stretch is so intense. Jungkook feels himself grow impatient again. He knows that it will probably end in him going too far and hurting himself, but he doesn’t want to stop. He is impatient. And oh so needy.

Jungkook pushes more, managing to bury his fingers inside him all the way to his knuckles. The stretch makes him tremble. 

"Please", he whimpers, pushing more. His hand slips deeper. Jungkook knows that the moment of struggle will come soon. Deeper and deeper and deeper.

And.

Wait a damn second. 

Jungkook puts more pressure on his hole and...slips in.

“Ah”, he gasps, twitching away because of how harshly his hand slipped in. He could even feel how the resistance snapped when his hole finally gave up. Jungkook moans so brokenly and so loudly that he is very sure that someone heard him. He couldn’t even stop it from happening. But it feels so good that he doesn’t even mind. All he needs to do is to keep going.

Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut and whimpers.

He's got his hand inside. He, he, he actually managed to take his hand past his knuckles. It wasn’t part of the plan, but now it is. Forget the dildo. Jungkook has his fucking hand inside.

Jungkook lifts his head and looks into his glassy eyes. He dares to move his hand a little, widening his eyes and moaning loudly again. He throws his hand over his mouth, losing balance and almost falling face first onto the floor if he didn’t catch himself at the last moment.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god”, he chants, forcing himself back onto his elbow. His head, he keeps tangling low, eyes squeezed shut tightly. He arches his back and moves his ass back onto his own hand.

“Aa-a-ah”, he moans shakily, dropping his forehead against his own arm. His hand slips deeper, forcing the biggest part more and more into him. The stretch and pressure are almost unbearable and yet Jungkook wants more. He pushes his hips back and pushes against his hole simultaneously. One more time his hole struggles. One more time Jungkook feels like ripping apart. One more time and then he can feel the resistance snap again and his entire hand is finally inside. His rim is pressing down around his wrist, fluttering and convulsing involuntarily. 

Jungkook sobs in happiness, lips pulling back in a pleasure contorted smile. He can’t believe he is doing that. He is actually taking his own fist. This is all he ever wanted to achieve.

Jungkook begins moving, going slowly. Maybe even a little cautiously. He never did that before. What if he messes up? One movement in and Jungkook is very aware that he can’t mess up. Not in a million years. Oh that feels so good. He can’t have the fist as deep as he could have it when someone else gave it to him. The angle and the flexibility of his own wrist prevent him from slipping in deeper. Jungkook could take so much more. Maybe down half an arm. He is so horny and needy and turned on that he could most definitely take half an arm right now. Most definitely. Jungkook trembles in an involuntary convulse of his muscles as a reaction of his fist rubbing against his prostate.

“Oh god.”

This is so hot. He is taking his own fucking fist.

“Aha, ah, ah”, Jungkook moans freely, cock leaking on the floor and thighs trembling. He keeps his hand moving, forcing his hole to take the thickest part repeatedly. It feels like too much each and every time and Jungkook can’t get enough of it.

His ass feels so good around his hand. Warm, tight, soft and wet. It is seriously so tight. As if Jungkook isn’t regularly stretching himself. He wonders just how tight he would be if he wasn’t so trained in anal. He clenches around his fist for a glimpse of it, regretting it in an instant as this makes his prostate grind against his hand.

Jungkook almost drops on the floor. He seriously does. He catches himself at the last moment, using whatever strength he can muster to keep his thighs working hard. They are trembling like crazy, barely holding his weight.

Jungkook arches his back and fucks back against his hand, chasing the feeling of how it felt to have his fist against his prostate. He clenches around himself, even if that makes the pressure on his rim almost unbearable.

“Oh god, oh god please”, Jungkook sobs, scratching his nails down the wooden boards. He is pretty sure that he is leaving marks on them, but he can’t help himself. He has to claw at something to ease the pleasure.

Jungkook speeds up his fist, forcing his hole to make the sluttiest sounds as it gets fed fist over and over again. Jungkook almost goes insane at the sound. He thinks that the fisting feels even more intense when he can hear it.

Jungkook wails and tilts his head just to bite down on his own arm. His fangs are on full display so the bite goes so incredible deep. It should hurt like crazy, but Jungkook is so high on pleasure that he barely even feels it. He feels himself moan around his arm however, moaning again because that is all he wants to do.

He is fisting himself. Rough and fast. And it feels fucking glorious. Oh god it feels like heaven. Paradise. His nirvana. Which was quite ironic because his ears pick up shreds of the band’s melody currently playing. It motivates him to keep going. He tries to match his movements to the rhythm, only to fail miserably because it feels way too slow for him.

“Urgh”, he growls and speeds up again, “fuck, ah fuck. please don’t stop.”

He has no idea who he is talking to. It is not like he is going to stop. Maybe he is so into begging and whining for his pleasure that it has become a part of him. Maybe the begging in itself gets him off. Oh it must be this, Jungkook thinks as he convulses aggressively in a blissful reaction to squeaking out a beg.

“Please”, he continues begging, voice pitched and weak, “please, please, please.”

He thrusts his fist into himself harshly and deeply. He fucks back needily and quickly. He begs desperately and loudly. And he swears he could cry because of it.

Maybe he does. Maybe he cries. And maybe he bites down on his own arm again, senses going hazy at the taste of his own blood. He feels like such a fucking sinner, getting off on his own blood, but he can’t help it. He can’t help begging and moaning and fucking getting off on his own taste.

Jungkook sucks hungrily, covering his throat with the sweetness of his blood. It fills his veins with fiery electricity, crawling down his body until it reaches his middle.

“Ah!” Jungkook breaks away just to scream. His cock throbs uncontrollably, his ass is convulsing around his fist, “oh fuck, oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck”, Jungkook wails, knowing that it is too late.

He did too much. The blood was too much. Jungkook is falling and he can’t catch himself.

His body convulses and falls down. His weight squishes his cock, forcing it cum even harder than it initially wanted to cum. He is shaking and twitching, kicking the floor and trying his hardest to somehow fuck his hips back.

“Oh god please”, he sobs, voice contorted in his orgasm and face scrunched in pleasure.

Was this a planned orgasm? No. No it wasn’t. Does this still feel like his own personal heaven? Yes. Yes it does.

Jungkook thanks himself repeatedly, wiggling his fist because that is all he can truly do because of how tight is getting, “thank you, ah thank you. Thank you.”

This is the best thing ever.

When Jungkook comes down, he realises that he actually managed to kick a hole into the floor. He wiggles his foot out of it, growing completely limp again. He can barely even breathe, cheek lying in a puddle of his tears and blood-soaked drool. He doesn’t want to change its position. His ass is pulsating around his fist in the aftershocks of his high. It hurts a little now that all the sexual tension left his body. Jungkook tries to pull his fist free, whimpering painfully and squeezing his eyes shut. Come on, one more pull. He can do it even if he is sensitive. His fist leaves him with a wet, sticky sound, leaving his hole to gape around nothing. He exhales shakily, trying to clench it to get it to close up again. It works, but the phantom feeling of his fist still remains. Each time his skin pulsates, it feels as if his hand was still inside, turning Jungkook weak.

He wants to be held. Jungkook whimpers sadly, lower lip beginning to tremble. He really wants to be held right now.

He feels so weak and defeated and fragile. And all he needs is to be held. He rolls onto his side and pulls his legs to his chest. A small sob escapes him as he hugs his knees.

“Oh god”, he whimpers. He is coming down hard. This always happens. Why does he always come down so hard? His heart aches so much and he feels so disgusting and as if he did something wrong. Why does this always happen? Why does this always fucking happen?

Jungkook pulls himself up even if it is hard. He stumbles to the bathroom with his head barely being present. He washes himself in hopes that this would lessen the drop. His cock, his ass, his hands, even his face. Nothing really helps.

He wants to be held and it aches so much that he isn’t.

Jungkook rips the ropes from his legs, hoping that the release of pressure would help him calm down. It only makes it worse because now he feels naked and vulnerable.

He barely manages to put on his boxer shorts and manages even less to stumble out of his bedroom.

He wants to be held. He needs comfort. Jungkook needs to be held.

Jungkook arrives at his destination with his legs barely working and his heart feeling shattered. He knocks quietly, hoping that he will be heard.

“Come in”, the answer is instant, filling Jungkook with so much hope.

He opens the door and slips inside. 

Yoongi is sitting by his desk in candlelight, very clearly working on lyrics. The guitar is next to him, leaned against the table and waiting to be used again.

He has his gaze lifted from the notebook, waiting patiently for Jungkook to speak even if there is worry in his eyes.

“Hyung”, Jungkook whispers, shivering like crazy.

Yoongi lets his eyes run up and down Jungkook’s body. Oversized jumper, boxer shorts and thighs covered in rope marks. He looks up at Jungkook’s face and the aching yearning in his sad eyes. With one single intake of breath, he knows exactly what’s up. 

“Come here, kiddo”, he speaks softly, rolling his chair back and patting his lap. 

Jungkook hurries to him and lets himself fall on top of him, face hiding away in the crook of Yoongi’s neck and arms wrapping around him tightly. He feels safer instantly, body growing soft in comfort. Yoongi smells so good. Like hugs and love. 

Yoongi rolls back closer to the desk to continue working, keeping himself connected with Jungkook by running his left hand up and down his lower back. He decided to slip his hand under his hoodie for that and Jungkook is grateful that he did, because Yoongi’s unfiltered touch is healing him like nothing else.

“Did you have fun, mhm?” Yoongi asks him in a soft voice.

Jungkook nods his head.

“That’s good to hear”, Yoongi says, turning his head to kiss the shell of Jungkook’s ear, “my good boy.”

Jungkook swears he feels no ounce of shame, guilt or pain right now. Just peace and happiness.

Yoongi turns away afterwards, chin coming to rest on Jungkook’s shoulder and hand continuously rubbing his back. No further words are exchanged between the two vampires, but that wasn’t necessary. Yoongi understands without needing words and Jungkook feels understood without having to hear it. 

Jungkook listens with closed eyes. The pen Yoongi uses makes a soft scratching sound on his notebook, every now and then Yoongi mumbles unidentifiable words and sometimes a glass gets lifted and Jungkook can hear Yoongi swallow before the glass gets set down again. All of those sounds are relaxing him so much. It was the right decision to seek out Yoongi. Jungkook wouldn’t feel even remotely as safe and comforted and taken care of as he does right now, if he was still alone in his room.

