#i mean it goes without saying: fuck notch

[poisonouspastels]

can you believe these are statements made by the same fucking guy over 10 years apart

[blkkizzat]

🗂️—𝙲𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝟶𝟶𝟻........... THE BIG BROTHER ......filed under the that's not my jjk man series

visitor log: crazed with quarantine boredom, you can't help but to tease your naive lil' roommate—choso kamo—but you'll know when to stop before it goes too far—or have you already let the real choso in?

classifications: huge mommy kinks, calls reader mommy, dommy mommy!reader, affectionate cruelty/cuteness aggression, manipulative reader, begging, teasing, virgin, creampies, masturbation, panty theft/sniffing/munching, cunalingus, pussy drunk choso, dumbification, slight mentions of menophilia, mentions of aged-up yuji and todo (they give choso “the talk” lmfao).

incidents: 6.9k

You felt bad about this.

You really did. 

Although apparently not enough to actually keep you from teasing your half-cursed roommate, pushing him to the point where moisture shines in his wide, puppy-like eyes.

Standing behind the door of your apartment, you pretend you don’t know the Choso before you is not actually a doppelgänger—so convincingly, in fact, that Choso has even begun to question his own sense of self. 

“B-But, b-but—I t-think, ah no! I promise it’s really me. I can’t be the curse! I-I mean—wait, I am a curse—but only half! D-Don’t you recognize me??”

Worry edges Choso’s voice while his bottom lip quivers.

Damn, Choso just looks too cute, all forlorn and pouty. You can barely stand it.

“Nah, sounds like you’re copping pleas to me, doppelgänger.”

You nearly give yourself away too, stifling a small mewl from watching his adorable lil’ face crumble, blinking back tears. 

While you didn’t intend to make him cry, your pussy is now crying too. Moisture dampening your panties from finally releasing some of the twisted cuteness aggression you’ve been bottling up for so long.

Your half-curse roommate was just too baby-girl for his own damned good—how could you possibly resist toying with him a little?

With that, you decide to take things up a notch.

“Um, are you sure you’re who you say you are? Because my boyfriend, Choso, is already home!”

“B-B-BOY-F-F-FRIEND?!”

Choso’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull, blushing furiously and practically choking on the word itself.

EEEEE! Too precious! 

You quickly cup your hand over your mouth hoping he couldn’t hear your giggles through the door.

Truthfully, you and Choso were just roommates.

Neither of you had come close to crossing any lines in the 10 months you’ve lived together. Your cohabitation has been entirely platonic thus far—to your dismay. 

Choso was unbelievably sexy and it makes him even sexier knowing how oblivious he was to it. However, Choso’s obliviousness is a problem in itself. Every subtle hint you drop seems to go right over his head. He was still so new to the ways of living as an everyday human and thus he interpreted everything in the most innocently unaware way possible.

You had no idea if Choso actually had any romantic inclinations towards you, but watching him get all flustered at the thought of dating you then cheesin’ like a goof only encourages the game you’re playing to continue.

You’d end this charade soon—you promise—but you just needed to mess with him a bit more. He’d been gone for almost two weeks, temporarily staying with Yuji back in the Jujutsu High dorms. You’ve been so lonely at home without him, which of course you use to justify your teasing by saying how he owed you this tiny bit of entertainment.

And it's entertaining as hell.

“You mean you don’t even know that Choso and I have been dating for 3 months!? You’re a horrible doppelgänger, you know that? I thought you’d be more convincing than this.”

On the other side of the door Choso was close to losing his entire shit. He had no idea how to process any of this information—unequivocally not having the slightest clue you’re purely fucking with him.

“D-Dating!? 3 m-months!?!”

Choso chews on his lip, trying to churn his exhausted thoughts together. 

When did this happen!? 

He’d been away hunting doppelgänger curses with Yuji practically non-stop for 2 weeks, he’s exhausted from the sheer number of doppels they exterminated and can’t think straight. He didn’t expect to come home to you accusing him of being one—let alone calling him your boyfriend!

Boyfriend. 

That title continued to pinball in Choso’s mind. 

He wanted to get closer to you for such a long time too, but didn’t know how exactly to go about it, all the social aspects of humanity being brand new to him—especially dating.

Not like he’d ever thought about living a normal life or dating living as a curse. Not until he started working for Jujutsu Tech and Yuji suggested he try living a bit more independently. You, one of the many assistant managers and Yuji’s friend, just happened to be in need of a roommate at the time. Being familiar with the Jujutsu world, you weren’t put off by him being a half-curse, quite the opposite. You’d been so helpful, always cheerful and kind, guiding him through any rough patches and helping him in a way similar to how Yuji does.

Yet it didn’t take long for Choso to realize he felt things about you he’d never experienced with anyone else, not even his brothers. 

The desire to constantly be around you and protect you was similar to how he felt about Yuji but with you it just didn’t stop there. Choso wanted to touch you, he wanted to hold you and he desperately wanted to be held by you too. 

Simultaneous to his budding affections for you—Choso realized the persistent pattern of his cock stiffening terribly when you’d casually roam around the apartment in your pjs. PJs that consisted of curve-clinging bottoms and braless crop-tops that would show the exact outline of your pussyprint along with every slight jiggle of tiddy from your movements.

Confused, Choso immediately went to Yuji with his problem—divulging everything. 

It took about 10 minutes for Yuji and Todo (who happened to be with Yuji at the time) to stop laughing before Yuji finally explained that it was a perfectly normal reaction to seeing a pretty girl dressed in so little. 

“Ha! Damn, seeing that juicy ass in tiny shorts everyday? You are truly blessed brother.”

Choso frowned, going silent. 

He secretly hated when Todo referred to him as brother—only him and Yuji were brothers. 

Moreover, the sinister urge to release piercing blood right through Todo’s tiny peanut head had startled Choso. Choso wasn’t one quick to anger and Todo’s comment wasn’t a threat or an insult by any means—but Choso still didn’t like it, even if he agreed with the sentiment. The last thing he wanted you to do, even to his own torment, was to cover up.

Although admittedly, Choso had seen lots of beautiful women wearing even less on the social media apps Yuji had him download. However, the faint notions of attraction were never as intense as when he was around you.

Not even close.

He didn’t know what to do about that. 

Especially after Yuji had warned Choso that it would be inappropriate to let you see any of the many erections Choso got while in your presence. Continuing to say that unless you felt the same way, it would make you uncomfortable and the only reason you did dress that way around him in the first place is because you are comfortable with him.

Todo on the other hand had a different approach and suggested to Choso he “accidentally” drop his towel in front of you after getting out of the shower.

Face red with embarrassment, Choso pointedly ignored that advice.

Making you uncomfortable was the last thing Choso wanted to risk. 

Choso didn’t want to be any more of a burden to you after you had so graciously helped him over these past months, so he never made any of his affections for you known and certainly wouldn’t be able to recognize if you felt the same way. 

Consequently, he would always quickly excuse himself to the bathroom to take care of the issue, anytime it happened to ‘pop up’. 

Literally. 

He was only glad right now that he couldn’t see you in them calling him your boyfriend or he would surely get hard, hell he was starting to regardless.

Choso is thoroughly perplexed, yet his next question is so innocent you nearly moan out from the sheer cluelessness of it all.

“A-A—Are we really dating—y-you and I? I-I mean, you actually wanted to d-date someone like me?”

Okay, now.

Now would be the perfect time to come clean. 

You’d had your fun right?

You could tell he was starting to take this seriously and it wouldn’t be harmless for much longer if you kept this up. 

You honestly don’t even know what’s gotten into you. This sudden wave of aggression feels out of character for you. You’ve never had any inclination to be so pushy or dominant—in fact, you’ve been referred to as a pillow princess in past relationships.

Yet with Choso it was different and had been since the beginning. The urge to encourage him felt so natural—manifesting as a strange bubbling in your chest whenever he had a doleful look of wide-eyed wonderment, head tilted slightly to the side from processing new information. 

God, it was a mixture of pride, joy and endearment that intensified in such a way you just wanted to make him cry—and it’s the exact same look he has right now you note gazing out of the peephole. 

Your legs rub together, but the shifting of your thighs wasn’t near enough stimulation for your repressed lust. You resisted the compulsions that would sprout to tease or taunt him for far too long and it was all spilling out now.

“Of course, we are Cho! Well me and the real Choso—you’re clearly just a doppelgänger or you wouldn’t be asking your girlfriend that.”

You are the absolute worst. 

“Oh, r-right…”

Choso stops, trailing off mid-sentence when he is finally hit with a revelation. 

But if you two were in fact dating did that mean—

Choso swallows hard, recalling all the accounts Yuji and Todo sent him full of videos (twitter porn) of what two people do together when they ‘date’. Yuji also told him though, if he’d go out to bars with him and Todo he’d likely have no issue finding a girl who’d also do it with him—even if they weren’t dating.

But Choso declined. 

He wasn't interested in doing those things with anyone else—he only wanted to do those things with you.

—wait but….could he really *gulps* with you?

Choso breaks into a anxious sweat.

The problem in his pants had been getting worse lately. To the point he had been excusing himself twice a night to settle down his cock and would try to sit on the furthest end of the sofa during movie nights with a pillow over his crotch. 

Although to his torturous agony, somehow you always seemed to find your way over to his side. By the end of the movie you’d be curled up to him with your head on the pillow in his lap over his erection that would have been throbbing all the while. 

But dating?

Were you actually dating all this time and he’d been too clueless to recognize it? 

Choso didn’t know how it started or what all it entailed but he definitely felt like the worst boyfriend in the world for not realizing it sooner! 

He needed to talk to you about that and apologize—but first he needed to convince you it was actually him.

“B-But roomie—please, it’s really me!”

You smirk, getting another mischievous idea.

Roomie, eh? Heehee.

You and Choso call each other ‘roomie’ in the same affectionate way close friends would call each other ‘bestie’—but this too you would use against him as you’re too far on a roll to stop now.

“Roomie?! Nah, my boyfriend Choso only calls me Mommy.”

“MA-MA-MOMMY!?!”

Choso grabs his chest over his heart, and begins muttering something you can’t quiet here, prompting you to consider if a part of his brain has shut down. 

Well, a piece of yours surely did.

All your thoughts are now controlled by the growing ache between your thighs.

You wish you could tackle him to the ground and ride him until he can't cum anymore and his pleas for you to stop melt into submissive whimpers as your pussy would continue to milk him.

While you might not have confirmation if Choso has feelings for you, you can plainly see he’s not repulsed by it at least.

Even so, intrusive pessimistic thoughts creep in, making you wonder if you’re simply too much for him. He’s already been so jumpy around you lately—more than usual—to the point where you worry you might be making him uncomfortable.

Maybe you haven’t been as good with keeping your cruel urges suppressed as you think?

Choso has been keeping a bit more distance too whenever you try to get too close. You know he’s still so naive to the ways of the world, and even if you are teasing him now, the last thing you want is to make him feel taken advantage of.

After all, you genuinely consider both him and Yuji friends—especially since letting Choso stay with you was originally a favor to Yuji.

However, a part of you secretly thinks Yuji may have had some vendetta against you—because why else would he have gifted his older brother those gray sweatpants and black compression tees for xmas? 

Choso didn’t wear underwear often either, especially when around the house—and a person would have to be blind not to see how fat his cock was just flaccid against his thighs.

So yeah, you did start wearing less and less around him, the boy shorts you wore a few weeks ago might as well have been panties from how far they rode up your crack to let the bottom of your ass cheeks poke out of them.

But Choso, even with that, still wouldn’t look your way for too long. 

You sigh.

Alright you had your fun, you’d—

“I-I’m real, I know how to p-prove it!”

Seconds away from stepping back to open the door and barrier, you're speechless as your eyes widen with recognition. The solid blue and tan print cotton material Choso tearfully pulls from his sleeve definitely belong to you.

YOUR RILAKKUMA PERIOD PANTIES!?

“A f-fake Choso wouldn’t have t-these!”

The words spill out of his lips as he looks down at his feet in shame.

Your eyes haven’t dilated from the size of saucers as Choso reveals undeniable proof that he’s the real deal. How else would he have found those heavily soiled teddy bear granny panties you’d hidden so well at the bottom of the laundry basket? You’d stashed them there weeks ago, right before he came home earlier than expected—just before you could wash them. 

You hadn’t even realized they were missing!

*Sniff* “M’s-so s-sorry M-Mommy, I-I know i-tt’s wrong—j-just miss you s’much when *sniff* m’gone for so l-long… n’these smell s’much like you n’have your b-blood on ‘em a-and—”

Is this real life!?

Choso’s mournful apologies are blubbering out of him a mile a minute but your thoughts go to hell at the debauched truth. Taking shallow breaths, you’re mindlessly caressing the pads of your fingers over your clothed cunt, eager to relieve any of the ache.

“—Uh—um, C-Choso, baby…?”

Even though he’s still rambling, your voice quiets him.

“Y-yeah, Mommy?”

Fuck! 

The hand stroking over your pussy urgently fumbles under the waistband of your shorts and panties to rub on your clit directly now.

He couldn’t just call you Mommy like this and expect you not to be soaked! (Even if it’s your fault he is).

Silently praying that Choso couldn’t hear the soft clicking of your fingers sliding inside your drooling folds to play with your slippery lil’ bud.

Yeah, you were horrible alright—yet you were also horny as hell. 

An unexpected turn of events for sure, but there’s no way you couldn’t see this through now. Especially now that he was full on calling you ‘Mommy’ and had just admitted to stealing your panties! 

So he’d liked you all this time after all?! 

Finding out more was becoming an essential need akin to breathing air.

“T-Tell Mommy something, yeah Cho baby? W-What exactly do you do with Mommy’s panties?”

Looking at his feet, the embarrassment on Choso’s face speaks for itself as he turns his back to the door in shame.

Likewise, you peel yourself from behind the door, leaning against the adjacent wall for additional support as your other hand hurriedly pushes up your top to tweak at your nipples. 

Getting off on the mere mental image of his chagrin and the pitiful whimpers you can hear through the door as Choso starts explaining through his tearful sobs his filthy thieving actions.

Shit—he’s such a horney little freak about it too!

Choso reluctantly admits that due to his heightened senses of being a half-curse he can always smell when you’re bleeding (Yuji also had to assure him there was nothing wrong with you).

Once he’d discovered the pair you left in the basket, Choso couldn’t help himself. 

And they weren’t the first pair he’d taken either. 

Choso had pilfered many sets of your undies to sniff while he hurriedly jerked his cock. Admitting to you sometimes just being around you for too long causes him to get hard. He’d rush to the bathroom and dig through your laundry, scouring for a pair of your panties or thongs like a mad man before resting them directly over his lips and nose. Finally at ease, the bathroom was his refuge and Choso ultimately would bathe his senses in your scent more than he would use the bathroom to actually bathe his body. 

Never lasting too long, Choso would cum all over his trembling hands from perversely sniffing and tonguing down the dirtied gusset of your panties.

If there were times Choso thought he was being too noisy, he’d stuff them in his mouth entirely. Sucking out the sweet tang of your cunt from the fibers and imagining it was your actual pussy his mouth was full of instead. 

Being the considerate roomie he is though, Choso would always clean them. Your panties would be returned to you, washed and folded and placed in your drawer before you could notice them missing.

Near hyperventilating now, Choso’s face is saturated in tears. He's so scared of your reaction. Surely, even if you two were dating you’d still hate him for the huge violation of privacy.

But if he’d known you were dating before, he’d have at least asked you for permission! 

“...M-M-Mommy—are you mad?”

Mad? 

Well you were madly finger popping your pussy to his depraved as fuck confession, if that counted as mad.

By the end of his perverse admission of guilt, you had slid all the way down to the floor. Trying to bite back cries as you are two fingers deep into your cunt. Pumping your soaked digits in and out of your pussy. No longer able to hold back, you are moaning aloud. 

