#i dont think she calls him a masochist until like

[randomositycat]

Men who lie <333

[scaredpigeons]

More than some stress relief

Blade x Stelle NSFW 18+ MDNI

CW: Stelle asks Blade to spar with her, and unfortunately that results in some unresolved sexual frustration, because c’mon, he’s still a whole ass man. Luckily, mama Kafka steps in to lend a helping hand. (Not her literal hand, she just buys the toy lol) phone sex, mutual masturbation? The fleshlight blade uses is connected to Stelle through the (magical) necklace that was part of the set. (Magical) creampie.

WARNING: Blade is very violent in his descriptions of how he threatens to bone Stelle. If you’re uncomfortable with him saying things along the lines of: —until the carnage is unrecognizable, —until you’re nothing but hot pulp running through my fingers (just to paraphrase loool) please do not read this. Blade is a very broken man, I was really trying to play off his more violent tendencies with this one. Stelle is so fuckin down bad tho (relatable)

If you are 18+, comfortable with some gory descriptors, and willing to read, please continue! Enjoy.

——————————

🐺👾: you want to…. Spar with blade? Are you a masochist or something? Should I be concerned? 

🦝🗑️: shut up 

🦝🗑️: I have this crazy lance and I don’t really want to hurt anyone by practicing with it 

🦝🗑️: I know he’s got that healing thing going on 

🐺👾: 👀 …. 

🐺👾: I’m telling him you called it that 

🦝🗑️: DONT U DARE 

🦝🗑️: JUST PLEASE ASK THE MAN IF HE CAN SPAR WITH ME WITHOUT KILLING ME 

🦝🗑️: AND DON'T TELL HIM IT'S ONLY BECAUSE HES WEIRDLY INDESTRUCTIBLE 

🦝🗑️: I don’t wanna like, offend him or anything. Obvi I don’t want him to get hurt, but like, the off chance I slip up with this thing… he isn’t gonna get murked. You know? 

🐺👾: okay okay I get it, I’ll ask 

🦝🗑️: 😩🩶🩶💯🔥

🐺👾: he agreed. Here’s the coordinates. Have fun, don’t die. 

————

“Thank you for agreeing to this, I really appreciate it!” 

The man in front of Stelle says nothing, only stares as the winds coming off the water pick up loose strands of his hair, making the inky strands flow behind him. 

“You… remember me, right?” Stelle tentatively asks. 

Still nothing. 

“It’s okay if you don’t, we don’t even have to go through with this, I just thought you would be the best person for what I’m—“ 

“I remember you, Trailblazer. My mind is not so far eroded that I’d forget you so easily.” 

His voice is dark, just as raspy as she remembers it. She has to clench her teeth to suppress a shudder. If March could hear her thoughts, she’d blush and squeal, smacking her arm in scandal. If Dan Heng could hear her thoughts… he’d institutionalize her immediately. 

This man is dangerous. Incredibly dangerous. Stelle had to lie about where she was going just so no one would try to talk her out of it. 

Danger always pulled at something inside her though, that nasty, deranged thing inside her that craved violence and adrenaline. She figured it was a side effect of hosting a stellaron inside her body, but man— did this guy make her wish she could have something else inside her body too.

 *Wink wink*

Aeons. She’s such a fucking simp. If it wouldn’t make her look bat shit insane, she’d smack herself right now just to get her shit together. 

“Oh…” she said instead. “That’s good. I’m glad.”

An awkward pause lingered between them, and she found herself thinking that maybe she was standing a bit too close to him, despite there being at least two feet between them. 

“Are you… doing well? The last time I saw you, Kafka was… helping you feel better.” She said hesitantly. 

It could’ve been her imagination, but she swore that the furrow of his brow softened ever so slightly. 

“We’re not here to discuss such trivial matters.” His voice was harsh nonetheless. 

“Right, right.” Stelle said, scratching the back of her neck sheepishly. “So, how do we do this?” 

Blade summoned his sword, dragging his fingertips across the edge before spreading the tainted blood across the flat of it, causing the cracked blade to glow and radiate with unnatural power. 

“It is not your time or place to die here, so luckily for you, I will show restraint.” 

—————

Stelle could tell Blade was holding back, true to his word. 

Any flames she created were either quelled by his winds, or overfanned by his elemental power to the point that they grew too dangerous for the environment around them, or even Stelle herself. 

She found that with her control over the lance, she could call forth and dissipate her fires at will, so the damage to herself was minimal. 

She worried that if the flames grew too large, she’d lose control over them— but every time, she willed them away and they would flicker out, leaving charred shrubbery and stone in their wake. 

Didn’t mean they weren’t hot as shit though.  

The first time she’d used the lance, the freezing temperatures of Jarilo XI dulled just how hot her new weapon could become. 

But now, well she couldn’t tell if her sweat was from the flames or just how hard her opponent was pushing her. 

He was toying with her, clashing together brutally before jumping away and circling her like a hawk. 

He was resistant to her taunts, though keeping up with him left little room for her to pause long enough to think of something to say. 

He seemed completely at ease though, the violence in his eyes and the murderous grin doing nothing to help the degenerate part of her brain that was screaming and crying and throwing up at the opportunity to observe him like this up close, without Dan Heng around to make her feel guilty for admiring this man so much. 

Her arms grew heavy, and she’d not even made him sweat, let alone injure him in any way. 

She knew that the lack of true danger was causing her to remain at a reasonable power level, flash backs to the Herta space station incident making her shudder. 

She was really no match for him in this kind of situation. 

He lunged for her again, and this time, she was too tired to react properly. She parried his strike, but missed the signs of his next move, getting her feet swiped out from beneath her as he tackled her to the ground. His sword stabbed into the dirt just beside her head as he landed on top of her, effectively straddling her as he pinned her with his intense gaze. 

Her eyes flitted back and forth between his as her breath heaved in her chest, her heart racing as she struggled to right herself after being disoriented so badly. 

Something in his expression shifted, and instead of murderous amusement, his gaze seemed… hungry. 

He leaned closer, ever so slowly, and continued staring at Stelle so intently it made her do something so embarrassing she knew she would never live it down. 

She whimpered. 

His eyes widened for a fraction of a second before he was gone. 

He pulled away from her and disappeared within the same breath, leaving her lying there in the dirt as she caught her breath. 

She ran her hands over her face. “Well fuck.” 

—————

🐺👾: what did you do to him? 

🦝🗑️: ??????? 

🐺👾: last week. When the two of you sparred, did something happen? 

🦝🗑️: ….

🦝🗑️: why 

🐺👾: ever since he got back he’s been fucking pouting. 

🐺👾: well, I mean pouting in the way that blade does. It’s more of a scowl than anything else, but I’ve known him long enough to differentiate between his various types of frowns. 

🦝🗑️: … nothing happened. We fought. I lost, obviously. But no one was hurt or anything. 🙃 everything’s totally normal 

🐺👾 added Kafka🕷️💕 to the chat

🐺👾: Kafka, what’s she hiding? 

Kafka🕷️💕: some sexual tension, most likely. 

🦝🗑️: …. -_- 

🦝🗑️: mother, why hast thou forsaken me????

 Kafka🕷️💕: nothing to be embarrassed about, sweetie. 

Kafka🕷️💕: Bladie may be a tragic creation of the abundance, but his body was once human. It wouldn’t be a far stretch to say that some of the more… human tendencies of a man may still linger within him. 

🐺👾: F

🦝🗑️: F 

🐺👾: so you’re saying he’s pouting and kicking shit because he’s sexually frustrated? That’s fuckin nasty. 

🐺👾: @🦝🗑️ you need to fix this. I don’t wanna look at him sulk anymore 

🦝🗑️: me?!!?!? Tf am I supposed to do??? How is this my fault??? 

🐺👾: you fought him and now he’s horny. Fix it. 

🦝🗑️: … bruh 

Kafka🕷️💕: I don’t think the traditional way of solving this problem will be the best idea, silver wolf. 🤭

🐺👾: wym? 🤨

Kafka🕷️💕: I don’t think it’s safe right now for our little trailblazer and Bladie to get together on a more intimate level… he’s still a bit unstable mentally. 

🦝🗑️: you let me fight this man while hES UNSTABLE 

🐺👾: heh. L 

Kafka🕷️💕: fighting is what he knows. It’s what comes natural to him these days. Emotions? Not so much. 

🦝🗑️: I mean… I’m always down to help anyone whenever I can

🐺👾: *tucks hair behind ear* “i’M aLwAys DoWn tO HeLP aNyONe WHeNeVEr I cAn”

🦝🗑️: BRO FIGHT ME 

🐺👾: no thanks, I have better ways to waste my time 

🦝🗑️: ENGAGE ME IN A BATTLE OF FISTICUFFS RN 

🦝🗑️: IM ALWAYS DOWN TO HELP BUT USUALLY I GET NICE REWARDS TOO 

🐺👾: heh… you want a nice reward for this one too? 

🦝🗑️: I STTA ILL COME FIND UR LITTLE HOLOGRAM AND SMACK THE SHIT OUTTA YOU 

🐺👾: wtf does stta stand for you heathen 

Kafka🕷️💕: ooh! She’s used this one with me before. It’s “swear to the aeons.” Cute, right? 

🐺👾: 🙄 

🐺👾 has left the chat

Kafka🕷️💕: I think I have an idea on how you can help, if you’re open to it. 

🦝🗑️: …

🦝🗑️: what do I need to do? 

———

“Stelle sweetie!” Himeko knocked on her cabin door. “You have a package here.”

Stelle nearly slipped as her sock feet slid along the smooth floor of her room in her haste to reach the door. 

She tumbled along gracelessly and threw open her door, huffing as she took the package from Himeko. 

A box, about five hands wide and three hands deep, wrapped in plain brown paper, with a little card tapped on and slathered with all the necessary postage. 

“Thank you!” Stelle said hastily, reaching for her door. 

“Wait—“ Himeko put a hand to the door shaft, stepping forward a bit with worry in her eyes. 

Stelle cringed a bit, looking up at Himeko and trying to hide the shame she felt creeping up the back of her neck. 

“Listen,” Himeko started, eyeing the little card on the package with Stelles name written in pretty, looping letters. “I know you and that stellaron hunter have some strange connection that we aren’t sure about, and I know you’re unsure too, but I just want you to be careful, okay?” 

It took a solid two panicked seconds for Stelle to realize that Himeko was speaking about Kafka, and not the other stellaron hunter she’d so guilty formed a connection with recently. 

When the realization dawned on her, she tucked her package to the side and pulled Himeko into a tender side hug, snuggling into her chest a bit as she usually did. 

“Thank you for worrying about me, Himeko.” Stelle said, pulling away. “It means a lot to me, and I promise I’m being careful. I won’t do anything to jeopardize the safety of anyone on the express.” 

Himeko sighed, smiling as she pulled back too. “I know, I just worry about you. We’re all here to support you through this, you know that.” 

Stelle grinned. “I do, thank you.” 

The red haired woman nodded, smiling still as she said her goodbyes and left Stelle to her own devices. 

She’d never closed and locked her door so quickly before. 

Throwing the package on her bed, she hastily sat beside it and pulled the card from the packaging. 

She took a moment to trace her fingers over the pretty script on the card, before she tore open the envelope and read its contents. 

Stelle, 

Inside this box you’ll find the fun toy I told you about, along with a new shipping label to send it off to Bladie. 

I’m off on my own right now, far away from him, and I figured he’d handle it a lot better if it came from you, and not me. hehe~ 

Also, you’ll find a beautiful little necklace I had added to the set, that’s for you to wear. I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time with it. 

Thinking fondly of you always, 

K 

Stelle blushed a little, Kafka was always saying the strangest things. She tucked the card away in her nightstand and gently pried open the package, not wanting to tear the postage stamps. 

Inside was indeed the… thing that she was told about, and she blushed furiously while looking at the nondescript white box, though the size and shape was very indicative of what was inside.

She pulled the new shipping label out, looking at the address inquisitively and realizing she had no idea where Blade even was, not recognizing the planet. 

She sat it aside and pulled out the other small box inside, opening it up and finding a rather beautiful blue choker necklace. The colour was reminiscent of her garter, and she smiled, happily pulling the gift from its box and wrapping it around her slender throat. 

It clicked nicely in the back, and fit perfectly. She smiled, patting it and thinking about how it was such a thoughtful gift, however strangely unrelated. Then again Kafka was a bit of an enigma regardless, so who knows what her thought process was when putting these two together. 

Stelle closed up the box, slapping the new shipping label over the old one and eyeing it as it sat in the middle of her bed. 

Fuck, I should probably write him a letter, some kind of explination so he doesn’t just throw it away without opening it. 

She scurried to her desk, pulling out a very cutesy animal themed stationary set that March had gifted her after their mission on Jarilo XI. 

The envelopes and cards were soft blue, covered in cute little bunnies and bears and what Stelle thinks are pink raccoons, surrounded with hearts and little stars. 

She laughed at the idea of Blade handling such delicate paper, and got to writing a quick note on her desk.

Hey, 

Don’t hate me, but SW was complaining about your… mood lately, and I thought this might help. I totally fuckin get it, trust me, I understand. Traveling with a group of people that’s more like family than anything else can really put a damper on your… personal time. So please take time for yourself, if not for me, then to at least make silver wolf stop complaining to me that you’re moody. 

I look forward to the day you’ll spar with me again. 

-Stelle 

It might’ve been doing a bit too much, but Stelle couldn’t help but feel like the note might help him to be more receptive to the gift. 

Being a bit delusional never stopped her before, so why should it now? 

She slid the card in the envelope and slapped it to the package, picking it up to go and have it delivered. Hopefully she could feel a bit more at peace once it was gone. 

—————

A quick and impatient knock sounded on his room door, pulling him from his deep meditation on the floor. 

“Hey asshole, you’ve got a package.” 

He and Silver Wolf were sent together to fulfill one of Elio’s scripts, and it was a brief period of lull in their respective duties. 

The inn they were staying at wasn’t lavish by any means, but they were discreet, and that’s really all they could hope for. 

Blade released a breath through his nose as he rose from the floor, walking over and opening up his room to find his fellow hunter standing impatiently, tapping her foot on the rough carpet of the hallway. 

Blade hated carpet in the hallways of inns. Always disgusting and ridiculously coloured. 

“Here.” Silver Wolf shoved the box in his hands, her grin was wide, spreading to her eyes which twinkled up at him with the mischief he tried so desperately to avoid. 

“Who could possibly know where we are right now.” He grumbled at her, though she was already turning to leave. 

“I have an inkling, and hopefully the stick falls out of your ass soon.” She laughed maniacally as she waltzed down the hall. “Enjoy!” 

Blade felt his brow scrunch up tight as he eyed the package. The blue envelope tapped into it was terrible to look at, the childish print making him want to throw it away immediately, but the unfamiliar lettering spelling his name across the paper made him pause. 

He brought the package to his bed, sitting down and thumbing open the envelope. 

The contents of the card made his stomach drop and then lurch into his throat. He was ready to run silver wolf through with his sword. 

Calm yourself. 

He took steady breaths, though he was angry, he was also rather curious about what exactly was in the box. 

With a carefulness he didn’t remember he had, he pried open the package to find a smaller white box without any words or indicators of what could be inside. 

He lifted the lid, only to drop it in shock at what lurked within. He knew what that was. He was older than most but he was still a man, and he knew exactly what had been sent to him— what was to help his “mood.” 

He sighed, pinching his temples. He didn’t know whether he wanted to thank silver wolf or strangle her. Either way, he’d be getting some kind of relief today. 

———————

Stelle was eating dinner when she felt the first phantom touch. 

Fingertips, as soft as a whisper, ghosting over her pubic mound and making her stomach dip. 

Her eyes darted around, but everyone else was still enjoying their meal, chatting quietly together with the melody of silverware accompanying their voices. 

She was sat beside Dan Heng tonight, but both of his hands were above the table. 

She leaned back to look at him below the waist, looking to see if he’d manifested his tail and was making a pass at her, or more likely, was absentmindedly flicking it about like he did whenever he took his secondary form. 

But no, he was tailless this evening, and now eyeing her a bit warily as her eyes darted around. 

“You okay?” He murmured, not wanting to bother the others. 

The touch ghosted along her outer labia now, making her drop her fork in shock. 

Everyone was looking at her now, and she felt something pulse around her throat, right where her new necklace rested. 

Her face heated, and she placed her utensils onto her half finished plate before scooting from behind the table. 

“I’m… not feeling the greatest. I think I’m gonna go to bed early, if you all don’t mind.” 

She stood quickly, standing there for a moment as the touches continued, soft and inquisitive. 

“Are you alright?” Welt asked, concerned. “Would you like me to bring you some tea, or medicine?” 

“No!” Stelle jumped, before she caught herself and smiled sheepishly. “I’m alright, just feeling a little off. Probably just need some good sleep. I’ll see you all in the morning?” 

They all nodded, watching her go with worried eyes, but letting her leave without more questioning, which she was so grateful for. 

As soon as she made it to her room, she felt the first touch swipe through her core, and she nearly keened. 

Her throat pulsed, the necklace weakly glowing in the dark of her room. 

Her body felt hot. She was embarrassed at the amount of wetness that was pooling in her underwear, but most importantly, she was so fucking confused at what was going on. 

Something wet and blunt prodded at her entrance, and her knees buckled as she locked her door. 

She nearly crawled to her bed as her choker pulsed and pulsed with a weak glow, and the blunt thing, which felt suspiciously like a pair of fingers, finally slipped inside her, curiously prodding around, as if feeling her out. 

She slapped a hand over her mouth as she squeezed around the phantom digits, their touch lingering at her g spot with ridiculous precision. The fingers withdrew and she breathed a sigh of relief, though it was short lived as something much, much larger prodded itself at her entrance. 

Her eyes widened, and she scrambled to pull Kafkas card from her bedside drawer. 

“you’ll find a beautiful little necklace I had added to the set, that’s for you to wear. I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time with it. “

Stelle hadn’t realized what those words meant at the time, but as the blunt head of a ridiculously sized phallic object pushed at her hole, the meaning slapped her in the face like a rouge automaton. 

Her back arched off the bed as the phantom cock pushed into her, and she choked on a moan as it buried itself deep within her. She was so ridiculously wet she wanted to cry, and knowing who was on the other end of this feeling made her eyes roll back into her head. 

The thrusts started slow, but slowly worked their way up to something more intense, almost violent. Her insides churned, and she felt the telltale signs of an orgasm building up so quickly she might scream. 

No, no no no. She scrambled, reaching for the necklace, but when her fingers reached the latch, the thrusts changed angles, pounding directly into her g-spot and she cussed into the dark of her room. 

Her orgasm washed over her like a tidal wave, crashing into her and seeping deep into her bones. It was the first actually satisfying orgasm she’d had in an incredibly long time. 

Her fingertips shook as they lingered on the necklace a moment, before she threw them back to her sheets, gripping them tightly as the thrusts continued. 

Fuck, this feels too good.

Through the post orgasm fog, she wondered if he knew. 

Did he know it was connected to her? 

She suddenly felt overcome with guilt. If he didn’t know, this felt a little like taking advantage of his struggles. If he did know, then she wanted to hear him say it out loud, that he knew exactly what he was doing to her. 

She wanted him to hear exactly what he was doing to her. 

With shaking hands and twitching thighs, she slapped around her bed for her phone, biting her lip through the pleasure to scroll through her contacts. 

It was nearly at the bottom, and the last time it was used was a hack of Silver Wolf’s, and Kafkas words, not his own. But she had to try regardless. 

She clicked the call button, bringing her phone to her ear as she bit back moans. 

Suddenly, the thrusting within her stopped, though the phantom cock remained buried within her. 

She gasped as the ringing came to a halt as the line picked up.

There was no answer, though she swore she could hear his breathing, just a bit heavier than usual. 

“Don’t… don’t stop.” She whispered. 

She thought she heard his breath catch in his throat. She definitely heard the swallow before he spoke. 

“What are you talking about.” His gravelly voice reverberated through the phone, and she felt the cock inside her move ever so slowly, in and out. 

She bit her lip. “I didn’t know at first, I swear.” Her thoughts were scrambled as the soft thrusts continued, and the knowledge that he was actively fucking himself with the toy while she spoke make her stomach jump in pleasure. 

“You didn’t know what?” He said, voice low and nearly at a whisper. 

“It’s… we’re… we’re connected.” 

The toy stopped, and she sucked in a breath of relief, hoping to gather her thoughts so she could properly explain herself. 

Suddenly a moan was ripped from her chest as his cock thrust into the toy with vigor, and his intense pace was picked back up tenfold. 

She tried to hide it, but the damage was done, and if he didn’t know before, he certainly did now as he listened to her whine and whimper through the phone. 