Jungkook finally allows his body to grow limp in relaxation, sighing happily. He knows that it’s safe to fall asleep if he feels like it. Yoongi will carry him to bed and make sure he is tugged in, just as he will always make sure that he is safe. Jungkook smiles and then his senses blur as sleepiness overtakes him.

[missmaywemeetagain]

Pink Scarf - PART 16 (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: kinda

(Read more here--Pink Scarf Series Masterlist!)

Prompt: You are part of Elvis Presley's coveted inner circle, and the currently-disgruntled wife of one of the members of Elvis' famous entourage, the Memphis Mafia. After Elvis' dynamite first performance in Vegas, you find yourself in deep water when his magnetism finally gets to you after all these years.  [ Fem!Reader ]

TW: Rough SEXXX. Restraints. ANGST. Cussing. Infidelity. Historical inaccuracies in the Vegas timeline. Priscilla doesn't exist in this timeline.  

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact)        ||     Word Count: 7.2k

A/N: Woo, boy, y'all. Get yourselves ready, cuz the snowball is rollin' and the shit storm is comin'. This part is a little bit of everything--a little sweet, a little salty, a little smutty. It's what y'all deserve!

For the flashback, I had E's 1960 It Feels So Right playing in my head on repeat, so if you are one who likes music to set the mood, then you might give it a listen before/during/after you read that part!

As always, to all my babies, honeys, and lil' mamas supporting me out there, YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL and your reactions, reblogs, messages, asks, and comments you've given me have been a blessing beyond expression. You all are the best community a writer could ask for! Thank you so much for your support. I am loving getting to know y'all better! I love every single reaction and comment and ask, and I'm sorry if I don't get back to them all as soon as I'd like but know that I love you all and am so excited to be making new friends! And a big "Hey, Y'all!" to our friends from Elvis Twitter, Elvis Discord, and Elvis Instagram--I see and appreciate you coming over to join us! 👀💋

If you feel so moved, please let me know what you think or how you're feeling (or send me asks)! I think I put everyone on the taglist who requested it, but please let me know if there are any issues or if I missed anyone. There seem to be some issues with tagging that I can't seem to fix, so please know I'm not leaving you out intentionally! Also, if you comment on a previous part that you want to be tagged, I might not always see it, so feel free to message me if I miss you!

I imagined this with Elvis in mind, but Austin!Elvis works here, too, whatever floats your boat! 

Apologies in advance if there are any grammatical errors or TW that I didn't catch. 

(I did start cross-posting Pink Scarf to my long-neglected AO3 account (which some of you already discovered!), so if you are so inclined, you can check it out over there!)

Graceland, Christmas 1960

The mansion is finally quiet, or at least you’ve managed to find a quiet part of it in the midst of all the holiday revelry. Elvis loves Christmas, and this is his first one home in two years. And the first one without Gladys.

You had thought that maybe his grief would make the holiday a more solemn affair, but he’s gone in the opposite direction. It’s as though his loss has fueled him to make Christmas as joyful as humanly possible. Even though he’s been away filming for most of the month, he still directed the mansion should be decked out in all the Christmas finery for his return. And so it is.

You wish you were more in the spirit to enjoy it. Usually, you would be—Christmas is one of your favorite times of the year—but this year it sits heavy for you. Heavy because if all had gone well, you’d be sharing it with your newborn baby.

The thought brings you to tears again.

You’ve been hiding your grief as much as possible, sliding on a quaint smile, singing carols, and making cookies with the rest of them, but in these solitary moments, you grieve. You cannot help it. You know it’s futile and silly. How can you grieve someone who barely even existed, someone who was never born? And yet, here you are, alone, sitting in a quiet corner of the house at the piano, a couple of glasses too many of champagne in, being sad over what could have been.

So you begin to play. You know practically every carol and hymn by heart, so you just close your eyes and let the music take you away. It doesn’t erase your grief, but it does help you let it out in some way. You barely notice the tears rolling down your cheeks as you play Away In A Manger and What Child Is This?. You let the dramatic chords of O Holy Night linger in the air at the push of the pedals.

And after a bit of playing, that image of a baby in your arms feels fuzzy and faraway. Or maybe that’s the champagne. Maybe it’s both.

The air shifts. You notice it but play on anyway. You’re not sure how, but you are able to sense him, his presence, his essence, as it pushes in around you. But he remains quiet, and your eyes remain closed as your hands continue to fly over the keys.

Elvis does not interrupt, he only watches. You’re not sure why. You feel as though he barely speaks to you anymore. Yes, he is away and busy and all the usual excuses. But he used to seek you out when he returned. He’d bring you silly little trinkets and sing to you and tell you stupid, off-color jokes.

Now, since that horrible day in March, it’s as though an invisible wall has come between you two, and you don’t understand why. It’s nothing overt—he treats you kindly in the group and doesn’t outwardly ignore you. But something significant has changed, you swear it. Perhaps it is your ultimate failure as a woman that has turned him away. Or maybe with the explosion of his stardom since returning from Germany, he just doesn’t have time for you anymore. Maybe it has nothing to do with you at all; maybe he’s just a different man now.

Your tears of grief now include the loss of him, too. Losing your friend is heartbreaking in its own right, much less coupled with the loss of your child, of your fertility. It doesn’t help that Jack has been gone with Elvis on his travels and feels distant, too. You’d initially thought the space would be good for you two, but instead you just feel achingly lonely.

God, you wish you’d never been pregnant at all, as all it seemed to bring you is heartache.

You stop playing and open your eyes. The room is dim, lit only by one of the many Christmas trees in the house, but when you turn towards the door, Elvis is still there, his blue eyes shining with emotion as he leans in the doorway. The man looks ready to weep, which takes you by surprise, as he’s only shown enthusiasm and excitement since being home. You recognize the look though: it’s grief and melancholy, similar to your own.

Then Elvis looks at you unabashedly for a moment, almost like he is really, truly seeing you for the first time in months. The air sits heavy and silent. You don’t bother wiping the tears off your cheeks, though your heart races a bit. Must be the champagne, you think. It certainly isn’t the way he is looking at you now, how you are being laid bare and vulnerable by his intense gaze.

Something builds between you, though you are not exactly sure what, and he suddenly straightens and crosses the room to you. He towers over you now at the end of the piano bench and an overwhelming need to be near him comes over you. It’s as though you are both magnetized to each other, so when he holds out his hand, you cannot help but take it. The warmth of his hand surrounds yours as he pulls you up and into his waiting arms.

You fold into him, your arms tucked into your chest and your head buried into his collarbone as he wraps his arms around you. His spicy, distinct scent surrounds you and his warmth engulfs you and you cannot help the sob that escapes you at the comfort of it.

Elvis holds you close and lets you cry, and you feel his chest shudder and his breath hitch as though he is as emotional as you are. His mother, you think; he’s been hiding his grief as you’ve been hiding yours. You can feel the wetness of his tears against your temple as they run down his face and onto yours, and this prompts you to unfold your arms and wrap them around his torso, comforting him as he is comforting you.

He sways you, moving to the unheard music you assume is always playing in his mind, and pressed against him like this, you can feel the quick and steady beat of his heart pounding in his chest. You don’t remember the last time you were this close to him. He feels bigger, broader than the boy who went to Germany, but is no less Elvis. His sensitive spirit is the same after all.

You are not sure how long you sway there, crying in each other’s arms at your respective losses. But you know it’s more than just that. You know because as your tears start to ebb and you move back the slightest bit, he grabs your hand and pulls you in close, unwilling to part with you. He dances with you now, slowly pulling you back into his silent rhythm.

And you let him. You let his hand clasp yours and he draws it over his heart, holding it there. His heart beats quicker, you think. It’s too intimate now, the way his warm, damp cheek presses to yours, the saltiness of your tears mixing and binding your grief together. The air shifts again, still heavy and thick, but with a million unsaid words hanging there in the silence.

Your heart skips, flutters, and your breath catches. You’re not exactly sure what is happening. But you still let him hold you and sway you in slow circles. His hand splays hot on your lower back, burning through you, setting your body aflame in a way you don’t understand.

But you are a few glasses in and on a roller coaster of emotion and right now the feel of his strong, lean body pressed against yours makes you feel alive in a certain kind of way. You’ve been lonely and you’ve missed him more than you thought. It’s almost as if this is a silent plea for forgiveness from him.

Yes, that’s all it is.

You feel hyperaware of him and his closeness, so when Elvis nuzzles his head against the side of yours, you feel breathless. Your mouth pops open with a puff which, considering his proximity, he must feel, but he does not stop, and you cannot help the way you return the gesture in kind.

His breath is warm in your ear, and you can feel the softness of his lips brush against it, sending a decidedly inappropriate cascade of shivers dancing through you.

Oh, god.

Involuntarily, your hand contracts in his, your nails scraping lightly at his button-down shirt. Elvis presses your palm down onto his heart in response. You feel out of control, completely at his mercy, knowing this is too much, too close, too intimate but you can’t seem to stop, intoxicated by his strength, his affection, his essence.

Elvis’ still-damp cheek lingers against your own, and he presses his forehead gently to yours with a soft sigh. Then he pulls back slowly, just far enough to look at you, and you feel knocked over by his pure beauty. Honestly, you feel absolutely heady as you threaten to tip over and lose yourself in those churning, deep blue eyes of his. And, boy, they are churning, with things you can’t quite grasp. You watch as they search your face, his impossibly long lashes punctuating their every slow move. Holding your breath, your heart speeds up ever faster, and you wonder what it is he seeks in you.  

Your sadness and grief feel far away now as he plunders your soul, his gaze so alluring that you cannot even begin to piece through what is going on in any sort of logical way. You don’t understand any of it. All you know is you want more, and that feels forbidden in every way.

As if reading your thoughts somehow, his lips part. His eyes flutter down your face and land at your mouth. A shock runs through you as you think Elvis just might kiss you, and that terrifies you, not just because it would be crossing a line but because in this moment you want him to.

You want to feel his lips soft and sweet against you, then crushing into you. You want his body passionately pressed into yours as you cling to each other in the sparkling light of the Christmas tree. You want his large hands roaming your curves. You want to feel the strands of his dark hair between your fingers as you tug him closer. You want him to make you forget everything but the taste and feel of him.