“AHH, FUHH!”

The steamy twisted visions in your mind replay over and over, imagining him in those stupidly sexy gray sweats stroking himself while munching your panties like a fiend. 

Truthfully, the fantasy is doing you in badly and trumped everything else for you.

You haven't been this wet in ages and if he was getting off to your panties, it’s only fair you got off to him owning up to it—right?

“Um, M-Mommy…are y-you okay?”

Choso’s brow furrows when you don’t respond. 

Turning back around, he listens intently for any reply. Head cocking to the side when Choso can only hear muffled cries and the messy sounds of something wet squelching behind the door.

Suddenly, a cold panic sets in for Choso—you said he was already home! 

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Choso had been so focused on the whole boyfriend and dating reveal he’d completely overlooked that very important detail. He'd been with Yuji for the past week, so it couldn’t have been him, it had to be—a doppel.

You had let in a doppelganger?

Was he in there with you now?

Were you hurt? Is that why you weren’t answering him?

You didn’t sound hurt before but you certainly do now…well maybe not hurt exactly, but extremely distressed at the very least.

“MOMMY, ANSWER ME!!!”

Choso’s anxious cry did capture your attention but unfortunately only fueled the sense of urgency in your fingers thrusting messily into your sopping cunt.

Holy shit—and the wretchedly pathetic way he just called you ‘Mommy?’ 

You know you’re so fucked up for getting off on tormenting poor Choso like this, but his confession was so fucking hot and pretty fucked all on its own. 

There’s no way in hell you could stop now!

How long has it been even since you last orgasm? You couldn’t even remember, your head floating in the haze of a thick pleasurable fog. Regardless the actual length of time the answer was still that it had been too fucking long. 

“AH-AH—SHIIIIIIIT!” 

So close!

Your hand pulling at your nipples joins your other down your pants. The fingers not plunging in your tight slippery core are scrawling urgent cursive patterns over your sensitive nub, unconsciously spelling out Choso’s name on your clit over and over.

Your toes curl as you chew on your lip, the rope in your belly pulls taunt ready to snap when—

BAMMMMMM!!!

Choso barrels through the door and barrier—flowing red scale activated. 

The door itself barely hangs on its hinges as it ricochets back into place (yeah that was def coming out of your deposit for sure).

Scaring you half to death, orgasm thwarted, you can only stare at Choso as rage you’d never seen before is etched all over his face. Yet still his concern for you is evident in rapid fire questions he shoots at you faster than you can even process with your mind still swimming in your lingering arousal.

“ARE YOU OKAY?!”

“WHERE IS HE?!”“DID HE HURT YOU?!”

“HE HURT YOU—I’LL KILL ‘EM!”

Pacing around your apartment frantically, Choso abruptly comes to a stop once he senses that you are the only two in the apartment. 

There’s no doppelganger terrorizing you.

The both of you are panting—Choso from his battle-ready stance, blood congealing off the edges of the vivid crimson barbed arrows on his flustered cheeks—and you, panting from the shock of him bursting through the door, making your core to clench and pulse to the beat of your skyrocketing heart rate.

Stuck like a deer in headlights, you swallow thickly. You’re not sure how much time passes—it feels like hours, though it’s likely only been a few minutes. 

Regaining enough of your wits to remember the compromising position you are in, you slowly begin to pull your hands out of your shorts. The movement catches Choso’s eye, his vision narrowing in on your hands and fixes on the glimpse he receives of the large moist spot leaking through your cute yellow sleep shorts.

“W-W-Wait!”

Breath stuttering in a bit of a tizzy, Choso drops to his knees before you the second it clicks what you were doing. All thoughts of your obvious lies gone, the arousing perfume wafting off your cunt slaps him upside the head and severely cripples his ability to process the entire situation. 

It smells so-so much more sweet and potent than the stale remnants he’d get from your used panties!

You remain all the while still against the wall, his bigger form towers over you, effectively trapping you between the surface and his massive erection. The hard-on Choso sports proudly pokes through his baggy hakama pants. Yet he's so transfixed on the moisture glimmering on your soft thighs, he doesn’t realize he’s even showing it off to you—you do notice, however, quite a lot.

Fuck, you’d never seen him hard before he was so big!  

“C-can I see?” 

Choso’s voice meekly squeaks out, his tone becoming pitchy as he chews on his bottom lip and wipes his slick clammy palms off on his pants.

Oh shit, he’s so fucking cute you could eat him right the fuck up.

And unknowingly Choso was thinking the same thing about you—wishing you’d let him in sooner.

Why were you doing this without him? 

He was your boyfriend right? He could have been helping you with this.

Did you think he’d not want to do this with you? 

Did you not want to do it with him?

Yet Choso doesn’t get the opportunity to voice any of these concerns as his mind turns to goo when your pink tongue darts out to wet your bottom lip. Nodding affirmatively, you gently shimmy your pj shorts down.

Your heart is beating so hard in your ears right now.

You know a conversation needs to be had and that you have to tell him the truth—fess up and come clean. 

Although all of that seemed so small and irrelevant compared to the very large cock thumping against Choso’s thigh and the pertinent fluttering of your pussy—she’s not letting you forget how badly you still want to cum for a second.

If anything you were just happy more than anything he was just as big, if not a bigger, sexually repressed degenerate as you are.  The fact that you both wanted each other would be good enough for now which was more than evident in Choso’s eyes—crazed with excitement and following your every move.

He most definitely keenly whines like an injured puppy. As if the sight of you spreading your thick thighs open to reveal the pretty pair of mesh and silk panties, with a sizable expanding wet spot over your core, pains him and he trembles. 

“Mmm, is it okay if I…?”

Neither you nor Choso is quite sure what he’s asking permission for but you give it to him regardless.

Your body jumps slightly when you feel his shaky grasp touch your warm skin just above your knees. Trying to calm himself proves futile the higher Choso’s palms stumble upwards to rest on your inner thighs. 

The audible puff Choso breathes out seeing with his own eyes the pretty shape and color of your glistening cunt through the wet mesh material.

Lowering his face closer to your core, Choso unabashedly takes the biggest whiff of your lewd aroma. His eyes roll back as he moans sensually. His warm breath and flicks of his drool gust over your quivering cunt which has your hips eagerly tipping forward to offer yourself up to him on a platter.

“Cho?”

The neediness is evident in your wanton tone and Choso’s eyes perk up toward you, expectantly, wide-eyed obedience like a hungry dog before it's rewarded with a tasty treat.

“What you said you did to my panties, Cho?—m’do it like that baby.”

ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩

“OHHH GAWD—F-FUCK!”

Choso’s iron hold spreads your doughy thighs apart as his face imposes itself deeper into the fabric covering your creamy cunt, not allowing you to wiggle yourself loose. 

When you told Choso to eat you like he did your panties you didn’t expect he’d actually keep them on you!

You’re discovering just how much Choso liked chewing on your panties—on or off you apparently. You’d tease him for the fetish if he’d ever pause to come up for air and give your poor lil’ puss a break from the carnal torrent of his feverish tongue. 

Head bobbing back and forth in a rhythm all of its own, Choso is quite literally crying into your pussy, deliriously whimpering unintelligible praises of her—with no sign of stopping. At his complete mercy, your hands hold on to pigtails like reigns, except no amount of pulling gets Choso to put heel to his rampage—in fact it does the opposite.

Choso is obsessed with the whole of you—every shiver, twitch or cry he elicits from you encourages him to draw out even more.

How could he not be? 

Especially with the delectable dish before him consisting of your translucent soggy panties gluing itself to the exact shape of your smooth inner folds and puffy clit. Completely saturated, a build up of slick, spit and tears suds atop the mesh creating sloppy spit bubbles in the wake of his mouth’s crazed motions. Bubbles which Choso eagerly slurps up again like a man who's been parched for days. 

And truly he is—not wanting to remove his head between your heavenly thighs for even a moment lest he wake and discover this all to be a hallucination. He didn’t want to ever go back to only imagining this kind of bliss.

“Soooo g-good..GOD—S-Such…AH—g-good boy, Cho.”

Lost in the sauce of your sweet pussy, Choso gleefully continues—languid in his exploration but purposeful, you feel every flex of his dexterous muscle quivering in your pussy as he licks you from your swollen outer lips and into the folds of your inner labia. 

Choso commits every groove of your cunt to his memory. 

Only once you tense enough, arching your back and digging your nails into his cranium to push him towards her will Choso finally pay attention to your clit— his thick spongy tongue flattens, ensuring its soft bump texture scrapes across each and every nerve in your sensitive fleshy bundle. He’s feverishly making out with your bud to the point of making your actual mouth jealous.

Fuck, he was eating you like a pro and you haven’t even properly kissed him yet!

His skills are a total 180 degree shift from how novice he was just an hour earlier.

Obviously inexperienced, Choso’s first inclination was to latch his entire mouth over your clothed cunt, sucking and licking aimlessly, which honestly tickled at first more than anything.

Yet being the fast-learning good boy he is, Choso takes your instructions as well as your nonverbal cues to heart. Checking in with you often, his eyes darted up to you with innocent coos of ‘How does it feel, Mommy?’ reverberating into your core. 

Not only does Choso take direction well, he proactively improvises. 

You weren’t expecting him to start humming on your clit when you instructed him to suck it directly. Playing you like a harmonica, shaking his head and alternating between sucking and blowing. The insane waves vibrated into your cunt to stimulate every single pleasure point. 

You’d never gotten eaten out so desperately before, let alone with your underwear still on!

More caring with your pleasure than his own, Choso has already pulled two mind-bending orgasms out of you. Dining on your savory cunt like it's his last meal, Choso’s greediness while drowning in your pussy is steadily taking you to number three. 

To say Choso is pussy-drunk at the moment would be a massive understatement. 

Choso is worshiping you like he had found God in your gooey lips and as far as he was concerned he has. Relentlessly grinding against the floor, shuddering and moaning into your cunt he’d gladly pray into your pussy as much as you’d let him, swirling his tongue as far as he could into your cute hole winking against your soggy panties. 

From the noises he makes you think he’s already found enough pleasure of his own to soil his pants.

And you’re absolutely right.

Frantically rubbing his dick against your shared apartment’s plush carpet, the absolute elation he feels to finally taste you after all this time combined with the scratchy friction of the fibers prove too much for his needy virgin cock to bear. 

Nevertheless, that doesn’t slow him, uncaring about the uncomfortable stickiness caking between his legs when his head is still very occupied between yours.

“Shiiiit, ah—fuh—W-waiiiit, baby…Chos—OH!”

Stomach clenching, eye rolling ecstasy takes over when his canine accidentally swiped over your overstimmed clit. The tension finally snaps and your legs jerk with the prickly pleasure of tingles running through them. Your lashes splash away the stream of tears filling your eyes from the third orgasm Choso has studiously pulled from you.  

Choso shows no sign of stopping and while you’d happily let your little eater go to town on you all night, your pussy is screaming at you—you needed him to fill her up.

It takes all your strength to pry Choso’s face out of your cunt. His flushed cheeks are drenched and he appears dazed, a dreamy gaze in his eyes before distress instantly etches his features upon realizing he wasn’t suffocating himself in your pussy any longer.

“Nooo, Mommy pleaaaasuh! She’s s’p-pretty n s’creamy—s’wet… l-let me go back, kay?”

His deranged affectionate whines spur you to tug on his hair harder, keeping his attention focused on your face as you pose to him the question that has him ready to cum in his pants all over again.

“I know Cho, your mouth is s’good at getting Mommy’s pussy messy. But baby, don’t you wanna wet your dick in your girlfriend’s pussy next?”

Dumbstruck, Choso never considered that an option. 

“Or are you just satisfied with stewing in your own cum filled pants?”

Truly, he would have been happy just setting up camp all night with his face lodged in your cunt. Yet you flipped the lights on in his mind again, reminding him of how much he’d wanted to feel you on his cock knowing it would be so much better than his calloused hands stroking him.

With a series of dopey headshakes, Choso is scrambling to remove his robes. 

“Sorry, m’sorry!”

You couldn’t laugh at Choso for nearly falling over himself enthusiastically trying to shed his clothes, not when you’re just as wound up. Buzzing with lust, you're openly drooling seeing the massive stain on Choso’s white hakama as he sits back on his knees. Pushing down his pants, Choso’s cock rebounds bobbing back towards his belly and leaving glimmering traces of the prior mess he’s made. 

You knew he was big but holy shit—he’s too fuckin baby girl to be carrying around such a deadly daddy weapon in his pants. It makes rock hard length all the more intimidating the way his mushroomy tip reddens as the pearly streams of his essence flow over the heavy vein swaying his cock forward.

“If you really mean it, then apologize to Mommy with your cock for wasting all her cum in those pants of yours.”

You’re way past the line of going too far already. 

You know you are playing with fire teasing him like this, especially since the thick lines of his ability still activated even if the barbs were no longer on his face. He’d literally split you in two if he went too fast—and yet?

A part of you wanted him to break you.

Hovering over your form, like you were a delicate object while helping you pull off your last remaining articles of clothing. There's a mixture of both of your fluids webbing to your cunt as your panties—now destroyed with little holes scattering them from Choso him furiously gnawing on them like a teething puppy— are gingerly peeled off your skin.

Seeing you completely naked, Choso is stunned stupid. 

Utterly stuck, he’s biting his inner cheek hard so he doesn’t cum just from the sight of you from your warmed cheeks, pert nipples, quivering belly and pussy glossy from leaking a steady stream of drool.

“Y-You’re perfect!”

Choso blurts out and you think you can feel the thumping in your pussy all the way up in your eardrums as you overload on his adorableness. 

Spreading your legs wider you allow him to settle between your thighs, your hips slightly strain from accommodating his large body that completely dwarfs yours as Choso presses ope your thighs again. 

His anticipation visible, Choso’s upper body is trembling, biting down on his lip as he cautiously runs his angry cockhead down your soaked slit.  

“Shiiiiiiit.”

Drawing back Choso hesitates, the feel of even your pearly gland against his tip is almost too much.

“Umm, Y-You know what you’re doing Cho? I can get on—”

“NO! Um, y-yeah… I mean, I’d want that it’s, uh—I-I wanna make you feel good first if that’s okay, Mommy?”

Choso mumbles shyly, a determined look behind his bashefulness—so fuckin cute!

Oh yeah, you couldn’t wait for your turn to eat him the fuck up.

You’d settle for his lips though, tasting yourself on them you share your first real kiss while Choso is sinking inside your gummy core. The kiss doesn’t last long, only faintly grazing your tongue against his own before Choso is choking into your mouth. Unable to savor the kiss as he can’t even control the movement of his lips, just sneaking the very tip inside you near paralyzes him with pleasure.

Too warm, too wet and the fit much too tight—so it’s no surprise that when his hips dare to venture only a tiniest bit forward he's immediately cumming inside you with broken wails and sobs. 

“M’sorry! M’sorry! M’sorry!”

Your mind is elsewhere, still delayed from your pussy getting stretched so wide from the mere girth of the cockhead just minutes after getting eaten like a last meal on death row—so you didn’t even consider how fast he would cum once he was inside you.

Telling him to pull out now would be pointless, especially considering how incredibly turned on you are by him shaking like a leaf from just putting his tip inside. Trying to thursy into you further has him collapsing down and crying nonsense into your neck. 

A small smile is on your lips as you soothe him, amused with your pussy being Choso’s personal kryptonite. Hooking your arms under his, you stroke his shoulder blades whispering assurances.

“Just breathe Cho”

You’re also relishing the break it also gave you time to adjust, you were so full just from taking half of him. Your walls are slowly learning to accommodate his girth and clench around him, sucking him further in causing him to keen pitchy little moans as the pool of slobber increases down your nape.

Shit. You’re craving more.

You didn’t want to rush him as you can tell how just the smallest crumb of pussy has him in shambles, but your insides might burn up entirely if he didn’t start moving soon. 