“I thought the inside felt far too realistic.” He growled. “You’re squeezing me so tight, little Nameless.” 

She gasped, his voice along with the stimulation was far too much, and another orgasm was quickly approaching. 

She tried to play it off like she wasn’t being fucked within an inch of her life though. 

“Yeah well, it’s… been a while since I’ve gotten any action, s-so forgive me for being a little tense.” She stammered. 

He switched his thrusts to hard and deep, so hard Stelle could nearly feel the sensation of his hips hitting hers, and she’s almost positive the fat of her lower half would be rippling in the recoil if he were actually here. 

“I knew as soon as I saw you that you were just a needy hole begging to be filled.” Blade said, voice deep and oh so condescending. 

Stelle fisted the sheets, her eyes nearly rolling into her skull as her needy moans slipped through clenched teeth. He was right, he was so right— but that didn’t mean she needed to concede so easily. 

“That’s bold talk…” she hissed, biting her lips until they felt raw. “…For someone who literally ran away from m-me as soon as his blood traveled south.”  

His dark laugh made her squeeze around him, and she knew he could feel it because the laugh trickled off into a deep groan that set her face on fire. She felt like her fingertips were alight with electricity, like her body was attempting to defy the artificial gravity on the express as she arched off her sheets. 

The pounding within her never faltered as he continued speaking his vile, filthy words at her. 

“You’re lucky I did, little Nameless.” She could almost imagine his murderous grin, the violence that vibrated through his voice was astounding. “If I had stayed I would have fucked you until not even your beloved crew would have been able to recognize the carnage I’d left behind.”

She couldn’t stop the noise that flew from her throat, a guttural keening that had her gripping her cellphone in embarrassment as he laughed once more. 

“Oh?” He teased, voice edged with gravel and venom. “You must be desperate to enjoy the idea of me fucking you until you’re nothing but hot pulp slipping through my fucking fingers.”

Oh she was so desperate, so fucked. If anyone else had said something so absolutely horrifying, she’d have run far, far away. 

“Does the rest of the express crew know how fucking depraved you are?” His thrusts seemed to pick up speed, which would’ve seemed nearly impossible, except she couldn’t exactly think at the moment, only sob as they slammed against that spot inside her over and over again until she felt herself slipping slowly. 

“Do they know that their precious little star wants to be fucked by a monster?” He snarled, and she cried out into the soft light of her room, thrashing around as her orgasm teased its way at her— but she was holding it back, why, why?

“Please,” she gasped. “Please, can I—“ oh, she thought distantly. Oh I’m so fucked up. 

Blade groaned, the slick sounds of him thrusting into the toy ringing in her ear. “So desperate, so polite. You really are something else.”

She keened, arching her back as the feeling licked at her further, so close to toppling over the edge.

“Go on then,” Blade whispered darkly. “Cum for me.” 

It crashed over her, more powerful than anything she could remember feeling. It pulsed through her in quick waves, so strong and violent as he just kept going. 

It started to dance into sickly sweet overstimulation as she heard his breath quicken, and she steadied her breath, wanting to savor this moment. 

“You know,” she breathed. “I’m a lot tougher than you think.”

His breath stuttered, his pace faltering ever so slightly. 

“I could take it,” she whispered. “I don’t think you’d hurt me in any way I didn’t want you to.” 

He faltered, and she heard him cuss under his breath through the phone.

“Yeah?” He whispered. “You’d take what I give you?”

She nodded at her ceiling, knowing he couldn’t see her, but her mind was too foggy with brutal pleasure to think straight. He was undoing her. 

“Every disgusting, violent, nasty thing you’d give me Blade,” she said, clutching the sheets as tears welled behind her eyes, praying he was almost finished but simultaneously never wanting it to end. “I’d take it so well for you, and I’d thank you for it.” 

“Fuck.” Blade moaned, deep and guttural, and his thrusting seized inside her. Much to her shock, she could feel the warmth of him filling her up, pump and after pump of him coating her insides. 

They both lay there, staring at their ceilings and breathing heavily over the phone, not speaking but not really wanting to anyways. 

Finally, once the breath returned to her lungs unlaboured, she felt him pull himself from the toy. 

She felt like she’d been hollowed out, like a crater had been formed where her insides should be, and without him there plugging her up—-her guts would fall out and she’d be left empty. 

He made a confused noise, and just as he did she felt the telltale squelch of cum slipping from her still twitching insides, and she groaned in frustration. 

“Well then,” he chuckled, softer now than before— almost a forbidden sound. “That makes cleaning up easier for me.” 

She smacked her hand over her face. “This is the weirdest toy ever invented, and I'm going to cry the next time I have to face Kafka.” 

“I figured this had something to do with her,” he said, shuffling noises heard from his end of the line. “She can never stay out of my business for too terribly long, unfortunately.” 

“Mine too it seems.” Stelle sighed. She smiled when he made a neutral sound of agreement. 

“You sound like you’re in a better mood.” She said, uncaring of the consequences.

“Well, before I realized what this really was, I was just hoping to release some inconvenient pent up energy.” He said, voice flat. “But I suppose doing it this way has added benefits. I’m no fool, I understand how the human brain works.”

“So this… helped you?” Stelle asked tentatively. 

He sighed. “I’d be lying if I said it was entirely useless.” 

Stelle smiled, stroking the choker around her throat, the delicate glow now completely faded. 

“I’ll keep my end of the connection on, it's simple enough. Just call me next time, okay? I don’t need to embarrass myself at dinner again.”

“I make no such promises.” She thought she heard the faintest of smiles in that last sentence before the line went dead.  

[daenysthedreamersblog]

Just read knuckle velvet and my god what amazing talent you have! I felt all the emotions in this. Got me crying so hard for this girl and her family. I want to give her the biggest hug and adopt her 🩵 Now I got questions…

I’m actually so surprised after all he did to her, he just left. Why? Would he ever try to bring her back to the Capitol?

If she got pregnant. What would he do if he found out she got pregnant by him?

What happened to Sejanus?

Was he really going to leave her to die if she didn’t tell him to come back?

omg thank you hehe and yeah i love a good open ended ambiguous ending 🤭 ill try to keep this short bc i could talk about things for too long.

1. he's too power hungry for that life, he never would have been content staying there, being a peacekeeper, or whatever else of a life the district would have offered him, nor did he really want it. he's always stretching for more. and i do think he wanted her in the Capitol but mostly for selfish purposes. the romantic inside of me believes he thinks of her often and wants to kidnap her but the masochist believes he never thinks about her again until he see flashes of her when baker boi Peeta shows up.

2. i dont think he ever would have found out, but he probs would have just left them there and pretended they never existed bc it would ruin his image and legitimacy as president to have a district child. there was an ending where she had gotten pregnant. Legit had this originally written out: 'All you had left of him was that precious blond baby boy and a gunshot wound." But it just wasnt a vibe. i was going to have her sister and sejanus end up having kids bc its left up to interpretation if she is kinda related to Peeta.

3. Sejanus had like four different endings: one: was like above where he ends up with her sister, two: he left and went to medic training, three: her sister kinda pushed him away after everything happened bc she needed to take care of reader/father's business. four: snow kills him along with gavin. i always leaned towards two/three bc im cold hearted but u can pick which one u like the best!

4. yes. he probs would have came back tho eventually to take care of the body lmao he comes back bc her calling out for him reassures he dug out a place for himself so deep inside of her she cant help but need/want him even tho he's her monster. i think theres moments where he thinks he cares about her bc she sees him as a villain and still feels things for him, but he has other goals and doesn't care.

[s0dium]

HELLO!! :D Can I request a Bully Sukuna x Bratty reader? Like every chance he gets to encounter Reader, he can't help but slut shame her cuz he thinks her body is absolutely perfect. So like one day when you're just trying to eat ur lunch, he annoys the FUCK outta y/n then y/n loses her temper and slams her food into his face (which he doesnt like) THEN WHEN THEYRE ALONE IN A CLASSROOM SUKUNA PUTS HER IN HER PLACE AND LIKE SHE DOESNT TRY AND RESIST BECUZ SHE WANTED THIS TO HAPPEN TOO

Hatred

Bully!Sukuna x Reader

A/n: I really enjoyed writing abt this because im a bit on the curvy side myself (big tittle supremacy) so I was blushing the whole time >///< But I hope you guys enjoy!

Warnings: Virgin!Reader, body shaming, reader has big boobs, body praise, bullying dub-con, groping, fingering, titty sucking, rough fucking, cervix fucking, slapping, breeding kink, cum kink, orgasm denial, dumbification

Word count: 2.5k

Synopsis: In which you had enough of sukunas shit so you finally retaliate, and Sukuna does not like that.

Check out pt.2! ✽ If it isn't rough it isn't fun (Bully!Sukuna x Reader)

~

You hated Sukuna.

You hated how he’d call you a whore infront of all your classmates even though you haven't even lost your virginity yet. How he'd ‘accidentally’ trip you in the hall way or spill his drink all over you. How he’d only refer to you as “stupid slut” and make all of his lackys call you that too. How he’d steal your book bag when you left to go to the bathroom and you'd find it floating in a fountain near by later. 

But most of all you hated how he made you feel.

You must be a masochist or something because even through Sukuna’s relentless torment, you just cant help but slips a finger under the hem of your panties to the thought of him popping your cherry. You cant help the way your heart beats faster when he purposely bumps into you, thinking about how you could smell his musky pine scent with how close he was.  

And it makes you furious. 

~

It all come to a crescendo one day in the cafeteria where your in line for lunch, metal tray in hand, humming to some random tune in your head. As you sit down to eat, a shudder racks your body when you feel someones hot breath dance along your neck.

“Well if it isn't everyones favorite slut.” 

You dont even bother to turn your head to know who that deep voice belongs too, simply clenching your teeth and continuing to look down at your food. A maniacal grin spreads across sukunas face as he takes a seat next to you.

“Oh so we’re a mute now? What happened to ‘go away’ or ‘leave me aloneeee’” He mocks in an annoying high pitched whiney imitation of your voice. 

Your face is hot, so hot its making you dizzy. You dont respond, instead choosing to focus on the loud chatter of your classmates around you to no avail. 

“Aw come on I at least liked it when you put up a fight angel.”

Your breath hitches at the pet name and you grab your spoon to scoop a bite of chocolate cake on your tray, hoping, no, praying it would distract you from how impossibly close Sukuna was. 

“Oh you dont need to eat that, what are you trying to do, gain weight? I mean I guess all your fat goes to your ass anyway...”  Sukuna chuckles and you dont even register the large hand that slipped under your skirt until you feel it  squeeze your plush skin. 

That was when the line was crossed. That was when embarrassment turned into pure unadulterated rage. 

Anger clouds your vision, and you dont even fully become aware of what your doing or why your standing up until your grabbing the metal food tray and smashing it on sukunas head with all your might, the sound of metal against bone echoing through the room, bringing all voices to a complete silent. The first thing that comes to mind is to yell, to scream “why can’t you leave me alone,why humiliate me? Why did you give me these feelings?!!” But instead, all that comes out is a loud “FUCK YOU SUKUNA!”

There is a moment of thick silence as you watch food and a trickle of blood slide down sukunas pink hair, and onto the bridge of his nose, where your e/c eyes met his sharp vermillion red ones. Fear racks your body as your take in Sukunas face; how his tattooed skin is crinkled in a seething sneer and his eyes seem to gleam ‘murder’. You quickly pull your self together, mumbling a silent sorry as you bow in apology before grabbing your bag and running off; the sound of your school uniform loafers clacking against the floor echoing through the room. 

~

You spent the whole day avoiding Sukuna, arriving to class late so you’d be the only one using the hallway and even hiding in the bathroom on the periods you did share with him. Sukuna never got physically violent with you but you weren't sure if that would remain true any longer, and you defiantly weren't about to risk it. 

Finally the bell rang, signaling the end of school and you watched as the teachers and students poured out of the class, leaving you behind to clean the room. You were on cleaning duty today, and as much as you wanted to scurry home to the safety of your bed, skipping would mean a visit to the principle office, and that was something you couldnt afford. 

As you mindlessly began to sweep, you watched the sunset blossom upon the cloud, casting the room is an orange goldfish hue. Suddenly you hear the loud bang of the door slamming behind you, interrupting your thoughts and almost making you drop your broom.

“Found you bitch.”

You quickly turn around to face Sukuna, holding your broom tight to you as he walked closer toward you. 

“S-stay back s-s-sukuna” Your voice betrays you at how absolutely scared shitless you were, your own timidness making you blush.

“Or what? You’ll hit me with a broom?” Sukuna chuckles. His hair is damp, probably from using the school gym showers, and he was getting closer, caging you in and preventing any chance to escape.

 He's now right against you, your boobs inches away from his chest. Your breathing has become irregular now, and your starting to over heat; hype aware of his breath on your skin or how he just absolutely towered over you.

“You do it on purpose dont you.” Sukuna says lowly, and you have to look away to your side in order to just breath. 

“Look at me when I talk to you bitch.” A large hand comes to grab your face and roughly force you to turn to Sukuna. He keeps you there, but its not like you'd pull away either; your too enraptured in his deep red eyes. 

“I-what?”

“Dont play stupid slut, ive seen the way you bend over in front of me or how you walk around in the school swaying your hips like a fucking whore, you practically asking me to fuck you” Sukuna seethes.

Did you just hear him right? 

Your in disbelief, your virgin mind running circles at this point. Your breath hitches when you realize that one of his hands had dropped underneath your skirt and was now sliding too long fingers in your underwear. 

“Look at you, you're not even resisting, I knew you wanted this. Your even dripping.”

You hated how much he was right, but you couldnt deny the pool of arousal growing at the base of your underwear.Slowly, Sukuna slides one of his long finger inside your wet cunt, your pussy instantly squeezing at the foreign intrusion. You whine when he curls his middle finger to his palm; hitting places you could only dream of hitting yourself. Two trembling hands grab onto Sukunas uniform to keep your self steady as you grind your hips on his hand; despretly trying to get more out of the pleasure.

Blood rushes to your ears when you feel him start to unbutton your white uniform t shirt, opening the clothing up and diving one of his hands into your bra to pull out a breast.

“Fuck your so beautiful.” Sukuna mumbles, just low enough so you can hear and you can feel his hot breath on your skin before he attaches his lips onto your hard nipple. His tongue flattens, rolling your peak and swirling around your areola, fast and rough until you’re whining.

"Ah~ Kuna!"

Your back arches immediately at the stimulation from your breasts and the pleasure of Sukunas finger massaging your g spot; his palm rubbing nicely against your clit. You can faintly hear the sloshing noises down your sex from Sukunas ceaseless fingering.It was warm, everything was warm; your face, your tummy, Sukuna's hands and wet mouth on you. Your legs were trembling and you could barley stand, but just when you where about to fall of the edge, Sukuna pulled away and stoped all ministrations from your body.

Fat hot tears clouded your sight and started to spill down your flushed red face from the pleasure that had been snatched away from you. "No no no no please I-i-i'll be good please dont s-stop." You attempted to grab Sukunas hand and pull it back to you but he quickly swatted it away.

"You think I'll make you cum that easily when you pulled that shit back there?" Sukuna spat, making you sniffle and bite your lip in shame. Your too busy wiping your tears away and sniffling back the snot that threatened to flow down from your nose to notice that Sukuna had started to unbuckle his belt. Your brought back by the sound of metal clanking to the floor and you immediately grow silent as you watch Sukuna lower down his pants and boxers enough for his dick to spring out.

Your imagination didnt do him any justice. Sukunas dick was big, winning in both length and girth. A thick vein decorated the side and the top was adorned with an angry red tip that leaked precum.

Its then the realization hits you like a bomb shell, shattering your haze

Oh shit im gonna lose my virginity. In a classroom.

"Sukuna i-i dont know if this I-i-is a good idea I-" Your trembling voice is cut off with a gasp when Sukuna reaches under your skirt and rips your panties in half; the frilly material landing on the floor.

"Too bad, turns out I dont care." Sukuna voice comes out in a faux empathetic voice, and he is already aligning his mushroom tip with your dripping pussy. Just the pressure against your hole is exhilarating and if it weren't for the two strong hands on either side of your hips keeping you in place you would've squirmed your hips away.

Suddenly Sukuna pushes in with a grunt, and before you can let out a scream one of his hands flys to tightly cover your mouth, muffling your voice.

"S'tight, loosen up a bit would ya?" He chuckles and continues to push in until your flushed against his pelvis. You jump when you feel something press against what feels like a wall inside of you, what surely must be your cervix. The stretch of your gummy walls around his dick knocks the wind out of you, and Sukuna groans at the way your pussy tightens in an attempt to push out the foreign intrusion.

Sukuna's about to pull out to move when he notices a trickle of blood from your pussy drip down his balls, the realization of what it meant making him grin.

"Shit your actually a fucking virgin aren't you."

Your too lost in the pain and slight foreign pleasure to register the question, and he takes the silence as a yes.

"Good."

You let out a scream when he pulls out and thrusts back into you. To be fair a part of sukuna told him to go slow, to be kinder on you since this was your first time. But from the way your hot sticky walls sucked him in, and how you looked at him, how you looked at him like you needed him, made him loose control.

It was dizzying, the curvature of his dick digging itself against your g-spot, scraping against your vaginal walls everytime he backed his hips up. The friction is incredible and it made pain quickly turn into pleasure. He uses you like his personal cock sleeve, shapes your insides and bruises your cervix until your entire body jolts with sensitivity. his balls slap against your ass with every thrust and he retracts his hips until the tip pokes out to admire the sheen dripping to his base before fitting himself back into your snug walls.

I-kuna,” you hiccuped, the tears falling freely from your eyes from how overwhelming good you felt. At this point your legs where trembling and you didnt know how much long you could stand up but your thoughts were too clouded to form words

Luckily Sukuna got the message, chuckling at your inability to speak.

"Jump" he commanded, catching both thighs as he slammed you on the opposite wall, your legs wrapping securely around his waist. Its then sukunas eyes caught how good you take him - the fat of his head have a hard time popping out with how greedy your cunny is being. He lets out a delicious moan at how hot you are on the inside. The new position has you keening, his dick now thrusting up harder into you, touching a spot you never felt before.

"Found it didnt I" He breathes through a smile and pummels into you with vigor. And your about to disagree with him, insist that the feeling is too new and foreign to feel good when all of a sudden your body begins to shake and your head starts to feel fuzzy

And suddenly—you feel it. What you've heard about from friends or seen in porn.

Its like all your bodies energy centers are activating at once and your left utterly helpless to the feeling of tingling ecstasy wrapping your brain and stomach.

You dont know how to tell him that something is happening, not when the pleasure is too immense your barley breathing full breaths. But he understands once again the words you tried to desperately to communicate.

"Do it slut. Cum. I'll fill you up, and if it spills ill fuck it back into you."

Your brought back to reality when you feel a pair of lips on yours, enrapturing you in a messy hot kiss. His first taste of you is hungry and messy and desperate — his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth.The kiss broke with a sinful sound, a wet pop from between your lips, breaths heavy and chests rising and falling after it. The realization that Sukuna just kissed you was quickly pushed away by the feeling of your stomach twisting into a tight knot until the heat is unbearable. Its consuming you driving you over the edge so fast that you can’t put a stop on it.

"Sh-Shit, shit, fuuuuck~" He chuckles into your ear, choking over his words as his hips sputter inside of you, hot cum fills you as much as you can hold inside of your stuffed cunny. Its such a tight fit that a mixture of your cum and his own collects at the base of his cock in a ring.

“Huuh… Feels good…. So warm….” The warmth of his cum fills your stomach, its so addicting that you wish the feeling never goes away. Slowly, Sukuna pulls out of and sets your on the floor. Your a fucked out mess, eyes glazed over from your orgasm and two fingers midnlessly playing with the mixture of sticky hot cum that leaked in pool on the floor.

"Shit, fucked you stupid didnt I."

A/n: Im too lazy to write an ending

[defectivefanboy]

A True Omnipresent God (Part 3)

     -you left off surrounded by the knights of favonius. in a frenzy you took steps backwards as you looked around to the knights that surrounded you on guard. Cyrus stood strong at the head of the knights as he had his eyes closed in thought. This so called imposter truly did resemble the creator to a T and the slime residing in your hand made it all the better to proving the imposter case. Oh how little do they know… 

[Part 1] x [Part 2] x Part 3 x [Part 4]

C/W: SAGAU (self-aware genshin), cult and religious themes, mentions of murder and torture, yandere characters, any basic sagau themes, Hella angst.