These wants flash through you in an instant, shocking your system because he is so close that you almost can taste him and panic shoots through you. Never have you let your thoughts truly drift to that place with him, and opening that door feels very dangerous. Suddenly, with a wave of absolute certainty, an intuition you cannot explain at all exclaims that Elvis wants you more than anything in this world.

And that makes you gasp and pull away.

That cannot possibly be true. Nothing about the way he’s acted this past year supports that but something inside you screams that it’s real. It makes no sense. None of it makes any sense.

Elvis blinks and shakes his head as though snapping himself out of a daze. His hand falls from your waist, the spell broken. The soulful look in his eyes flashes with what almost seems like hurt, then apology, then regret. Without a single word, he turns and leaves.

Your heart plummets for reasons you don’t understand.

You must be confused. You are drunk. You are emotional. You couldn’t possibly have read the situation correctly. And yet the feelings awakened in your body surprise you and the look in his eyes haunts you as you sink back onto the piano bench, left alone in the silence.

*

Your eyes pop open at the memory. You had been very drunk that night and hadn’t remembered that moment until this very minute, yet another hidden facet of your long and suddenly complex relationship with your friend making itself known. Elvis had continued to keep his distance from you after that Christmas and had never even alluded to such an intimate moment happening, so you’d had no reason to think anything strange had happened at all. In hindsight, it seems awfully significant and feels like yet another thing he’s keeping from you.

Running it through your mind again, you swear he’d almost kissed you that night or at least had wanted to, which is shocking to you because 1960 was a long time ago. Still more shocking was that certainty you’d had about him wanting you more than anything, which couldn’t possibly be true.

Could it?

You shake off the thought. Emotions were high for both of you that night, and he obviously had thought better of it, but still…that prickle at the back of your mind keeps gnawing at you, those pieces of the puzzle attempting to slot into place. Maybe if you weren’t so damn tired and emotionally spent, you’d be able to figure out what your mind is trying to tell you. Maybe if your body wasn’t still aching with the memory of losing your child and almost dying, you’d be able to think clearly.

And your conversation with Sandy also sits uneasily in your mind. Running away ain’t gonna solve anything, her voice echoes in your head. You wish you had the strength she hoped you did, the strength to tell Jack to fuck off, to tell Elvis how you really feel, but it all feels so overwhelmingly insurmountable that you can barely even entertain the thought.

Heart pounding and wheels turning, you know sleep is out of the question and sit up in the bed. You get up and busy yourself instead. You feel as though you are racing the clock. It doesn’t take long to pack your bag, and while you are not frantic, you are determined. Mentally, you are ready to go. You have to go.

Unfortunately, things are not working out as you hoped they would. When the concierge calls you back with your fight arrangements, he informs you that there are no flights out of Vegas until 7:30am tomorrow morning. It being a Sunday night and with such short notice, there were no seats headed back east to be had. You thank him and reply that of course the morning flight would be acceptable before you set the receiver back on the hook and let out an aggravated scream.

You need out now. You are half inclined to rent a car and drive back to Memphis, but you know that is a terrible idea for a variety of reasons, namely being that you had no idea how to get to Memphis from here and being alone on the road for so long with no preparation sounded dangerous.

Fine, you think, I can make it through the night. I should tell Elvis in person anyway.

The thought makes your stomach churn because you know he will not be happy with this development. You’d rather not see the look on his face, but you also know it is the right thing to do. You just need to steel yourself to see your decision through and not be swayed by his charms.

Easier said than done.

And it doesn’t help that you are running on fumes and adrenaline. With everything that happened last night, the only sleep you’ve had was on the roof and that was short-lived and filled with nightmares. You took a shower after getting back to the room, but your mind is spinning too much to sleep, plagued with returning memories and creeping doubt.

You decide to get ready for the show as originally planned. It’ll be easier to gain access to Elvis between shows to talk if you do so. You dress accordingly, carefully putting on your makeup and doing your hair up nicely to give yourself as much confidence as possible. After repacking your toiletries, you grab your clutch and see the silky pink scarf folded neatly inside.

It takes only a moment for you to decide to put it around your neck. It’ll guarantee that Elvis will make time to see you, and you try not to shiver at the fact that the last time you wore this scarf, it led to a decidedly different outcome than it will tonight. The thought sends both warmth to your core and dread into your heart. You don’t want to leave him.

But I have to.

You shift your thoughts instead to Red, wondering and fearing whatever he might have planned. You don’t know if he is planning to sit on the information he gleaned from your leaving Elvis’ suite this morning, or if he is looking to cause mayhem immediately, though considering Jack has not burst in angrily, you don’t think anything has been said yet.

Either way, you have to warn E, and you have to get the hell out before the shit hits the fan.

The afternoon quickly turns to evening, and you pump yourself up on the way downstairs, despite the nausea in your stomach, the exhaustion in your body, and the ache in your heart. Now that you are somewhat a part of the show, it is easy to get backstage, and while you’re not sure how you are going to be able to wait the few hours the show will take, you continually remind yourself that this is what you must do. You have no choice.

But I do, I do have a choice, a pesky little voice chimes in. Stay.

Shut up.

By the time Elvis makes his way backstage, you feel like you’re about to jump out of your skin. The way his bright eyes light up when he sees you and then how they flash heat when he sees the pink silk knotted around your neck fills you with both desire and anxiety. Being near him weakens your resolve because his charismatic energy rolls over you even from this distance, and he just looks so damn good in that white suit of his, but you knew that this would test you. You force what you hope is a normal a smile, but you see a look of confusion flash over his pretty face before his usual pre-show nerves take over. But he does not come over to you, for which you are grateful.

The show begins with the usual fanfare, and you are surprised that even with everything going on in your head (or perhaps because of it), you still get swept up in the music, still sing the parts quietly that you have so diligently practiced. Regret hits you from another angle, one you did not anticipate. In leaving Vegas, you’ll also be leaving this—the show, the music.

Doubt creeps in in earnest throughout the show, putting your nerves even more on edge. You don’t really want to leave this opportunity, but the problem is you don’t think you have the fortitude to stay and to be able to resist Elvis.

The curtain closes and Elvis is surrounded, soaked with sweat, riding that post-show high that makes him nearly glow from the inside out. He wipes his face with the towel someone has draped over him, and you watch as he pulls Jerry aside with a glint in his eye, presumably to arrange your meet with him. But Jerry leans back and whispers something into E’s ear and that handsome face clouds with dark emotion. Then Elvis finds you past the crowd and his eyes lock on and you know. You know he knows by the hurt and angry look in his piercing blue eyes.

Sandy.

Goddammit.

As Elvis stalks over to you, pushing through musicians and instruments, it’s evident that Sandy has betrayed you. She told Jerry. And whether she meant for him to tell Elvis, you do not know, but your heart speeds up as Elvis crosses the backstage area in long, quick strides, with a wounded and feral look in his eyes that frightens you. It is not at all the same as the jealousy from the night prior; no, this is damage done on another scale.

You cannot help but back up as he approaches, nearly falling back over your chair, but he is on you in an instant, grabbing your arm firmly with one hand and your waist with the other, seemingly uncaring of the confused looks of his entourage that has been left behind so uncharacteristically. Luckily, Jack is nowhere to been seen, but you catch Red’s smirk before Elvis manhandles you into the hallway.

He doesn’t speak, not yet, though you see his brewing temper play over his face. Your heart drops because it is so obvious how you’ve truly hurt him, and he practically carries you back to the dressing room so quickly that you barely have time to register what that means. Once inside, he releases you and you tumble forward before he slams the door with too much force and flicks the lock.

As you straighten, you attempt to brace yourself for what you think you know is coming. Your nerves are on pins and needles, and you can’t help the lightheaded feeling that comes over you as you watch him fume. His chest heaves with both the exertion from his performance and his building fury, which makes for a dangerous combination.

You realize too late that perhaps you didn’t think this through.

“Is it true?” Elvis growls, rounding on you. “Are you trying to leave?” The pain is palpable in his stormy eyes and is layered with indignation.

The words catch in your throat. You finally force yourself to nod, attempting to find your voice in the meantime.

“What the fuck, y/n? What the fuck do you think you’re doin’?” his voice raises, as he paces the room like a caged animal. His eyes are icy now, glaring at you in such a way that you feel it to your toes. His white suit clings to him with the moisture of his sweat, which gleams off his tan skin, distracting you.

You finally find your voice. “I’m leaving, Elvis. For my sake and for yours,” you breathe out. Your heart threatens to shatter at the words.

“The fuck you are,” he flips back at you.

“Excuse me?” you huff.

“You ain’t goin’ nowhere, honey,” he points at you sternly.

“That’s not up to you,” you sputter, blinking rapidly.

“The hell it ain’t,” he glares.

Elvis’ eyes flash and he advances towards you. Your heart thunders in your ears and you counter backwards until he has your back against the wall. He grabs your chin with his hand, his rings cutting into you.

“I thought I fucked some sense into you last night, but it seems I fucked it out of you instead,” he purrs dark and low, but it is laced with threat.

You hold back a groan at his words. The sound of his voice and the look on his gorgeous face as he rakes his eyes over you sends both dread and heat through you all at once. You should have known he’d put up a fight. This is why you’d wanted to leave right away. Resisting him feels insane and futile.  

“E, Red knows. He caught me coming out of your room this morning, and I just know he’s gonna make trouble,” you ramble out, trying to skirt around him. He boxes you in with his arms.

“Fuck Red. I’ll take care of him,” Elvis spits, eyes flashing but barely giving it a second thought because his sole focus is you. Then you see him eyeing his scarf around your neck. Wordlessly, slowly, he unties it, his calloused fingers brushing the skin of your neck and making you shiver. “Now tell me why you’re really leavin’, honey,” he commands, but the lilt in pitch betrays his sensitivity to those who know him well enough. And you do.

Oh, god, the way his smokey eyes bore into you, intoxicate you, has you frozen and your mouth dry. All the words you prepared to say are gone in an instant. You can’t tell him everything (you can’t), but his hurt and his need to dominate you because of it drives his actions, and you know he won’t stop until he gets what he wants.

“Hmm,” he shakes his head, a darkness overcoming him. “Guess I gotta find another way to get it out of you. Give me your hands,” he orders. You are caught in his gaze and feel powerless to deny him. Begrudgingly, you obey, holding out your hands.

You watch as he ties one end of the silky scarf to your left wrist. It’s tight, but not uncomfortable. Your brow furrows in confusion as he pulls your arms up, and it is then that you notice the bar, which must be used as a clothing rack, attached to the wall above your head.