Your gentle touch slick with the sweat beading on his broad chiseled back, roams down until you reach his hips. Nails digging into the sides of his glutes for grip, you pull his pelvis forward and down. Teaching him just how to fuck you, you lead his twitching length deeper into your pussy before guiding his hips back up then down again. 

Frankly, you think Choso might bust again from the deep groan he sighs when his long cock knocks against your cervix, fully sheathed in you. But your good boy proves to be a quick study yet again and it only takes a few cycles of training his hips before Choso adapts to a steady consistent rhythm on his own.

His eyes are screwed shut though, knowing from the videos he watched you wouldn’t be satisfied unless he could last longer for you. Certainly Choso would nut if he caught a glimpse of how nicely the peaks of your stiff nipples were bouncing or the lewd splash of creamy fluids from your cunt edging up your churning tummy like a tide. 

It was almost too much on its own that Choso could still taste the sweet tang of your cunt on his lips knowing his cock was buried so deeply in her. Choso’s oral fixation getting the best of him, the desire to suck on all parts of you rose as he scoops you up slightly, arms wrapped around your back propping your chest up towards his mouth so he can suckle on your tiddies.

When Choso inevitably makes the mistake of opening his eyes. Your sweet face, twisted in rapture, eyes fluttering back in a way that nearly matches the fluttering of your cunt around him undoes him again.

Choso just loves you too much.

“G-Gonna cum, again—m’sorry Mommy! G-GUHHHHHHH. P-Pussy too good. Never wanna leave—never gonna leave your perfect pussy, Mommy. I’ll stay inside you like this.”

Deranged in ecstasy, head burrowed in the safe haven in your tits, Choso’s declarations feel more like threats. Mouth is still full of tiddy, Choso coos out more promises of loving you and your pretty pussy so good like you deserve and making up for the months he could have been doing this.

“C-Cho, baby, pull out if you’re g-gonna—”

Too late.

To his credit Choso, wasn't even doing it on purpose. His body is in auto mode. Your cunt crippling his brain too badly for him to have any real control and Choso fucking you more like a curse than a human in the moment.

You’d asked for it with your teasing though, you thought as another load of viscous warmth blooms into your guts. Initially you figured no harm since it was his first time, but you’re now  losing count of the many times Choso has battered your puffed pussy into another orgasm and in turn busted in you. 

Obscene sounds squelch out of your pretty pussy, his cum making it even easier for him to frantically buck his hips to slam against your g-spot with every thrust—growing wholly addicted to the feeling of sliding in and out of you. 

His desperation for you has Choso manhandling you into different positions, all which you have Yuji and Todo to thank for sending him all their fap material. You didn’t know that though and you didn’t have time to wonder either when Choso has zero regard for the flexibility some of these positions require, yet obediently it’s your body bends to his will. 

Your head is drowning in euphoria from getting fucked so savagely, it takes a while to realize that you’ve changed positions again. Now on your stomach, ass up and shoulder being held down as Choso is using your creamy pulverized cunt like his own personal fleshlight. 

Your limbs feel weak and you’re cumming so hard now it’s almost painful, Choso reaches around to strum your abused clit while biting into your neck.

“One more time, Mommy! Please let me fuck you, one more time!”

Unfortunately for your poor pummeled pussy, that one more time was 3 rounds ago and your new boyfriend hasn’t gone soft yet—likely thanks to his blood manipulating abilities.

But since you manipulated Choso and yourself into a 3 month relationship it’s only fair he manipulates his cock into staying hard—right?

Choso has to make up for an entire 3 months of not fucking you tonight.

Good luck with that!

......RESULT: INCONCLUSIVE. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚐𝚗𝚒𝚣𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎, 𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕, 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍. 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚡𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚕 𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜—𝚜𝚘 𝚕𝚎𝚝’𝚜 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 '𝙼𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚢'.

that's not my jjk man series (visit series page for full animation)

i did not mean for it to be this long but got carried away as this the first time ive written virgin!choso.

comment and reblog! next up nanami, reworking it bit thats why I delayed it.

©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or gfx, do not translate.

[sserpente]

Checkmate

“You know, maybe we should play strip chess instead. I think I would be motivated to win if I could get you naked!”

 “Strip chess?” Sylus’ eyebrows shot up. He blinked, observing you wordlessly for a moment. “Very well. Let’s take this up a notch. You lose one piece of clothing for every piece you lose in the game.”

A/N: What’s this? Another red-eyed, pale-skinned and silver-haired morally grey man? Might as well.

Words: 1386 Warnings: smut

You made it a point to sigh. Loudly. With your chin propped up on your elbows, you were sitting across from Sylus on the bed in your pyjamas, a chessboard in between you creating more distance from him than you wanted.

“Are you going to hyperventilate, kitten? This is the third time you’re sighing like this.”

“This is boring, Sylus.”

“Ah, you didn’t hear me complaining after ten long rounds of Kitty Cards, now did you?” He didn’t look up as he spoke. His crimson eyes were fixed on the chequered game board but his voice was not without that teasing tone that always drove you mad and never failed to turn you into a horny mess. Especially now, with how casually he was sitting on the bed with crossed legs and clad in comfortable clothes.

“The chess pieces aren’t meowing at me, it’s not the same. You know I’m bad at chess.”

“Then you’ll get better.” He made his move—and unfortunately, it didn’t mean much to you. You barely remembered the names of all the different pieces but you hadn’t wanted to turn him down when he asked for a round. Time spent with him was rare due to your different sleep schedules, and your visits to the N109 zones were even rarer. Things would change soon. But until then, you’d soak up every minute you could get with him. Even if he wanted to play chess. Even if it was boring as fuck.

“It’s your turn, kitten.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m thinking.” Another sigh. This time, Sylus chuckled in response.

“How do I move this piece again?” You pointed at the chess piece resembling a horse, tilting your head innocently.

“Kitten…” Oh, now that was a reproachful kitten.

“I forgot! I’m sorry, I can’t help it but chess is so boring.” You paused, thinking. “You know, maybe we should play strip chess instead. I think I would be motivated to win if I could get you naked!”

“Strip chess?” Sylus' eyebrows shot up. He blinked, observing you wordlessly for a moment. “Very well. Let’s take this up a notch. You lose one piece of clothing for every piece you lose in the game.”

You frowned and looked down on yourself. Perhaps you should have thought this through first. Sylus was wearing a light jacket, socks, a shirt, a pair of trousers, and likely underwear. You on the other hand had only two pieces of clothing on you—a silk pyjama set with the night sky and embroidered stars on it, a gift from him the first time you returned to the N109 zone to stay with him for a few days. It had been waiting for you on the king-size bed in the guest room. You almost chuckled. You’d never slept in that bed until this day.

“Having second thoughts?” he mused.

You shook your head. “No. Let’s keep playing. It was my turn, yeah?”

He blinked once as if to say yes, his expression so amused you wanted to sigh yet again. This time, however, you really did put some effort in. If you beat him, he’d be sitting across from you naked. So if you moved your pawn over there…

“I’m done.”

“Are you sure?”

“What do you mean ‘are you sure’? Don’t make me second-guess myself!”

“Very well…” He moved another piece himself and chuckled. “There goes your knight, sweetie.”

“Ugh! What?”

“Come now. You set up the rules yourself.”

You glared at him and aggressively took your pyjama top off to throw it at his face where it landed with a thud before falling into his lap. His amused grin was even more irritating than the complexity of this silly game. He had the reflexes to catch the piece of clothing. He could have. He simply decided not to. Ugh.

“There. Happy?”

You had hopes that sitting in front of him topless would distract him enough to make a mistake but who were you kidding? Even if he did make a mistake, you were nowhere near skilled enough to beat him at this game. Sylus knew that very well. You’d just hoped that you could snatch up enough of his pieces to see him naked again.

But the stern leader of Onychinus was nothing if not composure personified. He didn’t even bat an eyelash at your half-naked form even though you could clearly tell it did not leave him unaffected. His crimson eyes raked over your breasts and your hardening nipples due to the cool temperatures in his bedroom.

A few moments later though, he moved another piece. Sylus chuckled. “Checkmate.”

You gasped, your eyes darting back down to the chessboard. “What? How?”

“You’ve been focused on your queen too much. Now your king has nowhere left to go. See?” He pointed at the two pieces that cornered your white king. How annoying.

“That’s not fair! You tricked me!”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You backed me into a corner!”

“You didn’t pay attention.”

“That’s impossible considering I’m topless and you’re still wearing all of your clothes! Was there even a way out?”

“There was.”

“But…but…ugh!”

Sylus raised an eyebrow and gave you a toothless grin. “I’m waiting.” He gestured at your pyjama bottoms.

“For what? The game is over, you’re still wearing all of your clothes and I’m still bored.”

Sylus laughed. “And you lost yet another piece. Don’t be a sore loser, sweetie.”

“I’m…not!” Cursing him under your breath you leaned back and shrugged off your pyjama bottoms without taking your eyes off him. It wasn’t nearly as sexy as you had hoped for it to be but beggars couldn’t be choosers. “This really didn’t go according to plan…”

“Your ‘plans’ never do, kitten.”

You scoffed. “Now what?”

“Now? You let me admire the view and revel in my triumph.”

“You’re impossible.”

Sylus chuckled. “You’ll find I’m very much possible. Come here.”

Now that was something he didn’t need to tell you twice. You crawled over to him fast, ignoring how the remaining chess pieces fell off the board in the process and made yourself comfortable on his lap. Sylus cradled your naked form in his arms as if you were a fragile porcelain doll. Your eyes fell shut almost automatically when he kissed your forehead.

His hands were less innocent. They ghosted over your exposed skin raising goose bumps where they went. It was sheer luck he didn’t tease you for how quickly your legs fell open when one of them travelled lower and lower, over your breasts and your hard nipples, your stomach and eventually…between your legs to where your body wanted him the most.

“Naughty little kitten, have you been this wet for me the whole time?”

You hummed in agreement, rubbing your nose against the crook of his neck.

Testing the waters, his long fingers started rubbing and caressing your outer lips until they slid between them with ease to tease your clit. Probing and exploring, working you up for him until he had you gushing and whimpering in his lap.

“Why…why were we playing chess if…if we could have just done this…the whole time…instead?”

“As much as I enjoy our…intimate moments, I do place value on spending intellectually stimulating time with you too, kitten.”

“Now you’re…making it sound like I’m…sex-crazed…around you…” Your panting increased, an all too familiar knot tightening in your lower belly.

Sylus laughed. “You’re not. Although…I wouldn’t blame you after getting that first taste.”

“You’re impossible,” you breathed out again. The words were followed by a moan. Sylus slid two fingers into your slick warmth, curling them inside you all the while his thumb kept caressing your clit. Shit, you were so close…so close…

“Sylus…”

“What is it, kitten? Tell me…”

“I’m…I will…oh shit…”

“Come for me,” he growled into your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

He didn’t need to tell you twice. You let go and fell, your orgasm rippling through you like pure electricity. Your wet walls tightened around his long fingers as he helped you ride it out and relish the taste of every last wave of pleasure consuming you. You kept clenching around rhythmically as that feeling of pure bliss slowly ebbed away again, leaving you breathless in his arms.

“Next time…” you choked out of breath, “…we’re playing UNO.”

Sylus chuckled. “As you wish, kitten.”

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Never Give Up

Pairing: Rockstar!Jensen Ackles x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.5k

Warnings: complete fluff, getting blood drawn so needles and blood

Summary: Jensen is in town for his next concert and visit you for a check-up before performing. You two have known each other for your whole life since his sister is your best friend, and he never fails to ask you out every time he sees you. You’ve always said no. It’s his mission to get you to say yes.

Square Filled: rockstar!jensen (2022) for @spndeanbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

You grab another vial of blood and mark down in the system which patient of yours this belongs to. Afterward, you place it inside a medical plastic bag and set it off to the side for the lab to pick up later. Today has been non-stop tending to patients, drawing blood, and taking vitals. You’re only halfway through your shift and you feel like your head is going to explode.

“Did you see his post?” another nurse asks as she and her friend walk into the office. “God, he looks so hot. I can’t believe he’s single.”

“I bet he’s fucking random fans every show he does. I could be one of those fans if I got tickets. Can you believe even the nosebleeds are two hundred bucks?”

You don’t need to hear his name to know who they’re talking about. There is only one artist that is big enough in the news right now. He’s been on a steady incline to fame ever since he left Texas for California.

“Do you think he’s good in bed?”

You roll your eyes at that but don’t comment on it. You just want to do your job and go home. You can’t be sitting here thinking about your best friend’s brother and how much of an arrogant bastard he is who thinks the world revolves around him. It doesn’t help that he has a major crush on you, and he isn’t afraid to show it. Besides him telling you every time he calls you how much he likes you, he’ll always try to show you either with flowers, dinner, or other small presents that he has mailed to you.

There isn’t a time that goes by when he’s with you that he doesn’t try and ask you out on a date. If he was just your best friend’s brother, you would consider it. It’s the fact that he’s an up-and-coming rockstar who isn’t near his peak that has you on the edge. You know rockstars. You dated a few of them. All they care about is music, money, and sex. They’ll get it anywhere from any woman who is willing to spread her legs for them. You’re not saying Jensen is like that, but you don’t want to be a notch on his belt.

Still, that doesn’t stop you from using your vibrator and fantasizing about him.

A few days pass without incident when you’re inputting patients into the computer. The same two coworkers who were talking about Jensen before come strolling in with big smiles on their faces.

“What’s got you two looking like that?”

“Jensen is in town for his concert.”

“Did you two get tickets?”

“No, but I know of a way inside. I have someone working security.”

You’d rather not sit here and watch them fangirl over him so you decide to finish your paperwork later and check on the patients. Your best friend, Sabrina, pulls you to the side as soon as she sees you.

“I need you to take the patient in Room 15.”

“Why? That’s your section.”

“Please? I can’t do it.”

“Why?” you ask, your eyes narrowing.

“He’s my brother. They won’t let me work on him.”

Jensen is here. You think about what it might mean if he sees you entering the room and think it’s better than sending the fangirls in there with him.

“Fine. You owe me.” You start to walk away from her with the blood draw supplies and pause. “Don’t tell the other girls. They’ll cause a riot.”

You walk to Room 15 and knock twice before entering. Jensen is sitting on the small table with the paper lined for people’s safety even though half the time, it gets crumbled and tossed out of the way. He is scrolling through his phone but it’s not that that has you staring in awe. He is wearing a tight black shirt that really shows off his muscles and tattoos and dusty blue jeans that you know hug his ass so nicely, all with a backward hat on. His hair peeks out the back of his hat. It was shorter than the last time you saw him.

There’s a new image for your fantasies.

“Growing out your hair, huh?”

Jensen’s head snaps up at the sound of your voice, and he gives you a thousand-watt smile. He immediately puts his phone away so that he can give you all of his attention.

“I was hoping Sabrina would send you in here.”

“Oh, you’re lucky it’s me and not the two fangirls out there. I’m pretty sure one of them wants to have sex with you.”

“What about you? Do you want to have sex with me?”

You smile shyly and grab two latex gloves to start the blood-drawing process. “You wish.”

“Yeah, I do.”

You wrap a tourniquet around his upper arm before grabbing his arm and rubbing the area with an alcohol swab to sterilize the area. Don’t think about his big muscles. Focus, Y/N! You open a packet that contains a new needle and place it where you need to. Without counting down, you stick the needle into his vein and start to grab blood samples.

“So, come here often?” he flirts.

“I work here,” you giggle.

“I know. I just wanted to hear your giggle. So, when am I gonna take you out?”

“Hmm, how about never?” you tease.

“Don’t do that to me, sweetheart. Throw me a bone or something.”

“I’m not even going to comment,” you laugh.

You take out the first vial and shove a new one into the case for more blood.

“I’m serious. When are you gonna let me take you out to a nice dinner? I’ll pay.”