Notes: rushed?? not at all i finally finished it. very slow paced?? yup ! absolutely! but i’ve come back to sagau for angst i was ready i was like mmm angst time and a lot of the stories now are like crack fics. no hate i love them but i wanted blood, sweat tears and more blood, but writing it works better

     Taking a shaky breath you backed up until your back hit the base of the statue. They had the path in front of you blocked as they took steps closer to you, weapons ready to strike. In a panic you looked around as your arms tightened around the slime that was looking up to you in worry.

     ‘They wouldn’t just kill me, would they?!’ you thought to yourself, it was only time before they made their way to you, only moments before you would find out if they would or not. Without thinking you made a break for it to the left avoiding the river that looped the back of the tree. Tightening your arms around Denny, you had forced your legs beyond their limits trying to escape the soldiers on right on your tail.

      It felt as if your lungs were trying to stab you from the inside out, each breath felt on fire. Was your vision failing you? Right as you made it inside the front gates, that protected the inside of monstadt, guards were posted around the area. They were blocking off the three paths that lead further in the city, the bridge that lead off the island was slowly being filled with the guards that were in pursuit, Cyrus only a few ticks back, seemingly being in thought.

      Your own breath clogged your throat as you realized. They were all afraid, but you’re a human. Right? Five fingers, two legs and arms, you are able to speak to them damnit! Why? Why is this happening?! You only came back when you felt Denny coware into your body. Were they scared of Denny? He looked more scared of them than they were of him.

     Lost in your own thoughts as you held the Dendro slime in your arms as another stern voice called out to you.

      “State your name and business, Imposter.” 

     you knew that voice. The Acting Grandmaster, Jean, stood tall in front of your crouched form. Even as your life was on the edge of her sword to decide, decide if you were worth keeping alive or not.

     Yet, she was still as beautiful and strong as ever, a pixelated screen didn't do her justice. Though, to be bowing to her wouldn’t be minded, this just… wasn’t the… exact situation you thought it would be in.

     “Why do you all keep calling me imposter?? What do you mean?!” you exclaimed.

     “LIAR!! You dare wear the face of all that is holy?!” Jean spat out malice hanging on each word. This is not the jean you remember from the game. 

     This is someone who had a deep hatred for the being in front of them.

 That being you.

     “You come in here wearing a fool’s disguise and THINK for even a Moment… us… US who are devoted.., Would EVER think you were real?” she continued on Your tongue lapping in your mouth trying to think of the words to say, trying to stand yourself up, you felt a shock run through your body that knocked you back down. “You will stay on the ground, you abyssal filth.” a harsh and cruel voice rang from behind you.

       Oh great.., all we needed was a masochist to join in.

      “Please you.., you just have to listen to me! I dont know what you are talking about!!” you choked out before another shock wave coursed through you, causing you to spit up.

      “I'm not from the abyss I promise you,, im not an,, an imposter! Please i just woke up here and dont know whats going on!” you were shouting and yelling at this point. Your voice has gone coarse and rough, head pounding as the world spun around you. Denny, who had been holding onto you, was pulling at your shirt, ‘it was time to run’ what he was saying as he watched more guards pile in, Kaeya at the forefront of it.

     Gritting and barring your teeth you grabbed denny from the ground, tucking him within your shirt as you stood. 

      “No holy god of ours would ever touch a nasty no good pest such as the one you hold on yourself as we speak” jean pointed out as she held her sword towards the lump now in your shirt.

      “Maybe your so-called ‘holy god’ needs to get kicked in the head because anything I see that is a pest here, Are you no good humans that roam this land!” you took steady steps towards her as she reeled back in confusion.

     “You call Denny nasty when you haven't even seen a speck of dirt under your nails” you lunged forward, gripping her wrist and taking her sword from her hand as you bolted through the crowd of civilians. The knights had already begun to chase as Lisa and Kaeya gathered around jean.

      Gods, why was this how your day would turn out. As the clouds darkened in the sky above you and rain began to fall. The knights that were in tail slowly started to drop one by one, be it the heavy armor was wearing them down, or the storm coming over head, or just being flat out drained from the chase, they began to be picked off slowly until you were finally able to stop for a breath.

       A cry left your throat as you slowly dropped to the ground, it hurt, it all hurt. Your feet, your legs, your throat, your head… everything.. It hurt. Denny slowly slid from your shirt to the ground below. He stared up at you with concern before looking around for a pond or a puddle, before sliding over to it.

      You were too busy resting your head in your hands trying to ease the pounding headache that resigned in your brain Denny brought over a friend. A little hydro slime stared up at you as Denny pulled at your pant leg. Looking down at him through teared lashes you saw them both. Letting out a soft sigh you rested your hands and looked down at them. 

     You gave a soft smile before reaching a hand to touch the hydro slime. As you grazed the slime water slid up your hand as over the several cuts upon your arms. ‘Where have I seen this before’ you thought to yourself as you brought your arm up to watch the water heal your wounds over. 

     “huh.. didn't know you could do that... guess I don't know a lot of things huh?” you said resting your head on your knee as you watched the two interact. You didn't expect the warmest welcome, hell you didn't expect one at all, but that, that was different. That was terrible, what was going on with mondstadt? You've never seen this in game, not even during stormterror days. This was different; they were on edge already. Lifting your head you watched as storm clouds began to settle and rain began to fall. 

     You went to stand up before trembling over yourself and falling back, finding balance on the tree behind you. 

This,, this will be a long night.

[jinkicake]

So now that we have scaramouche new designs confirmed I think his outfit could have been a lot slutier like take off that mesh shirt and have stockings instead🙄 welcome to the anemo men under 5”6 group ig but back to albedo😒 imma try to pull for him one last time and if he doesn’t come home imma have to write something about him being tied up idk he needs to be punished. But the way he always slips back into my head is crazy I’ll be like okay I’ve been healed and go look at Xiao art,,,,, and then one of my fav artists will post the most beautiful albedo I’ve ever seen and it’s back at it🥲 and I came across a short fic(wishing it was longer) about albedo catching the clone fucking his s/o and liking it and being like??? Why was that hot?? Like the idea of rubedo trying to steal his life and being like “ your partner is mine too” is greatly appealing but like I’m for the streets so it could just be me. Like not noticing that it’s susbedo when he comes home at night after you expected him to be in dragonspine and absolutely railing the hell out of you. Like he definitely is a masochist bc he’s never had genuine affection so he gets off on pain( he’s one hug and I’m proud of you away from absolutely breaking down💀) like ik he’s not shy about it he’s putting your knees over his shoulders and looking you in the eye to tell you how deep he’s gunna me in you. Like god imagine not knowing it’s not albedo and he has you gabbing everything in hands reach as to not float off the earth when your soul ascends. Like he grabs your hair to make you look up and albedo who just stumbled into the KOF lab and he sees his imposter fucking the daylights out of you. “ look, your precious alchemist is watching. Such a shame he can’t see how well your taking me.” I’m built differently tho I’ll let him keep going🥰 or even albedo watching from the shadows and seeing you beg his imposter to go deeper. On the flip side albedo is so pretty like when I stop and look at him he does look like a prince very pretty and short but can definitely pick up kaeya if he wanted to. Like I wouldn’t know how to act lmao they would never know peace around me bc I’m biting him. Like looking at him would have hazardous, bc if I stare at him too long rip. Like his pretty face, how IK his neck is sensitive, his pretty hands, yeah definitely would help him take a break by burying my face in between his legs. He probably would get really whiney if you edge him while giving head bc he’s a gentleman he doesn’t just want to shove your head down😔 honestly poor Jean bc she can’t walk into any room in the HQ without knocking and waiting 3 mins and it’s entirely my fault. Like damn my bad I wasn’t intending to ride kaeya in his office chair when I brought him lunch but these things happen. Diluc absolutely railing your in her office. Praying for them both bc they have such strong sexually repressed vibes so it his my job to deflower them😔 like idk I’m in my whore era so I’ll just feel up Jean in her office while I know she has a meeting w diluc in like 7 mins, like I’ll just hide under the desk and see how long this façade can be held up bc diluc would be like “Jean are you okay🥺🥺” until she ends up cumming and is super embarrassed whike she’s trying to catch her breath I’m like 🥰🥰 would you like a turn too? Bc they definitely seem like the type to be pinning over the same person and have no idea what to do. I’m not gunna let her calling him sir go like no Jean please share with the class what you meant by that🤨🤨

NO LITERALLYYYYYYY abt scaras outfit... but i dunno the little peaks of skin under his outer layer is kinda..... slutty in itself hehehe i like the skin tight shirt layer tho and his little shit smile thats my psycho!!!!- have you seen his leaked idle animations and his burst.... i dont know how i feel-----

DID YOU GET ALBEDO?! NOOOO I HOPE YOU DID T T between you and me, he deserves a punishment smut either way!

.... you know to send me good smut whenever you find it.... PLEASE LINK ME THAT ALBEDO CLONE SMUT IM BEGGINGGG no yeah as long as albedo doesnt mind ill fuck him and the clone all day long??? like???? o.m.g i desperately need a smut of the clone fucking the reader but the reader thinks it is albedo fucking them.... OMG THAT WOULd be too good! esp if you drabble in some yandere.... i might have to jot that one down for a word vomit!!

yeah,,,, albedo is too pretty.... so breathtaking!!!! heheh but i know he's a tough bitch!

HOLD ONNNNN I WAS ABOUT TO SAY LIKEEE YOU WOULD BE TAKING ALL THREE OF THEMMMM,,,, not just kaeya and diluc but jean too ((the holy trinity of childhood mondstadt friends is no match for you!!! >:-)))! I know how much you like her LOL she needs a good stress relief so she would def try to fight you on staying under her desk but like...... her fight dies the moment you get your lips on her skin through the slit of her pants heheheheiuhwfih if you ever find yourself stuck between diluc and jean, just fuck them both!!! that's my advice

[gogiberries]

Hi so I’ve had this in my head for a few days now

It’s basically how i see the Nanami x Gojo relationship (but it’s more sad than anything else tbh)

⚠️ spoilers ahead for those who haven’t read the manga!

Please enjoy this disgustingly long thread <3

- okay so the way they started was out of convenience/ desperation

- Geto left the school and abandoned Gojo

- Nanami lost Haibara

- So the two ended up just trying to find some sense of comfort and understanding in each other

- Gojo was the one to start it though

- I see Nanami as the type to just suffer silently with his pain and loss, so Gojo had to have made the first move

- They were still students and now they had to pair up for training more often

- Gojo did consider Shoko before Nanami, but he knew that she wouldn’t give him any chance because she saw the start and finish of him and Geto

- Gojo also didn’t want to go to some stranger because he couldn’t lay it all out to someone who didn’t understand sorcery and explain the heavy chip Geto left on his shoulder

- So Nanami, the guy who also just lost someone & who is up to date with the Geto stuff is a perfect candidate for Gojo

- Gojo starts teasu Nanami about how he needs to get stronger during sparring

(this just pushes the “have get stronger for Haibara/ not end up like him” notion in Nanami’s head)

- And one day Gojo just switches to heavy flirting

- Nanami is like ‘???’ but he chalks it up to Gojo just being his weird self

- But the flirting continues

- And Gojo being Gojo, he just keeps getting more direct until one day he just flat out asks if Kento has thought about fucking him

- Despite the constant flirting and suggestive stuff Gojo has been doing, Nanami is completely thrown off

- “What the fuck are you saying” is probably what he’d say, a slight blush forming on his face

- “Cmon dont lie, you’re saying it hasn’t crossed your mind once or twice when we spar?” Gojo would tease

- And Nanami would immediately deny it

- And Gojo would push it even further and say

“oh? That’s too bad, cause I sure have thought about fucking you“

- Now Nanami is blushing hard, face feeling too hot

- “Quit saying nonsense and stop lying” Nanami is too strong willed to give into/ believe in Gojo’s offer

- “I’m not~ do you want me to prove I’m not?” Gojo is also too strong headed and now refuses to back down from this thing he started

- Nanami says no, but they can both hear the hesitation in his voice

- Gojo takes this sliver of a chance to kiss the blonde

- Nanami goes to pull him off, but he doesn’t.

- Why? He’s not sure either, maybe it’s because he’s still a bit inexperienced with all of this, or maybe because he’s willing to accept this- whatever this is that Gojo is offering to help distract him from the pain he’s still trying to cope with from losing Haibara

- So he only backs up slightly to tell Gojo they should go somewhere more private

After that, their relationship, if you want to call it that for lack of a better term, begins

- Gojo definitely is the one who takes the most in this relationship

- At first, when he was trying to keep Nanami from regretting his actions and running away, Gojo was gentle and kind. Making sure Nanami felt understood and comfortable with their actions

- But once Gojo saw Nanami was staying, his caring attitude slowly faded

- He would stay to cuddle afterwards, but only until Nanami was asleep, leaving him to wake up by himself in the morning

[ maybe once in a while Gojo would leave a “Sorry I got called in for some mission” half assed excuse ]

- Not by force, but Gojo would make sure he’d get his needs met before Nanami did (definitely half assed in trying to meet Kento’s needs)

- Nanami isn’t stupid, he noticed the change in Gojo’s behavior early on, but being the masochist that he is, he put up with it because it still felt better than remembering Haibara and dealing with that

- Kento definitely noticed when Gojo was at his worst though. When Gojo was okay, he’d put up his usual goofy & cool dude front, and be selfish in bed, leaving the second they were done as if he was too “cool” and “strong” to show sad emotions.

- But when Gojo was really down and haunted with memories of Geto, he would stay the whole night.

- Gojo would be more gentle and slow with his actions, he wasn’t going out of his way to fully please Kento, but it was more like a sympathetic “c’mere let me do it for you” offer

- on those nights, after they were done, Gojo would lay there and hold-genuinely hold- Nanami.

- Nanami could see the accumulated exhaustion and pain in Gojo’s eyes on those days, and like Gojo, he wouldn’t go out of his way to help him. He might offer to be the bigger spoon or not question it when he stayed till morning, but Kento never would ask Gojo if he wanted to talk about it.

- Nanami would also allow himself to be selfish and enjoy the softer and more affectionate actions Gojo would do during these days

The sense of comfort and understanding they felt with one another was odd and definitely unhealthy, but it was better than being left alone with their own thoughts.

And it continued until Gojo was finally graduating and Nanami decided to share the news that he was going to start interning at some office

Gojo was taken back a bit by the announcement. Kento seemed like he would’ve just done the expected thing of graduating and going straight into sorcery work.

- “You really don’t like this sorcery stuff huh?” He’d probably ask him

- “It's all a bunch of shit” definitely a Nanami response

- Gojo was pretty indifferent in Kento’s post graduation plans, so he only gave him and understanding nod

During Nanami’s final year at the tech school, the two drifted apart without much trouble

- Maybe once in a while, when they were both overworked and stressed by their new schedules, they’d come back for one night to each another.

- It wasn’t much different than what they already had though

- Gojo would still only care about getting his first, and Nanami would use the time to space off and just distract himself from his reality

After Nanami graduated and started his salaryman career, their meetups stopped for a good while.

- Besides the fact that the two were now working even crazier schedules, Nanami was the one who wanted to full on quit.

- He was done with jujutsu tech & sorcery, and as he’s done with everything else in his life, he ran away from it

- He’d ignore Gojo’s out of the blue texts, or just give short and dry responses

- Gojo wasn’t really hurt about it, there weren’t any deep emotions formed below the surface of what he and Kento had.

- Though Gojo was very close to calling Nanami the day he dealt with Geto

But just how they were a few years ago as students, the two adults ended up back where they started, in an emotional void induced by stress and the years long accumulation of unattended issues that neither one of them knew how to handle.

- Nanami tried to quit, he really did. But going to company speed dating parties and or blind dates set up by coworkers was too much trouble for him. He was working way over 40hrs a week and had no time to develop a healthy relationship with someone.

- After some big deal falling through with his job, Nanami did what most adults who have little to no healthy coping skills would do. Get drunk and call his fuck buddy

- Gojo thought it was a mistake when Nanami sent him a text with only an address

- Gojo, also having almost no healthy coping skills, immediately called Nanami back to see what the text was about

- And oh.

- Nanami did send it on purpose

- Well. Who was Gojo to say no to a free night of being distracted with no strings attached?

Aaaaaand they were back, dancing the same dance they have been for years.

- Somewhere within those meetups, Gojo finally shared what happened to Geto.

- Nanami didn’t say much, he only said enough to convince Gojo that tonight wasn’t going to go as they usually do.

- Instead Nanami allowed Gojo to drink and let out any and all emotions he had about the incident.

- Gojo was embarrassed the next day thinking about what all he probably said. But he was grateful Nanami chose to be the responsible one and be next to him as he aired out his feelings

- Nanami never brought up that night’s conversation details to Gojo. He just let that night be what it was and moved on (the best thing for the both of them, more so for Gojo tbh)

Now present time, they still do their usual meetups, but maybe it’s the years of life slowly sanding them down because now, it feels more like a weird check up with one another than just a quick hookup

- It started with them just getting drinks for the night, nothing happened, they both just got drunk and passed out in Gojo’s Living room

- Then it slowly progressed from getting a quick bite to eat, to having planned dinners together

- Sometimes it leads to something, sometimes it doesn’t.

- Is it healthier than what they were doing at the beginning? Not really.

- They still don’t share their feelings that openly nor do they go out of their ways to comfort each other.

- But I guess just the mutual understanding from someone who has also lived through some fucked up stuff quietly sharing a drink or meal with you is somewhat comforting and helps you stay grounded.

End.

[mizuki-nikki]

Royal Blood Season 2 (Maybe Interactive Stories) : Lars Route

note : spoilers ahead, read at your own risk

gosh, it took me 2 months just to finish lars’ ending and i still havent take a look into russell brothers’ ending yet 😢 there are too many good stories in cinamon games currently. sooo i kinda ditched royal blood.

but well, i finally finished the second route, yay! i was kinda confused whether i should take a look into andrew’s ending first or lars’ but seeing how lars has been very loyal with the MC, i decided to choose him. so, well here we go.

the illustration is just.. wow. top notch. with this kind of quality, i did not regret spending my dias at all. i cant wait to see the others’ illustration. but let’s take a look deeper into lars’ ending story

call me biased but im pretty dissapointed with lars ending. dont get me wrong, it was not bad, it was an okay ending. but still, it doesnt feel as deep as kane’s. i think the reason for this is because ever since the first episode, we already knew lars' characters, and the ending did not do any justice to explore it further, meanwhile for kane.. they showed us an in depth analysis towards kane's character (call me masochist, i get swayed several times whenever kane insulted me. his character is just.. ugh 🙂)

lars has been a very nice boyfriend in the ending. if he were real in my life, i would’ve cried my eyes out seeing how loyal he is to the MC. he stayed by mc’s side during the peace treaty, loved her til death and even let her say proper goodbye towards kane. in this ending, kane told the MC to not spend her short life to someone like them, but MC said that she will be fine by lars’ side and thus, hinting a proper goodbye towards kane’s feeling.

compared to kane’s ending, there’s nothing that i can dig in the story. lars proposed the MC in the same place during the first episode, and while saying that he will loves her forever, MC said that after she died later on, lars needs to find someone else. which i believe is the reason why lars’ ended up with the MC in season 1.

in the epilogue, the MC was shown to have aged 40 years older than before. she has become a succesful author of “royal blood”. during her last interview, there were lars, jay, andrew and theo who watched her and stayed by her side. at the end of the story, she thanked them for staying by her side until her time is up.

final verdict of lars’ ending : i was kinda confused. so.. is season 1 actually canon or not in this alternate ending? it seems like the author was kinda torn up whether they would make lars’ ending canon to the season 1. we can see it clearly from the ending.

well, i still stood up with my opinion. i havent seen any other endings yet, but for now, kane’s ending is the best one. it was well-written and his story gave me thousands of butterflies. lars’ ending just feel... meh. i did not feel any emotional attachment at all. it just felt like a closure to a story. not saying that it was bad. it could’ve been better. maybe i wouldnt be this judgemental if i did not finish kane’s ending first 😂

(but i still want to see russell brothers’ ending. my expectation is getting lower now since i have seen lars’ ending. i just hope that the illustrations wouldnt dissapoint me)

[anastasiaskarsgard]

I was challenged with writing a happy story with Roman Godfrey which was very challenging for me but I think I did it....

Wynter had just finished her dance rehearsal and was walking home. Like her mother before her, She had been dancing all her life.

Her mother had been a world renowned dancer, adored by millions and admired by all who saw her perform. Most would say she was the most gifted dancer ever to live. Her grace and precision was nothing short of perfection. The fact that she made it look as natural as walking down the street was no small feat either. Effortless grace.

Unfortunately, nearly a decade ago, she was returning to her hotel overseas, late after a performance, and the heavy rain caused her limo to hydroplane right into a wall, leaving no survivors.