Your eyes widen and your heart thunders in your chest. “Elvis, what’re you doing?” you squeak out as he wraps the scarf over the bar and attaches it tightly to your other wrist. Your arms are loose and your feet remain planted on the floor, as the bar is not that high up, but you are effectively trapped.

“Well, honey, you keep tryin’ to run away from me and I need answers,” he glowers, amusement playing under his anger.

“Goddammit, this isn’t funny, let me go!” you say shrilly, yanking your arms but only succeeding in making the scarf tighter around your wrists.

“No, you’re right, it ain’t funny at all. Were you just gonna steal away in the dead of night without talkin’ to me?” he asks, the hurt back in his voice.

“No, I…no, that’s not what I wanted…” But it is almost what you did, and he seems to know it.

His eyes flash with realization at your unspoken words, then narrow as he moves closer. You look away, shamed. He grabs your chin again, his rings cold against your skin, and forces you to look at him.

“You are all I’ve been able to concentrate on, ya know that? You’re all I fuckin’ think about. I want you. I want you to be with me. Be with me.” He says it like a pleading promise and a stark demand all at once.

Oh, Jesus, it makes you ache for him in every way. You can feel your resolve crumbling around you, all your reasons for leaving melting into a puddle at your feet.

“We can’t Elvis. We can’t keep doing this. I’m losing my mind,” you say but Elvis has his head buried in your neck now, his lips and tongue dragging across your skin and setting your entire body aflame. Resisting him is like resisting gravity—an impossible feat.

“Why would you do this to me, lil’ mama?” he whispers in your ear, his hand brushing away your hair so his breath tickles against you. The sensation immediately has your body at attention, like a switch has been flipped. Your nerves tingle, your nipples stand at attention with just the temptation of that raspy baritone.

Despite yourself, despite the angel on your shoulder screaming at you, once again, that this is a bad idea, your mouth pops open with a sigh. His other hand cups your cheek as his lips travel over your face, so close that those long, dark lashes brush against you in their wake. This sends another thrill of sensation through you.

It’s agonizing that you can’t touch him, which you know is exactly the point.

Elvis presses you against the wall, and his thumb is dragging slowly over your bottom lip. It takes everything you have to not disintegrate right there and then. The way he makes you feel—it’s like you have no sense of reality when around him like this. He is your drug of choice. And you keep coming back to him again and again.

“Tell me why you don’t want me,” he asks in a boyish whisper, his bedroom eyes deadly serious, filled with anger and hurt and need and lust. All for you. Only Elvis could look so entirely innocent and completely sinful all at once.

His words cut you, as you think he intended. You wish you could make him understand, but your breathing is fast, too fast. You are dizzy from the scent of him, all sweat and musk. He’s dripping with it. Your eyes roll back.

“Dammit, E, of course I want you,” you breathe, “but when we get caught, which we are seconds away from, I’m the one who’s life blows up. I’m the one who’ll have to face the consequences. It all comes back on me, and…I don’t have anything without Jack.” You can’t let yourself forget it.

The way Elvis looks at you now is fierce. He grabs both of your cheeks roughly, his hands like fire against them.

“Baby, you have me, you’ll always have me. You’re mine, and I’m yours, and I’ll take care of you, no matter what happens.”

The sentiment hits you sideways, flooring you. He’s staring at you so intensely you feel completely gone, weak. There is nothing else but him.

“Let me take care of you,” he breathes seductively, nuzzling your nose. “Let me be your everything.”

Oh, sweet lord…

“Elvis…” His name escapes you like a hushed prayer. You are defenseless against him, your heart fluttering like the wings of a hummingbird, stealing your breath away completely.

The temptation of what he is saying is so strong that you want to give in to him immediately. It’s almost everything you want to hear, which is the problem. You think he’ll say anything to get what he wants. You love him, but you know he’s a master at manipulation—it’s how he’s so damn good at his craft. It’s how he so effectively hypnotizes the masses. You think half the time he doesn’t even realize what’s he’s doing, but knowing him as you do, you know he is too shrewd for ignorance.

But part of you refuses to believe him, what he’s saying, even now. Part of you is still reeling from the pain and the fear of your recently uncovered memories. And the fact is, he is still hiding things from you, and you are still married to Jack.

Elvis bows his head, his soft lips now mere millimeters from yours, his hot breath mingling with the heat of your own. But he does not close the gap. He’s waiting, waiting for you to decide. He’s impatient, nearly shaking with anticipation.

You came here to end it, you did (didn’t I?), but he’s like the sun, pulling you into his orbit. Desperate, you find your voice, doing your best to be strong.

“Elvis, I am still married. You know as well as I do how complicated it is with Jack, and he’s not going to take kindly to this when he finds out. And he will. We both know he will. He’s your friend. You can’t have it both ways, and neither can I. But I can’t be near you without wanting you, so something’s gotta give. That’s why I have to go. That, and all the secrets, the lies…It’s tearing me apart inside,” you plead with him. And I know you’re keeping something from me, but those words don’t make it out of your mouth.

His brow furrows and you can practically see the wheels turning in his head. Then something significant shifts, that dark look clouding his eyes once more.

“Jack ain’t shit. Fuck him. And, baby, I’ll tear your marriage to shreds and throw it in the trash, just like that,” Elvis snarls, snapping his fingers in your face, his endless eyes burning into yours. His vehemence has you shaking, your eyes going big. “I don’t care what I have to do or who I have to pay off. I thought I told you, honey—I always get what I want, and I think I’ve made it quite fuckin’ clear who I want.”

Holy shit.

A shocked beat, your breath held in a pause before it quickens again. Elvis is choosing you over Jack. Elvis wants you to end your marriage for him (or more accurately, wants to end it for you). This means that he is much more serious about this, about you, than you thought. Your heart plummets into your stomach and warmth blossoms over your body. You are both elated and terrified by what he is asking of you. All words escape you.

“Still need a little more convincing, huh?” His lip curls into a smirk, sending a coil of desire into your belly. Pushing you up against the wall, he grinds his hips into you, your arms straining against their bonds. You know now that this is his way, his way of proving to you the truth of his words. A whimper escapes your lips, causing him to grin even more. He has you right where he wants you, which is infuriating and exhilarating.

Elvis gets close, his full lips so tantalizingly near that you can almost taste their pillowy sweetness, but he still does not kiss you, only tempts you as his breath blends with yours. As much as you want to, you do not submit, you do not close the gap, your stubbornness and lingering doubt dampening your near-consuming desire.

All your churning emotions of the past few days keep you silent. Confusion, fear, anger, shock, love—all of it only fuels your passion for him, a love so consuming it eats you alive. But you also don’t want him to have the satisfaction of you giving into him. He’s right: he does usually get what he wants, but that doesn’t mean you have to make it easy on him.

Elvis watches your reaction carefully as he yanks your dress up over your hips. Then he groans, a deep, carnal sound as he grinds into you once more, his arousal evident and the metal of his ornate belt biting against your pelvis. You bite your lip to keep from making the noises that threaten to escape you, but your breathing is starting to become even more labored. There is an element of calculated control in his flaming eyes, combined with power and need. He doesn’t let you look away.

Elvis grabs the back of one of your thighs, pulling it up to his hip, running his hand over your bare flesh from your knee up to your panties, his fingers dancing just under the elastic. You hold back the hiss that wants to escape you. God, you want to touch him, to claw at his bare chest, but the scarf holds you fast and you grip its strong silk for dear life.

When he lets go just long enough to pull the zipper of his fly, pulling out his cock, your eyes widen, then fall closed. You feel as he tugs your underwear to the side, his fingers swiping through your folds. You bite your lip at the feel of his fingers prodding at you so roughly. But with your churning emotions desperately trying to keep your desire at bay, you are not nearly wet enough to take him yet.

“Look at me,” he demands, and you do. You are powerless not to.

Reaching his hand up, he looks you right in the eye as he spits in it, then reaches down to cover his cock, lubricating it fully. You gulp. A shiver of anticipation races down your spine. Taking a long moment to gather more saliva, he spits in his hand again before snaking it between your thighs to smear your pussy with it, watching your reaction carefully. You can’t help but moan at the sensation of the warm slick.

True to his word, nothing stops him from taking what he wants as he brusquely lifts your legs around his waist and enters you with a quick, hard thrust and a deep grunt.

You gasp loudly at how Elvis fills you so completely, both with surprise and with pain of the pleasurable sort. You are so tight, too tight, and while your arousal pools, it has not yet coated your walls, making his saliva the only lubrication to ease the friction. You claw at the silk scarf, trying to push back against the wall in retreat, but he chases you, pausing for only a moment as you attempt to adjust to him. He starts rocking into you, but his thrusts are not gentle—they are powerful, claiming. You continue to hold back the noises that want to escape your mouth, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of hearing your pleasure.

“Why ya gotta be so fuckin’ stubborn, baby? You really makin’ me take you this damn hard to remind ya just who ya belong to?” he growls seductively into your ear as he drives into you harder. Your head falls back onto the wall and your eyes flutter. This shouldn’t be so satisfying, but you can’t deny how it makes you feel, how he makes you feel. Your arousal pools around him at his words, at his audacity, and it gives you away as he slides more easily in and out of you. Then that damn lip of his dares to curl up again into a knowing smile.

His baritone rumbles in your ear as he fucks you more vigorously, each thrust punctuating his words, as if driving them deeply into your body and mind. “I’m not lettin’ you outta my sight after this little stunt of yours, honey, not for one damn minute. In fact,” he chuckles darkly, “you’re going on stage with me for the rest of my shows, starting tonight. Your debut performance.”

You can’t hold back your choked gasp at that.

“You’re all mine now.” Elvis’ hand comes up and wraps around your throat, just tight enough to let you know he means it. “Now, be a good girl and say it for me.”

Your brain fights against him—possession is not love! Sex is not love! it screams at you—and you don’t want to give him this, but you know the truth of it: you are his. You’ve been his for a while now. And you relish in it. You want so desperately for it to be more than that, but you are too weary of denying yourself of the obvious.

“I’m…y-yours,” you gasp out. He fucks it out of you.

The corner of his mouth briefly lifts in satisfaction before returning to his relentless railing of you and his ongoing, heated diatribe: “You’ll stay in my room, my bed, and we’ll fuck whenever we damn please, honey. I don’t care who fuckin’ knows. Let Jack try and come for you…see what happens,” he threatens, grunting as his thrusts become more erratic.