“Oh, you will? How generous of you,” you say sarcastically yet playfully.

“Does that mean yes?”

“No.”

“I’m not gonna stop asking you.”

“You’ll turn blue in the face if you continue that.”

“It’s okay,” he shrugs. “I look good in blue.” You roll your eyes and try to hide your smile knowing he sees it. You finish getting four blood samples before patching him up with a Hello Kitty bandaid. You were just treating two twin little girls and this is all you have. “Nice band-aid.”

“It’s all I have. I can get a different one if you want.”

“No, no, I happen to like Hello Kitty.” You trash your gloves and the needle packet before standing. “Come to my concert.”

“I have to work.”

“No, you don’t. It’s on Saturday and you don’t work the weekends.” You silently curse knowing he’s right. “How about this? I will have a VIP and all-access badge with your name on it. Come if you want. It starts at seven. Are we done here?”

“Yeah, but--”

“Give my love to Sabrina.”

He hops of the table and kisses your cheek as he leaves. The two fangirls see him and fawn over his good looks but when he looks back, it’s at you. He only has eyes for you. He winks and turns to the fangirls who are practically tripping over the other to get to him. He signs what they want to be signed and takes pictures with them before leaving.

Today is only Wednesday but you can’t stop thinking about Jensen and his offer the rest of the week. Saturday comes faster than you’d like, and you find yourself driving with Sabrina to the concert hours before it even starts. There are already people lining up to get to the front of the pit but you bypass the entire parking lot to head to the back where the service entrance is.

“I can’t believe I’m going to this,” you say.

“So, when are you and my brother going to fuck?”

“Sabrina!”

“What? If anyone should be with him, it’s you. That boy is in love with you.”

“No, he’s not. He thinks he is because I don’t want him.”

“Does telling yourself that help you sleep at night?”

“Sabrina… He’s a rockstar. He’s a famous rockstar. He doesn’t want some rundown nurse. He could have anyone.”

“Yeah, but he wants you.”

You’re torn because you do want Jensen. He’s every girl’s dream. Even if he wasn’t a rockstar or famous, you’ve known him since you two were kids. You grew up together. You know who the real Jensen is, the one he doesn’t show anyone else. Still, there is that nagging feeling that he'll dump you once he gets bored with you. 

All of your exes did.

You show security both your IDs and he hands you and Sabrina your access badges before directing you where to park. After you two get out, you follow security to the back where the band is hanging out. You’ve gotten to know Jensen’s band a little over the years. They’re nice guys.

“Bean!” Jensen turns and grins when he sees his sister. His drummer has a major crush on your friend and has called her Bean ever since she told him she hated it. They’re in the “will they, won’t they?” stage but everyone knows they’re gonna be endgame. “Where’ve you been?”

“I told you not to call me that,” she rolls her eyes and hugs her brother. 

“And I told you I don’t care. I like how you blush when I do,” he smirks.

Jensen’s gaze goes over to you and he visibly relaxes at the sight of you. He walks over to you and takes off his hat so that his hair falls over his face.

“Hi, Jensen.” He smiles but doesn’t answer you. “What, cat got your tongue? I know I’m breathtaking but come on.”

“He doesn’t speak before a show to preserve his voice. He has breathing exercises to do,” Josh, the drummer, says.

“What a blessing,” you joke.

Jensen pulls you in for a hug, and you allow this minute to really feel him. His arms have always felt so safe around you, and you find yourself relaxing into his body. He pulls away and takes out his phone to text you since he takes his voice exercises seriously. Your phone pings and you look at the message he sent.

I love that you’re here.

You blush under his gaze and try but fail to hide your smile.

“You know I would have come.”

You and Sabrina leave for the VIP tent on the floor while the band gets ready. The opener comes out and does her performance which gives you time to enjoy the music and get some food before Jensen comes on stage. Since you and Sabrina are on Jensen and Josh’s social media, you’re both easily recognizable. Fans come up to the tent to chat and take pictures with you two. You never had a desire for fame but it’s nice to know you’ve made someone’s day just by saying hi to them.

The entire stadium goes dark and the intro to the concert begins. Immediately, the entire crowd cheers for Jensen. He walks on stage in a different outfit than when you saw him earlier, and you have to admit he looks really good. He’s wearing a classic muscle shirt that definitely shows off how much he’s been working out and his tattoos. Gone is his hat so that his hair can flop around freely.

His eyes immediately find the VIP tent, and he smiles when he sees you. You’ve seen his concerts over TikTok Lives and other social media platforms but nothing beats the real thing. He sings each song with passion like he means every word he’s singing. There is a long catwalk where he walks, and all the girls fawn over him whenever he gives them two seconds of his attention.

By the time he’s at the halfway point of his concert, your feet are hurting from how much you’re dancing and your ears are ringing from how loud it is, but you love it. Jensen is in the middle of a song when he suddenly stops and takes out one of his earpieces.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he pants. The band stops playing and everyone quiets down in confusion, including you. He’s never done this at any of his other concerts. “I’ll get back to the music in a second. I just want to say this is a very special concert because there is someone very special here tonight.”

“Oh, my God,” Sabrina gasps.

“Her name is Y/N and she’s right over there in the VIP tent.” The camera pans over to your shocked face so that everyone in the stadium can see. Sabrina can’t stop smiling. “You see, we’ve been friends since we were kids and she doesn’t know this but I am absolutely crazy for her.”

Cheers erupt throughout the stadium, and you shake your head at Jensen with a smile.

“Now, I’ve asked her this many times but she’s always said no to me. I don’t think she’ll be able to say no in a room full of eighty thousand people. Someone get her a microphone. I want to hear her answer.” Jensen waits for someone to bring you a microphone. “Y/N, will you let me take you to a really nice dinner date?”

You wait for the crowd to quiet down a bit before giving your answer.

“No,” you smile sweetly. “You just won’t take no for an answer.”

“You’re right. I won’t.” He drags one of the barstools to the middle of the stage and sits on it. “That’s why we’re not continuing until you say yes.”

“You’re not serious.”

“Oh, I am, sweetheart. I won’t sing another song until you say yes. What do you say, Los Angeles? Should she say yes to me?” Almost every fan in the stadium including Sabrina cheers for you two. “See? Even they think you should.”

“Well if they think we should…”

“Is that a yes?”

“No,” you grin.

“Alright.” Jensen sits and drums his fingers on his legs patiently. “I wonder what I’m going to do next weekend. I think I should take up fishing. My dad always brought me but I never appreciated it before.”

“You’re seriously going to sit there and not continue your concert?” you ask.

“Put everyone out of their misery and just say yes to the date. Come on, everyone. Y/N! Y/N!”

Everyone starts chanting your name, and Sabrina tugs on your arm to grab your attention.

“Has any of your exes done this for you? What are you scared of?”

She’s right. None of your rockstar boyfriends have ever stopped a concert for you. None of them even mentioned you were there. Jensen doesn’t have to say it but he is in love with you and you’re in love with him.

“Fine. Fine. Yes, I’ll go on a date with you.”

“Yes!” Jensen cheers. You hand the microphone back to the stadium worker, and Jensen puts the earpiece back in. “This next song is for you, sweetheart.”

And he plays the song he wrote for you in high school.

x

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[pure-smut]

say red: part 3

featuring: Iwaizumi Hajime x f!reader

contains: angst to fluff to smut, happy ending, cunnilingus, missionary, creampie, dom!Iwaizumi, degradation, dirty talk

note: all characters are over 18!

MDNI | 18+ content

word count: 2.3k

series: 1. say red | 2. say red | 3. say red

masterlist

a/n: phew this is the final chapter!! what a ride. i think this is the longest series I've written by word count so yeah! enjoy!!

You skip the next two project meet ups, including the messages Iwaizumi sends you, which you mute without reading. You avoid him in class, leaving early before he can catch up to you.

Instead, you retreat to the library, working on the project by yourself. It’s like there’s a dark cloud over you, following you around. Your chest feels empty and it’s a chore to make yourself smile and laugh in class but you don’t want anyone to know you’re miserable. Worse, miserable because of him.

You see Iwaizumi in a coffee shop once, the same one you both went to. He’s hunched over his notes, brows furrowed, one hand in his dark hair. He’s nibbling on his bottom lip in concentration. You stare at him, not able to tear your eyes away.

You want to go inside, sit down next to him and flash him one of your sweet smiles. You want to smooth the notch in his brow, feel his chest under your palms, feel his grip on your waist.

You want to talk to him and laugh with him again. You want to annoy him, make him roll his eyes and sigh.

But then you remember his kiss – the kiss – and your chest goes tight. You remember the fist he has around your heart. You turn away from him, walking briskly home.

You can avoid him until the end of the semester. Once the project is handed in, you never have a reason to see him again. You can just pretend he doesn’t exist. Easy.

If only Iwaizumi would let you.

You’re in the library after rushing early from class. You found a quiet spot in the back behind all the bookshelves, affording you some privacy as you work on the last section of the project. You’re deep in thought, writing quickly, when a shadow looms over you.

You look up, annoyed, and see Iwaizumi.

You freeze, staring up at him, hand clenched around your pencil. Iwaizumi looks right back at you, ever-present frown on his face. Your eyes dart behind him as you wonder how quickly you can escape. Iwaizumi shifts into view, putting a heavy hand on the back of your chair, blocking you.

“You’re not running this time,” he says lowly.

You avert your eyes, sighing heavily and crossing your arms.

“What do you want from me exactly?” you snap.

A muscle bounces in Iwaizumi’s jaw. Without saying anything, he drags you easily by the back of the chair, pulling you away from the desk. Your breath hitches at his casual strength and you nearly flinch. Your eyes widen as he sinks to his knees, kneeling in front of you.

“I want you to be fucking honest with me,” Iwaizumi says plainly.

When you try to avert your gaze again, he grabs you firmly by the jaw, forcing you to look at him.

“Hey!” you protest, trying to twist away from his grip but he easily overpowers you.

“I know what you’re doing,” Iwaizumi says, catching your gaze and holding it.

“You don’t know anything about me,” you whisper, jaw set. “Just because we fucked doesn’t mean you know me.”

“I know you try,” he shoots back and you feel like you’ve been punched in the chest. “I know you try really fucking hard.”

“I don’t…” Pressure builds behind your eyes but you blink the tears away, refusing to cry. You hate how easily he’s done this to you.

“You do,” Iwaizumi says firmly. “I saw the notes in your room and the recorder you use for class.”

You try to look away again but he holds you firm. Hot tears spill down your cheeks and onto his fingers.

“I see the way you pretend not to listen but you remember everything I tell you. I see the way you act like everything comes easily to you but you upload your work in the middle of the night because you’re working so late.”

“Stop…” you sob.

Iwaizumi doesn’t let you look away, his eyes piercing through you with that damn look, his fist squeezing your heart. His grip on your jaw softens as he cups your cheek.

“I know you care,” he says, his voice dropping. “I know you care about me.”

The fight leaves your body. You say nothing, tears spilling. Iwaizumi brushes them away with the pad of his thumb, gently pulling your face to his.

“Say red,” he whispers. “And I’ll stop.”

You don’t.

Your lips press together gently, cautiously. Iwaizumi snakes his hand to the back to your head, tangling his fingers in your hair. You lean into him, parting his lips to deepen the kiss. His other hand finds your throat, holding you loosely there, somehow comforting. Without breaking the kiss, Iwaizumi pulls you up to standing, holding you close until there’s not an inch between you. You only break away when there’s an awkward cough.

You both turn to see the librarian giving you a stern look. You grin and wink at her while Iwaizumi smothers a smile.

“We should get out of here,” he says, picking up your books.

“That’s probably for the best.” *

Iwaizumi insists on carrying your bag as you walk hand-in-hand back to your place. As soon as you cross the threshold into your bedroom, he’s on you, his hands on your waist as he presses rough kisses against your neck. You giggle and let him push you onto the bed as he crawls on top of you.

“You missed me this much?” you tease.

“How about I show you how much?” Iwaizumi smirks, his hand trailing up your inner thigh. “But first…”

You let him hook his fingers under your panties, pulling them off this time instead of tearing them. Iwaizumi sits back so he can push your dress up past your hips. But then he keeps going.

“This is coming off,” he says firmly.

There’s a stab of fear in your chest as you realise he wants to strip you bare but you let him tug your dress over your head, tossing it to the side. Iwaizumi buries his face in your neck as he snakes a hand underneath you, unsnapping your bra. You swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry. He pulls it off you and sits back again.

Iwaizumi’s gaze rakes over your naked form. You squirm uncomfortably, lungs constricting, and raise your arms to cover yourself. Iwaizumi catches your wrists, stopping you.

“Don’t you dare.” His voice leaves no room for negotiation.

When he’s sure you’re going to stay still, he releases your wrists and leans forward again. Iwaizumi presses a kiss to your forehead and then your cheek and then your neck. Down over your collarbone, between your breasts, and onto your stomach. You giggle as his stubble tickles the sensitive skin there and run your hands through his hair. He looks up at you with a grin.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he says.

The way he says it - like he can’t believe he gets to see you like this - makes you want to believe him. You’ve never been overly insecure about the way you look but so feel so exposed, so vulnerable.

Iwaizumi sees the look on your face because he moves down lower, grabbing your thigh so he can kiss the soft inner side.

“Don’t worry,” he breathes, his olive eyes never leaving yours. “I’ll take care of you.”

Your heart beats furiously against your ribcage but you drum up every ounce of trust you have and say a quiet, “Okay.”

Iwaizumi’s grip on your thighs is strong as he pushes your legs up, spreading your pussy for him. He wants to bury his face between your legs and lick up every drop of your arousal but he can feel the tremble in your limbs and knows you’re scared. He doesn’t want you to clam up again, to run away from him. So he keeps his eyes on your face, carefully tracking your reaction, and slowly dips his tongue between your folds.

You exhale shakily, every nerve on fire. Iwaizumi presses his tongue deeper, finding a well of your sweet slick inside you. The combination of his soft mouth and sharp stubble against your sensitive lips only makes you wetter for him. You moan lightly, your head dropping back on the pillow, your muscles relaxing ever so slightly.

Iwaizumi trails his tongue up, parting your lips until he reaches your clit. He feels it throb under his tongue and latches his lips around it softly, sucking until your hands clench the bed sheets.

“Fuck…” you gasp. “That feels good, Iwa.”

Iwaizumi flattens his tongue and brushes it in broad strokes over your sensitive bud, watching your back arch in response. He has to fight not to close his eyes, not to get lost in the taste and smell of you, his cock aching to be inside you. He presses his mouth flush to your pussy, moving between your tight little hole and your clit until he feels you practically dripping.

Your hand is in his hair, tugging at the root as you grind against his mouth, your sweet gasps and whimpers filling the room.

“Iwa…”

Your voice is high and hoarse and he knows you’re close. He nearly cums himself at the way you say his name like that. Iwaizumi returns to your clit, flicking his tongue over it the way he’s learned you like.

“Ah… ah-!”

You grip his hair as your thighs clamp tight around Iwaizumi’s head, smothering him so deliciously against your pussy. He groans against your lips as you come undone on his tongue, pleasure curving your back and curling your toes.

Iwaizumi doesn’t give you time to recover, moving up to kiss you as soon as your thighs release him. You taste yourself on his tongue which is so much hotter than you expected.

“You taste so fucking good,” Iwaizumi groans into your mouth. “Can’t believe I haven’t been able to do that until now.”

“Please feel free to do that again whenever you like.” You grin.

“Definitely later.”

Iwaizumi pulls back to tug his t-shirt over his head and you’re immediately distracted.

You shamelessly rake your gaze over his form, you mouth watering at the sight of him. You’ve always been able to feel the hardness of his muscles through his clothes but it’s nothing compared to seeing it with your own eyes. You reach up to run your hands across his stomach and up to his chest, feeling the smattering of dark hair there, before feeling the definition of his shoulders. Iwaizumi smirks and stands up, quickly ridding himself off his jeans and boxers.