Now, at age 23, Wynter was carrying on her mother's legacy, following in her footsteps. People had been so devastated to lose her mother, that they all turned to Wynter, to fill that space she’d left behind. Not wanting to think on how alone she was in the world, and just suffering a huge heartbreak at the hands of her first love,she threw herself into touring around the world. It was a hectic fast paced life, and she had missed out on a lot of milestones. One day she woke up and realized it’d been ten years since she’d seen her room in Hemlock Grove.

She got up and she called her manager and informed him she was returning home. She was taking a break. She committed to rehearsing dances for future events, while home, But mainly her focus was just relaxing. Attempting to carry on a normal existence that so many people take for granted. Going to the grocery store, reading a book under a tree, going for an afternoon swim, or taking a stroll through a park.

She currently was regretting not checking the weather before deciding to walk home by cutting through Hemlocks sprawling park. She probably should’ve paid attention to what time it was too, but she was having difficulty getting this certain routine down. Unlike her mother she had to work very hard to look so effortless. 

It was starting to rain, but she was over half way there. It was the fastest way home, and as she looked at her watch and saw it was close to midnight, she cursed herself for being so careless. A woman walking through A park late at night was not the smartest decision, add rain to the equation and it could very well end in disaster.

She had nearly forgotten how quickly rain could set upon you in her old hometown.It had started off light, but now was a downpour, Making it difficult to see, so all she could do was take shelter until the weather cleared up a bit. She walked towards a picnic table with a roof over it, Overlooking the small lake.

Then She saw him. Its not like he was hard to notice. He had always stood out, and intrigued her.

Anyone else who saw him would have avoided him, not only because the time and him being a single male, standing in the rain like a crazy person, but also because he had a terrible reputation. He was known for being harsh, cruel and unkind to all who crossed his path. He had a terrible temper, and no patience. At least that was what everyone told her, since she had returned.

But she didn’t remember him like that. She remembered a sweet Beautiful boy, With sad eyes and a shy smile. He was a heartbreaker tho. she had first-hand experience with that part of him. They’d been just kids then, when she made her silly confession at this very place, before her mother died and she had to go away.

They say you can spot your loved one in a crowd instantly. Did that mean that her childhood silly confession of love, for this troubled man wasn’t so silly? she never failed to spot him right away, no matter where they were.

It was quickly turning into a storm. She watched him, standing by himself, not caring if he got wet. Did he care? You could never tell with him.

He wasn't wearing a trench coat. What made him choose not to wear one? What made him come out into the rain this late?

He always worked. He worked everyday. Never once since she’d been back and seen him around, had she seen him smile. That's what happens when you run a company all by yourself she supposed. When you have no one to love you, or go home to.

He seemed different somehow. She couldn’t put her finger on it , but there was almost an other worldly quality to him. It was probably just his beauty, he was almost too beautiful. He often looked like he was straight out of a magazine, with his designer clothes and expensive suits. His perfect angular features, and impressive height.

She was a bit surprised though, that he was wearing a white suit. Everyone knows that White is the worst color to wear when it rained. He's Smarter than most people. So why did he choose to come out here, wearing white? The color you can see through?

She ran her eyes over his form, and couldn’t help but ask herself if he was always that buff. She never noticed. Death and heartbreak makes one not notice things that should be obvious.

Wynter took a deep breath, and started walking towards him, away from shelter. She didn't know what compelled her to do so. He was just so... alluring. Tall, dark, and handsome. And dangerous.

As Wynter got closer, she could tell he became aware of someone else's presence. Slowly, he turned around. He looked irritated at first, but as soon as he recognized it was her, his face morphed into one of longing. Like he wanted her. Just like she had always wanted him.

They stared at each other. She was pleased he wasn’t being mean to her, but had no idea what to say. It’d been so long. True to his reputation, he grew impatient and spoke first.

"Wynter. I never thought you’d speak to me again. Not after -"

Wynter didnt let him finish. Some things were better left unsaid. "Let's not remember the past. It brings too much pain. Dont you agree, Roman?" He looked her over like she was hiding something and then turned his attention back to the lake before speaking,

“Do you remember this spot, Wynter? It's the place I first kissed you.”

Wynter chuckled remembering his clumsy attempt shortly before her mother passed.

She’d always been sent here to stay with her Aunt while her mother toured the world. When school was out she travelled with her mother, or they’d return to their mansion not far from Romans on the off season. Olivia liked her mother, so she was allowed to play with Roman from time to time.

“You broke my heart on this spot too. Saying you couldn’t ever love me. How you never would love me". Wynter glared over at him, waiting on a response. She shivered. He was cold, no reaction or anything and as the time stretched on, she grew Furious at him. He really was just like everyone said. Cold and cruel. What was she doing here? Why was she out here in the middle of the night getting drenched in the rain with the one guy that always got to her. Why did she do this to herself? Was she a masochist? Suddenly she saw a flash of him kissing her right there, and she pushed it down, shivering again. He still had such an effect on her. Thinking Wynter was cold, Roman walked over to her and embraced her.

He remembered. He remembered everything that happened between them. How her face always lit up when she saw him. How she never listened to the other kids and refused to ditch him. How she’d gotten a black eye, fighting some girls that were saying disgusting yet totally true things they did with him and she had refused to believe it. How she was and still is the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. How he lied to her. How he hurt the one person willing to love him. All these years, he regretted that day.

The following day, her Mother had died and she had to fly to Europe to deal with everything with her aunt. He tried to reach her with no luck, and had a full blown panic attack over the whole thing. finally, he had been able to reach her aunt. What he wasn’t prepared for, was the tongue lashing he received, and the promise that she would do everything in her power to protect Wynter from him.

He honestly couldn’t blame her. He was a piece of shit and any parental figure should try to keep their daughters safe from him. He knew what he was. He was an asshole, but he was also very self aware.

Now looking at his lost little ballerina, he felt like a fool. He had all the money in the world, a huge corporation, a rotating selection of the most Beautiful woman in the world, and not once since she had left had he felt so happy and content as he did standing there in the rain by her side.

He loved her. He always did. He never stopped loving her.

Who would have thought they would meet again at the same spot they parted ways? He wasn't going to let this chance, this woman, slip by him again. Turning to her, he could see She was crying now. He wasn’t the best at consoling people, but he knew something that might work. The only thing he had wanted to do for years.

He slowly tilted her head up, looking into her eyes, as if asking for permission and He kissed her. Immediately, She kissed him back. Never had they thought this would happen again. It was so full of emotion, it was heartbreaking and overwhelming. Pure, desperate need. Longing.

They stayed there, making out in the rain for an unknown amount of time. Both too scared to give the other a chance to escape, or realize what they were doing, and remember that they shouldn’t.

“Wynter?” He whispered.

“Yes Roman?” She whispered back, pulling back a bit to see his eyes.

“Please don’t leave me again. I’m so sorry I hurt you. You’re the only woman, that I don’t deserve, but you’re also the only one I want.” He stated sincerely.

She couldn’t help but smirk at the arrogant bastard. She didn’t know that you could sound conceited, when you begged, until now. She was bursting with emotion. This was everything she ever wanted, but she knew better. Roman Godfrey was dangerous. Did she care so little for her own Self-preservation? Was he worth the risk?

Fuck yes he was.

She smiled a bright smile up at him and nodded. “Only if you give me a piggy back ride, all the way home.” Without even Flinching or hesitating, Roman agreed and smiled the first real smile, she had seen him have since they were kids.

She squealed with delight, and hopped on, knowing that they were going to both be ok.

[liveonmtv]

cash machine || kth

pairing: kim taehyung/f!reader genre: fluff & humor. crack actually. crack cocaine. word count: 11.1k warnings: strong language, drinking, an unwated kiss (not from tae), unsanitary jokes (i’m immature), implied sex, vomiting extra: (fr)enemies to lovers, road trip au, rich kids au but it’s barely there also they’re on summer vacation, also this story takes place in the usa JUST to drag the trip out tbh

summary: Jungkook and Seokjin get a little problematic, you have anger issues and Taehyung is under the impression that he killed a man. Also, did you mention that you’re on your way to your unfunny cousin’s wedding? Go on a road trip from Missouri to Las Vegas and you’ll be in for a hilarious yet scary experience! 

a/n: hi! i’m just starting this account out, so reblogging would mean a lot to me. i’m a novice to writing, so criticism is welcome as long as you’re not rude about it. have fun reading (i hope)! i also have a jungkook fic planned next (:

song

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Jungkook has that look in his face, the one he makes where the person sitting opposite of him is about as depraved as he is. He’s given it to you while you were explaining to him how to scam desperate men under the preface of a faux premium Snapchat and he’s given it to Jimin when they were finishing their high school careers and decided to release grasshoppers in the principal’s office. 

However, if there’s one person that’s about as fucked up in the head as he is, it’s Seokjin. The man also suffers from SMSTS as well (Serious Misconception of Sexual Tension Syndrome, and yes, that’s quite a lot of s’s), which doesn’t hurt given the current affairs. 

While Jungkook is aware that Jimin and Hoseok are always up for a bit of mischief, he has ruled them both out as incompetents and moved on to the real deal. Jimin has these rare moments of sanity and Hoseok, as your most loyal little bitchboy, would probably tattle the situation with made-up details to you before the plan is even set in action. 

So, Seokjin it is. 

The story begins in a faraway land before Jungkook knew about the tragic facets of your family’s relationships. Though his friend group is on good terms with your siblings and your other close relatives are aware of their existence and somehow only have good things to say about them, he never thought they’d be invited to your cousin’s wedding. To be fair, you had to do some serious persuasion for your family to allow you to invite six more people to somebody else’s wedding so there’s that factor contributing, but still, the offer is out of the blue.

Somewhere along the way, you went on a tangent about how much you hate your cousin and how your aunt doesn’t have eyebrows and how bothersome it is to look at her face. Your horror stories were mostly you just being your usual dramatic self, but they also revealed that the [L/n]s aren’t what they appear to be. 

You begged and begged for them to accept the invitations, and though Namjoon and Yoongi, unfortunately, couldn’t make it, the others agreed. 

Then arose the problem of the sixth spot that couldn’t be filled. You would’ve just let it be but your parents insisted that if you���re going to ask for something, you should fulfill it until the end. It was Namjoon you’d asked to come first, but he was busy with visiting family back in Seoul, and Yoongi then declared that he didn’t feel like humoring you this once. And that was the exact moment Jungkook decided to strike.

“You want to play matchmaker?” Jin asks. And though he looks almost skeptical, his tone is definitely an excited one. “With [Y/n] and Tae, of all people?” 

“Well yes, think about it logically,” he explains as he is about to say something completely illogical. “She has that sixth spot to fill, she has no other friends and they’re perfect for each other. All the other shit we’re gonna pull is just for fun, though.”  

Jin laughs an evil laugh, always one to be up for evil schemes. Just another evil day in the evil life of Kim Seokjin. “Well, [Y/n] is Tae’s perfect mean girl. And that girl needs either therapy or to get laid, but like, same.” 

“See? You get me.”

“To be fair, I think that goes for all of us. No offense.” 

“None taken,” Jungkook agrees. “Anyways, I was thinking of a… road trip.” 

“Well you didn’t have to be so dramatic about it, this isn’t The Godfather. Though I do feel like I’ve definitely got a bit of Michael Corleone in me.” 

Jungkook shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly at the other fiend’s remark. “You can pray to god all you want. Here in these streets, the only thing we believe in is El Chapo.” 

“I— Okay…” 

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[11:05] LeBruh James: wtf is wrong with u

[11:05] LeBruh James: get help seriously

[11:06] jk the slump god: all i said was that u should invite taehyung as the 6th person to ur cussin’s wedding 

[11:06] jk the slump god: overreacting arent we 

[11:10] LeBruh James: what the hell is a cussin bitch im gonna kill u

[11:13] jk the slump god: not like u have anyone else to invite tho 

[11:13] jk the slump god: hes not that bad ur just being urself

[11:14] LeBruh James: ur literally Not helping ur case rn

[09:45] LeBruh James: none of the girls want to gooooo

[09:45] LeBruh James: fine if it has to be taehyung ig ill live w it

[10:30] jk the slump god: great he already said yes

[10:30] jk the slump god: btw we’re gonna go in las vegas at the end of a road trip u in?

[10:33] LeBruh James: HE SAID YES BEFORE I EVEN INVITED HIM…

[10:33] LeBruh James: EYE. OK.

[10:33] LeBruh James: on one hand i kind of dont want to see any of u but if ur all gone i wont have anything to do b4 the wedding so i guess im in by proxy

[10:34] jk the slump god: lovely doing business with u y/n-chan

[10:36] LeBruh James: call me y/n-chan again and I Will Put ur Dick-Chan in a Freezer-sama and then Cut-san it off

[10:39] jk the slump god: i dont think ur using the honorifics correctly tbh..

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“I don’t see how this is a good idea,” you state with a dramatic pout while looking out of the window. Your expression is solemn. 

Taehyung kind of can’t believe that you’re throwing a tantrum just because you had to sit next to him in the three-row SUV, but on the other hand, he’s kind of into it. You’re more appalled by the fact that he’s not as disgusting up close as you’d imagined him to be. Well granted, you’re being immature, but it’s your shtick so they take it with a grain of salt.

“Why’s that?” Jungkook asks obtusely. He ruined your life the moment he started calling you [Y/n]-chan and he has that bad case of crazy eyes he gets sometimes when you look at his reflection in the mirror going on right now. You’d be more understanding of his condition, hadn’t your trip started barely five minutes ago. 

“What do you mean why is that? We’re all unstable backstabbing lunatics, do you think we can survive together for six whole days?! Stranded or even in a hotel? And then the ride back to Springfield?”

“Hotel? You’re funny. It’s always been my dream to sleep in a motel,” Jin pipes up. 

“Seriously? No limo, now this.”

“Hotel, motel, holiday inn,” Hoseok starts singing. Perhaps if it was queen Britney, it would’ve curbed your temper but fate doesn’t seem to be that kind. 

“Hotel, motel, holiday inn! Hotel, motel, holiday inn! Hotel, motel, holiday inn!” 

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“So we’re not going to visit the Grand Canyon?” 

“It’s in Nevada,” Jimin explains. “We don’t have any business there except for going to the wedding. I’d be more down to do it if I wasn’t afraid that one of us, meaning [Y/n], would push one of the others, meaning you, in the gutter.” 

“Just a little visit?” Taehyung is talented at only hearing what he wants to hear. However, that doesn’t make the conversation any more productive.

“Well not to be the acrophobic buzzkill, but why are you so adamant about visiting the Grand Canyon?” This is the first time you’ve directly addressed Taehyung since the beginning of these mind-numbing two hours. Jin, hands still on the wheel, dares to take a peek at Jungkook and smile an asshole-type smile before almost accidentally crashing into a pole. 

“Watch the road!” Hoseok cries out. Everyone else either refuses to acknowledge what just occurred or decides to spare themselves from doing so.

“Jin says that he always wanted to sleep in a motel. I have another dream.” 

“To visit the Grand Canyon?”

“Not exactly. I want to take a shit in there and see if I can hear it splatter. Think that’s possible?”

“Maybe if you angle your butthole the right way—” Jimin’s explanation is cut short.

“Oh my god, you are disgusting. Shut up. I don’t want to hear it.”  

“What did I tell you about El Chapo, [N/n]?” 

“What about El Chapo?”

“Holy shit, I think I’m confusing conversations,” Jungkook admits. Jin offers no more than an eye-roll.

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Tulsa is a dump, really. Unfortunate that you had to make a stop here but also you’re satisfied because your right asscheek feels numb right now. Might have to take Kelly for a walk, though.  

Taehyung stumbles out of the vehicle after you and all six of you seize each other fleetingly before making your way towards the gas station, a tense sort of silence following. You’re first to speak up. “Y’know, I’ve been listening to your voices for so long now that I don’t wanna look at your faces.” 

“This tbh,” Hoseok agrees with your most profound sentiments as per the usual. He’s quick to match your pace, trailing after you like a lost puppy, successfully getting Taehyung out of his way. He puts his arm around your shoulders casually and you give him that sardonic smile that’s only really reserved for him.

“Don’t say tee-bee-aytch out loud. I get humiliation by proxy.” 

Jungkook makes an exaggerated gagging sound before nudging Taehyung subtly enough that Jin is the only one who sees the interaction. Though the eldest had agreed with his deranged idea, there’s one thing that Kook knows that Jin hasn’t come to find out. 

Taehyung has an ongoing problem or maybe he’s a masochist. He’s always been one to internally get attached to these girls who’d never give him the time of day, who can’t stand him at all. The tragedy-comedy that is his best friend’s love life started on a rainy day in second grade when a girl by the name of Seulbi punched him in the face and he was hooked on her for three years after. 

After the infamous Seulbi, came Yeonji from the cheerleading club who blew off his invite to his first-ever party when they were fifteen. She’d called him a loser to his face and he was smitten with her for a while, too. 

And then, you appeared in his life seemingly out of nowhere. Hoseok’s catty best friend with a tongue sharper than her stilettos and lipstick that goes perfectly with her skin tone. 

Of course, he was aware of your existence prior to that accident he calls his first conversation with you—be it from the exciting yet flat-out brain dead antics Hoseok would describe you’d gotten caught up in at the time or from the sound of your heels sinking into the floor promptly before you entered math class.  You were always late but claimed that the teacher should be grateful because you cut in line to arrive at school earlier. You always had one of those shitty overrated pumpkin spice lattes in your manicured hands. 

Simply put, Taehyung likes you. Though after your disastrous first meeting during which, blunt-natured and seemingly lacking a sense of self-preservation, he called you a stuck up moron and you threatened to make an attempt at his life. With your bullheaded nature, things never did solve themselves after that one instance.

It’s not something that he’s expressed outwardly, but Jungkook knows him better than he knows the back of his hand. Unfortunately, he knows you too, even if not as well and he knows how you can’t get a boyfriend because you either scare them away or you find out they’re only after a quick fuck and some money. 

Regardless, Jungkook writes off his inner ramblings as irrelevant before turning to Jin in what could be described as a conspirative manner. While clumsily handing the cashier gas money, he whispers something in the other man’s ear and Jin’s eyes literally twinkle like he’s in a low-budget porno. 

He nods, furiously so, and the cashier simply stares at them like they’re two idiots that somehow merged into one. It’s not a pretty sight. 

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“What? We’re sleeping out here?” Your whining is to be expected by now. Had any of your friends written an actual, physical, list of all the things you’ve complained about so far, it’d probably fill a notebook. Thankfully enough, said list remained as a mental compilation of your not-so-epic moments. “What about the motel?” 

“Oh, so now you want a motel?” Jin quips back with a smirk. “They always come ‘round.” 

Despite his boasting and apparent eagerness to go to a motel, that doesn’t change the fact that you all find yourselves in a campsite. You’re not an outdoor person save for going to parties or on a shopping spree with Hoseok. And well, your surroundings are a bit too green right now.

Taehyung is the next person to speak up, with a tense posture and his arms crossed over his chest, almost defiantly so. “Honestly, if you don’t want to be here, I don’t understand why you keep coming to these things.”

“Well, I don’t understand why I had to invite your dumb ass here either. I guess the inner machinations of my mind are an enigma.” 

“Yeah, I thought Namjoon or Yoongi would be more fitting for your taste of guest,” he says, outright taunting you now, as if to remind you of your failed love rendezvous with your now close friends. 

“Well yeah, but they both denied, so I had to invite you.” 

“Ah,” he gives a slight sigh and you dismiss the sadness you register in his voice as something deserved for annoying you, “that does make more sense. Lucky me, I guess.”

“Awkies,” Jungkook announces as if it’s something that needs to be announced. Hoseok simply shrugs, and though you’re definitely not looking forward to sleeping out in the woods, he seems excited to try something new. 

There’s something hilarious about seeing a bunch of upper-class kids trying to set up tents and start a fire. You’ve converted to the cavemen with Hoseok, seemingly unaware that engaging in a one-sided debate with a bundle of sticks won’t make them randomly engulf in flames while Hoseok is trying out a trick he saw in the movies.

Honestly, it’s enough of a miracle that you actually went out in the woods and helped without tripping your silly ass and getting lost among the catacombs. Granted, Hoseok would’ve been compassionate enough to look for you had you gotten lost, but you probably wouldn’t get over the trauma of being covered in mud. 

Taehyung notices you both struggling. Part of him wants to make amends with you and a bigger part of him wants to leave Jimin to scramble on his own. Not that he’s sadistic or anything, he just likes seeing others suffer sometimes for entertainment purposes. 

Anyways. 

He approaches casually, like the kind of casual where you can tell that the person has an ulterior motive that they don’t want to reveal. Hoseok appears happy to see him, like he’s a savior on a white horse, while you don’t acknowledge him that much except for a sharp question regarding what he wants. 