You don’t even recognize the moan that comes from you at that. The fact that he will take Jack head on for you sends an inexplicable rush through your system. The coil in your belly tightens rapidly now, but Elvis is too far ahead of you, too consumed with his lust and his need to claim you as his own.

“Tell me you’ll stay,” he says in your ear. It comes out more needy, breathless, pleading, than you think he intended, which tugs at your heart, telling you what you need to know, at least for now.

You have no choice, not anymore. Neither your heart nor Elvis’ will allow it.

“I’ll stay,” you whisper, finally conceding.

“There’s my girl,” he groans, then plunges in so deep and fast that the wind is knocked out of you. You both cry out as he pulses again and again, filling and coating you with his need, his teeth digging into your shoulder as he climaxes.

You both gasp for breath, him from his release, you from the shock of his words as they settle within you. After a moment of recovery, he unceremoniously pulls out of you, sets you gently back on the ground, and unties your hands. Your legs feel wobbly and your hands tingle with a burning sensation, rubbed a little raw at the wrists. Elvis kisses each wrist softly, making that unrelieved coil in your belly cinch even tighter as he wraps the scarf around your neck. You wince at the pins and needles in your arms as you shake them to regain circulation.

You wait to see what he has in store for you next, but he just looks a little jaded, uncharacteristically making no effort to alleviate your need. He turns and walks all the way back into the bathroom, and you follow silently.

You look at him questioningly in the mirror as he cleans off, that coil in your belly poised and ready, but unfed. He’s never left you unsatisfied before. But you also don’t want to push him right now. Things still feel too tenuous.

He finally acknowledges you in the mirror, looking over your mussed and flustered state and immediately gleaning the reason for your hovering. “Honey…I’ll deal with you later,” Elvis tuts in a reprimanding tone, his left eyebrow raising, his blues still chilly towards you.

He’s being petty, but you suppose you deserve that to an extent. You resist the urge to pout, instead choosing to wrap your arms around his waist from behind, pressing against the sweaty heat of his back. You want him to forgive you, want to be in his warmth, want him to love you as you love him. But for now, you’ll accept the relief of not having to leave him.

Let me take care of you…Let me be your everything.

The memory of his words sends warmth radiating through your chest, even if he just said it to get you to stay. Even if he didn’t really mean it.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly. And you are.

Elvis doesn’t move for a moment, just letting you cling to him. Then he turns, bringing you close, and he finally kisses you, his pliant lips pressing hard and fierce and wanting against yours.

“Don’t ever try to leave me like that again, baby,” he says, pulling away, looking deeply into your eyes. He is trying, you think, to be as possessive and demanding as before, but the edge of his anger has been tempered, quelled, and has turned into something more imploring. Then, with that quintessentially Elvispuppy-dog look on his face, he blinks slowly and quietly adds, “I need you,” as though just realizing it himself.

And, with that, you realize for the first time that despite all your doubts, despite what he is hiding from you, despite every obstacle that wants to pile against you, the shitstorm that is coming is still going to hit hard, but it will hit you two together.

*

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[akookminsupporter]

JIMIN'S (REAL) FACE

Jimin, your son of a bitch. You did it and what a way to go.

For a couple of weeks now in my mind, there have been several opinions forming about Jimin and the direction of his career and why I believe he will achieve many things as a Solo artist. When Set Me Free pt.2 was released those ideas evolved, but the core of them remained the same. Jimin was destined for great things as a Solo artist.

A week ago when I decided to make a post where I would write all those thoughts I didn't think it would be like this one. I thought it would be a post where I would say a thousand things sometimes without saying anything at the end, but after listening to FACE, and after reading the lyrics, I decided to do this differently.

Art is a curious subject. Complicated in how simple it can be. Maybe that's why I've never been good at understanding much about it, but one thing I do like about art is that everyone can give different interpretations to a piece of art, sometimes the interpretation will even be different from the artist who created it.

In the last couple of days, I have read some interpretations of FACE and what it means. Many agree on some opinions and others do not. Today I want to give mine.

Jimin has already explained in several interviews what his album is about. His feelings during the pandemic and after the world opened up again. Based on that I came to personal conclusions from his journey in FACE. Maybe what I say is different from what you think, maybe what I say is different from what Jimin says, but as I said, that's the beauty of art and FACE is art.

I think Jimin said it in one of his interviews, FACE is chronologically ordered. Each song describes a moment of his struggle, of his feelings, of his being, so I will try to explain how I understood the story that Jimin told with his album.

SET ME FREE PT 2.

The first song we heard from the album was Set Me Free Pt.2. A song that I personally believe describes the culmination of Jimin's journey. Jimin told us beforehand that he IS free. That he no longer cares what others think of him. Jimin told us up front that the dark world we would find in FACE is no longer his present but his past. He wanted to assure us from the beginning that he was fine.

In the interview with Rolling Stone, Jimin said it. He has already overcome everything that FACE describes.

"I don't know how people are going to react to the music, but I actually was able to completely resolve and move on from all those feelings of being lost. I'm perfectly okay now."

So yes, Jimin is finally free but I'll talk more about that when I get to that point in the story or when I get to Track 5.

FACE-OFF.

Jimin said that the album represents his feelings during the pandemic and this song perfectly describes how he felt, but it also describes so much more. I made a post yesterday giving my opinion of what I think Face-Off means and I still stand by that opinion, but today I add another layer to it. That song also signifies the battle Jimin had with himself.

The pandemic, 2020 in particular was a time when we had too much time on our hands. Too much time with our thoughts and too much time connected with other people.

I do believe that it was during this time that Jimin really knew the intentions of some people close to him and the realisation of that hurt. You see, I think Jimin is one of those people who doesn't let everyone into his inner circle and when he does it is special. Jimin is a person who likes to give, acts of service are one of his love languages. And when you betray a person like Jimin, it hurts.

But now I also think the song is about himself. The battle against his inner self. The battle against his true self.

All that time we were confined to our homes, it forced many of us to think. To evaluate and re-evaluate who we are, who we were and who we want to be. I think that was the case with Jimin.  I think Jimin during that time finally had to face himself. His demons and his true self.

There has always been this "discussion" in the fandom about whether or not Jimin is LGTBI+, for some it's obvious, for others it's not. The problem with this debate is that many read the word LGTBI+ in relation to a man and immediately think of the word Gay, forgetting that a man can also be bisexual. Bisexual erasure is unfortunately very normal in the fandom and in society in general.

Jimin once talked about how he pretended for a long time to be something he wasn't. He pretended to be this strong man. He pretended to be this strong, masculine man that society and the industry expected him to be. That time he also said that he wasn't like that anymore, that he finally was who he was, but I don't think the fight ever stopped. At least not for a long time.

When you confront yourself you go through various states of emotions. Denial, anger, desolation, understanding and finally acceptance. I believe Face-off is at least the first two of these.

Remember the video I shared where someone explained the choreography of Like Crazy? I think Face-Off is the beginning of that, but rawer, angrier, more... lost.

If you notice, all the songs on the album don't have a conclusion or solution, except for the second to last track.

I think in Face-off the inner Jimin finally says everything he feels, finally vents his frustrations and complains to the outer Jimin that he gave him everything but still let him down. And the outer Jimin lets him, lets him get it all out, is finally willing to listen.

INTERLUDE: DIVE

Dive is literally a pause in the story. It's where Jimin took a step back and decided to think. He decided to maybe think about everything that happened in Face-off. It's interesting but not surprising that Jimin here used two of the places where he's perhaps happiest, the stage, talking to his fans and running. Remember all the times he's said he discovered that running was good for him?

LIKE CRAZY (MAIN TRACK)

And we get to the crux of the story.

I think Like Crazy is a conversation with himself. The whole album is a conversation with himself, that's why the use of autotune in some parts of the songs, by distorting the voice doesn't sound like Jimin because it's not, not the outer Jimin at least.

I think to really understand Like Crazy you have to see the video and the choreography as well. It's all connected, it's not a coincidence, Jimin doesn't work like that. It's important to understand that.

Like Crazy is Jimin's acceptance in a way that something has to change and it's at the same time a self-questioning of whether it's worth doing.

Same cliched story, just like on TV/It's getting more familiar/Did I come this far to find the me that you knew? /Yeah I know You know/I know

But despite that I think Jimin still struggles in a way, not to deny his inner self but to keep hiding it until he gets to the end of the song and realises he can't do it anymore.

This will break me/This is gonna break me/No don't you wake me/I wanna stay in this dream, don't save me/Don't you try to save me need a way we/I need a way we can dream on

In the end, all that's left is... understanding and acceptance and all the fears that come with that.

Alone again.../What's the point?

ALONE

The simplest way I could describe this song is catharsis. Alone is a catharsis of feelings. Of doubts. Of questions. Of self-recrimination. It's what comes after accepting the truth. It is the real confrontation with your actions. This song is Jimin saying out loud his fears. It is the acceptance out loud that he was living a lie. That's why I think the word lie was repeated several times because he kept trying to lie to himself, to say that everything was fine but no, it was a lie. He was lying to himself. Alone is a pretty deep song. She does not seek solutions and offers no consolation, on the contrary, she is perhaps the darkest state Jimin reached before finally being free.

SET ME FREE PT.2

Freedom. In Set Me Free Pt.2 Jimin finally gets rid of everything, mainly his fears. Here Jimin finally understood that he has the power and that's why it doesn't matter what anyone says. Jimin finally understood that he can be unstoppably him. As he wants. But Set Me Free Pt.2 is also a juxtaposition of the whole story. In Set Me Free Pt.2 Jimin presents himself as society and the industry thinks he should be, look. Masculine, strong, tough. The music of the song also sells that idea, but the lyrics do not.

I think the lyrics, the choreography and the set design of the MV plus Jimin's outfit are a major fuck you to those standards. It's like Jimin is defying everyone. Challenging everyone's opinions about him. About who he really is.

Set Me Free Pt.2 is Jimin basically saying I can play the game too but in my own way. In this song, Jimin understood that he controls the narrative.

Personally, I think Jimin's real freedom is that he understood that other people's opinions of him don't matter. Jimin's real freedom came when he finally decided to take the power away from his fears and his detractors. I think that's why Jimin demands to be set free because they no longer have anything they can use to keep him locked up.