You get a glimpse of the cut of muscle on his hips and his thick thighs before he’s on top of you again, his cock hard and hot against your sopping pussy.

“Pick your jaw off the floor,” Iwaizumi says, sucking small bruises against your collarbone.

“Sorry you’re super fucking hot, Iwa.” You roll your eyes. “Shoot me.”

He chuckles and repositions himself, parting your thighs with his body. The feel of his skin against yours is electrifying, everywhere he touches leaving a scorching trail. The intimacy almost makes your heart set off at a gallop again but Iwaizumi notices your breath catching.

He leans forward on his forearms, barely a gap between you, and brushes your hair from your forehead.

“Hey,” he whispers, the corner of his mouth up ticking. “Who’s my little slut?”

You break out in a smile despite yourself and press a kiss against his lips.

“I’m your little slut, Iwa,” you whisper back.

“You’re goddamn right.”

You gasp as his cock parts your lips, pushing inside you. Iwaizumi rolls his hips, bottoming out quickly before pulling back. He’s so close to you, the trimmed hair at the base of his cock rubs against your clit, stimulating both your sensitive bud and your hole at once.

“S-shit…” you murmur, eyes fluttering closed as pleasure consumes you.

“Hey.”

Iwaizumi’s sharp voice makes you eyes snap open again. He fixes you with his gaze as his hand wraps around your throat.

“Look at me while I fuck you.”

You do what he says. Iwaizumi’s green eyes bore into yours as he thrusts harder, snapping his hips against you. His cock throbs as he watches your brows scrunch up in the middle, your lips parting as lustful whimpers escape. You look so beautiful like this, taking his cock so well.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” Iwaizumi groans. “Feel so fucking good. Perfect little slut.”

You draw your knees up, letting Iwaizumi go deeper, moans rising as he hits a new spot inside you. You wrap your legs around him, holding him close, your nails sinking into his biceps.

You never knew this could feel so good, to lay bare beneath someone. Beneath Iwaizumi.

“I love this,” you gasp, the words falling from your lips before you can stop them. “I love you.”

Iwaizumi’s heart nearly bursts out of his chest. He doesn’t break pace, feeling your walls start to clench down around him.

“Fuck, I love you,” he says, voice breaking. “I love you so much.”

I love you.

Somehow over the rush of blood in your ears, your eyes rolled back in your skull, pleasure seizing your body like a vice, you hear him. Iwaizumi cums with you, your walls milking him as he unleashes his load deep inside you. Your bodies are slicked with sweat, skin stuck together as you hold each other, breathless.

Iwaizumi doesn’t move right away, choosing to dip his head and kiss you first. The same gentle kiss that made you realise he’d broken past your carefully constructed barrier, that made you realise you need more. A million butterflies explode in your stomach.

Iwaizumi presses his forehead against yours, breath mingling. You know he might have a fist around your heart but you wouldn’t trust it with anyone else.

masterlist

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[leonkennedybreedingkink]

EVERYBODY KNOWS

drug dealer!leon kennedy x reader

tags: dubcon (reader is a little high when y’all fuck), toxic relationship, drugs, implied/referenced cheating. frankly it’s inconsistent but this has been burning a hole thru my drafts. sorry for the discourse btw. title from everybody knows by leonard cohen.

Stay away from him, everyone said. He’s bad news, he spends more time counting money and sniffing and smoking than he does fucking or answering your texts.

Unlike him, you’re a good dog, you come when he calls (most times). He learned the hard way that you like to keep a normal bedtime after having to fuck his fist two months in a row, poor man.

We’ll get one thing straight: he’s not yours, you’re not his.

Frankly, Leon pisses you off most times. He doesn’t do shit, he just goes to the mall to hang out when he’s not selling drugs, not that those two intersect.

He learned that you’re not easily cowed the hard way too, after you called him a stupid fuck because he didn’t like that you came over wearing sweatpants all the time. He’s not yours, you’re not his, and Leon’s smarter than he portrays himself because he toned it down after that.

You think that if you two ever got in a fight, you’d win because he’d let you and he’d told you he doesn’t hit girls.

It’s not like he has a bridge in New York to sell you, just weed or coke or whatever benzos he can get his hands on, so you generally trust that he says what he means.

He’s not slick either, not with the way you sometimes catch him looking at you or how he seeks you out in a crowd, but neither of you are looking for commitment, at least, that’s what he says.

Leon’s not so bad when he’s high, but it depends on what he’s on, in his opinion. Coke makes him too hyper, weed makes him feel too sluggish, why not mix it and get the best of the both worlds? He thinks you’re uptight, just a little, that’s why he invites you to do a little speedball with him.

You’re always down to try anything twice, so you shrug, watching slim and clumsy fingers put together the weed and coke before he passes it to you and you try it.

It’s not half bad, actually. You’re calm, but alert. You see why he mixes the two—up until you feel like you’re melting through the couch, slumping against it and groaning softly.

Leon built up a tolerance, watching you try to get your bearings as he sits straight on the couch, thick thighs spread and rubbing your ankle. “Poor baby.” He muses, tracing a thumbnail on the notch of your ankle bone.

You say nothing in response, scrubbing a palm over your face and checking your pulse because you can be a little paranoid at the end of the day.

Leon tuts, reaching over and pulling your hand away from your neck. “Jesus, you’re fine. I got narcan on me, anyway.”

Not like he’d call the cops, he has more than enough product to be thrown under the jail without a trial or anything.

You swipe at his hand irritatedly, brows furrowing like an angry kitten. Leon rolls his eyes, tugging you closer with the hand on your ankle and rubbing your shin. You groan as the room swims, shutting your eyes to fight the vertigo. “Stay with me, babydoll. You’re fine.”

You scoff. “Excuse me for being a novice to speedballing. Only time I’ve seen it is Breaking Bad.”

Of course. Leon finds himself smiling anyway, patting your knee. Your cotton shorts rode up when he pulled you over, exposing the dark green and white stripes of your underwear, Leon’s eyes stick to the sight and he swallows, mouth feeling dry and too wet at the same time.

You don’t protest when he gently maneuvers you into all fours, knees digging divots into the upholstery and shaky elbows holding you up. Leon shoves one hand up your shirt and pushes down his sweatpants with the other.

What a lucky day to be commando.

Leon sighs when he pushes in, pulling a pink lower lip between his teeth to muffle himself. It’s not like he has roommates, but he’s still shy about being noisy, especially around you. You seem to like it, but still.

You shudder, perky ass tucking in and back rounding out. Jesus, he’s not even all the way in yet and you’re acting up. He tuts, gently coaxing your back to straighten out with a hand on the curve of it pressing down. He thinks he hears your back crack. “That’s it, that’s my baby.”

You seem to dislike that, because you make a displeased groan. Doesn’t matter, your cunt speaks for you with the way you squeeze around him.

Leon counts to ten so this doesn’t end too early, God, that’s lame. He presses down again when your back fights to round up, his other hand on the nape of your neck pushing your top half down a little more.

You fight to stay upright, but the coke and weed made you a little too uncoordinated, your hand slipping off the couch and your other braced beneath you, left arm bent at an awkward angle.

Leon draws back with a soft hiss, the hand on your nape shifting to the curve of your waist. “Sorry, baby.”

He chortles quietly when you smack him in the thigh with a flail of your hand, rolling his hips to hear your muffled moan into the upholstery.

When your head turns, he sees a thin string of drool connecting your mouth to his couch, a little puddle beneath the corner.

He’s sure you’re a little too high to enjoy this as he thrusts steadily, an orgasm licking up his spine slowly. All the times you two have fucked, it’s been bombs, fireworks. Coke refined into crack. Head high, versus the little body high of right now.

He pushes up your baggy shirt, hands roaming slowly up and down the shape of you. He doesn’t even realize he’s speaking until he watches your eyes blink open. “You’re so—fuck, shit—you’re so fuckin’ sexy.”

You, in the speedball haze, recognize that he’s just blabbering because he’s pussy drunk. Again, common occurrence. Even so, you’re a little flattered.

He reaches down, fumbling with your slick clit and kissing the nape of your neck. Painted toes curl into the upholstery as your brows furrow, groaning gutturally, almost inaudible as you squeeze around him.

Leon curses and bites your shoulder as he comes, whimpering into your shirt and skin. He pulls out and lays back, catching his breath as you roll to the side.

See? He can be sweet, he gets up and cleans you gently, then the stain on the couch.

God, Leon’s pissing you off lately. He should have some damn respect for the woman he empties his balls into, and yet. You’re this close to just cutting and running as you angrily put on makeup in his bathroom.

Seriously, he forgets himself. Asking you who that man is in your phone (none of his fucking business), telling you not to wear that see-through top he first met you in, telling you what you can and can’t do, who you can’t and can’t fuck.

“It’s not like we’re together, Leon.” You tell him as you lean into the mirror, winging up your eyeliner pen. Fuck, you did that wrong. You grab a q-tip, stick it in your mouth, and use that to clean up the line.

You watch through the mirror as Leon rolls his eyes. “You know that we are, though. The only one I’m fucking lately is you.”

You scoff, cleaning up one eye and doing the other. “Maybe you should find some other bitches to put in your roster. Shit, maybe you should have a roster.”

Leon’s shoulders straighten, that little barb making its mark. “Don’t fucking say that.” Leon snaps, stepping a little closer and leaning against the wall, corded arms folding across his chest.

You snort and say nothing, focusing on getting your eyeliner even. Sisters, not twins.

“Don’t snort as if something’s fucking funny. It’s not.” Leon comes a little closer, arms unfolding.

“And what are you gonna do about it?” You goad, straightening up and capping the eyeliner pen. “Pussy.”

Your temple smacks into the wall and your vision wavers. You groan, one hand moving to clutch your head before Leon shoves you down, elbow and hip smacking on the tile. “You fucking bitch.” He hisses, crouching down. “See what you do to me?”

God, doesn’t that sound familiar, that’s his favorite line when you’re flirting with him in public and he puts your hand over his nonexistent bulge.

“Look at what you make me into.” He smacks you across the face hard enough to bring tears to your eyes. Leon grabs your jaw, hands shaking with rage. “Is this what you wanted? Happy, now?” He shakes you a little bit after the first question, pupils blown wide as he sneers down at you.

When you shake your head, your eyeliner and mascara smeared, he lets go, getting up and hauling you to your feet.

Leon sits you on the closed toilet lid, leaving and grabbing you an ice pack from the fridge. He holds it to your temple and watches a bruise bloom on your shoulder, sickeningly satisfied when you lean into him, one hand clutching his wrist.

“You ever put your fucking hands on me again, I’ll put you in the ground.”

Leon chuckles quietly, patting your cheek a little harder than usual. “Not if I do it first.”

You think he loves you the way a bruise loves a peach.

[saiintvalentiine]

HTFF Chapter 1.5

hi. this is like..... a missing scene from how to featherfall. before it became just Wifies POV, I was going to rotate through different POVs but I found it really difficult and unsatisfying to write so I scraped the other POVs.

however! I have what constitutes as most of a chapter from Parrot's POV set immediately after the end of chapter 1. in chapter 3 he mentions that Wifies popped a few totems, and this chapter would have shown the first one :)

Important notes:

This goes without saying, but this won't make sense if you haven't read at least chapter 1 of how to featherfall.

There is a section that's just missing and filled instead with my A/N where I'm screaming. that's part of the experience. it's also unedited. that's also part of the experience.

I really am not that satisfied with the writing in this. Zam and Wemmbu are here and honestly I completely botched them. sorry in advance.

Warnings for gore! It's sprinkled throughout so unlike chapter 2 where you can skip it, here it's unavoidable.

There's a sub-200 word Ken POV set right after this that I just won't post because it's so pathetically short but it exists, so if it feels like this trails off strangely at the end, that's why

anyway, I think that's it. enjoy this little. . . chapter 1.5? divider

Wordcount: 1,712

Wifies has never made a noise like that. Never, ever, ever, not once, not in the hundreds of times he's been stabbed or trapped, the dozens of totems he's popped from shots through the head or axes through his limbs— never. He's so quiet in his pain that Parrot worries sometimes that Wifies will just slip away from him, unheard, and Parrot won't know until it's too late. Now he knows that Wifies slipping away is a horrifying sound. It's like listening to an animal’s death rattle. It's like he's been split open. Like he's been pulled apart.

Wemmbu’s expression cracks, blatant fear and concern breaking through their usual charade. When Parrot leaves him to find Wifies, he’s greeted with Zam's limp arms and blank stare. Whatever just happened, Parrot knows Zam didn't mean it. Zam likes their games just as much as Wifies usually does, just differently, the subterfuge and arguments and drama fueling him. But he likes Wifies— they all like Wifies and his dry humor and his level headed persuasion and his stilted, earnest affections.

Wifies is hanging from a tree, left wing pierced through by three different tree branches. He’s stopped screaming, instead shaking and trying to pry himself off of the branches before going terrifyingly limp just as Parrot reaches him. Zam wordlessly pulls out an axe from his inventory as Parrot wraps his arms around Wifies’s middle and lifts him up to ease the pressure off his back. Zam starts to chop off the branches, and all Parrot can think of is how he's going to get this armor off of Wifies.

Wemmbu appears with a totem in hand, hesitating for a moment before taking one of Wifies's hands and wrapping his fingers around it, tucking the tight cuff of Wifies's sweater on the lower bit so it won't fall out.

“Just in case,” he murmurs to no one.

Parrot appreciates it. Zam cuts through the final branch and all of Wifies's weight lands on Parrot. Zam is holding the very top of Wifies's wing, trying to ease it closer without irritating it.

“We need to cut through this chest plate,” Parrot says. “There's no way we can move his wing to take it off normally.”

Zam offers his axe, and Wemmbu takes it, struggling to find a notch on the metal that'll let him cut through the netherite. Once he does manage to slice away enough to pull the back of it out, though, his face pales.

“That's a whole metal bar,” Wemmbu says in a choked voice. “That's— what the fuck is this?”

This is about an inch of a thick, red iron bar pulled straight out of Wifies's back, the base of his left wing attached to it through what looks like screws and layers of silvery scar tissue. The wing-holes of his sweater let them see that it’s been ripped right out of Wifies’s back, a gaping wound that's pouring out more blood than Parrot can comprehend. 

Parrot holds Wifies closer with his left arm, touching the exposed metal with a shaking finger. It's slick with blood and still warm.

The totem in Wifies's hand pops. They all startle at the noise of it, and Parrot can't stop looking at how the broken skin and muscle starts to pull together, metal shuddering violently as it's pushed and pulled too and fro, like it can't decide if the metal is invasive or belongs. It reseals around the exposed metal, leaving the wing at an awkward angle.

“Nooo,” Wifies moans weakly into Parrot’s ear. “No, no, no. . .”

Zam pulls out a totem from his inventory and hands it over to Wemmbu. Wemmbu shakily repeats the process of getting Wifies to hold onto it, though this time Wifies grips it with a faint sigh.

“Wifies,” Parrot whispers, at a loss for what to do. “What. . . ?”

“What happened?” Wifies slurs. He can't seem to move his weight off of Parrot, though his twitching legs are clearly trying.

“There's metal,” Parrot says dumbly.

Wifies tenses, right wing ruffling and left just jittering inertly.

“No,” he says again and again. “No, no, no, no, no, it's out, it's out isn't it?”

“It’s— there's like, like an inch of metal sticking out of the left side of your back,” Parrot says, stained hand still hovering over it.

“That's too much to put back,” Wifies says. “Gotta, gotta rip it out for the next trial—”

His fever. Wifies still has a fever. Parrot scrambles to pull Wifies’s helmet off and toss it away, pressing his cheek to Wifies's forehead. He's burning, twice as hot as this morning, and his eyes are glassy and unfocused.

“Rip it out?” Zam says faintly. He looks like he's going to be sick.