He greets the older boy with one of these grins you won’t admit you enjoy looking at before roaming through the pockets of his jacket. Now that you’ve noticed him wearing one, you come to the sudden realization that it is getting quite breezy. 

Taehyung has the habit of scrunching his nose when he’s looking for something and then unconsciously smile broadly after succeeding in finding it. You don’t like that you’re aware of that and you especially don’t like that you can pinpoint the repetitive action.

It appears that Taehyung was looking for a lighter, of all things. 

“I thought you quit smoking?” You simply give him an incredulous look. 

He doesn’t grace you with an answer. Though he doesn’t reek of the putrid smell, you’re still hoping that the answer to that question is yes. Instead of soothing your curiosity, however, he uses the lighter to ignite a spark in the firewood and you guess that it’ll have to do.

“Well, that was quite pathetic,” you comment unhelpfully. 

“Better than Hobi’s attempts and uh, whatever the fuck you were doing.” 

Hoseok is enthusiastic to announce that the bonfire’s ready. You watch the clumsily prepped three tents in disinterest, not bothering to defend your attempt at enchantment to him. “Hoseokie, you’re gonna share a tent with me right?” 

“Hoseokie,” Jin repeats, but in good fun, “I thought you were gonna crash with me tonight?”

You roll your eyes before redirecting your gaze towards Jimin and Jungkook. By the guilty smile Jungkook gives you, you can tell he doesn’t plan on letting Jimin out of his clown clutches. You narrow your expression and jut your lip out disapprovingly. 

“Well, Mr. Handsome,” Jin interrupts whatever you have to say with a thank you, “since you and Kook have been jointed by the assholes since we got here, I don’t see what the problem is.” 

“I think you’re just saying that because you don’t wanna sleep with Tae,” Hoseok comments obliviously. 

“What he said. Also, these crackwhores are planning something, and I’m going to find out what.”

“Well, you’re in tough luck because Hoseok promised,” Jin argues, emphasizing the word promise. He has a shit-eating grin on his face and he’s not even denying your accusation. 

Taehyung coughs once. The second time is overkill and sounds even faker than the first one. “Sorry, but if [Y/n] isn’t comfortable sharing the tent with me, it doesn’t really matter what Hoseok promised.” 

You gape at him. This is probably the first intelligent thing that you’ve heard come out of his mouth. You almost reconsider your treatment of him after that, but then you remember that a guy being half-decent isn’t something you’re supposed to celebrate. You suppose that even he looks like a saint compared to some of your exes.

Everyone notices the conflict on your face but doesn’t say anything about it. Jin admits that Taehyung’s right with a wail yet the tension doesn’t dissolve, somehow. You excuse yourself by declaring that you’re going to get the blankets out of the SUV. 

“Damn, that bad huh?” Jungkook laughs. It’s the hyena laugh that kind of doesn’t suit his face but also the one he does when he’s having fun for no good reason. 

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“I heard in the girls’ bathroom once that this girl went on a diet where she only eats bananas for three months. Like, five a day,” you explain while you munch on your banana in front of the bonfire. Needless to say, you’ve come out to be severely underprepared in terms of food on your first day. 

“That sounds like a strategy to make yourself unhinged,” Hoseok retorts. He believes your story but he’s skeptical about that banana business. “I’d never do that.” 

“Me neither. Diets are stupid, anyway, can’t a bitch eat?” 

Jungkook reaches over and high-fives you, looking at you like you’ve just invented air or some shit. “Amen to that sister.” 

“By the way, what’s the plan for tomorrow?” Jimin is the one to speak up this time. 

“I have quite the plan for you, alright,” Jin laughs. His next statement, however, is the embodiment of his immature nature. “But that banana talk had me all distracted.”

Everyone collectively groans. You’re not really sure if what he said would classify as a dad joke at this point; you’re now entering single-and-desperate-dad joke territory. Can’t say that you’d enjoy it coming from someone else, but Jin is Jin.

“Anyways,” he dismisses his previous remark with an easy-going smile and a wave of his hand in thin air, “we’re going to a breakfast place first thing in the morning. By foot.” 

His grin is mischievous. You think this is the worst idea he’s had yet and no one else present seems attracted by the prospect of it either, so you vocally oppose him with a raised brow. “Don’t you realize how likely it is we’ll get lost?” 

“Yeah, I also don’t wanna walk too much.” Hoseok’s always one to back you up.

“Technology doesn’t lie, [Y/n].”

“If technology doesn’t lie how come I had a D on my maths test in junior year when I used Photomath?” 

Hoseok agrees, remembering the incident. That day was truly one of sorrow. 

“Technology only lies if you’re gullible enough,” Jin now changes the narrative. 

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You sneak out of your and Hoseok’s tent with a brief explanation thrown over your shoulder. Something about getting your make-up wipes from the trunk. Hoseok mutters inspiring words of advice—be careful, it’s dark and who knows what animal puke is on the ground—and you stumble your way to the SUV. 

Shoving the keys in the hole proves to be a difficult task, however. You aimlessly jut it in, hoping to hit the correct place by some sort of miracle. This is the moment that you realize that your eyes aren’t so good at adapting to the darkness. 

“Hey, what’re you doing?”

You jump up out of pure reflex. Startled, you whip around with a bemused look on your face. You’re gonna get wrinkles, damn it. 

“Woah, girl jumps in heels,” Taehyung comments dryly. 

“Don’t sneak up on me, you idiot cokehead,” you retort. You’re not sure why you said that. He’s not a cokehead. 

“No, but seriously, what’re you doing?” 

“I’m trying to look for my make-up wipes.” 

Taehyung takes the keys from you. Without half as much fumbling as you’d done previously, he opens the trunk and you proceed with looking through your purse, only to come to the conclusion that you’ve forgotten your make-up lines somewhere. There’s now a new resolve, clear as day in your twisted mind—you have to find the supermarket you passed by on your way here and buy new ones.

“Did you find them?”

“No.” You scoff. An angry thaw and the trunk is now closed. “I’m going to buy some.” 

“Woah, calm down tiger. Can’t you just sleep with it?” 

“No! Do you know how bad that is for your skin?” 

“Well, we could find a river and you could wipe your face with the dirty water.” 

You give him a blank stare, barely suppressing a small giggle. “Do you understand how ridiculous you’re being?” 

“I’m being ridiculous?”

Silence.

“...You’re not planning to go off in the woods during the dawn of asscrack, right?” 

“The what? Yeah.”

Taehyung looks towards your tent only to see that the light is completely shut down. Hoseok must be asleep already. “I’ll go with you.” 

You roll your eyes. “Do whatever you want.” 

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“So, why do you hate your cousin so much?” Taehyung asks abruptly from behind you. 

Most of your walk has been a silent one, so far, except for an occasional grumble from you and an absentminded one-liner from him. There’s also the sound of sticks crumbling under your high-heels that’s slightly irritating. 

“Because she’s unfunny,” you reply seriously.

“You have issues.” This is probably the least significant reason someone has ever hated somebody else for, in the entire history of hatred. Strangely enough, however, Taehyung can’t help finding it endearing how outlandish you can be.

“I’m sorry, I must have Alzheimer’s because I don’t remember asking,” you snap with a roll of your eyes. 

“You know, I have a dog,” he begins dramatically. “And sometimes he shits on the carpet and one time he puked on me, but I still love him very much. He’s gang, you feel?” 

“I don’t see how that helps with my family situation.”

“I never said it’s supposed to help, I just wanted to talk about myself.” He snickers. You’re getting the most violent of urges. 

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Leering over the thin metal fence that looms over an otherwise mundane hill gives you an idea. Down the admittedly high hill, the supermarket is obnoxiously lit up. However, the hideous sight doesn’t deter you—this is what your nirvana looks like in the given moment.

With one bold move, you lift your leg up the fence and Taehyung considers you, your motives and perhaps even your life until now. “What are you doing?” 

“It’ll be faster if I go down the hill.” 

“You’re gonna break your ankles in these shoes,” he rebuts, his voice a tilted monotone. “Also, I can see your underwear like this.” 

“Perveeeeert.” This is your final taunt before you do make it over the short fence and onto the other side. Examining the hill from up close—but not before you roll your miniskirt down—you come to two conclusions. The first one is that it’s quite steep and the second one comes when you’re one step down, that maybe, just maybe, you’re a bit deranged.

With your back turned to him, you don’t get to see Taehyung experiencing the five stages of grief. There’s obvious conflict on his face and to be precise, his current dilemma is between worry for you and a lack of power to stop you. Perhaps had you turned around, you’d find the sight entertaining.

His movements are leisurely once he does get in motion. Taehyung’s plan is to simply help you up now that he noticed that you’re hesitating to go further than you’ve already gone. 

His voice cutting through the night’s silence startles you. “Hey, you really shouldn’t do this.” 

You stumble. 

As tragic as that is, there’s something else to placate you; you’ve never seen Taehyung move so fast. Not even during the blip test in high school. The rest of his actions are less endearing—he throws you over his shoulder carelessly, stumbles onto the sidewalk and drops you like it’s hot. And then your legs are a bit wobbly, but you pretend they aren’t. 

The unnerving silence remains all the way to the supermarket, then back to the campsite and even when Taehyung’s awkwardly using his phone as a flashlight in your face while you remove your make-up. There’s nothing to say, except maybe if he were to ask you a question that’s not to your liking.

(He’s not that bad.)

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Jin is in a hurry, but you’re not sure what for. It’s been practically less than a day since you started this road trip, but it feels longer. You’re conflicted about how to feel regarding that, but even so, Jimin and Hoseok’s enthusiasm is hard to ignore. 

The feline smile on your face drops the moment Jungkook basically drags you out of your tent, bare-faced and severely underdressed. Well, to be honest, you blend in with them just fine, but in your head, you’re severely underdressed. Something more boujee is usually your style, but you realize your predicament won’t magically change the longer you’re walking in what feels like the middle of nowhere. 

Tusla is gross, yes, but maybe Oklahoma is just gross in general. 

When you’re unhappy, you don’t get shy about it—honesty is the best policy, after all. So you’re going on one of those annoying tangents you like to go on like it’s second nature to you. Maybe it is. 

Taehyung drones out whatever it is you’re saying the moment you start talking about a pimple in your nostril that has hair growing out of it. He’s not particularly grossed out by this revelation, rather, he doesn’t like listening to you go on and on about everything you don’t like about yourself. 

“And I couldn’t put on that necklace you got me for my birthday,” you complain before linking your arms with Hoseok’s and feigning a sniff.

“That is pretty horrible,” he hums in agreement. “I think I have a rash on my thigh.” 

“See, if Jungkook wasn’t being horrible I could probably get some kinda product to smear on it.”

Taehyung feigns a loud yawn. Tagging along with you and Hoseok isn’t as tiring as he’d like to make it out to be. 

“What’re you yawning so blatantly for? I hate being interrupted.” You roll your eyes cockily. 

“Sorry, I almost fell asleep during this uninteresting speech of yours.”

You fume again and Hoseok reassures you with something along the lines of don’t worry, [Y/n], it’s very interesting. Then, silence follows. It always seems to end up like this between the two of you. 

“Well, if it helps,” Taehyung starts, tone breezy, “you’re still beautiful.” 

You feel your face heat up. Sure, boys have given you plenty of compliments before—you’re no stranger to it—hot, sexy and maybe pretty on a good day. But beautiful? Especially without any make-up on? This is definitely something new. 

Hoseok smiles. “Yeah, he’s right.” 

You don’t want to admit just how flattered you really are. “Of course I am.”

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You take the first thing you find to your liking once you reach the breakfast place. Actually, it’s more brunch than it is breakfast, but all that walking is making you starve so you don’t feel particularly inclined to be hung up on semantics. 

“It’s on me.” Jungkook sweeps in smoothly, giving you a flashy smile. 

“Fuck off. I’m still mad at you.”

“You might be, but not for long,” he argues with an obnoxious grin on his face. “They call it… The Kook Effect.” 

You shake your head. “I’m pretty sure you just made that up.”

“Yeah? Remember when you won a bet against Jimin and he had to call you Supreme Majesty in freshman year? And then you pretended that he did it out of his own volition.” 

“Oh, I’m not taking this from you and your dead trim.”

“My trim is fine, thanks.”

“Dead trim!” you repeat, almost frantic. You’re so caught up with Jungkook’s dead trim that you don’t notice that Taehyung is giving you a cheesy smile as he buys you your food. He looks like the greasiest gentleman alive when he hands it to you. 

“And what’s that about?”

“In junior year, at summer camp, they took away our phones because someone recorded the instructor jerking off. And then like, blackmailed him.” 

You quirk an eyebrow up at this, unsure what he’s hinting at. “Right.”

“Right. And then they took all of our phones for a month and you started crying about how your life is a living nightmare.” 

“Right…” you trail off, suddenly embarrassed as if that hadn’t happened a whole two years ago. But like, it totally was a big deal! “The no phone rule was the worst. Even worse than the public bathroom rule.”

“I did it. I’m making it up to you,” he explains. 

You feel your mouth twitch into a small smile, one that he hasn’t quite seen on you before. “I forgive you this once, then.” 

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“We’re going to a hotel after sightseeing,” Jin explains. It’s like he’s got everything figured out all by himself and perhaps with the help of Jungkook’s annoying personality. “I arranged the rooms and everything while you were eating.” 

“Quite epic,” Jimin comments absentmindedly. “Wait, rooms? Like, you mean who’s rooming with who?” 

“Yeah, I finished the registration.” He stares directly at you and then Taehyung. “You could switch if you wanted to, it doesn’t really matter.”

You give him a light glare, already having a brief idea of what he’s done, but don’t comment any further. With a sense of deja vu, you speak up again. “What about the motel?” 

“I wasn’t sure if we’re going to be passing by one today, so I thought hey! Better safe than sorry.” 

Everyone nods in half-agreement until Jin speaks up again. “Plus, you guys reek. You should shower. Couldn’t be me.”

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Predictably, Jin did set you and Taehyung up. You can’t tell what kind of game he and Jungkook are playing, however, the poor boy isn’t half as insufferable in your eyes ever since this road trip began, so maybe you should thank them. Still, you don’t trust them—their minds are as twisted as yours.

As the two of you are dragging your luggage towards your shared room, Taehyung reminds you that you’re free to tell him if you don’t want to sleep with him. “I could go to Jungkook’s room or something.”

You find the idea of being alone more unfavorable than you thought you would. Perhaps your high-school, drastically more histrionic, self would’ve found anything more pleasant than sharing a room with Taehyung. You’re a (slightly) changed person now, though. Or at least you’d like to believe you are.

“Let’s put it like this. I hate a lot of things.”

“You don’t need to tell me that, I already know,” he interrupts with a crude giggle. 

“But you’re not one of them,” you admit. 

There’s also the fact that the two of you are blatantly ignoring that you could switch with Jin and sleep with Hoseok instead.

No more words are spoken between the two of you that day. New Mexico isn’t half as bad as Oklahoma was. 

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You wake up before Taehyung does, punctually so. Rolling out of bed, you partly don’t care whether you wake him but at the same time, you try to avoid making too much noise before slipping into the bathroom. Though you’re definitely one to value your beauty sleep, yesterday’s incident left you paranoid over whether Jungkook or Jin would catch you unprepared. 

You go through your routine calmly and by the time Taehyung goes in the bathroom to take a piss, you’re ready to start doing your make-up. You stare at the foundation in your hand but before you can apply it, you hesitate. 

Do I need make-up to be desirable?

Of course, you’re aware that not all women who use make-up are insecure, or that it’s always necessarily toxic for your self-esteem. And you thought that was the case with you as well, but your doubts suggest otherwise. Swiftly, you put all of your stuff away, stick with your trusty lipstick and nothing else. 

“Morning,” he says, groggy still. 

“Morning.” You look over to him from the corner of your eye and he looks kind of dazed. “Jin says we’re staying here until tomorrow morning.” 

“Cool. Hotel’s nice. The scenery too.” 

“I guess.” 

There’s something cripplingly awkward when the two of you aren’t hurling insults at each other, you realize. 

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You’re off somewhere with Hoseok and Jin when Taehyung is hanging out with Jimin and Jungkook. Turns out their room has a nice balcony, and with the others out of the picture, there’s some kind of buzzed chatter about incoherent topics swirling around. 

Jungkook suddenly decides that it’s a good idea to start talking about his sexcapades. Maybe it’s the alcohol or maybe his mind’s slipping. Jimin kind of wants to admit how much he doesn’t care what his friend does outside of watching anime and playing video games, but there’s also a part of him that’s morbidly intrigued by Jungkook’s words. Like a dark spell or something. 

“I wanted to hit it off with [Y/n] in high school,” he admits bluntly.

The other two stare at him.

“Oh really? What made you change your mind?” Jimin asks, now more awake than ever. 

“Dunno. Like, she’s more like, the bitchy rival in rom-coms, not the protagonist. I liked her, but I didn’t think I could handle her,” he admits.

“Once we were clubbing and this guy was messing with me and I complained to her about it,” Jimin begins, leaning into his chair with a fond smile on his face, “and she was all like, I’ll show him. And I was like, what? And she was like, I’ll show him who he’s dealing with. And then I was like, okay, maybe don’t show him that much.” 

The three of them chuckle. Taehyung talks for the first time in a while. “Nah, I agree.”

“You dig it though, right?” 

Jimin gives him a knowing look right after Jungkook shoots his question with a drunken smile. He guesses that since Hoseok isn’t here, he can finally admit it. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I do. But I can’t get things right with her.” 

“What do you mean?”

“It’s like, we’re either fighting or it’s really awkward.” 

“You’re on your own.” Jimin dismisses him with a wave of his hand. “I don’t think she hates you that much. It’s always Taehyung this, Taehyung that.” 

“True,” Jungkook agrees. “Like yes, maybe she’s complaining about you half the time and I know she loves gossiping but I’ve never heard her talk about someone else that much. Except maybe Yoongi. What I’m sayin’ is, you should give it a shot.”

“Why do you guys even fight so much?” Jimin laughs. “Whenever it happens, I like, forget what even happened to lead up to that.” 

“Well, you know me. I’m always too honest for my own good and when I hit her with some snark she starts getting all defensive. I just...” He sounds defeated by the time he’s finished with his explanation. Taehyung’s shoulders visibly slump and his frame slides down the uncomfortable chair. “I just want to get along with her.” 

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The fourth day is the first time you actually aren’t sure where you are. Save for supposedly being close to Nevada by now, you tuned out the rest of Jin’s explanation despite your previous attempts at keeping up with your location. 

Regardless, what’s important is living in the present. And the present for you right now is walking down a nameless street, in a mess of other tourists, with your pants uncomfortably sticking to your ass with sweat. In short, you feel gross. 

Taehyung doesn’t seem to be having the same problem, while you can’t even fake being unfazed. You envy him just the tiniest bit. 

A trashy souvenir shop seems to catch Taehyung’s attention. In the scorching heat and sand-yellow scenery of this town, however, even that seems more appealing. So when he urges you to go with him, you find yourself reluctantly agreeing. 

When you step in, the air conditioning of the otherwise homey shop welcomes you like taking a breather during an overcrowded party. You let an unconscious smile take over your face when you greet the cashier. She’s cute and her adorableness factor only spikes up when she practically beams at the sight of customers. 

“Hi! Please, feel free to look around.” 

“We will,” Taehyung answers offhandedly. Her gaze lingers on him. 

Most of the things don’t interest you. Actually, they’re hideous if you had to be completely honest. He doesn’t seem that enamored by them either, but you can tell he finds more redeeming qualities about them than you do. 

Your eyes almost bulge out of your face when you see the most live-laugh-love-esque decoration to exist. Like something your mom would laugh-react to on Facebook. 

The offender is no more than three inches tall and wide, a ceramic plate with a cartoony burger portrayed on it. It’s holding a flag that says two simple words: “Nice Buns!” 

You can’t tell if it’s the radioactivity of Jungkook’s cooking from earlier or if this thing is what’s making you nauseous. However, food-poisoning or not, you’re quite disgusted by what you’ve just seen. “Oh my god, the caucasity.” 

“Aw, you don’t like it?” Taehyung says with a mocking pout. “I think it’s cute.” 

“What’s wrong with you? It’s corny.”

“No, it isn’t. It might’ve been if it was a corn-dog, though.” 

You heaved an over-dramatic sigh. “You’re saying words that have no positive impact on my life.”

“I think I’ll buy it,” he declares, before checking the price and realizing he hasn’t brought enough money with himself. 

You shake your head. “I’m not gonna be an accomplice to… that.” 

“Well, of course not. This is your Valentine’s present.”