At the end of the MV we see a Jimin dressed in white. With a soft and determined expression. Soft Jimin we could say. In the end, we saw the other part of Jimin. In the end, he basically said: I can be both.

In the end, Jimin understood that he can be whoever he wants to be and that people can interpret him however they want, he doesn't care anymore.

LETTER (Hidden Track)

This song has the fandom debating. Is it for the fans? For the other members? For Jungkook? What if the song is for all of them?

Letter the sunset after the storm. The lyrics of the song are the reflections you write on paper of everything you experienced after so much darkness. Letter is a warm embrace. A sincere thank you. Letter is literally a promise that now he will take care of you.

But the question that surrounds this song the most is, why Jungkook? And the answer I think is simple. Because it has always been him.

Jimin and Jungkook have a particular relationship. Different. Intimate. I don't know what label it has, but it's special. Jungkook is the person Jimin is always looking for. He's the one he laughs with, the one he has inside jokes with. The one he cries with, the one he gets drunk with, the one he practices with, the one he's happy with. Jimin has always been there for Jungkook and Jungkook has always been there for Jimin so what better person to share that promise with than him? what better person to share his new journey with than Jungkook?

FACE is an amazing album, Jimin not only showed who he is as an artist but also who he is as a person.

Jimin confirmed with this album that he really gets what he wants. That quiet work well done gives great rewards. I will never be able to express how proud and grateful I am to Jimin.

This post ended up being longer than I thought it would be. I don't know if I managed to say everything I wanted to say in it. I don't know if what I said is well said.

If you made it this far, you may have disagreed with me and that's fine, as I said at the beginning, that's the beauty of art. One piece can have multiple interpretations.

[just-1other-nerd]

Good Omens live blog ep. 12

Once again, did not totally forget this one in my drafts, I don't know why you're saying that...

He doesn't have real candles anymore, after the incident

How did he know from which class Muriel was?

I like the way he contrasts heaven so much, it just looks so weirdly pretty. Also, he's just got the gayest walk

Oh no, not the angel outfit

Maggie, love, now is the wrong time to awake your inner badass. Aaand just minutes later we've got an I told you so situation

The circle is such a nice callback and clever as well

The Muriel Crowley combo is one of the best things in this season

Crowley was high up in the heavenly ranking? I just know that there will be so many fan theories

Gabriel, or shall I say Jim, is just enjoying the chaos

Did Gabriel just say "Nah", like for real? He's such a bitch

Why is Saraqael so chill right now?

I'll do myself one better: Why was Gabriel so chill about going to hell? Very sus

So that was the institutional problem, a bit unspectacular if you ask me

Not the BOOKS!!! As a fellow bookseller, this season really hurts me as much as the last one. Why do they keep doing this?

So halos are weapons? Cool. Idk how to explain it, but he throws it in such a gay way. Are they dead? Discorporated? Unconscious?

Love how Crowley just keeps giving orders, and they just follow them like he isn't a demon

So we got the high-ranking angels there, Lord Beelzebub and this seemingly high-ranking demon, but wtf is Furfur doing there?

Crowley just keeps insisting that there is no war and weirdly everyone listens?!

Saraqael has got the sass

I knew something was up with the fly! But I thought it was a false lead or to spy on them, not a container of Gabriel's memories!

Beelzebub is strangely nice and gentle

INEFFABLE BUREAUCRACY IS CANON?! I thought of this more as a fun crackship, and I thought it was so silly that this would never become canon, so I didn't expect the fly to be connected to Beelzebub in a good way.

When he shows them the statue, they just make an "okay weird" face and move on, I think that's hilarious

How his love for Beelzebub not only makes him do a miracle but also appreciate earthly things

But that montage convinced me that they deserve a happy ending somewhere where they can't hurt anyone. The way they look at each other. Damn Beelzebub has a pretty smile

Today everyone seems to forget Saraqael's name

Crowley's got such a fun dynamic with so many people

Oh, that one guy is still alive

Maggie makes some moves, you go girl!

The way Crowley proudly watches when Aziraphale becomes bossy

Alpha Centauri is back, I can't cope!!!

They're singing their song, that's so cute

Shax and Furfur being besties, like slay

Is that the Metatron? What is he doing here? I sense something bad coming

The way Crowley recognises him before everyone else is so funny

The Ritz, oh my God, the Ritz! And alone time?! Like a date?!

Crowley is putting everything back to where it was, that's husband behaviour

Nina and Maggie speaking the truth! And Nina called her angel! Best advice, 10/10. Is this really happening? Will the ineffable husbands really become canon? So excited!

The romantic music from the Blitz!

No, Aziraphale, don't interrupt him now!

Please, don't let that go to where I think it's going!

FUCK IT IS!!!

Aziraphale, I know you really believe what you're saying, but I'm with Crowley on this one!

We get a love confession anyways? I think I might be dying. The way he looks up trying not to cry, like same.

So many daggers are being put directly into my heart right now!

The sunglasses, NOOOOOO!

He really does understand it better than you, but he needs to explain it! There is so much more to say!

No nightingales. Really?! Neil knows the fandom to well, he knows exactly where to hit us, so that it really hurts. I love and despise him for this

Oh my God, it's happening, everybody stay calm, stay fucking calm! They really just kissed! It's canon y'all! But also: not like this! NOT THIS DESPERATELY AND NOT THIS DEVASTATINGLY! I'M IN AGONY!

Not the "I forgive you"! Aziraphale, you idiot, I can't even express why that line and Crowley's answer are so damn emotional and full of meaning. The parallels! I can't cope! I literally rolled off the couch, and now I'm lying on the carpet crying!

Not the lip touch!

I don't think Muriel will do any harm to the shop, but they'll probably make lots of mistakes...

He doesn't take anything with him because Crowley was the only thing that really mattered!

Crowley judgingly and sadly looking at Aziraphale and the Metatron makes the pieces of my heart break again! And the dramatic strings in the background aren't helping!

The second coming?! We're in for a wild ride in season 3, not only emotionally and characterwise but also plotwise! I literally can't wait!

I can't help but hope that he won't step into this elevator until the last second, but somewhere inside me, I know that he just isn't there yet in his character development

Crowley looks so heartbroken, he finally sees their relationship for what it is and now he's lost it! He's shutting down the nightinggales song and drives away expressionless

WHAT KIND OF AN ENDING IS THIS?! WHAT THE FUCK, NEIL, WHAT THE FUCK! HOW CAN YOU DO THIS TO US! ONLY SEASON 3 MIGHT BE ABLE TO HEAL US, BUT IT'LL TAKE FOREVER TIL IT'S OUT!

Loved this season, but damn do I feel an emotional overload and I have a love/hate relationship with that ending because as an aspiring writer, I would have done the same, it's brilliant, but it hurts so much!

[sorcerous-caress]

Ok ok ok I'm very new to the human kink thing but I'm wondering if there's some kind of planar effect associated with it??? Like I can just imagine the idea of star elves and other eldarin who come from the feywild and spent their whole lives being so immersed in magic that if they ever encounter a non-spellcaster human for the first time it's just like wow. this mf has zero magic about them. I wonder if it's a strange sensation, like noise cancelling headphones, and that lack of magical energy might feel relieving or sexual for them. Idk if it's exactly dnd canon but I've always imagined magic aligned entities to be able to sense magic like a buzzing in the air, so a lack of that buzzing would be entirely wild for them. Either way, magical radio silence = sexual exploration for eldarin and I fully support it

(also I love love loveeeee your work and your dnd theories and fun inquiries have led me to learn so much more cool lore and it's shaped some of my interspecies interactions in-game as a DM so tysm for everything you do 💜💜)

Wait really? I inspired some of your moments as a dm? Omfg please tell me I'd love to listen if you're willing to share <33. Thank you so much for the praise!

Also I love your theory! I hold similar ideas, that concept is too cool to pass on.

I've seen one similar to its concept in a game called "Echos of the Fey"

So elves in this game, average elves not just eladrin, are all born with magic. Because all magic comes from the fey and all elves share a connection to it.

Humans can learn magic too by using the hammer method and seeing what sticks on the wall, but they can never connect to the fey.

And the fey is exactly like you described. It allows to elves to effortlessly connect to each other, feel and sense each other's presence before seeing each other. It allows parents to feel when their children die and allows lovers to sense when their elf partner is in danger.

Elves can share their emotions through the fey too, they don't need to use words or explain things. They can let the other person feel exactly what they're feeling.

It was described as a constant song, a different melody from each elf in the sanctuary they all lived in. Going on at all times. And sure one elf can supress their own song but they can't stop hearing others'.

You can also speak words into the other person's mind using the fey. If they give you permission to dive deeper into their soul, you can even tell if they're lying about something or being honest.

But again, all of this only applies if the two people are elves. Even sorcerer humans wouldn't be able to feel it or connect to the fey.

It's also why elves seem cold or detached to humans, they are so used to the fey and the immediate connection and trust it gives them in other elves, that they don't bother to learn how to properly express their emotions with words or facial expressions. As a society, their inner personal relationships are always reliant on the fey.

In that game, one elf does move to a human settlement and he describes it as radio silence. That sometimes when he's around so many elves, he wonders if his ideas are truly his own or simply from other elves through the fey.

That being near humans gives him more individuality, forces him to work hard to establish trust with someone rather then immediately earn it. To learn to express his emotions rather than assume the other person can feel them.

It is radio silence. There is no music except for the ones humans deliberately play with their instruments. Even then, anyone can misinterpret its meaning with no definitive answer.

In that game, there are no other races besides humans and elves. And no sub-races for elves, they're all high elves.

But that theory still holds up if we integrate it to dnd! With some adjustments. It explains why elves are so reclusive, why they prefer the company of other elves over other races, and why two elf strangers seem to almost click immediately.

The fey is a constant overstimulatation, like getting constant ads in a video. Some elves learn to tone it out while others are so fed up with it that they'd rather lose their own magic than stay connected to it.

Which is why those ones would move to human cities, would prefer the company of humans and find joy at how expressive they are, at the long trials each friendship has in order to earn their trust.

For once their mind is clear, no meddling fey making them feel other's emotions or hear their thoughts. Only their own thoughts in their brain, everything they feel is truly their own.

Except when another elf is nearby.

But again, each elf can choose to suppress their own presence in they fey, just not others'. So, I like to think that elves in human cities came to a collective agreement to supress their own presence in the fey to not bother each other, also to not make the humans feel left out.