“Rip it out,” Wifies replies. “Rip it out, means the scapula is too damaged, ‘s no good anymore, trial failed.”

“What is he talking about Parrot,” Wemmbu says. He also looks like he's going to be sick.

“I don't know.”

Wemmbu and Zam are looking to him to salvage this situation, but Parrot feels nauseous and lost. He thought Wifies’s wings were organic, that maybe he couldn't fly because of some kind of muscle issue or psychosomatic symptoms. Not— whatever the fuck is happening now.

“Parrot,” Wifies says, voice slurring. “I have no idea what to do. I've never survived getting them out.”

What the fuck is Parrot supposed to do?

“Someone call Ken,” Parrot blurts out, and Wemmbu whips into action.

“Ken’s gonna kill meeeee,” Wifies mutters. “Told me to take care of it.”

He goes limp again, and Zam checks on the totem.

“Uh,” Ken’s voice is tinny over Wemmbu’s comm speaker. “Can I help you?”

“Wifies’s wing just, uh, exited his body,” Wemmbu says. “It’s— there's a lot of blood.”

Ken curses and something heavy sounding hits wood. There's scrambling, then catastrophic noise that feels appropriate to the inside of Parrot’s brain.

“Just— keep him alive, please,” Ken says, voice strained. “I'll— I can fix it, I think, just keep him alive til I get there.”

Ken hangs up, and then it's the four of them again in the morning light. Ken can fix it. Parrot has to believe in him.

“Let's lay him down inside, head in and get all the stuff off of the living room floor,” Parrot says.

With direction now, Zam speeds off with Wemmbu close behind. Parrot struggles for a minute, but manages to wrangle Wifies up further onto his shoulder without agitating his torn wing. He’s careful as he walks into their house, hand still warm with blood and viscera.

[AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA]

Ken arrives in a flurry of movement, fur and feathers standing on end. He’s already pale, but looking at Wifies turns him sheet white.

“Fuck,” he says, then turns to Wemmbu and Zam and says, “You two need to leave. Sorry. Get out.”

“What?” Wemmbu says.

“Get out, get out, last thing we need is two more cooks in the kitchen,” and Ken flinches at his own words, waving his hand as if to wipe them out of the air. “Listen, just— I need you to leave. Wifies might kill himself if I don't insist.”

“What the fuck,” Parrot mutters, watching as Ken pushes Zam and Wemmbu out of the house and locks the door behind them.

“Wifies trusts you, and I'm gonna have to trust you too,” Ken says as he slams obsidian in front of the door and pulls out a file folder from his inventory.

“Trust me with what?”

“His life.”

It’s such a dramatic thing for Ken to say, so over the top it’s almost comical, but then he’s pinning sheets of paper onto the dark wood of their walls and Parrot’s nausea doubles. It’s charts and diagrams and— fuck, sometimes pictures, surgical and bloodied, and Parrot doesn’t know where to look when everything is violation and gore. Ken collapses across from him on Wifies’s other side, and starts to tear through his sweater with shears.

“Ken, explain something,” Parrot chokes out. “Anything, please.”

“Wifies’s wings are installed, not grown. They're installed poorly. If one of them exits the body, the whole system has to go.”

Ken sounds so. . . unlike himself. The words sound foreign, practiced, like he's heard them somewhere else and is only repeating them.

“Wifies told you that,” Parrot realizes suddenly. “He knew the whole time they were dangerous didn't he?”

“He left me a kit,” Ken says stiffly. “Just in case something happened. Asked me if I would be okay with having to do something like this.”

The sweater and shirt disappear bit by bit, and Parrot sees the network of gnarled scar tissue on Wifies’s back for the first time. His broken (extracted? He isn't sure what to call it) wing is surrounded by puckered skin from the totem pop, but there's a— a track of scars. Two go from the top of his shoulders down to his mid back. Another two connect the ends of those scars. A single wide scar bisects at an equal distance between those. And then, from the top of his spine all the way down to his waist is a single, inelegant cut that looks large enough to pluck out his vertebrae. Three vertical, three horizonal, like some kind of fucked up version of the rule of thirds.

“God,” Parrot says, and then again, “God,” but he helps Ken toss away the scraps of fabric and looks at the wall of papers for guidance.

“I just need to get the wings out,” Ken mutters, clearly trying to convince himself that he can. “Everything else can stay. The wings, and the fastening mechanisms. That's it. Those are two things on each side, so it’s only four things.”

“We can do that,” Parrot says. “Just four things right? We can do that.”

“We can do that,” Ken repeats, and then the shears are swapped out with a thin, sharp scalpel. “We’ll have to do that.”

Parrot reaches over and holds Wifies's damaged wing away from Ken so he has more space to work with.

“We can do this,” Parrot says, putting every ounce of hope and confidence he can muster into his voice.

Ken’s hand flexes over the handle of the blade and he nods.

“We can do this.”

[newbornwhumperfly]

what water says as it plummets...

i'll be honest, fellas? 🥺💖🥺 this one is a plot point i'd built up for a long time and it sort of poured out of me all at once in this chapter 💖 it's a little rougher than i'd like due to sleepiness but i'm so happy to bring this character to my audience in this @whumpmasinjuly prompt - day 15: a soft reprieve - cause i'm sure you'll love her. 🥰

title insp. by the poem "interview" by jordan kapono nakamura - "i have extensive experience in studying what water says as it plummets..."

~

“Okay, honey, you can hop up on the table whenever you’re ready.”

Sarai has found that Morja, as a patient, generally prefers orders. That’s to be expected, for sure. It’s usually safer to be told what to do when you’re told what to do every day of your life and Morja has often frozen, still and quiet, when offered an option right away. So, the best way to start these appointments is to sort of sound like she’s telling him what to do. 

Every patient is different and has different needs from their doctor. In this way, every patient is the same.

Sure enough, Morja’s shoulders go down a notch from their raised tension as he hoists himself to sit on the bench. He’s been…less tense with each visit, especially recently. He even took one of the candies Sarai offered without protesting. 

But today, something is…different about Morja. Or, moreso, something is the same, some pattern that has been shifting is fixed, cold and solid, in place in Morja’s countenance.. There is a way that Morja holds himself, tight, rigid, that comes and goes, but there is something even worse that she’s observed - it was the dead, resigned bracing in his face when he first got an exam. It was as if he was locked in around the certainty of a terrible thing, his body merely a vessel which would carry whatever was to come. 

He looks like that now, his hands and the mass of scar tissue they hold not clenched loosely or folded politely, but laid palm-up in his lap, still but for the twitch of a finger, and it sends the familiar pulse of knowing down Sarai’s spine. 

Knowing isn’t the only thing that is pulsing in her body - the tidal wave is cresting earlier than usual. 

The familiar ocean of pain, her vision of it, has crept up on her, busy with setting up shop, with answering messages, with putting in another order that wasn’t refilled because prescriptions are delayed and not being a civilian is not much of a fucking advantage with medication the past two months. The whirlpool centers at her spine, radiating down the leg in a strong current, and she winces as she rubs her thigh. Okay, we’re doing things a little differently today. 

“Hey, Morja? Would it be okay if we did some of our appointment stuff on the couch today?” She thinks about leaving it at that. Remembers, with a slow, purposeful inhale, how vulnerability is a gift to others, as well as yourself. You’re not exempt from being nice to yourself, girl. “I’m having some, uh, bad pain today and I think the exam would be easier in my office, if that’s alright with you?”

At that, change ripples through Morja’s body. Under the industrially bright bulbs, his strained face falters, briefly, but what comes in place of listlessness is…a sort of determined expression. Not bracing, only…something, Sarai’s thinking wavers under the fog rolling off the water. It’s something. 

“Of- Yes, Doctor.”

The crinkle of the gown, the rustle of climbing off the table, the shuffle of feet in socks across the floor as Sarai turns herself towards her office. Luckily, her warm corner is only a few feet away and the couch beckons like a haven. It’s a shitty couch, sure, but military bases can’t be choosers and it’s new, which means its firmness holds up the parts of her body that need it. She actually sighs as she sinks down into the cushions, pats the neighboring cushion in a sit gesture. 

The careful exhale of breath beside her as Morja sits, careful and precise as he always is, tells her that the softness of cushion is a relief from the hard plastic of the table as much as the relief for her being off her feet is. She smiles at him to let him know his moves were right and lays her cane to rest against the companion side-table, stretching out her limbs to make room for the little streams of voltage pinpricking her skin from the inside. She can tell, now, just by the way he didn’t try to stand at attention, hands clasped behind his back, that she did the right thing. 

In the softening shadow of her purple-shaded lamp, Morja looks so small on the couch. For all his bulk, the muscle that has been so pounded into those broad shoulders, the wide torso hard and sturdy as a sack of potatoes, he doesn’t fill up the space much at all. Tucked into the corner, folded neatly, compact, trying not to draw attention. 

Sarai lifts the stethoscope, the warmed metal a comfort in hands that move with shaky slowness, deliberate and obvious when pressing it against Morja’s back, her murmured breathe in for me, please, now out, now in, very good a rhythm she could say in her sleep, her focus on the measure of his pulse. Listening to this man’s lungs make it impossible to not listen to other parts of his body. How the texture of scar rises to meet the shirt that covers it. How even those ridges are and how they rise with his breathing into her hand. There are so many. 

“Doctor?”

Sarai is almost startled by the sound of Morja’s voice. He is so quiet, often, in the examination room. She wonders if it is the softly-lit enclave of her office nook which prompts him to speak first or the intensity of whatever state he’s in. Sarai smoothly folds her hands in her lap, visible and also at a safe distance. 

“Yeah, Morja?” Her voice is slower, the tide catching up to her a little, dragging the lilt away a bit, and she doesn’t quite swallow back a wince at the depth her pain is dragging her voice down to. Morja doesn’t seem to get snagged on the roughness though, his body leaning forward, brow wrinkling up in an intense concentration expression and Sarai tries hard to be alert. She’s so glad there is no sterile smell or bright light to distract her. “What’s up?”

“...Your cane is…pretty. Why, Doctor?”

Damn. So it’s that kind of mood. Huh. 

Fuck, she’s watery, the pulsing little hammers at her temples, her knees, her back, are trying to pull her away from the conversation. But she breathes in, out, in a hum that lets him know she heard, she’s thinking. 

“Great question, Morja.” Sarai says softly, at last, making a rainwater of her voice, flowing with the pain and the rolling mists. Working with her body, not against it. The bright hues of the cane pull her focus and she lets that be her guide. She was feeling…blueish, today, and her blueberry earrings, her sea-deep dress, mirror the cobalt-on-white, delicate patterns on mimicking porcelain teacups, spiral up to the sturdy handle, its blue velvet cushion, anything but fragile as a dish. “Pretty things make me feel better. And…since my cane is me, ya know, it makes sense that it makes me feel better. I hurt a lot some days and, uh, I figure I deserve all the help I can get, so, gotta give it to myself.” 

Her gaze drifts back to Morja’s face and his eyes are deep wells that meet her own. A groove of emotion carved deep into the valleys and ridges, scar after scar, rough terrain hiding buried treasure. So dark in their brown they approach black and the color is what guides her brain again, guides her to recognize the furrow between those eyes, the shadows beneath. The spasm of pain in her chest is not from any illness, only an emotion. The weight of pretty as it fell out of his mouth is the weight of his body on this couch. A luxury Morja  (believes, so strongly believes he) can’t have. 

It only lasts a moment, less than a heartbeat, before Morja looks away and Sarai is unable to swim after it. She’s quite sure he never meant to look her in the eye. She’s quite sure that he wanted to. Morja’s mouth is no longer slack and a frown is an expression, better than nothing. 

The fog thickens around the corners of her eyes, head going all syrup again, thick sugar, bitter as burning caramel, and she breathes out, out, out through a cluster of needles up and down her neck. Fuuuuuuuck. The back of her head thumps against the wall, the darkness of her lids pressing back the dizziness. 

“Hey, Morja? I’m a little out of it- I’m okay, it’ll pass, but do you want to sit in here with me or sit in the exam room? No wrong answers, honey.” 

Her voice is a rumble in her chest and she breathes out the wince, the tremors rocking the tilt behind her lids precariously. 

“Can I…change back into my clothes?”

Oh, honey. 

Her lid cracks, as does the corner of her mouth, and though he’s blurry, she wants the sunlight of how pleased she is of him asking for a thing to break through her cloud of exhaustion. 

Fuck, her head hurts so much, but she’s proud and glad, ouch ouch ouch. 

“‘Course, Morja, gra’ me a can’y when y’get yourself on, pl’se...” 

The rustle of Morja leaving and returning is close together, time doing its foamy thing while she counts her breaths, but the press of a wrapped peppermint, round and crinkly, in her palm is so gentle. 

The couch sinks and settles into the shape of another body, doing the thing she is doing, leaning back into the firm crevices that hold you up. The soft-crunch sounds of the wrapper as she squeezes her fist around it, as Morja unwraps his own candy, as she tries to just kind of be as Morja is on the spot beside her. 

The office is dark and cool and quiet and they’re both in good company right now. 

“...It’s nice. The candy.” 

A flat whisper, halting and small and brave, fumbling across the inches in the dark. 

A flat answer fumbles back, warm and limping and still good enough to greet him.

“I'm glad, Morja. It's really nice.”

~

sincerely hoped you all enjoyed this venture into my story 🥺💖🥺 sarai baptiste is the team's medic who is stationed at base forthill and she's disabled and kind and badass as hell and deserves the world 😢💖✨😍

taglist: @much-ado-about-whumping @haro-whumps @whump-tr0pes @i-eat-worlds @wolfeyedwitch

@straight-to-the-pain @whump-me-all-night-long @redwingedwhump @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whatgoeswhumpinthenight

@tears-and-lilies @whumping-every-day @whumpthisway @stoic-whumpee @liliability

@whumpster-draganies @whumpzone @suspicious-whumping-egg @lave-whump @kixngiggles

have a very merry @whumpmasinjuly everyone! 💖💖💖

@whumpmasinjuly-archive

[dangermousie]

Finished my rewatch of ep 2 of City Hunter and it really still holds up.

I love that he sees her throw a man over her shoulder in the first two minutes of their acquaintance and he is definitely intrigued. Honestly, so much of this ep is him being so smitten and not even realizing he is.

I mean, the last shot is after she knocked him over for kissing her as a means to dump his source of information after the information dried up and giving her cash for the trouble of the kiss. (She stuck money back at him and said "for treatment." )

But then there was this earlier - him making out with his target while watching Nana the whole time. Badwronghot.

(And of course the very fact that he's sleeping with someone he doesn't want for info. He may not want to carry out undaddy's murder plan with murder but he's certainly been trained to do a lot of things that are objectively fucked up and to treat himself as an instrument.)

The thing that strikes me so much on rewatch is just how AWFUL undaddy is in his plan. It's one thing to take out people he thinks wronged him and his dead partner. It's another one to use a baby you stole and to fuck him up and train him into a killing machine who will then unknowingly kill his own father. I mean, this was genuinely chilling:

He is meeting the President who he does not know is his father but who he also does not know is his final target. Not to mention his half-sister is checking him out and it's just so wrong wrong wrooooong. It could have all gone way more horrifically wrong than it already did.

In retrospect, it's so clear how undaddy is manipulating the hell out of him, leading him on with the hope that after this is over they can live a normal life. Undaddy told him the name of only one target, and that's the slimiest, least sympathetic one and says he'll tell him the names of the others and why he wants him in the Blue House later - you know what that is? That's grooming. He's slowly and methodically grooming him into an assassination machine via baby steps and that is effing creepy as hell and my wish for undaddy to be eaten by snakes and I am only sad it took as long as it did for him to meet his demise.

Trust you? Great idea. NOT.

It kills me just how kind YS tries to be even with his insane upbringing - he paid for Nana's father surgery, he was kind to those kids, and he wants to take down the target without murder. Oh, young man, you are gonna go through hell and a half in this drama.