“Go to hell. As if I’d be your Valentine in the first place,” you reply sardonically before pushing him out of the way.  

Taehyung realizes something at that moment. Even outside your evident disinterest in him and his affairs, the two of you are completely incompatible. You, too quick to judge and be offended and him, too quickly to say the first thing on his mind, obviously don’t mesh smoothly. 

Neither of the boyfriends you’ve had that he’s spoken to is anything like him, either. If Namjoon and Yoongi have one thing in common, it’s that they’re both calm, collected and have a good head screwed securely on top of their shoulders. He’s not like that.

Even so, that revelation only makes the concept of being with you more alluring. 

Kim Taehyung is an idiot. But more importantly, with one glance towards the admittedly good-looking cashier making googly eyes at him, Kim Taehyung makes a decision.

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While you’re taking a shit in a nearby cafeteria, you receive a text from Taehyung. This is shocking by itself since despite the two of you having each others’ numbers, you never really text. 

[15:30] pain in the neck: im going on a date w/ the cashier

[15:30] pain in the neck: feel free to leave

[15:45] Princess Complex: i’m just gonna hang with jungkook thank god

Why is your stomach sinking?

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Once you meet up with Jungkook, you explain the situation briefly. He quickly looks you over, confusion evident on his face. “What? On a date?”

“Yeah, he just kinda left me in the toilet,” you confirm with a shrug. “Anyways, where do you wanna go?” 

It’s not like Jungkook is an oblivious idiot with the emotional capacity of your aunt’s mutated sixth toe, even if he may appear to be. But you never thought he’d call you out the moment your overly confident facade starts slipping. His gaze softens. “Are you sure you’re okay with that?” 

He isn’t examining you when he asks. No, he appears to be looking off, somewhere behind you. However, you remain ignorant to that fact. 

“Yes! Why would I care? I’d rather drink toilet water for ten years straight than spend any more time with that moron,” you snap, too worked up for someone who supposedly doesn’t care. 

“Is that how you really feel about Taehyung?”

“Yes! Yes, oh my god, let it go.”

Jungkook makes one more helpless expression, shrugs lightly, and you fail to realize that neither of those gestures is directed at you. “Let’s go to the arcade.”

“I’m not really into video games,” you lie as you run your hand through your hair, “but fine.”

“Hell yeah.”

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When Taehyung goes back to your room in the trashy motel, notably late during the night for a mere first date, the atmosphere is tense. There’s a crease in your brows when you unlock the door and obvious bite marks over your bare lips. He stumbles ahead to enter, but you continue blocking his path with your arms frigidly crossed over your chest.

“You’re late.” 

“And what’s it to you?” He’s never spoken to you so harshly. There are moments where his words bite, but never does he say them with an expression and tone that are so frosty.

“Nothing in particular.” You move out of his way, finally, and he enters. You briefly wonder if he’s had alcohol before you start talking again. “I’ve been stuck in this room for like, an hour because the keys are in me. Waiting for you...”

“Poor you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I heard what you said about me to Jungkook. You know, I’m starting to understand why you scared away all your exes.”

Warth washes over you in waves for a millisecond before it disperses into nothingness, a cold numbness that makes your back shiver. Your gaze on him is empty yet livid at the same time and he cowers under it. You’re not sure if the guilt on his face is a flicker of your imagination or if it’s genuine, but you hope it’s the latter. 

It’s never his words that are a big deal to you. It’s the way he speaks every syllable, so earnestly with truth laced in every letter, that makes you go off the hook. Because deep down, you’re aware that he doesn’t mean to be malicious or to offend, it’s merely him telling his truth.

You grab a few things impulsively with a mundane declaration, before storming off god knows where. “I’m not sleeping here tonight.”

When the door clicks behind your frame, Taehyung backs down and sprawls out across the bed. Truthfully, he regretted his words before he even opened his mouth. But he was so angry, be it with you or with himself.

It just seemed so unfair that you could blow him away time after time and yet, on his date the only thing on his mind was you. The mediocre make-out session and him awkwardly leaving out of nowhere didn’t help, either. And then you had to be so perfect, waiting for him instead of locking his ass out like he thought you would.

It isn’t the girl’s fault she’s raised to be as sweet as sugar while you’re more like citrus. He’s always had a knack for lemons, anyway.

The fact that you spent the rest of the day with Jungkook only aggravates him further, the younger’s words repeating in his head. I tried to hit it off with [Y/n] in high school, or whatever it was that he said exactly. All of this is his own fault, anyway—if he hadn’t been so temperamental, you would’ve stayed with him for the rest of the day.

Taehyung stares at the cheap lights hanging on the ceiling until his eyes hurt that night.

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Half-way through your trek to Hoseok’s room, you crumble. A sob escapes your throat and then another one. After these two instances, your tears don’t cease. 

At first, Jimin is excited to see you at their door but his smile slips the moment he realizes what a bad state you’re in. You’re practically making whale noises while desperately searching for Hoseok. 

“I’ll give you two a moment.” He gives you one final look-over and leaves with a not-so-threatening threat. “Or maybe thirty. You better be smiling and singing Toxic by the time I’m back, [Y/n].”

Hoseok rushes to hug you. “God, girl, what’s wrong?”

“I like Taehyung.” 

“Is that it? You’re a strong girl, y’know, I never pictured you crying over some pretty boy.” 

“No. I’m crying because I’ve liked him all this fucking time and I tried to run away from him because I’m scared. And he said the most horrible thing to me,” you explain as you bury yourself deeper into his embrace. “That’s why I’m crying.”

“I hope he isn’t allergic to hands, because he’s about to catch them. Actually, I hope he is allergic.” Hoseok isn’t one to ask about details. He lets you get it out of your system, makes a few promises (most often of violence) and then allows you to elaborate if you wish to do so.

You laugh, but it turns into choking considering how much snot you have running down your face by now. “He said that he understands why my exes run away from me. I mean, I— I said something rude about him first, but Jungkook was backing me into a corner and I didn’t know he would even find out about it, I just—”

“Forget about him, forget about Jungkook, everyone. Tonight is for Britney,” Hoseok commands more than he asks you.

You smile sadly at him before uselessly wiping your tears away and giggling like you’re on the brink of losing your mind. Perhaps you are.

“My 45-carat booger. Hey, let’s make Jimin do the chicken dance,” Hoseok starts off like he’s coddling you in his strange way of doing so, but then quickly turns diabolical. He throws some tissues at you and you accept them. If there’s one thing you’re truly grateful for, it’d be your best friend.

You nod, suddenly more excited than you should be. Hoseok’s right—you don’t need some pretty boy when queen Britney is watching over you.

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The next day, you’re wearing a full-face of make-up, and Taehyung notices it. Hoseok’s driving and you’re in the passenger seat, talking about some nonsense as usually do. The atmosphere is light, with Jimin and Jungkook occasionally joining in your conversation and Jin sleeping with his forehead pressed against the window.

Truth to be told, Taehyung feels like a zombie right now. Pretending that your scuffle with him meant nothing to you only convinces him further how little you care about anything that has to do with him.

“I think we’ll be in Las Vegas soon,” Hoseok announces cheerily.

On one hand, you’re happy to finally be seeing the end of this road trip. Though you’ve technically just been relaxing, you wanted to be done with your cousin’s dumb wedding and go back to spending an average amount of time with your friends. You want to forget how flippant things are between you and Taehyung, your quote-unquote friendship dictated by mood swings rather than actual feelings.

“Fuck yeah! I wanna get drunk in Vegas,” you say with a smirk. “It’s on my bucket list.”

“Really?” 

“Yeah.”

“You want to get drunk everywhere,” Jungkook corrects with a laugh. You can’t help agreeing with him. “And Jin will probably stay in the hotel and play Candy Crush or something.”

“Ew, ew, ew, a fucking millenial,” you exclaim in mock disgust.

“Jin can be a beast if he wants to. Remember when he twerked in front of the whole school on Taehyung’s birthday party?”

“Shit was wild, man.”

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No one except you, Hoseok and Taehyung himself is aware of what transpired yesterday. So Jungkook and Jin are still stubbornly placing the two of you together, yet you’re too powerless to fight it.

The hotel is a fancy one, courtesy of your annoying cousin. She’s been texting you and you sent a short message back to inform her you’ve arrived, but you haven't bothered to deal with her provocations any further. 

After dumping his luggage near his bed, Taehyung was straight out of the room and you started getting ready. And that was that. 

You feel more like yourself when you find the wine hidden in the fridge, a free present from the hotel. Or maybe your cousin’s way of making peace. Ha, as if that’d happen. 

When Taehyung comes back to get dressed, you’re already tipsy and acting like a fool.

“Drinking already?” There are many things that Taehyung wants to say to you. An apology he’s too sober to say and a confession you’re too drunk to hear, to begin with. 

“It’s pre-game,” you explain dizzily. “You know. I never told you why I hate my cousin so much. She used to bully me and she stole my first boyfriend from me. And we never got past it.”

With your trademark look, high-heels, acrylics, a fancy yet revealing dress along with whatever else you consider fashionable at the moment, Taehyung feels familiarity staring at your lopsided smirk. Though he’s gotten glimpses of other sides of you during these past few days, like how you like cuddling during the night, this is the epitome of who you are.

“Yeah,” he replies agreeably, though you’re not sure what for.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but Hoseok is waiting for me. So, this is bye-bye.” 

“See you there.”

“Probably not.” You snicker. Taehyung can tell that you’re still upset with him.

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You’re so wasted that the things happening around you aren’t really making sense anymore. While you and Hoseok were drinking together for a while, at one point Jungkook whisked him away, then there’s a blank in your memory and now you’re here. Alone. And you’ve lost count of how many drinks you’ve had. 

A man, that’s definitely a few years older than you, finally approaches you after observing you from afar. He says some sort of sleazy line—you’re not sure what it is, you’re not really listening—and offers you a drink. 

You consider him. He’s not your type at all and that pornstache isn’t helping his case but, when you look at Taehyung and see him talking and having fun while you’re being an alcoholic by your lonesome and moping about him, you quickly accept his offer. Pornstache or not. 

“Pick anything you’d like, kitten,” he purrs, in an attempt at being seductive. 

“Well first off I’m not a furry so don’t call me that,” you snap with a self-assured grin. And then you start listing off the most expensive drinks on the menu. 

This man is so enamored by you that he buys you all of them. You’re three steps closer to alcohol poisoning when you clumsily stumble onto the dance floor along with him, running your hand over his jaw in what you believe to be a sensual manner. He seems to dig it, but from an outsider’s perspective the two of you look like junkies trying to get off. 

Your experience in the club is romanticized. The dim lights are reminiscent to those few times you’ve gone to a rave and it reeks of alcohol, overpriced perfumes and sweat. You and your nameless pathetic fan mingle with the grinding crowd and begin imitating them. 

As the poet Lady Gaga once said, “redlight pornographic dance fight”. 

The act itself is indifferent to you. From across the room, Taehyung locks eyes with you and you’re not really sure why but you feel this sudden need to provoke him, even when you know he most likely wouldn’t care. You sloppily kiss your suitor’s cheek while looking at him intensely from across the room. A red trail from your wet lips makes its way down his face.

For the sake of pettiness, you might’ve gone further—I mean, you were already playing some weird game of tug-and-war but with clothes—but you don’t want to know the feeling of this guy’s lips against yours. He finds the mostly innocent action as an invitation, though, and abruptly halts your staring contest with Taehyung by forcing you into a greedy kiss.

Pushing him away, you give him a pointed stare and rejection is clear on his face. “Excuse me…” 

He’s a terrible kisser. 

Pushing through everyone that’s in your way, you make your escape through the first door you find. In your intoxicated parade, you fail to make sense of the words ‘CLOSED’ that are so blatantly taped over the entrance. So, you find yourself in front of a swimming pool. 

The cold breeze outside prickles at your skin unpleasantly, and a quick look around tells you that there’s no one around to put this in their cringe compilation. Apparently more disgusted than you’d initially thought, you puke your guts out in front of the pool. Now light-headed and somehow empty, you stare at your vomit and take a deep breath. 

“Hey, why’d you run away?” Your suitor from earlier appears to have followed you outside. You stare at your feet—doesn’t he understand that you wanted to get away from him?

“You’re a bad kisser,” you say bluntly after getting over your little trance. 

“Give me a chance to change your mind then,” he offers smugly, taking menacing steps towards you. You move away instinctively before you’re quickly backed into a wall, with his two hands trapping you in between. 

Your eyes widen with fear and you sink into yourself. If you had anything else to puke out, you’re sure you would’ve done so at this point. “I have sharp nails and I’m not afraid to use them.”

“Oh, she bites-”

The events that play out next happen so slowly, you’re not sure why you’re surprised. Taehyung appears, and you do see him in your peripheral vision, stares for a bit before knocking the guy out with a punch to his temple. He falls unconscious on the ground.

“Oh god, did I kill him?” he asks, a vacant look on his face. He imagined his first kill to be more thrilling, but on second thought, he’s not sure why he was thinking about that without being under the influence of substances in the first place. 

“I’d be happy if he’s dead, if that helps,” you comment dryly. 

“Do we dump the body in the pool or what?”

The two of you are drunk enough to consider it. Your mind is blank for a bit, before you finally speak up. “I’m trying to think of what I saw on How To Get Away With Murder, but it’s not coming to me. But like, on Blacklisted, there was this guy who like, made the corpses turn to gas or something!”

“You watch too much TV. Also, I’m pretty sure it’s called The Blacklist.”

“Whatever. Do you know how to do that?”

“No.”

“Hey, what’s going on here?” A new voice cuts in.

“You better come up with something convincing or we’ll have to kill him too,” you urge.

“Did you say something?”

“No.”

“Umm, awkward believe it yeah,” Taehyung begins, a strong start. “This guy slipped on her puke and hit his head. And he has a concussion now.”

“Man, that sucks,” the guy says. You’re relieved that he’s as trashed as he is, otherwise the situation would’ve went really badly, considering how Taehyung straight-up lied to his face. “I’ll go call someone over ‘ere.”

Once he’s out of sight, the two of you stare at each other and decide to flee the country. But then change the plan with the more economically-efficient idea to simply leave the club. 

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“Why were you with that guy anyway?” Taehyung asks. Frankly put, neither of you know where you’re going, but you’re boldly leading him through the artificially-lit streets of Las Vegas as if you’re born there. Where you end up is a concern your sober selves of tomorrow should worry about.

“I wanted to make you jealous,” you reply, bold, like everything you do when you’re drunk is. 

“...I don’t get it.”

“You pissed me off so much yesterday. And you made me jealous when you went out with that cashier. But also, you killed a guy for me, so I guess I’m not mad at you anymore.” 

“Well aren’t you high-maintenance,” he retorts sarcastically, gaining what feels like a confidence spurt because of your sudden confession. “You don’t have anything to be jealous of, anyway. The only thing I had on my mind during that stupid fucking date was you.”

You freeze up. You thought that your own attitude was what made any possibility of him returning your feelings seem laughable. Even if it’s drunk blabber, alcohol is an honesty elixir, at least in your case. “Kiss me?” 

He doesn’t need to be told twice, attacking your lips so eagerly you’d consider it funny if you were in a right state of mind. Still, your reciprocation is just as hungry, so maybe you don’t have any room to laugh. He is indulging you, after all.

The wipeout that happened at the club happens again and you’re left to wonder how things escalated. From teeth clashing against each other in pure excitement, you’re left hovering over Taehyung’s form and straddling him unsteadily.

He reaches under your already high dress and the glimpse of your panties seems to excite him. “You have no idea how much I’ve thought about this,” he admits breezily. 

You smile, a teasing one, adjusting yourself better. “You don’t need to be so dramatic about it, it’s just underwear.” 

“Dramatic is how many times I’ve jerked off after we went to the supermarket and you flashed me.”

“Ewwww, we shared a bed like three times, freak,” you scold and he pouts when you distance yourself from him. 

“I was just trying to be funny!”

“Not funny. Didn’t laugh. It’s better when you don’t talk,” you instruct before leaning down again to kiss him. At least he’s having fun with groping whatever he can get his hands on. 

“You’re so annoying it turns me on. Always whining, it drives me nuts how much I really like you.”

You snicker. “Well, I sure am feelin’ the love here.”

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When you wake up, you register three things. Four, actually. First—your left shoe is missing. Second— Taehyung is knocked out cold next to you. Third—you don’t know where you are, except for the fact that there’s a garbage bin next to you. Fourth—your head is throbbing with pain and you’re so sore you’re not sure if you can walk. Needless to say, you had the wild night in Vegas you wished for in your bucket list, and you only half-regret it.

You see your shoe discarded near you and nudge it with your toe for a bit before finally gathering enough power to sit up and put it on. Or so you think, because the moment you’re propped in a standing position, you vomit like you did yesterday. 

Speaking of yesterday, the only thing you remember is that you and Taehyung were convinced that he’s now a murderer on the run, confessing your feelings for each other in an anti-climactic manner and then having like seven rounds of public sex. 

With a recap of yesterday’s events, you digress and put your shoe on before reaching in your purse. Surprisingly, you haven’t been robbed. Fishing your phone out, you come to the conclusion that you’ve been knocked out cold for way too long. 

Hoseok has generously spammed you with seventy texts, but you don’t bother to read them, already assuming that the gist is something about where the fuck you and Taehyung are. Instead, you call him immediately. 

“Hi,” you greet casually.

“[Y/n]! Where the fuck are you and Tae? We were so worried. Jin almost declared you two missing. But on the positive side, Jungkook didn’t care because he got food poisoning yesterday at the club.”

“I don’t know where we are, but he’s with me.”

“What do you mean?!”

“I’ll send you my location. I don’t have money for Uber, love you, kisses and hickeys,” you say in one breathe before hanging up quickly and doing what you said you’d do. 

At first, you thought this road trip was an opportunity for you to grow and mature. However, after yesterday’s shenanigans, you’re almost convinced your sociopathic tendencies are now higher by 5%. 

You start shaking Taehyung until he wakes up and swats your arms away. Now upon closer inspection, while you’re aware that you look bad right now, he’s not looking too hot either. The lipstick marks you had left on his face make it look like you’ve either slobbered all over him or that he’s a vampire, you’re not sure. And you’ve bitten him so much somebody could think he got attacked by a racoon judging solely on those bruises.

You quickly explain the situation to him as you’re fixing up your bra and top. Considering the fact that you were bordering on nip-slip territory, that was your priority. Smoothing your dress is easy enough, but your pantyhose is mysteriously ripped in some incriminating places.

He reaches out, rips out the fake eyelash that was pathetically hanging off the corner of your eye and throws it away. You take care of the other one, wipe off your ruined make-up and then wipe off the lipstick on his face. 

Your head hurts so much that you don’t know what to say to break the silence. Though you also don’t doubt that he’s in the position, and so, for the first time it doesn’t feel awkward between the two of you. 

“Hey, [Y/n], are we like… dating now?”

“I think so? You can be my date to the wedding if you want.” 

A dopey smile takes over his face. You realize you’ve made someone this happy before with merely being yourself. It fills you with a kind of warmth you’ve never felt before.

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“Your cousin won’t stop calling you,” Taehyung emphasizes as you’re pointedly ignoring your ringtone while you get ready. Considering the atrocious state both of you came back in, the process taking longer than usual shouldn’t be a surprise. Especially since you had to take turns for the shower.

Also the part where the two of you got into a fight over who should go in first—your thesis being arguably stronger once you mentioned the mud ingrained in the left sole of your feet—only slowed you down further.

“I know right? Can’t this pregnant moron get a life.”

“No, I think she’s calling you because we’re late to the wedding,” he elaborates. “You should pick up.”

“But I hate her!”

“You can roast her at the wedding and I’ll hype you up if you do what I ask.”

“Oh my god, promise?” 

“Promise.”

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“Look who finally showed up,” your cousin greets you with a tight smile. You can only return the sentiment as Taehyung dumbly trails behind you. 

Well, as much as you don’t like your cousin, the wedding is certainly nice. With a light atmosphere and a fancy ceremony, he can’t pretend he hates it—that much is certain. Though he can also tell that it’s a lot of money wasted on food that doesn’t look appetizing in the slightest the more he examines the buffet.

“I see you’re not wearing the dress I shipped to you. Is it too tight, perhaps?” She’s smiling fakely and sweetly as she waits for your answer to her provocation. Of course it’s too tight; what else could it be when she picked it two sizes smaller than what you usually wear. And she did it on purpose too.

Despite the rather mundane conversation happening, the tension is thick.

“I’m going to be quick. You look like a greasy manatee.” You give her your own uptight smile before strutting away, cueing Taehyung to follow after you.

“Pregnancy-shameeeeed,” he yells out as he offers her finger guns and speed-walks in your direction. 