Anyway, exposition over, time to talk about the actual kink.

So remember that dog drawing contest meme? This one?

Where, yes, the second drawing was so beautiful and amazing, but the first place one held an undeniable charm to it.

I think that's how eladrins and star elves view humans.

Ofwjofwjofjwks now hear me out!

They're so used to everyone around them brimming with magic, for other fey creatures' appearance to change drastically through the season, wearing the ocean waves aa a dress or growing a cherry blossom tree as hair.

Imagine a human in comparison, how simple and plain we would be, how utterly new and adorable in their views.

Simplicity has its merits, if done right then it can be as beautiful as complexity if not more.

A human, devoid of any magic and only wearing their own body and clothes as decoration, would be beyond this world for elves and eladrins, literally.

There is another game i played that had human wizards talking about the fey world and the dangers of it, i don't remember its name.

But the main reason why humans were told to avoid the fey world and never go there, is because their souls shine bright like a beacon amidst it.

Every person and creature in the fey world knows magic beyond our comprehension, and all of them know how to hide their souls and lock it. Like installing anitmalware and a firewall on a computer with proxy to prevent tracking.

Humans are the boomers who uninstall system 32.

Our souls are just up for grabs, literally on a silver plate for any fey who comes waltzing in and tricks us into some verbal contract. We have no magic to detect them or to prevent them.

Humans don't last in the fey realm, everyone wants them. Even the most talented wizards who live there, never stay for long or always take a break every now and then.

You are literally the lighthouse, siren and mist amidst the fey sea.

To an elf who is tried of the magical noise, you're like a comfort blanket. Warm and makes them ignore the world outside.

They're beyond infatuated with how much you steal all of their brain's attention, focus all of their scattered thoughts on you or the simplest of things.

How you express your joy with laughter, how you spent time cooking a meal, how tears collect down your face when you cry, how you tap your feet or click your tongue.

Primal life in its purest forms, the most bare form a soul could ever take.

You're the most simple shape, and for that, you are loved, adored for how much you hold. How easily you adapt, a white light containing a rainbow inside.

Humans fit anywhere and everywhere, even in places they're not supposed to. They still tried and will keep trying forever, that's why they keep stepping to the fey realm and keep attempting on befriending the elves or building houses there.

It's hard not to be blinded by their light, let it outshine everything else around them.

In a sexual context, I think elves and eladrins would be so used to magical sex or soul connections that with a human they get to experience having their soul grounded into earth.

The simplest touch of fingertips trailing up their skin, the silence except for the occasional gasps and groans of the human. For the first time their own moans are so clear to their pointy ears, they're forced to drown into their own emotions and melt into the bed.

And the humans seduction and pleasure somehow clicks with every single race, somehow surpasses so many cultural barriers. Experiencing pure pleasure with all the small awkwardness and discomforts, being acutely aware of the pillow under their head or the drumming of their heartbeat.

It's how humans don't need magic to thrive, have fun or give pleasure. How these things are second nature to them, you could strip them of all of their fancy science and magic and even then they'll still find a new way to climb up.

That's the human condition That's the human spirit, to care in the face of uncaring world. To love despite your own limitations, to be kind to something you can never understand.

Every wizard who has ever lived in the fey realm speaks of it fondly, like an old friend. Despite the countless attempts on their life, despite the times they almost lost their mind. Humans see beauty in everything, dangerous or soft.

And they infect others with their softness, make the elves and eladrins addicted to their comfortable silence. So much that they wonder how did they ever live before in the constant noise and buzzing.

Humans are like a vacation you go to when the polluted cities start to drain your soul, they're the fresh water running rivers through the dandelions filled fields.

And so many long to live there, to abandon their apartments and start over there. But they're afraid to steal the humans' light from them, to infect them with their magic and poison the waters.

So only a few go down there at a time, for a vacation length to an eladrin is akin to a lifetime to a human.

[carnelianwings]

Went and saw Gundam Seed Freedom in theatre last night, I have so many thoughts about it (as you'd expect for a long time fan - I've been waiting for this movie ever since they announced it), there will be spoilers behind the cut, but the spoiler free highlights:

This movie is everything I ever wanted out of a Gundam Seed movie - the characters, the mecha, the OST, the cast, everything. It is as much a continuation of Cosmic Era as it is a celebration of Cosmic Era at its best, there's so much love put into this movie I can genuinely say I enjoyed every minute of it from the beginning to the end. My one and only nitpick is that they recasted Cagalli, but Mori Nanako does a fantastic job, so much so I don't have anything negative to say about her performance. (More on this behind the cut below, as I will delve into spoilers.)

Story pacing was actually really good here, in that there's no true retread/recap of both Seed and Seed Destiny. The movie assumes you've seen both, and while you could arguably get away with a cliff's notes version of Seed Destiny (even I know how much of a Base Breaker it is from watching it as it aired in Japan), if you sat through it you're rewarded between the shout outs and extra emotional impact from some of the scenes. There's a few brief clips of flashbacks to the prior series, but to me they feel like they're providing context (as you don't get to hear the characters' inner thoughts the same way you would out of a manga or a novel of the same story).

The animation just looked so good on the big screen, even the CGI used for the Gundams (like they've been doing in the newer Gundam series) looked fantastic. So smooth, no stock footage, you can tell where they made obvious homage shots to the original, but they're clearly redone for the movie. It was a feast for the eyes, in more ways than one.

The OST is fantastic, the way Sahashi wove the various melodies from songs past and present were a delight to the ears. I particularly love how he kept using various melody lines from Shizuka na Yoru ni as a way to musically reflect Lacus's journey and arc through the movie - just a line or two of the main melody, sometimes shifted into minor key, sometimes intertwined with another character's theme (usually whoever she's interacting with at that moment). There's also some glorious reprisals from both Seed and Seed Destiny, all rearranged to give it a grander, more spectacular sound to match the on-screen spectacle. Definitely one of Sahashi's best works, and I'm really happy they brought him back for it. Also, if at all possible - don't listen to the OST before seeing the movie. It will spoil key moments for the final battle, especially if you know which themes are used where.

Now, onto spoiler territory.

First and foremost, I really feel like Seed Freedom manages to redeem Seed Destiny as a whole. My biggest complaint in Seed Destiny is and always has been that Shinn's redemption happens in 5 minutes in an epilogue that was added on in an extended cut - I loved the idea and potential of Shinn as something of a Villain Protagonist early on, and even as we watched him spiral further and further into his grief and anger throughout Seed Destiny, the fact we never got to see what redemption and atonement meant for him was something of a sore point. One of the things I love is a good redemption arc, where the character learns from mistakes they made and improves themselves as a person, as an individual, and we finally get to see that here in Seed Freedom.

Shinn finally gets to do what he really wanted to when he enrolled into the academy, and under Kira's command he shines. For a character that was so heavily defined by his grief and anger for 50 episodes, he's done a 180 here, putting in the work and effort to turn his life around - we get more scenes of him smiling and eagerly working to help Kira as part of the team in COMPASS than angrily scowling or yelling at someone. He's finally found someone he can look up to and work towards being; it's clear he looks up to Kira as something of a role model, both as a goal and commanding officer, and has been rewarded accordingly as the pilot of the Immortal Justice. He's a lot calmer now, long gone are his days fighting for glory on the battlefield, he puts a priority on COMPASS's main mission of intervention and protecting civilians (so much so he'll voluntarily use Immortal Justice's shield to protect them over keeping it to defend himself). But it's not to say his past is completely forgotten or even retconned away - he gets called the Freedom Killer multiple times here (largely as a way to get at Kira too) and while Shinn never denies having been that person, his reaction shows he treats it as Old Shame, something he did but is no longer proud of.

And the true pay off to his arc comes in the end, when he gets reunited with the Destiny thanks to Cagalli upgrading it to the Spec II in the final stretch of the movie. He greets it like someone would greet an old friend, proudly and triumphantly launching this time to the fanfare of Seed Destiny's next episode preview bgm - it's hands down Shinn at his most heroic, and it's a moment he's earned. He's finally become the person he wanted to be at the beginning of Seed Destiny, before he let his grief and anger cloud his mind, before he was manipulated by Durandal. And in the end, his journey through the darkness that was his time under Durandal's command become his strength, granting him a spectacular flawless victory over the Black Knights achieved through his own skills - Stella protects him from the Black Knights' Mind Control, and his instinctual berserker Seed Mode keeps them from reading his mind to predict his moves. It's after all the trials and pain he went through that he comes out at his absolute best, and the Seed Freedom version of Shinn is hands down the best version of him.

Character development aside, it's genuinely heartwarming to see a character that was so narrowly defined by his grief and anger to be the one who brings a lot of the light and levity in what's otherwise a fairly heavy movie. Seeing him as a Big Eater during the ball at Foundation, his entire reunion with Lunamaria after she thought he'd been KIA'ed in the joint operation on the Blue Cosmos base, him getting hit by both Kira and Athrun during their brawl (with neither of them noticing ^^;;) - he's come so far since his Seed Destiny days he's (and I can't believe I'm actually saying this) one of the major highlights of the movie. And then there's his smile at the end when Kira finally relies on him and his cheerful response.

And of course, I can't talk about Shinn without mentioning Lunamaria - they've both come a long way from their days at the ZAFT military academy (if you go off the prequel novel Moonlight Valkyrie) and even from their time on board the Minerva. You can tell there's genuine love and affection between them, mutually supporting each other both on and off the battlefield, between them sharing a room onboard the Millennium and the energy transfer moment between the Impulse and Destiny. There's even a clear moment of redemption for Lunamaria's shooting skills when she shoots down a tactical nuke in her Gelgoog. And while she's definitely not one of the main focus characters in the movie, she still gets her moment of triumph, launching in the Impulse once more after Shinn's Destiny. Even though she's relegated to the Designated Chick Fight, it's a moment of personal triumph for her - she's grown as a person since her academy days, her time on the Minerva and with Shinn and Rey has changed her, and she's a better person for it. Even her time pursuing Athrun (even though he doesn't return her affection at all) comes back as a Meaningful Echo in how she ultimately deals with Agnes. Instead of choosing to kill Agnes in her GYAN, Lunamaria does something of a "pay it forward", disabling the GYAN and returning to pick her up from the moon after the fighting is over. Like Shinn, it's clear Lunamaria's in a better place than she was during the finale of Seed Destiny, and she also gets to join in on some of the lighter moments of the movie next to Shinn.