Also, I love how even this early on, he is so gone for her. He knows she's the girl whose picture he fixated on in hell jungle. And what better way to angst than in the shower? Man, I miss those glorious old school angsty kdrama shower scenes.

But I think my favorite sequence in this whole ep and the one that speaks volumes is what happens after he goes to her apartment (after carrying her four flights of stairs since she sprained her ankle.) It's an almost throwaway moment but it says so much. He sees all these markings on the wall and asks her what the weird numbers and notches are all for and she explains, as one would to a somewhat dim small child, that this is how her family would measure her height every month, throughout her childhood, until she was 17. I liked it so much because in those few seconds it established both the warm, loving, thoroughly normal childhood Nana had and what a lack of one he had - that he has to have something this basic explained to him. And then his little pleased grin when he figures out exactly how tall she is in her bare feet compared to him and where she'd come up to on his chest - he's pretty much unknowingly in love with her to bits and so learning little things like that about her make him happy.

The thing that I love so much is that Nana doesn't have a charmed life - her father is in a vegetative state, her mother died in the same accident that made her father that way, and bank was close to taking away everything for debt. But she's had love and warmth and a solid foundation and so she's sunshine - but it's a choice for her and an affirmation, it's not because she's only known sweetness and light.

The scene where she explains the stickers is a very quiet scene I adored - in a way she's an inverse mirror of him. She has a dead parent and one parent who's as good as dead, but she's a good sunny person and not a mess like he is because she was brought up properly. And eventually his being around her drags him into normalcy, which is helped by the fact that he doesn't feel any personal urgency in vengeance. Yeah, all these people killed his supposed father but it's abstract to him - he's never even met the man. He will get rid of them because undaddy basically brainwashed him into it, but he doesn't have an emotional stake in their deaths (even if he has one in the outcome - getting to find his mother and living a normal life, which undaddy dangles like a carrot). However, he has an emotional stake in people he knows - Nana being one of them but other people as well (you can see later, her character basically draws him into interacting with others on personal levels).

You watch him be empathetic and you watch him be teasing and dorky about the ramen and you realize that his demeanor is not just a disguise - it's someone he'd like to be and possibly would have been except for undaddy. And that around her he lets his guard down and allows himself to be childish.

[child0feden]

DIRTHOUSE

brandon “ badger ” mayhew x reader

♡ nsfw alphabet for badger!

୨୧ sighhh, this is making me want to rewatch all of his scenes in breaking bad <3

♡ requested by anon | related hc available here | view my tv and movie masterlist here

reading music recommendations: dirthouse by static x - stitches by orgy

* 18 + content, please do not read if you’re a minor *

a = aftercare ( what they’re like after sex )

♡ badger is pretty attentive when it comes to aftercare! he might be very sleepy after sex but he will not sleep until he knows you’re okay…

୨୧ he’ll flop down beside you and throw his head back as he breathes deeply before tilting his head to look at you and ask if you want something to eat or drink

b = body part ( their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s )

♡ badger absolutely loves your boobs! not matter their size, he loves watching them bounce and holding them in his hands whilst you fuck, he really likes laying his head on them after sex too!

୨୧ i can see badger being a little bit self conscious of himself but he probably likes his hands! he likes how they look when holding your boobs and gripping your hips, not to mention when you suck his fingers, woah

c = cum ( anything to do with cum, basically )

♡ badger really likes giving you a cream pie, he gets completely mesmerised by the slight of his cum slowly dripping out of your cunt after cumming inside of you! he thinks you look straight of a grade A porno after he does it

୨୧ after a blowiob though, he likes giving you a facial then wiping some of his cum up on his fingers and letting you suck them

d = dirty secret ( pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs )

♡ when you guys first met and before you began dating, badger had a major crush on you…

୨୧ i mean, his crush wasn’t much of a secret but what he did in his spare time related to you? that was definitely a secret! badger would seek out porn featuring women who looked like you, of course he never thought they were prettier than you but they were the closest thing he had to seeing you naked until you began dating

e = experience ( how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing? )

♡ i feel like badger was either a virgin or had very few sexual experiences before you!

୨୧ at most, he’d probably had a couple lousy sexual experiences before you like a handjob in high school and such! you gave him his true first times for everything

f = favourite position ( this goes without saying )

♡ his favourite position is cowgirl, very closely followed by doggy style!

୨୧ he just thinks they’re the comfiest positions for when you guys are high and the view he gets when in the cowgirl position is “ top notch ” in his own words, he loves watching your tits bounce softly and being able to easily reach up to play with them

g = goofy ( are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc )

♡ badger would definitely be a little goofy during sex! when he’s high, you’ll share little giggles about literally nothing

୨୧ seriously, he’ll start giggling for no reason whilst you’re riding him and just not answer when you ask what he’s laughing at, only looking up at you with a goofy smile which causes you to laugh with him

h = hair ( how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? )

♡ his pubes are dark brown and slightly curly!

୨୧ he shaves enough to be hygienic and so that his pubes won’t irritate you when you’re sucking him off but he hates the feeling of being fully shaved down there

i = intimacy ( how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect )

♡ badger is romantic in his own way! he’s probably not going to lay rose petals on the bed or set the lights down low but he tries his best

୨୧ he’s more verbally romantic in the way that he’ll mumble praising words towards you and tell you he loves you whilst fucking you, laying soft kisses across your skin whilst thrusting

j = jack off ( masturbation headcanon )

♡ badger probably masturbated quite a bit before getting with you!

୨୧ but after getting with you, he doesn’t do it very often anymore! only ever masturbating when you’re not with him and he can’t be with you for whatever reason

k = kink ( one or more of their kinks )

♡ badger has a thing for role play and costumes! i mean, he probably forgets about the role play part the second his cock is inside of you but he likes it for some foreplay… please, dress up as one of his favourite characters from a video game or movie, he will lose it and blush so red

୨୧ not exactly a kink but badger really likes having sex with you whilst high! it just heightens his senses so much and makes you feel even better to him, he feels like he’s in heaven when fucking you whilst high

l = location ( favorite places to do the do )

♡ his favourite places are your shared bed, the couch and your car if you have one!

୨୧ though i’d be lying if i said he hasn’t ate you out on the kitchen counter from time to time, often dropping to his knees as you sit atop the cold surface, kissing your thighs before eating your cunt like a starved man

m = motivation ( what turns them on, gets them going )

♡ being high is a number one motivation for him, he gets so horny for you when he’s high! he cannot keep his eyes and hands off of you, he always wants to make out with you and fuck you when high

୨୧ other than that, he probably always gets a little horny when you wear revealing clothes! he’s just a dude… if you wear a short skirt or shorts, a low cut top or a tank top, he will be staring unless you’re uncomfortable with it of course!

n = no ( something they wouldn’t do, turn offs )

♡ badger could never and would never hurt you, it’s just not something he can get into!

୨୧ you’ve probably asked him to choke you once and he just couldn’t, getting scared after five seconds and quickly pulling his hand back, going into a ramble about how he feels like he’s a serial killer who’s about to kill you

o = oral ( preference in giving or receiving, skill )

♡ badger doesn’t have a preference here! it’s a split 50 / 50 with him… he loves eating you out and loves when you suck him off!

୨୧ it’s another thing he really loves to do when he’s high, he’ll sit back on the couch with a blunt in his hand whilst you suck him off, one of his hands coming down to stroke your hair and he throws his head back against the headrest, smoke dew filling the room

p = pace ( are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? )

♡ well, when he’s taking you from behind, badger definitely goes slow and steady! taking hits of his blunt in between thrusts into you from behind, slowly pulling his cock almost all the way out of you before thrusting deeply back into your cunt as you bury your face into the pillow

୨୧ when you’re on top, he likes a faster pace! he’ll hold your hips and help you bounce faster on his cock, admiring you from below with hazy eyes, please smoke a blunt whilst riding him… he thinks it’s hot as fuck

q = quickie ( their opinions on quickies, how often )

♡ he thinks quickies are fine! i mean, he’s not going to say no if you want to ride his cock in the car now, is he?

୨୧ but he probably wouldn’t like quickies in super risky places, the car is the riskiest he’ll do! he does not want to get arrested with his dick out…

r = risk ( are they game to experiment? do they take risks? )

♡ as i just mentioned, he won’t take crazy risks with locations and such! he’d be so so so embarrassed if you guys got caught and would never live it down with jesse and skinny pete constantly cracking jokes about it

୨୧ but he’s definitely more open to experiment with new positions and such!

s = stamina ( how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last? )

♡ badger can probably last about three rounds at most but they’re not crazy long rounds at all!

୨୧ he doesn’t last super long to be honest, especially when he’s high, he’ll only last about half an hour each round but with his size it’s usually not an issue at all

t = toys ( do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves? )

♡ he probably has a pair of fluffy handcuffs that skinny pete got him as a gag gift or something! he doesn’t use them often but he finds them really funny when he’s high, he’d probably want you to use them on him rather than him on you

୨୧ i feel like badger would like butt plugs too, he thinks they’re pretty and are working you up to doing anal with him which he can’t wait for

u = unfair ( how much they like to tease )

♡ badger cannot tease, he just can’t! he sees it as a total waste of time and he’s just not great at it

୨୧ he doesn’t mind you teasing him a little bit though, he’ll chuckle softly if you’re purposely going slow with taking your clothes off or kissing your way down his stomach

v = volume ( how loud they are, what sounds they make )

♡ badger is pretty loud! he lets out a lot of deep moans and some curse words under his breath, maybe even some whines when he’s high

୨୧ he was probably pretty embarrassed about his moans when you first got together and would apologise a lot during sex, he’ll still quickly apologise after a really loud moan even after you’ve told him you like hearing his moans

w = wild card ( a random headcanon for the character )

♡ i feel like there’s a chance badger is bisexual…

୨୧ he probably doesn’t fully realise it either, he mentions to you a lot how he finds a male character super attractive in a show you’re watching together and how he had crushes on male band members as a teenager but thought that was just normal, he has some major sexuality confusion when you tell him he might just be bisexual

x = x-ray ( let’s see what’s going on under those clothes )

♡ badger is probably about 6.5 inches, his cock has girth too!

୨୧ he has a really thick vein running down his cock that feels heavenly inside of you too

y = yearning ( how high is their sex drive? )

♡ when he’s not high, badger has a pretty average sex drive, only having sex about twice a week, maybe more if it’s been a good week

୨୧ but when he’s high, it’s a whole different story! he’s very very very needy when he’s high, he can’t keep his hands away from you and you always have sex whilst high

z = zzz ( how quickly they fall asleep afterwards )

♡ badger is a pretty sleepy dude in general so it doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep after sex at all, especially if it was some high sex!

୨୧ once he knows you’re taken care of and going to sleep too, he’ll cuddle up into you and quickly fall asleep as you play with his messy hair

[darkshadow90]

Thoughts on Terrifier 2

I watched the second Terrifier movie. It’s so much better than the first one. Not that the first one was bad. This one definitely had a higher budget to work with. It feels like it takes place in a lived in world. The first one was confined to just one area whereas this one has different areas/locations. The practical effects are once again top notch. The practical effects were so good in one of the kill scenes I gagged. I didn’t think Art could kill in even more fucked up ways, but he did. Holy shit.

The characters are also much better in this one too. They have more depth to them which I appreciate. Something I’ve noticed in this movie is the victims actually have personality and are likeable. I like Seinna’s friends. I felt sad when Allie was killed by Art. Sure she was a little rude to him, but she absolutely did not deserve to die like that. Her death made me gag. What the fuck, Art?

I really appreciate the lore building too. I love Sienna so much. She’s quickly becoming one of my favorite female protagonists. I love how she’s vulnerable and strong at the same time. If it’s just her and Art she’s afraid and wants to get away to safety. But when people she cares about are in trouble she goes back to help them without a second thought. She got the shit beat out of her and when Art is whipping her brother Jonathan she climbs on top of Jonathan to protect him from Art. And she can fight. It’s so satisfying watching her beat the shit out of Art, and then watch him try to get away when she gains the upper hand. Get him, Sienna!

Art is still fun to watch but there’s also moments where I’m like “Someone fucking choke slam him through a wall.” He’s goofy as hell in this movie. The costume shop scene had me rolling. He did all that just to troll Sienna and it’s hilarious The scene when he snatched Brooke out of the car and she kicks him so hard he falls back against the car. His expressions are gold. He’s irritated but then he silently chuckles as if to say “Damn I like a girl with some fight in her.” Plus the scene where he’s weirded out by the little pale girl is funny. He waves at her like “Uh, hi?” He can come off as almost endearing when he wants to, but also he’s fucking evil. He brutally kills pretty much everyone he comes across just like last time. I think he was always gonna kill Allie brutally. She wasn’t even that rude to him she said, “I’m sorry i can’t give you anything. No candy for grownups.” It wasn’t until Art annoyed her that she was a little rude, and who wouldn’t react that way in that situation? It’s all part of the game to him. He plays with his victims and when he’s had his fun he kills them. He’s so mean spirited, but I can’t completely hate him.

I’m confused about what happened to Vicky at the end. She has a malicious vibe to her. Did she become evil? Was she possessed by the pale girl? Will Art kill her? I have so many questions. Guess I’ll have to watch Terrifier 3 to find out.

On an unrelated note, I do want to write another Art one shot. I’ve decided I’ll give it another go. Let me know if you’re interested in reading it. I might even take requests.

[girl4music]

Have I ever written about how much I love the episode ‘Wild At Heart’? I mean in-depth? Comprehensively?

No? Okay, let’s do that. Prepare for a long rant on what is without a doubt, for me, the most compelling and well-written episode of the whole damn show.

And ironically enough Buffy is barely in it…

What stands out to me the most about ‘Wild At Heart’ is the exploration of the motif ‘The Beast’. Now they’ve done this several times before in the 3 previous seasons before it. Season 1’s ‘The Pack’, Season 2’s ‘Innocence’, and of course Season 3’s ‘Beauty And The Beasts’. It’s a recurring idea designed to make you stop and think deeper. And even later than Season 4, some of Spike’s centric episodes also do very well in exploring this motif.

However, what Season 4’s ‘Wild At Heart’ does is shows you something different. You’re now getting to see through the perspective of ‘The Beast’. Oz is ‘The Beast’ in this narrative. Or rather Oz’s werewolf ID is. But the narrative really goes deep in investigating as to whether there are 2 entirely different and separate ID’s fighting for dominance within Oz. Or just 1 ID that is just confused or even brainwashed about his true nature. The episode’s antagonist, Veruca, brings up the point of view that Oz is the werewolf all the time but has just been domesticated, and therefore blindly believes that he is human all the time and just has a condition of which he can keep in control of and sever himself from. Now because Veruca is the antagonist, we’re supposed to just take what she says to him with a grain of salt because she’s only saying it to lure him to her side, to her world, to being a creature of the night like she is. Oz doesn’t want to believe or even accept Veruca’s point of view about how his true nature is the wolf and his humanity is the falsity.

Now before I get into why this episode is fucking fantastic to me as far as what I can learn from it, I want to ask a question: Is Veruca wrong for telling Oz this? Or let’s go even further: Is Veruca evil for trying to convince Oz through selfish methods that he cannot sever himself from the wolf because her point of view is that she and he is actually the wolf full time?

You see, I don’t think she is. In fact that’s what I find most intriguing and compelling about ‘Wild At Heart’. No one is evil. No one is wrong. Every perspective given or that we experience through the characters is a valid perspective worth study and debate. It’s worth considering and opening our minds to the possibility that Veruca might actually be right about Oz, or at least herself. And what truly makes me open my mind to Veruca’s perspective is what Oz does to Veruca at the climax of the episode. He kills her to protect the woman he loves. Willow. He does something he has never vowed to do in order to protect the love of his life. Kill for her. He decides, as the human, to kill Veruca. Sure, the killing itself happens while he is in werewolf form. But to me, that only validates her point of view even further. Because where then does the line between human and werewolf lie? And that’s what Oz learns. It’s devastating but it is a conflict within him that would come up sooner or later even if Veruca didn’t make an appearance. And thus, he has to make the very difficult decision to leave or stay, stating that very same sentiment. Where is the line?