Once he’s caught up with you, he speaks up again. “I know you could’ve been more brutal than that.”

“Oh please, I’m sophisticated, I’d never engage in some barbaric behavior.”

You both burst out laughing at your blatant lie. 

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“Do you think they’re dating now?” Jin asks, looking at the two of you as you dance and joke around. Though he imagines that you could only be having a deranged conversation, one that isn’t as sweet and lovey-dovey as it might look from an outsider’s perspective, it’s still quite disgusting how smitten Taehyung looks with you. 

“I don’t care,” Jungkook answers. Him saying he doesn’t care is a metaphor for how much he doesn’t care about anything after his food poisoning.

Jimin rolls his eyes. “Oh definitely. I saw them making out near a garbage dumpster when we were driving back to the hotel.”

Seokjin chokes.

[mwolf0epsilon]

who are you dbh ocs!!! what are they like? are any of them androids? (sorry if that terminology is wrong i dont know much about dbh (im assuming you mean detroit become human but if you arent thats double embarrassing))

You got that right, it is Detroit: Become Human, no need for embarassment!And to answer the question, the majority of my DBH ocs are androids, with a few being android dogs actually.I’ll list all of them here and give a brief look into who they are and what they’re like, buckle up it’ll be a long one ^^;

Androids:

Joel the EM400 - Like most EM400s he worked for an amusement park, but he was tasked with maintaining the haunted house attraction. As a result, Joel had to deal with jumpy people who’d kick and punch him and overall behave abusively towards the actors in the haunted house. He ended up deviating purely out of fear when someone sicked their supposed “service dog” on him. Joel is an anxious mess and an aspiring novelist.

Jindosh the HR900 - He’s a custom Korean Traci that traveled to Detroit after the revolution. The Eden Club wasn’t the only facility of it’s kind, and it’s obvious the Traci models in Korea have just as many horror stories to tell, if the extensive damage to Jindosh’s face is anything to go by. He works as a body guard for hire.

Sergei the PL600 - Jessica Lamb’s PL600 who was bought under the guise of taking care of her baby. Was actually tortured for fun and came out of it psychologically damaged and prone to odd fits. Is a masochist and a drag queen and probably my favorite out of my OCs.

Noah the PL600 - A special edition PL600 who’s main design difference is that he has green eyes. He’s a soft spoken individual who belonged to a man for a few weeks before he was traded in for an AP700. He worked for several other families for a while before ending up at a pawnshop.

Dakota the CX100 - Once a CX100 named David, Dakota is an extraordinary example of how modding doesn’t necessarily have to go the same track as what Zlatko did to his androids. Being perhaps one of very few trans androids does come with hardships, but Dakota has enough friends and allies that she’s always one call away from help if someone tries anything.

Monochrome the CX100 - Chrome is another interesting CX100. He’s an android that works as a dancer for a strip club called the Steamy Piston. The one thing that sets him apart from most standard CX100s is that his hair is black and his eyes are grey, which is where he gets his name.

Apollo the AP700 - He was a faulty AP700 that was purchansed by a family at an absurdly low price with added costumization. His memory chip malfunctioned during production, which made it impossible for him to recall things or people unless he was standing right in front of them. For a while this meant that Apollo couldn’t register a name for himself until he was properly repaired. His appearence is that of a PL600, but his hair is a shade darker, his face is noticeably freckled and his eyes are a different color each. He was abandoned and lived in the Android Junkyard for a while…He’s a bit cold at times but is actually a pretty affectionate guy.

Eddie the WK218 - A british maintenence android that was stolen and modded before being sold in a flea market as a partner model. He’s an anxious clumsy mess who’s definitly not used to being indoors, but the people who rescued him have properly adopted him into the family and he couldn’t be more grateful.

Aleshenka “The Stag” the WM500 - The Stag is a living urban legend that is seen roaming unlit streets at night. They are a heavily modded WM500 who’s created a small circle of cultists followers. To maintenence and construction worker androids, the Stag is a merciful creature. To android abusers, they are a merciless prosecutor. For some reason, interfacing with them is like being consumed by white noise, and it leaves other androids reeling and unnerved.

Veronica the WR400 - A rather shy WR400 that was purchansed by the Eden Club to substitute North when she was reported missing. She made a friend out of Scott, a HR400, and the two tried to run away after Echo and Ripple were let go by Connor and Hank. Unfortunately Veronica and Scott were caught, and while they did manage to escape, Scott was shot down, leaving Veronica no choice but to salvage her friend’s memory chip and find a temporary body to house it until she could get him a new proper one.

Scott the HR400/K9300 - Originally he was a HR400 that had the appearence of a PJ500. After making friends with Veronica, the two attempted to escape the Eden Club but Scott ended up getting shot down. When he next awoke, he was in the body of a guard dog model made to look like a massive pit bull. Sarcastic and often rude, Scott doesn’t mind the fact he’s basically the real life Scooby Doo, but god does he miss having opposable thumbs.

Ragnarok the K9300 - A guard dog model that looks like a rottweiller, Roky is a very friendly pooch who, despite having been horribly beaten by his owner, is eager to make friends. He seems to think he’s a lap dog.

Chitin the K9099 - A police dog model made to look like a german shepard that was used in an illegal android fighting ring. She’s a lot smarter than she seems, which is how she managed to escape and end up at the K9 devision of the DPD. She’s not just a good girl, she is the best girl.

Regi the K9300 - Val’s personal guard dog model and her only remaining family member. He’s loyal to a fault and will protect his owner at any cost. He’s a fan of belly rubs and ear scratches.

Zulu the WMK9 - A military grade android attack dog. He’s big, fast and scary. Enough said on that matter.

Miles the RK300 - An RK series prototype and also Cyberlife’s first attempt at utilizing the RK models in their pursuit for knowledge on deviancy. He was subjected to all sorts of experimentation to try to induce deviancy in an android and then attempt to newtralize it. This including psychological torture and physical torture as a means to fix a glitch…It didn’t work whatsoever and Miles eventually escaped and hid within the walls of Cyberlife Tower. He’s terrified of everything, including his own shadow. 

Tristan the RK700 - The predecessor of the Connor model, Tristan was designed for infiltration. Cyberlife assumed that, by having an android that could blend in, they’d be able to stop deviancy at it’s root. Sadly, because they tested Tristan through military espionage missions, Cyberlife lost track of their prototype and he went rogue. Tristan is currently a mercenary for hire, chosing to work for the highest bidder, and lives what is essentially a double life. One where he has a civilian personality and appearence, and another where he can disguise himself as whomever he pleases.

Humans:

Artyum Kutznekov the Ex-Cyberlife Engineer - A 21 year old russian immigrant who came to america for a second chance. After lucking out and getting a job at Cyberlife as an engineer, Artyum soon came to realize something just wasn’t right with what the company was doing and that deviancy was more than just a glitch or virus. Unable to keep working out of disgust and guilt, Artyum quit and became a bit of a shuttin. This all changed when one rainy night he came across a severely damaged Sergei and decided to do some good with his skills as an engineer. He’s a gruff bitter young man who looks 40 due to his prematurely graying hair and unkept appearence.

Valentina Hernández the Illegal Modder - A latina 18 year old who helped her father mod androids for a living. A child prodigy, Val had a bright future ahead of her before Cyberlife began to blacklist modders due to the “danger” they posed for the company. When her father refused to stop modding, things took a turn to the worse, and now Val only has Regi to keep her company. Bitter and angry over the injustice her family suffered, Val has taken it upon herself to royally screw over Cyberlife, starting with helping deviants change their appearence. She was the one who modded Dakota, and seems to hold a lot of affection towards the CX100.

Elisa “Myu” Corvo the Android Rights Activist - A portuguese android rights activist who saved Eddie from the flea market he was being sold at. A long time advocate for AI and robotics, Elisa came to america to help in any way shape or form she could, even if it means offering temporary shelter or participating in large protests.

Jessica Lamb the Red Ice Addict - I don’t even know where to start with this one. She’s a drug addict, a drug dealer, a child murderer, and she’s a sadist. She bought an android with the sole intention of recording herself torturing it. She and her friends may have something to do with a certain WR600′s mental and physical scarring…Overall Jess is a terrible person and nothing she does is excusable or morally correct.

Chance - A small baby that Apollo found abandoned in a warehouse. Literally the only thing Apollo has to live for anymore.

AI Handlers:

Miles’s Amanda - One of the first iterations of the AMANDA handler, Miles’s Amanda, known as Amy, is a calmer and more understanding version of Amanda Stern’s AI copy. Her mindscape space is a bakery instead of a garden.

Tristan’s Amanda - The fifth iteration of the AMANDA handler, Tristan’s Amanda is closer to the final product, being stricter and more judgemental of Tristan’s overall behaviour and actions, with the one difference being that she does not have the same override protocol as Connor’s Amanda. She can only berate Tristan for his choices. Her mindscape space is a cinema theater.

Tango - An AI copy of Amanda Stern’s professor, Aaron Hoss, who was her greatest inspiration. He was Part of the RK300 tests, suffering through the same amount of torment as Miles, which in turn drove him insane. Known only as TANGO, this AI handler is a lot more ambitious and murderous than the AMANDA program.

[femslashy]

begin again | chapter two

one | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | masterpost | ao3 | playlist

It’s been three years since Baz left the sleepy Isle of Mage to attend university in London, and he hasn’t regretted a thing--except maybe leaving Simon behind. Convinced he’ll never be forgiven, Baz refuses to even visit until a frantic phone call from his stepmother sends him running home. Once there, Baz is forced to confront his past, question the future, and maybe, just maybe, get that second chance he’s always desired.

genre(s): angst+fluff+smut (in later chapters)

chapter length: 1743 words

triggers/warnings: none for this chapter

author’s note: a giant thank you to @amandaisnotwriting & @rainbowbaz for the beta/britpicking! full acknowledgments will be posted with the last chapter

(@arituzz​ i meant to get this chapter out on your birthday and i didn’t but it’s still dedicated to you 💜💜 happy belated bday!!)

I’m still here.

I’m still in Watford, still on the island, and I tell myself it’s because Daphne is anxious and scared, and won’t leave my father’s side. I tell myself it’s so Andrea can have a holiday alone with her girlfriend without me third-wheeling. I tell myself it's because my siblings miss me.

(I tell myself and I tell myself and I tell myself, like if I do it enough, I might actually be telling the truth.)

On the subject of Daphne, I’d nearly given her a heart attack of her own when I came down for breakfast my second day back with bruises under my eyes and swelling around my nose. She wouldn’t stop stealing glances at me as I ate my eggs, but didn’t ask any questions. (Not that I would have told her anything. As far as my parents knew, Simon and I were secondary school rivals who could barely stand to be in the same room together.) (I never bothered to correct them when those circumstances changed.)

One week—and many cold compresses from Vera—later, the swelling is gone, but the bruising still remains. I scrunch up my face at my reflection in the mirror, hissing as I remember why I shouldn't do that. Fuck Simon.

I’d just wanted to push him a bit, see if he would yell. In hindsight, I should have seen it coming. Simon’s never fought with his words, and me egging him on could have only ended one way. I just wish it hadn’t involved my nose.

I haven’t shown Andrea yet. I’m afraid she’ll think it’s the reason I’ve cancelled on  our holiday. Maybe I should, actually. Then I won’t have to admit the real (much worse) reason. Except she’d just cover up the bruises and drag me to the beach anyway—one of the downsides of being friends with a makeup artist; you can never get out of social gatherings because of your appearance. (That doesn’t mean I don’t try.) (It never works.)

After determining my reflection a lost cause, I leave the bathroom, bumping into Daphne in the hallway.

“Oh, Baz,” she says once she notices it’s me, “I was just looking for you. Can you take the twins to football club again today?”

I nod, because of course I will.  I can’t say I intended to spend my hols as a nanny, but I’m finding that I don’t mind all that much. It gives me something to do. (It gives me excuses.)

Normally Daphne would be the one taking them places, but  my father’s heart attack had shaken her more than I’d initially realised. According to Vera, she’d been out shopping for most of the day when it happened—apparently she and my father had a row—and she’d returned just in time to see him being loaded onto an ambulance.

She’s been glued to his side since he came home. As if on cue, Cecily and Roseline—my six year old half-sisters—come tumbling out of their room. They’re followed closely by Winston, Daphne’s black and tan corgi, who makes a beeline for me almost immediately. I brace myself for an assault on my ankles, but before he can get to me Daphne’s scooping him up, admonishing him in sickening baby talk while he licks at her face. “Why is that dog so obsessed with me?” “He just wants to be your friend,” she replies, and I frown—I don’t like dogs, and I especially don’t like Winston. (This has done nothing to dissuade his love for me.)

“I don’t want to be his friend.”

Daphne just shakes her head and laughs—like she always does when I voice my opinion on her dog—and looks past me at the twins. “Are you two ready to go?”

They nod.

“Do you have your bags ready?”

Wide-eyed, they run off—presumably in the direction of the bags, and I grab the keys, rolling my eyes at Daphne as she tries to get Winston to give me a kiss goodbye.

***

We’re barely out of the garage when Cecily lunges forward and shoves a CD in my face. “Play this.”

“No,” I say flatly as I bat it away, “no, we are not listening to One Direction. And put on your seatbelt.”

“But you said no yesterday. And the day before,” she whines.

“And I’m saying it again: no.” “I’ll tell Mum you’re being mean.” “I don’t care.” “I’ll scream.” “I’d rather listen to that. Seatbelt. Now.”

“You’re in trouble,” Roseline sing-songs; Cecily drops the CD and swats at her.

“Cece! Leave her alone,” I snap.

Roseline looks smug, and Cecily sulks and kicks my seat. “I want my music.” “Put your seatbelt on.”

She does. “Can I have my music now?”

“No.”

She continues to kick my seat for the duration of the trip, sticking her tongue out whenever I glance in the rearview mirror.

It’s a long drive.

***

As soon as we arrive, the twins jump out of the car and run to the pitch, screaming and jumping around once they reach their friends. I go to say hello to Coach Minos; only it’s not Coach Minos standing next to the watercooler. It’s Simon.

“What are you doing here?”

He jumps, and the ball he’d been bouncing on his knees falls to the ground. “Hey, Baz.”

“What are you doing here?” I repeat. “Where’s Coach Minos?”

Simon shrugs. “Dunno. He just asked me to fill in, so I am.”

“But you’re terrible at football.”

“I still know how to play,” he says defensively, “I can still help. And I’m not that terrible.”

I scoff. “I think we played enough together for me to be a fair judge.”

As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I’m remembering how those games usually ended—with tackles and kisses and me accusing him of cheating. (Judging by the look on Simon’s face, so is he.)

“I, um, I have to go now. The kids need me. I’ll be…” he points in the direction of the pitch, “there.”

“Right. And I’ll be…” I gesture to the stands where the other parents are sat, “there.”

Simon nods and jogs off. I force myself not to watch his retreating figure (or the way his back muscles flex under his shirt) and find a place to sit down, away from everyone. I spend the next hour pretending to be engrossed with my phone, and trying not to stare at Simon.

(I don’t succeed.)

***

After that, Simon is everywhere.

At the pharmacy when I’m picking up Mordelia’s allergy medication. At the bakery where he swipes two of my scones. Still filling in for Coach Minos at the twins’ football club. Running on the beach where I’m playing with Alfie. Stopping his run to build a sandcastle with Alfie. Knocking over said sandcastle with Alfie and immediately earning himself a best friend for life. (Which isn’t that impressive, considering Alfie’s three and loves everyone.)

I’m lying on the floor in my room when my phone buzzes in my jacket pocket, alerting me to a new message from Andrea, my flatmate back in London. (I suppose you could call her my best friend—she does—but that’s such a juvenile term that I avoid it whenever possible.) (Which is always.)

hows the isle of exbfs

Don’t call it that. Boring.

masochist just come home if its that terrible

I didn’t say it was terrible.

I almost pocket my phone then, mostly because I don’t want to deal with her questions right now, and a little bit because I’m afraid I’ll spill everything.

Andrea’s shockingly good at getting me to confess things.

I saw Simon today.

(Sometimes without even trying.)

!!! is that good??

My fingers hover over the screen as I contemplate my answer. I don’t know

are u going to see him again?? I’m not. wht not??? *why

Because it’s not like that. I didn’t mean to see him.

but u wanted to u wanted to see him right??

It’s not like that. We’re not like that.

but u want to be I don’t want to talk about it. Her next message is just a picture, one of those inspirational quotes that she’s so fond of. It reads: Everything you want is on the other side of fear. The paper is grey and the frame is black, stark against the white wall. It’s very aesthetic, very Andrea, and very much not what I want to think about right now.  I scowl as I type my response. I’m not scared. She responds with a gif of a laughing duck. alright luv And it’s not what you think. I don’t want Simon. who mentioned wanting simon ths isnt about wanting simon Andrea. i didnt bring up wanting simon u brought up wanting god baz stop talking about wanting simon all the time its embarrassing ur better than thsi grosd *gross baz baz basil dont be scared basil basilton bazzybazzybazzy i know ur reading these philippa says i need to leave you alone now oh she just took her top off what a clever distraction

The messages stop after that (thank you Philippa), and I set my phone back on my stomach. The floor isn’t the most comfortable place to lie down, but I can’t bring myself to get on the bed. It’s bad enough that I have to sleep there, in the ancient four-poster, with its dark red canopy, and gargoyles. (An excessive amount of gargoyles, really.)

I’m weighing up the pros and cons of sleeping on the floor when I feel a new message coming through. I snort and pick it up to tease Andrea about finishing too quickly—except it’s not from her.

I didn’t even know Simon still had my number, if I’m honest, and my heart is pounding in my ears as I read his words.

If I answer this, if I say yes, then we’ll cross the line from casual-friends-who-bump-into-each-other-sometimes to Friends Who Text, and there’ll be no going back—not without the potential for fallout. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what I even want to do. My hands are shaking so badly that I can feel my phone beginning to slip from my grasp.

Everything you want is on the other side of fear. I take a deep breath, curse Andrea for jinxing me, and reply.

chapter three 

[thatgirlwhoworksforwhatshew-blog]

rant: relationship, pt 1

okay, so long story short, my friend was going through a hard time with convincing her boyfriend to trust her, that she has no intentions of getting back with her ex. 

i wasnt exactly intending on making much of this, but just tell her to break up with the guy,if hes being too much of a toll on her mental health, and if he cant help himself to trust her. because from what i learned, we cannot bring people to trust us, atleast through words. ‘what happened once, always can happen another time’. what ever. 

okay, this interaction with me breaking things down to her, got me thinking about various things with my own life and relationship i shared with a close friend of mine. we had troubles with trusting each other, because in a way, we never got to accept each other in the truest sense, when we had the time, and then, when we realised we are too late to repair the damage.so (i guess) we cut it off, we dont talk anymore!

okay, so me, actually talking about this, is because her talking about her relationship made me realise how much my relationship with HIM was very very damn special. im not holding a bias because it involves me, but honestly, i could sense it. our relationship was complicated in many layers, and it was beautiful. not being a masochist, but i liked the hardtimes too, they made me feel alive. we somehow worked together to solve any issue we had, any awkward situation, any sad situation, any fight. yeah, there were times when i used to cry to sleep, hallucinate, shower multiple times to wash off the history, but all, i realised was because i wanted a fresh start a cleaner one. 

okay, there was some sort of mental health disturbances for sure, which i believe is something i can never give space for, in my life or functioning. apart from that, i guess we shared a pretty good bond, in the weirdest sense, we’d smoke up, sleep in, eat, listen to music, and talk good stuff on phone. 

well, that did get screwed up with a lot of sex in the middle, when all we did was just fuck, and we lost the essence, which was exactly when we started to fall apart. what i felt like could work, just backfired and i myself was in it just for sex, and later on, forgot to give it all a thought, and fell into the spiral of ‘us’ without identifying what we are. rest is history, for another time.

so, talking to my friend, i kept specifying how she might still want to hold on to things they ‘both’ specifically shared, and she tells me, shes got just some mushy conversations about him over ig, and promises of marriage and some stupid plans, which she herself no longer cares about. 

i mean, that was not inducted, she said it. so im shamelessly quoting her.

so, now, the question is, why in the world would she want to be with her so called boyfriend? im so pissed. ill explain in detail. ‘

okay, so this isnt any normal everyday blonde im talking about, shes a pretty rational person who claims to have figured out love as a philosophy student. she is committed to this guy, for what you may ask, she dosnt know. im sorry, but i havent been as disturbed and as disappointed in my friends for so long, i can feel my insides move.

back to the question,  why in the world would she want to be with her so called boyfriend? which beings me to, ‘why do people want to call partners like that as a boyfriend/girlfriends’ when they dont mean it, or have intentions of sticking to the role? 

dont even get me started on the vocabulary these cliches share, i just cannot begin to describe my disdain towards this behaviour, which i cannot pinpoint one specific reason to. i mean, this milllenial lingo itself fucks me up, but this specifically fucks me in the a hole.

so, why do these people not want to go to sleep without hearing a meaningless ‘i love you’? i believe, giving attention is part and parcel of a relationship., and this fucks me up again. why would you crave for fake attention? approval for the sake of approval is not approval enough. fuckers. 

and whats with the fun and fancy of being in a relationship to show the world, what a great couple you are? click pictures and fucking post them to get more approval, and do what? climb up  a social ladder!

i cannot begin my rant about girls wanting to date, because they want a man in their lives. whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy? fuck off people. get something serious to concentrate on, in life. read i dont know, existentialism!

okay, we’ll move to me now. 

i can say im a sucker, for back talking about my own friend, i honestly dont have many friends who are dating rn, because i am fucking not interested in their fucking private lives. i filtered out gossip-less friends, and who give me brain food to be in my contacts. fucking douches can stay out. but again, i have no problem if you can put your problems in your pockets, dont cry over the advices i give which could have worked, but you chose not to take. and, im not man-hating or love-hating person. trust me, i love the concepts of both. i just never met a man or fall in love. i respect and idealise both so much, that i hate when people disrespect and misuse things for the fukssake.

okay, the reason im ultra pissed is, because what i held with HIM was so fucking precious for me, and if at all i had a chace id want to do it all again, or even start anew with HIM. but people are getting second chances for mundane relationships, and here i lay in my quarantined life, all alone, looking forward for my token number to a neverland. 

again, im not hating anything or anyone. because people are complicated, and relationships are another level. you need to find the spark, and work if you feel like its worth it. and i agree, you dont know where youre going until you reach., but there needs to be a spark which you realise once in a while which makese you want to live and share your time with the [person. idk, what or where this is going, but i just want people to find that spark, that person who makes you feel like the mundane everyday things and everyday relationships with people are just bullshit, and gives you an entire new narrative of life, and makes you live and aspire a better life, together. 

fuckers, dont commit until then!

peace out!