Onto Kira (because I'm saving my favorites for last), who is most definitely the main focus of the movie, along with Lacus and his relationship with her. Is his story arc a rehash of Seed? In many ways yes, and in so many ways, no. On a surface level, sure - we once again have Kira trying to shoulder the entire burden of the team on himself, of trying to do everything without relying on anyone else, of pushing himself to his limits, and as icing on the retread cake, we're even treated to a CV Kuwashima Houko girl (Agnes) trying to get his attention and affections. And that's about where it ends, because Agnes' motivations are vastly different from Flay's, Kira's circumstances this time around are entirely different from when he was in Seed - this is more about Kira realizing he really doesn't have to shoulder everything by himself, that even if Lacus is a non-combatant, she's there to walk next to him side by side, that Lacus's love for him is completely different from Flay's (initial) love for him. For Kira, it's The Power of Love while also echoing Seed's earlier themes of how easy it is to fall into old habits and make the same mistakes again. It's about Kira finally breaking past his remaining trauma with his relationship with Flay - he finally realizes that Lacus wants to be with him for him, that she never expected him to hand her everything she wanted on a silver platter, that she's willing and ready to work and walk with him to their final goal and destination, wherever that may take them. His relationship with Lacus was never a transactional one like it was with Flay - even if Flay genuinely grew to love Kira in the end, her true feelings for him never managed to reach him before she dies. And in the end, once he realizes what he has with Lacus, once he gets a chance to talk to her and clear the air, he's rewarded with a shiny new upgrade to the Strike Freedom, Lacus voluntarily joining him in the battlefield, and of course, that ending on the beach.

As for the whole "Is Kira Yamato a failure because he was a failed Accord or just Orphee insisting that he is superior to even Coordinators as an Accord" debate, ultimately it doesn't matter (at least in terms of Kira's arc - on a meta level, yes I absolutely want to know lol). He's got the one thing Orphee will never have (Lacus's love) and with that behind him he can overcome anything.

Honestly, if this is where we end Kira's story, where he gets to go off into the sunset with Lacus, to live quietly in the middle of nowhere (or even return to Marshall Islands to stay with Reverend Malchio) where he doesn't have to fight anymore, where he can just spend his days with Lacus until there's some world-ending reason to step back into the cockpit, I'm good with that. Kira never wanted to be a mobile suit pilot to begin with, he only ever did it to defend the people he cares about, and if this is where we part ways with him, because in learning to rely on other people, he also realizes he can hand things off to Cagalli, Athrun, and Shinn (and by extension, Lunamaria), I'm good with that. (I'll get to Cagalli and Athrun after Lacus, I want to save my favorites for last lol)

Lacus always came off as a little too perfect, a little too good with her words, and with a Seed Mode that ... didn't activate like your traditional Seed Mode (for one thing, she never gets the Seed burst animation on screen when she goes into it; she almost always monologues her way in). And I have to say it was satisfying to see that crack some more this time around, where her decisions are a bit more questionable, where she's finally having to deal with some of the consequences of her actions (and by extension Kira's as he answers to her and only her within COMPASS). But ultimately in the end, she's still the same Lacus as ever - Silk Hiding (nerves of) Steel, steadfast in her love and support for Kira, something that nothing can change, not even meeting her genetically destined partner in Orphee. And yes, while even she gets in on the action this time, quite literally delivering the Proud Defender to Strike Freedom to upgrade it into the Mighty Strike Freedom, I don't really have much to say about her.

I will say this though (because it gets very indirectly touched on by Athrun) - if Lacus hadn't fallen in love with Kira, and had continued with her engagement to Athrun as set up by their parents, would she have gone with Orphee? Would that alone have changed events enough so that Athrun might've been conveniently KIA'ed so Orphee would've been able to sweep in?

Now, onto my personal favorites (and complete show stealers this time around): Athrun and Cagalli.

Where do I even begin? Athrun being a Big Damn Hero for Kira not once, but twice? Cagalli taking over Lacus's role for being Crazy Prepared, Bearer of (Gundam) Gifts this time around?? The complete insanity that is the Z'Gok hiding the Infinite Justice Type II??? The (remote) Battle Couple fight????

Cagalli's just pure Crazy Prepared this time. She's learned from the painful lessons of the past 4 years, ensuring there's a plan in place to get her people to safety, immediately issuing evacuation orders for the civilians to avoid direct orbital laser bombardment from Requiem. She's made peace with the fact that sometimes, you really do just need to hop into a Gundam to get shit done, so she's seen to it that the Gundams for the top COMPASS pilots are available should they ever need it. She's the one who came up with COMPASS in the first place, providing some much-needed legitimacy for what Kira and Lacus want to do. She's also very clearly been training with Athrun for mobile suit training - where she once Could Not Keep Up, she's able to seamlessly pilot the Infinite Justice Mark II remotely, a less advanced unit than Shura's Shi-ve.A, without Shura ever realizing it was someone else piloting it. She's back as the Goddess of Victory, now older and wiser and all the better for it.

For all that she hardly showed up on screen, her presence was felt everywhere, most especially whenever Athrun's on screen. Really, I wouldn't even be surprised if the next time we see Orb get threatened by Orbital (Laser) Bombardment, she tells her people to get inside to safety before turning on a shield to protect the cities and then taking the field again.

And as for Athrun - it makes sense he didn't join COMPASS, even though the fact he has a custom COMPASS pilot suit and the Immortal Justice was clearly designed with him in mind. He's found his place in Orb, staying by Cagalli's side as her personal knight. He's even got his own custom suit with the Z'Gok-hiding-the-Infinite-Justice-Mark-II - he's got everything he could ask for while still being able to do his part to maintain peace. And in a double redemption moment - Athrun's the first one to throw the punch this time when Kira starts wallowing in his self doubt and lets his insecurities get the better of him, repaying the favor Kira did back in Seed Destiny when he, well, Saviour'ed the Saviour. Athrun's the one to remind Kira that as a close friend of Lacus's that her actions this time don't sound like the Lacus that he knows, and this time (unlike when he did something similar with Shinn) it works and gets Kira back on track. Poor Shinn - he thinks Athrun's about to do the same thing to Kira that Athrun did to him during his time on the Minerva, but while Shinn's not entirely wrong, he's also misreading the room a bit, not realizing this is a "They're really good friends, and sometimes they just gotta throw some punches to work shit out" moment.

Because in overcoming everything that happened in Seed Destiny, Athrun and Cagalli have finally grown into the people they both want to be. They've found their way, fighting for what they both believe in. Their time apart in Seed Destiny forced them both grow as individuals, so that when we get to see them working together again it's in perfect sync. In so many ways, Athrun and Cagalli (and not Kira and Lacus) are the ideal the Cosmic Era wants to push - two people working together side by side, regardless of genetics, as partners and equals. The dream of Coordinators and Naturals, living and working side by side in harmony - that's them. And ultimately, it is what they do that brings the heroes victory and lets everyone fly off into the (metaphorical) sunset together. They played the long gambit - creating COMPASS (giving Shinn and Lunamaria a means to atone for the things they did, giving Lacus and Kira a legitimate way to stop skirmishes), upgrading the Gundams, being there for their friends and allies when they needed it (Athrun literally knocking sense back into Kira, Cagalli coming in with the equipment upgrades) - all while keeping their priorities in order (first the civilians, then reequipping allies, and then finally going into combat together to take down Shura), and it all pays off in the end.

Really, is it any wonder, then, when Shura tries to read Athrun's mind in the final battle he's just thinking of hot (naked) Cagalli?

[kaifish-pond-afterdark]

Rodrick x Plus Size Black Reader Ficlet

I Love My Hair & Body

Rodrick x Plus Size Black Fem Reader

Spicy Level: 🌶️🌶️/🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️

I look at myself in the mirror, turning to view my booty. It’s so cute! Not super big, really just a little less than average, not exactly flat, but not super juicy either. It’s firm. I like it tho, I like my pudgy tummy too, my adorable apron belly that covers the top of my vulva. My brown vulva is darker than my belly, my inner thighs are too. I have a lot of hyperpigmentation. My skin has a lot of texture, I stare at it in the mirror, a smile breaks out and I double finger gun myself. 

“Lookin good!” I say, turning around to press my chest together, saggy, scabby, acne-scarred. Uniquely human. I think to myself. I catch Rodrick looking at me, a smile on his own face. He’s beaming, he comes up behind me and kisses my neck.

“You are lookin good Babe.” He wraps his arms tightly around me, pulling my naked body against his clothed one. It’s taken years to get to this point, I’m aware of how many people don’t love their bodies. Some days I still struggle, but I know my body is sexy. My body is for me, and because of that, it only matters how I feel about it. I look at our bodies in the mirror. We look so adorable, so beautiful, such a perfect couple.

Rodrick spins me around to kiss me on the mouth, “I love you.” He says my name and I feel myself melt into him. He pulls away, and I start getting dressed, I put on a pair of pink boyshorts and one of Rodrick’s band tees. He doesn’t hang out with Loded Diper much anymore, and I’m a bit sad about that. I liked his band, but Rodrick works a lot now, and doesn’t have much free time. The free time he does have he spends with me; taking me to dinner, or walking around the park. 

Rodrick pats between his legs on the bed, my hair styling tools in his hand and next to him, “C’mere babe and let me do your hair.” Rodrick had spent hours a day when we first got together learning how to style 4c hair. Now he’s my main stylist when I can’t get to the salon. 

I hum happily as he works through my fro, “Did you grab the crochet hair I bought the other day?” I ask, moaning as he massages my scalp with oil. He holds the package in front of my face.

“Sure did.” 

We spend the better part of the day doing my hair, Rodrick giving me plenty of breaks and ordering me food when I get hungry. 

As I’m eating, I feed him a fry every so often, his skilled hands move effortlessly through my head, we both belt out lyrics from his band, giggling and reminiscing. 

“Thank you for spending my day off with me.” Rodrick says kissing the top of my head. 

“Anytime!” I get up and look in the mirror, my locs look beautiful, never mind the slight discomfort. 

We spend the rest of the day watching tv, listening to music and dancing around. 

As the day draws to a close I change into pjs, watching Rodrick do the same with hungry eyes. He crawls into bed, and kisses me gently. We makeout for a while, getting handsy. I’m hairy, not that anyone minds.

Sleep comes easy, intertwined in each other’s arms, the night is quiet and calm. 

All is well.