[chocolate-brownies]

“I Tried 40 Days of Yoga, Meditating, and Chanting at 3 a.m. Every Morning”

“I Tried 40 Days of Yoga, Meditating, and Chanting at 3 a.m. Every Morning”:

Here’s what happened.

Sadhana involves two and a half hours of yoga, meditation, and chanting starting 3 a.m. for 40 days. 

One early morning last November, my doorman, Jose, who usually says it like it is, took one look at me and said, “What happened to you? You used to look sexy. Now you look like you never sleep anymore.”

His statement stung. I wanted to say, “Well I don’t sleep anymore. Not since I started Sadhana.” But then I’d have to explain what Sadhana meant. And why do I have to justify how I look? So, I said nothing.

But it was true. I was barely sleeping, and the dark circles under my eyes, chronic yawning, and 10 extra pounds I’d put on in a matter of just a few weeks were all byproducts of my commitment to complete 40 days of Kundalini Aquarian morning Sadhana.

Why I Tried 40 Days of Sadhana

For about a year prior to starting Sadhana—which involves two and a half hours of yoga, meditation, and chanting starting 3 a.m. for 40 days—I’d seen Facebook ads for it. Several friends swore by its benefits, and I’d read many articles about its transformative powers, such as increased energy, mental clarity, and a plethora of blessings. Many spiritual paths have a practice of getting up before sunrise to pray. That special time is called Amrit Vela, which translates as the Nectar of God. When you give two and a half hours to a spiritual source, your entire day is covered with blessings. And who doesn’t want more blessings?

For years I’d been trying to finish writing a book, create an online program, and get into shape—but I lacked self-commitment and follow through. In Sanskrit, Sadhana literally means accomplishing something. I wanted to strengthen my commitment to both my spiritual practice and word to myself. I’ve never been an early riser, so I told myself, If I can wake up at 3 a.m. for the divine, I can do anything!

For the next 40 days, I woke up at 2:30 a.m., put on my white clothes and head covering, and drove to a yoga studio where I practiced yoga, sang songs to my soul, and chanted Aquarian mantras. I tried to go to sleep each night no later than 8 p.m. each night to attempt at least five or six hours of shut-eye. But no matter how many hot baths I took, Chamomile teas I drank, or minutes I spent breathing through my left nostril to relax, I couldn’t fall asleep until it was time to wake up again.

For the first week, I was very enthusiastic and surprised by how little sleep I needed to function. But then, somewhere around day eight, I came home after Sadhana and passed out until noon, which only messed up my circadian rhythm further. As my levels of exhaustion increased, so did my weight. I wondered how the other yogis in the room were doing it. Some of them were on day 50, 60, 90 and even 240. I was assured that if I could get enough sleep, I would be OK.

According to our Sadhana group leader, the secret to a successful Sadhana was getting enough sleep. I’d never had difficulty falling asleep before. But I’d also never woken before 7:30 am, and my nerves were keeping me up.

Somewhere around day 20, my very traditional Russian father called to tell me that he and my mother were worried. They’d recently seen my photos of me on Facebook and asked why I looked so exhausted, bloated, and pale. I was too tired to explain that I had signed up for a sacred practice meant to elevate my soul (and what that meant). Instead, I tagged him on the Facebook live Sadhana page so he could see what I was up to. The following night he called me and said, “Your mother and I saw the video. Are you in a cult? All those people in white look like mental patients.”

Was I really back here again, having another conversation like this with my parents? Some 10 years ago, I came out of the closet as a Feng Shui consultant. My parents wished it was just a phase, lied to their friends that I was an interior designer, and insisted that spirituality is for people that don’t want to work.

See also “Something Happens as I Continue to Chant…”

The Realization That Sadhana May Not Be For Me

On day 30, I went to see a medical intuitive who told me that I was suffering from liver insomnia and severe adrenal fatigue. I had no idea that our livers wake up around 4 a.m. Which meant that when I was getting up to do yoga so early, it was really hard on my liver. I already had mild symptoms of adrenal fatigue before starting Sadhana and didn’t know that feeling wired and tired were the hallmarks of that condition. It explained why I was having so much trouble falling asleep.

I reached out to a friend who’s a Kundalini yoga instructor to tell her that I was going to quit because I couldn’t take it anymore, and she urged me not to. “Everything that’s coming up for you is coming up for healing and clearing,” she told me. Translation for spiritual neophytes? “Your moodiness, liver issues, obsession with weight, and needing other people’s approval was probably always there, and now you’re ready to deal with it.”

I thought I’d dealt with all of that years ago—at least the obsession with weight and needing others’ approval. But the onion has many layers. And maybe Sadhana was fast-tracking the peeling of mine.

I pushed through. Because that’s what I do.

I began to wonder if I’m just a masochist and maybe what I really need is to get back into therapy. Then, I reminded myself that I am a therapist. In fact, I’m actually a spiritual psychotherapist and should know by now if something is good for me.

See also Kundalini 101: Kriya for Balancing Your Eighth Chakra (Auric Field)

Sadhana: The Results of 40 Days of Yoga, Meditation, and Chanting

At the end of the 40 days, a few things happened. First, I felt satisfied that I was able to finish what I started. Next, I finally got a good night’s rest. Then, I spent hundreds of dollars on herbal tinctures and vitamins meant to restore my liver and adrenals. A few small blessings did arrive. I finally found an incredible illustrator for my book and a week later, two of the wellness hotels in Miami Beach where I really wanted to teach finally came through with proposals. Overall, the experience was a mixed bag.

While unfortunate, I don’t think we—as a culture—are equipped to support someone embarking on a 40-day adventure that may cause little or no sleep. Especially if that someone has lots of responsibilities. I think it would’ve been easier, and I could’ve treated the practice with more reverence, had I been on retreat or on an ashram somewhere. But we don’t all have the luxury of going away for a month. I know I don’t.

Forty days of so little sleep would be hard on anyone, regardless of the spiritual path they were on. My advice: If you want to start 40 days of Kundalini Aquarian morning Sadhana, please get your adrenals tested first. Make sure your life supports the potentially crazy sleep schedule, and that you have lots of time to rest and contemplate the process.

Also, listen to your body. If you feel like it’s getting to be too much, don’t turn to this all-too-common default: “Exhaustion? Oh, it’s probably just my negative mind trying to sabotage me.” There’s nothing enlightened about wearing yourself down to become more spiritual.

See also Kundalini 101: What Is the Aquarian Age, Anyway?

[cedarrrun]

Here’s what happened.

Sadhana involves two and a half hours of yoga, meditation, and chanting starting 3 a.m. for 40 days. 

One early morning last November, my doorman, Jose, who usually says it like it is, took one look at me and said, “What happened to you? You used to look sexy. Now you look like you never sleep anymore.”

His statement stung. I wanted to say, “Well I don’t sleep anymore. Not since I started Sadhana.” But then I’d have to explain what Sadhana meant. And why do I have to justify how I look? So, I said nothing.

But it was true. I was barely sleeping, and the dark circles under my eyes, chronic yawning, and 10 extra pounds I’d put on in a matter of just a few weeks were all byproducts of my commitment to complete 40 days of Kundalini Aquarian morning Sadhana.

Why I Tried 40 Days of Sadhana

For about a year prior to starting Sadhana—which involves two and a half hours of yoga, meditation, and chanting starting 3 a.m. for 40 days—I’d seen Facebook ads for it. Several friends swore by its benefits, and I’d read many articles about its transformative powers, such as increased energy, mental clarity, and a plethora of blessings. Many spiritual paths have a practice of getting up before sunrise to pray. That special time is called Amrit Vela, which translates as the Nectar of God. When you give two and a half hours to a spiritual source, your entire day is covered with blessings. And who doesn’t want more blessings?

For years I’d been trying to finish writing a book, create an online program, and get into shape—but I lacked self-commitment and follow through. In Sanskrit, Sadhana literally means accomplishing something. I wanted to strengthen my commitment to both my spiritual practice and word to myself. I’ve never been an early riser, so I told myself, If I can wake up at 3 a.m. for the divine, I can do anything!

For the next 40 days, I woke up at 2:30 a.m., put on my white clothes and head covering, and drove to a yoga studio where I practiced yoga, sang songs to my soul, and chanted Aquarian mantras. I tried to go to sleep each night no later than 8 p.m. each night to attempt at least five or six hours of shut-eye. But no matter how many hot baths I took, Chamomile teas I drank, or minutes I spent breathing through my left nostril to relax, I couldn’t fall asleep until it was time to wake up again.

For the first week, I was very enthusiastic and surprised by how little sleep I needed to function. But then, somewhere around day eight, I came home after Sadhana and passed out until noon, which only messed up my circadian rhythm further. As my levels of exhaustion increased, so did my weight. I wondered how the other yogis in the room were doing it. Some of them were on day 50, 60, 90 and even 240. I was assured that if I could get enough sleep, I would be OK.

According to our Sadhana group leader, the secret to a successful Sadhana was getting enough sleep. I’d never had difficulty falling asleep before. But I’d also never woken before 7:30 am, and my nerves were keeping me up.

Somewhere around day 20, my very traditional Russian father called to tell me that he and my mother were worried. They’d recently seen my photos of me on Facebook and asked why I looked so exhausted, bloated, and pale. I was too tired to explain that I had signed up for a sacred practice meant to elevate my soul (and what that meant). Instead, I tagged him on the Facebook live Sadhana page so he could see what I was up to. The following night he called me and said, “Your mother and I saw the video. Are you in a cult? All those people in white look like mental patients.”

Was I really back here again, having another conversation like this with my parents? Some 10 years ago, I came out of the closet as a Feng Shui consultant. My parents wished it was just a phase, lied to their friends that I was an interior designer, and insisted that spirituality is for people that don’t want to work.

See also "Something Happens as I Continue to Chant..."

The Realization That Sadhana May Not Be For Me

On day 30, I went to see a medical intuitive who told me that I was suffering from liver insomnia and severe adrenal fatigue. I had no idea that our livers wake up around 4 a.m. Which meant that when I was getting up to do yoga so early, it was really hard on my liver. I already had mild symptoms of adrenal fatigue before starting Sadhana and didn’t know that feeling wired and tired were the hallmarks of that condition. It explained why I was having so much trouble falling asleep.

I reached out to a friend who’s a Kundalini yoga instructor to tell her that I was going to quit because I couldn't take it anymore, and she urged me not to. “Everything that's coming up for you is coming up for healing and clearing,” she told me. Translation for spiritual neophytes? “Your moodiness, liver issues, obsession with weight, and needing other people’s approval was probably always there, and now you’re ready to deal with it.”

I thought I’d dealt with all of that years ago—at least the obsession with weight and needing others’ approval. But the onion has many layers. And maybe Sadhana was fast-tracking the peeling of mine.

I pushed through. Because that’s what I do.

I began to wonder if I’m just a masochist and maybe what I really need is to get back into therapy. Then, I reminded myself that I am a therapist. In fact, I’m actually a spiritual psychotherapist and should know by now if something is good for me.

See also Kundalini 101: Kriya for Balancing Your Eighth Chakra (Auric Field)

Sadhana: The Results of 40 Days of Yoga, Meditation, and Chanting

At the end of the 40 days, a few things happened. First, I felt satisfied that I was able to finish what I started. Next, I finally got a good night’s rest. Then, I spent hundreds of dollars on herbal tinctures and vitamins meant to restore my liver and adrenals. A few small blessings did arrive. I finally found an incredible illustrator for my book and a week later, two of the wellness hotels in Miami Beach where I really wanted to teach finally came through with proposals. Overall, the experience was a mixed bag.

While unfortunate, I don’t think we—as a culture—are equipped to support someone embarking on a 40-day adventure that may cause little or no sleep. Especially if that someone has lots of responsibilities. I think it would’ve been easier, and I could’ve treated the practice with more reverence, had I been on retreat or on an ashram somewhere. But we don’t all have the luxury of going away for a month. I know I don’t.

Forty days of so little sleep would be hard on anyone, regardless of the spiritual path they were on. My advice: If you want to start 40 days of Kundalini Aquarian morning Sadhana, please get your adrenals tested first. Make sure your life supports the potentially crazy sleep schedule, and that you have lots of time to rest and contemplate the process.

Also, listen to your body. If you feel like it’s getting to be too much, don't turn to this all-too-common default: “Exhaustion? Oh, it’s probably just my negative mind trying to sabotage me.” There’s nothing enlightened about wearing yourself down to become more spiritual.

See also Kundalini 101: What Is the Aquarian Age, Anyway?

[krisiunicornio]

Here’s what happened.

Sadhana involves two and a half hours of yoga, meditation, and chanting starting 3 a.m. for 40 days. 

One early morning last November, my doorman, Jose, who usually says it like it is, took one look at me and said, “What happened to you? You used to look sexy. Now you look like you never sleep anymore.”

His statement stung. I wanted to say, “Well I don’t sleep anymore. Not since I started Sadhana.” But then I’d have to explain what Sadhana meant. And why do I have to justify how I look? So, I said nothing.

But it was true. I was barely sleeping, and the dark circles under my eyes, chronic yawning, and 10 extra pounds I’d put on in a matter of just a few weeks were all byproducts of my commitment to complete 40 days of Kundalini Aquarian morning Sadhana.

Why I Tried 40 Days of Sadhana

For about a year prior to starting Sadhana—which involves two and a half hours of yoga, meditation, and chanting starting 3 a.m. for 40 days—I’d seen Facebook ads for it. Several friends swore by its benefits, and I’d read many articles about its transformative powers, such as increased energy, mental clarity, and a plethora of blessings. Many spiritual paths have a practice of getting up before sunrise to pray. That special time is called Amrit Vela, which translates as the Nectar of God. When you give two and a half hours to a spiritual source, your entire day is covered with blessings. And who doesn’t want more blessings?

For years I’d been trying to finish writing a book, create an online program, and get into shape—but I lacked self-commitment and follow through. In Sanskrit, Sadhana literally means accomplishing something. I wanted to strengthen my commitment to both my spiritual practice and word to myself. I’ve never been an early riser, so I told myself, If I can wake up at 3 a.m. for the divine, I can do anything!

For the next 40 days, I woke up at 2:30 a.m., put on my white clothes and head covering, and drove to a yoga studio where I practiced yoga, sang songs to my soul, and chanted Aquarian mantras. I tried to go to sleep each night no later than 8 p.m. each night to attempt at least five or six hours of shut-eye. But no matter how many hot baths I took, Chamomile teas I drank, or minutes I spent breathing through my left nostril to relax, I couldn’t fall asleep until it was time to wake up again.

For the first week, I was very enthusiastic and surprised by how little sleep I needed to function. But then, somewhere around day eight, I came home after Sadhana and passed out until noon, which only messed up my circadian rhythm further. As my levels of exhaustion increased, so did my weight. I wondered how the other yogis in the room were doing it. Some of them were on day 50, 60, 90 and even 240. I was assured that if I could get enough sleep, I would be OK.

According to our Sadhana group leader, the secret to a successful Sadhana was getting enough sleep. I’d never had difficulty falling asleep before. But I’d also never woken before 7:30 am, and my nerves were keeping me up.

Somewhere around day 20, my very traditional Russian father called to tell me that he and my mother were worried. They’d recently seen my photos of me on Facebook and asked why I looked so exhausted, bloated, and pale. I was too tired to explain that I had signed up for a sacred practice meant to elevate my soul (and what that meant). Instead, I tagged him on the Facebook live Sadhana page so he could see what I was up to. The following night he called me and said, “Your mother and I saw the video. Are you in a cult? All those people in white look like mental patients.”

Was I really back here again, having another conversation like this with my parents? Some 10 years ago, I came out of the closet as a Feng Shui consultant. My parents wished it was just a phase, lied to their friends that I was an interior designer, and insisted that spirituality is for people that don’t want to work.

See also "Something Happens as I Continue to Chant..."

The Realization That Sadhana May Not Be For Me

On day 30, I went to see a medical intuitive who told me that I was suffering from liver insomnia and severe adrenal fatigue. I had no idea that our livers wake up around 4 a.m. Which meant that when I was getting up to do yoga so early, it was really hard on my liver. I already had mild symptoms of adrenal fatigue before starting Sadhana and didn’t know that feeling wired and tired were the hallmarks of that condition. It explained why I was having so much trouble falling asleep.

I reached out to a friend who’s a Kundalini yoga instructor to tell her that I was going to quit because I couldn't take it anymore, and she urged me not to. “Everything that's coming up for you is coming up for healing and clearing,” she told me. Translation for spiritual neophytes? “Your moodiness, liver issues, obsession with weight, and needing other people’s approval was probably always there, and now you’re ready to deal with it.”

I thought I’d dealt with all of that years ago—at least the obsession with weight and needing others’ approval. But the onion has many layers. And maybe Sadhana was fast-tracking the peeling of mine.

I pushed through. Because that’s what I do.

I began to wonder if I’m just a masochist and maybe what I really need is to get back into therapy. Then, I reminded myself that I am a therapist. In fact, I’m actually a spiritual psychotherapist and should know by now if something is good for me.

See also Kundalini 101: Kriya for Balancing Your Eighth Chakra (Auric Field)

Sadhana: The Results of 40 Days of Yoga, Meditation, and Chanting

At the end of the 40 days, a few things happened. First, I felt satisfied that I was able to finish what I started. Next, I finally got a good night’s rest. Then, I spent hundreds of dollars on herbal tinctures and vitamins meant to restore my liver and adrenals. A few small blessings did arrive. I finally found an incredible illustrator for my book and a week later, two of the wellness hotels in Miami Beach where I really wanted to teach finally came through with proposals. Overall, the experience was a mixed bag.

While unfortunate, I don’t think we—as a culture—are equipped to support someone embarking on a 40-day adventure that may cause little or no sleep. Especially if that someone has lots of responsibilities. I think it would’ve been easier, and I could’ve treated the practice with more reverence, had I been on retreat or on an ashram somewhere. But we don’t all have the luxury of going away for a month. I know I don’t.

Forty days of so little sleep would be hard on anyone, regardless of the spiritual path they were on. My advice: If you want to start 40 days of Kundalini Aquarian morning Sadhana, please get your adrenals tested first. Make sure your life supports the potentially crazy sleep schedule, and that you have lots of time to rest and contemplate the process.

Also, listen to your body. If you feel like it’s getting to be too much, don't turn to this all-too-common default: “Exhaustion? Oh, it’s probably just my negative mind trying to sabotage me.” There’s nothing enlightened about wearing yourself down to become more spiritual.

See also Kundalini 101: What Is the Aquarian Age, Anyway?