That final interaction and conversation between Oz and Willow - which by the way, Alyson’s acting here is fucking phenomenal. Specifically her tear work is top notch! She fucking kills me when I see her crying through her lines of dialogue in this scene. She’s an amazing performer as far as showing emotional vulnerability whilst in the midst of dialogue goes - But back to the subject before praising Hannigan’s acting abilities. That conversation they have where Oz has made up his mind on leaving without consulting Willow first. It’s easy to see how Oz is selfish for doing this and maybe he is. However, I can completely sympathise with his situation and respect his decision to leave Willow and to leave Sunnydale completely. I’ve actually argued this perspective in response to an earlier post on Tumblr about Angel never staying with Buffy when shit goes down between them and how he is selfish for it but instead used Tara as the example to argue in Angel’s defence. And it didn’t occur to me at the time that Oz was actually the better example because Oz is ‘The Beast’ in the narrative - just like Angel is. Using Tara actually didn’t make all that much sense now that I think about it because it’s the OTHER PERSON that is ‘The Beast’ in the narrative with their situation. It’s Willow. Not Tara. But anyway - the reason to use Tara as the example in coming to Angel’s defence was because I don’t believe it to be selfish. I don’t believe it to be wrong. I don’t believe it to be evil. Either in Angel’s case with him leaving Buffy, in Oz’s case with him leaving Willow, in Xander’s case with him leaving Anya. And especially not in Tara’s case with her leaving Willow. Why? Because commitment and loyalty and even love… I guess, - it’s very difficult to put any of that above the real risk that you might hurt the one you love or anyone innocent for that matter if you stick around them. If you stay with them. If your presence poses a potential threat and danger. And being the one that has to leave in that case is a very complex predicament to be in that cannot be simply put down to selfishness vs selflessness or right vs wrong or good vs evil. There’s so much more information to take into account with being in situations like this, and from the outside-looking-in, it’s just so easy to pick a side to pick on rather than consider the validness of all sides or the perspectives/point-of-views of all the characters and weigh the pros and cons of what matters more at that particular moment in time. Of what prevents the risk.

I guess another reason why I thought it best to use Tara as an example in defending Angel’s choice to leave Buffy and his reasoning for doing so was because she’s a female. Because you see all the other examples I’ve given above are male… and let me just say,… it’s extremely hard for me to argue the ‘selfless’ perspective because it’s always a male that leaves the female ‘for their own good’. It gets into ‘misogyny’ and ‘mansplaining’ and all sorts of irrelevant shit that actually has nothing to do with what’s even going on in the situation in the episode! The gender identity politics that get brought up whenever I attempt to talk about the complex and usually negative events in “BtVS’ when it involves a male character in any capacity leaving a female character are insane to me and the conversation turns into something else entirely and the perspective I’m trying to argue goes places I never intend it to go. I’m talking about the themes, the situations, the experiences, the narratives and my genuine interest in it all. I’m not talking about male vs female. I’m arguing for a side and in defence of a CHARACTER, not a gender! We can certainly talk about why we believe a character is wrong or evil or selfish or questionable… whatever. But as soon as it hits gender identity politics, I’m out! Because that’s just not what I’m trying to get across when arguing the ‘selfless’ perspective. So I chose Tara as the example to avoid all of that. And to be honest, it never occurred to me to choose Oz at all.

But Oz does have a somewhat similar situation to Angel in that he is still a beast and this beast is an alter ego of sorts that is separated from the soul. And in much the same way, his emotions and hormones and feelings are tethered to Willow and his love for her. And at the same time, those same emotions, hormones and feelings are what trigger ‘The Beast’ to come out of its cage. But ‘Wild At Heart’ does make you really question and analyze the point of view that maybe there really isn’t a line between ‘The Beast’ and the soul, the werewolf and the human, the selfless vampire and the selfish monster. Or if there really is… then it’s not a line that can be consciously traversed. It takes immense self-awareness, self-discovery, self-growth, self-discipline to come to stand at that line were it even visibly there to see… and actively choose not to cross it over being shoved right into it due to unforeseen and uncontrollable circumstances or just plain bad luck. I’m not excusing the sinful actions that occur as a result but I am trying to pay more attention with a neutral and unbiased mindset. I am trying to keep an open mind. ‘Wild At Heart’ provokes my thoughts to the point where I am debating in my own head (we INTPs tend to do that a lot) as to whether to agree with Oz or agree with Willow or even agree with Veruca. I can’t make up my own mind. All I know when I watch it is that I cannot fault anyone for what happens in it… and that that’s the reason why I think it’s the most well-written storyline in ‘BtVS’. Because the best written art/entertainment to me does make me question and assess my own thoughts, feelings and opinions constantly on an endless loop. If it doesn’t make me do that - it’s so dull and quite the chore to get through. I find myself waiting for it to end. Not so with material that provokes my thoughts. And much of ‘BtVS’ does, I admit. But ‘Wild At Heart’ is a whole other entity when it comes to that. It’s just got so many layers to it and everything that goes on is high drama but so nuanced and unstated that part of the reason to watch it again and again is just to pick up on detail or insight that I’ve never noticed before. As all of my favourite art/entertainment makes me do.

[watching-pictures-move]

Movie Review | Beyond the Darkness (D'Amato, 1979)

It goes without saying, but Goblin's score for this is great. It's got some of the proggier DNA of their '70s work, but also with a more pronounced sense of funk like they'd hone in their soundtrack for Tenebre, a driving sense of momentum, and lots of top notch computer beeping and booping. There is one track here that sounds like something by Weather Report, and others that sound like you layered Kraftwerk's Computer World on top of an Italo Disco album. Listen, some of this is probably word salad, but I'm bad at discussing music so this is the best you're gonna get. Anyway, because I was listening to the soundtrack yesterday, I got a hankering to revisit this, especially as I've warmed up to or, more accurately, developed a greater fascination with Joe D'Amato.

What I will say about this, aside from praising the soundtrack, is that it has two great bits of casting. One is Cinzea Monreale, as the deceased wife of the protagonist, as well as her twin sister. Monreale in The Beyond imbued her blind oracle with a great deal of warmth, empathy and poignancy despite the movie around her being so punitive in its violence. Here, most of her screentime is spent playing dead and the rest is spent reminding of you of somebody who's supposed to be dead, but I think that innate warmth serves her well in rendering her characters' psychological impact. There isn't much in the way of the warm and fuzzies in this movie, so there's added weight on her shoulders here.

The other is Franca Stoppi as the protagonist's maid, who seems pretty eager to both assist in his crimes and indulge his more outre desires. Stoppi's severe facial features, with her harshly sculpted cheekbones, jawline and nose, serve her well in playing villainous characters. Although speaking for myself, despite her being ugly-coded, I find her quite striking looking. And this is probably TMI, but you're already a few paragraphs deep into this review so fuck you, you're gonna have to deal with it, but because her character is so unabashedly kinky, I found her really hot in this. But yeah, I liked her a lot here and in The Other Hell, which I suspect is as conventionally good as a Bruno Mattei movie gets. She doesn't appear to have too many other movie roles and most of the other notable ones look to be for other Mattei movies, so perhaps I'll have to give them a look at some point.

All that being said, I didn't like this movie very much when I last saw it and I still don't. I really think it comes down to the protagonist. Kieran Canter has some pretty striking eyes, but he plays the protagonist slack-jawed and bozo-like. Given all the weird and kinky and gross things that the character does (gorehounds will appreciate how gnarly the violence is; a bit where he pulls a victim's fingernails had me wincing pretty hard, plus there's some classic D'Amato face trauma), he needs an obsessive, off kilter quality to make him work. The obvious comparison is the nervy energy Anthony Perkins brings to Psycho, which is a clear inspiration for this movie. And I think D'Amato miscalculates with his matter of fact handling of the proceedings. In this respect, this feels like a predecessor to Absurd, with which this also shares the dark and grey countryside ambience, but I think the bluntness and rigidity of the approach works better in the context of a pure slasher, where the clinical look at the violence compounds the sense of brutality. Here, the fact that the violence is coloured by the protagonist's kinks and obsessions means that it begs to implicate us, and the distance with which D'Amato captures it does anything but.

[asqueerasmagnusbane]

I wrote down this funny little idea i had a while ago thinking I may eventually write something with it but I know I probably won’t so there no reason for me to hoard the fic idea (if someone knows if this is already a thing let me know!)

Bagginshield modern!au where Bilbo is ftm, newly on T, just got top surgery and got the advise to start working on building muscle to further improve his self image/gender dysphoria.

So Bilbo starts hitting the gym and meets gym rat Thorin who kinda bullies him without entirely meaning to (even though he insults him upon first meeting in canon I truly don’t think he’d be the asshole to bully people who are just starting out in the gym. Maybe Bilbo coincidentally starts working out in January, oblivious to how that is So Not a good idea and that the gyms are going to be packed, gets nervous and doesn’t come back for weeks but catches an off-hand complaint from Thorin who is fairly frustrated by how difficult it is to have a nice work out when none of the machines are free and nobody knows how to use them properly.)

Like,, this sounds dumb but some of the language/encouragement that weightlifters use confused me when I first gave the sport a try. Stuff like when I would add more weight for the next round the Experienced Dudes would go “light weight, baby!!!” And I’d be like “??? Huh??” Thinking “goddamn it this is heavy for me don’t rub it in.”

Thorin, all stoic, hates talking to people at the gym notices the small, chubby guy who looks like the only reason he can stand being here is sheer stubbornness and even that is wearing thin and he noticed how quickly he left the first time he came in and the gyms were packed and something tells him this guy needs encouragement and even though he’s only been in here one other time that he knows of (it’s not like he lives here) he actually technically outlasted all the annoying “New Year, new me!”people so he goes ahead and makes the “lightweight!” comment, but in the most deadpan voice ever that Bilbo thinks he’s being insulted and is FUMING but powers through his set, glares at him and leaves. Thorin just assumes his workout was done and that his encouragement helped because he just hammered out those last sets. He doesn’t think much of him shooting daggers at him because we all make weird faces when we lift.

Idk how this progresses from here, idk what kicks it up a notch to make Thorin start taking a shine to Bilbo and start admiring/ respecting him even more, but Bilbo goes on thinking Thorin is antagonizing him. When Bilbo just finishes with a particular exercise and wipes down the equipment Thorin comes over and asks for a spot for the exact same exercise, thinking he’s showing his respect. Bilbo of course doesn’t know that Thorin normally hates talking to people at the gym and that any other opportunity for a “gym bro” friendship he’s had he chose to just politely brush off. HOWEVER, when he approaches Bilbo to spot him Bilbo just thinks he’s trying to show him up because obviously Thorin needs to use triple the weight Bilbo just used.

When it happens again for an exercise you’re not actually supposed to use a lot of weight for, Bilbo starts thinking he’s just being passive aggressive about correcting his form and he starts looking in the mirror more to watch himself closely and thinks ACTUALLY his form is “perfectly fine, thank you, if you have something to say why not have the decency to say it outright.”

Thorin goes on thinking he’s made himself a gym buddy who he actually likes (without actually saying more than five words at a time to the poor guy) and Bilbo is just silently FUMING the whole time.

Eventually Thorin gets to know Bilbo and has a few “oh I fucked up” moments. Maybe they actually start talking for once in the locker room.

One more aside: I don’t want Bilbo to get skinny or shredded lol. Essentially I just want him to stay chubby and I want him to be like “oh im stronger now and I have such a healthy appetite. I can move around all of my furniture with such ease.” Basically just him getting the enjoyment of lifting weights, getting stronger, enjoying his own cooking and topping the pretty muscly boy.

[altheterrible]

I would like some dopamine, please.

Today in therapy we talked about how I grew up with no source of external validation because my parents didn’t give a shit about me, so I learned to tackle goals without needing encouragement from others. This has been a good thing in some ways; I am very good at setting goals and achieving them whether or not I have someone patting me on the back, and that has allowed me to accomplish some really hard things even when I had to do it alone. My parents certainly framed this as a favor--they believed their no-love approach was more reflective of what I’d encounter in the real world and it was better for me to get used to it early.

But at the same time, they deliberately destroyed my ability to validate myself, too. If I was proud of myself for any reason, like learning a complicated piano piece or making it into the National Honor Society, they would tell me that my accomplishments were due to their effort, not mine. Or they would downplay how hard I worked. Or they would say I was “uppity” and “snobby” and thought I was better than them because I was smart/talented/whatever, but academic stuff isn’t what’s important in life, and you are a failure in other ways, blah blah blah.

Like, in 8th grade, I took Algebra 1 and neither of my parents could help me with my math homework at that point since they both dropped out in early high school. I’d get frustrated trying to figure things out on my own using just the textbook because the internet wasn’t really a thing yet. Once after hours of trying to solve an equation, I snapped at my mom because she told me that I was getting too worked up about “math that no one even uses.” I said “just because you don’t use it doesn’t mean other people don’t!” So she laid this guilt trip on me about how I clearly thought she was stupid, and she said I was ungrateful for all the sacrifices she’d made, and she finished off by suggesting that I needed to adjust my attitude and stop thinking I was special because I was smart, because maybe I was good at school but I didn’t support the household or do enough chores and I was inadequate in a million other ways.

Honestly I think that shit is what caused the fucked up reward system in my brain. Like, when I achieve a Goal, there’s no little jolt of dopamine to make me feel good about it. And that looks enough like ADHD that I’ve been officially diagnosed with it twice, but...I really think it’s just that trauma and abuse led me to uncouple feelings of pride, pleasure, and self-worth from the act of accomplishing goals. Pride goes before the fall. Pride gets you taken down a few notches, and there’s always a lower notch for you.

Even when I graduated with my doctorate, an endeavor I started in 11th grade and finished 14 years later, I didn’t feel proud of myself. Maybe for a day or two? But then, nothing. Yeah, I have a doctorate, but really, if I did it, how hard can it be? Yeah, I have a doctorate, but it took me until I was 32 to get it. Yeah, I have a doctorate, but I didn’t graduate with honors. Yeah, I have a doctorate, but but but but. I could have done more, done better, and done it faster.

I can’t feel proud of myself when I accomplish goals because there’s always more I could have done.

The goalposts move as fast as I get to them.

[crystallinearts]

ALSO-

Since you said we can talk to you about anything, I'm gonna talk about your interpretations of two characters in specific.

Scaramouche would be the first! I remember reading the descriptions of both reverse comfort videos, and honestly, I like your analyses! And of course, your top-notch voice. Not a lot of people talk of the trauma that he has, and I found that to be a pity because you can do a lot with that!

And then there is Subject 2 as the second. A lot of people interpret him as Yandere and don't get me wrong, they're not bad, they can do whatever they want. But I like more your interpretation (correct me if I'm wrong) that he is just a little dude which just appreciates a lot the person that gave him a bit of affection without holding it above him, like Gold probably would do, and that he just wants someone to appreciate him as he is.

In conclusion, I like my characters being a sad, wet dog (joking... or maybe? 🤨)

That is about it, remember to have a good day! :>

- 🧉 anon

YESSSS OMG please talk to me!! I may take forever to respond sometimes (thank u what I believe is either undiagnosed ADHD or just my brain being an easily distracted squirrel brain) but I love talking about this stuff~

Godddd this makes me so happy! so like, for as much as I absolutely adore Genshin and watch tons of lore videos and read about all of it… I’ve actually never played it firsthand, because my computer doesn’t have the storage space for it… I tried to install it and was told I didn’t have enough space, so, the dream died XD

that means I can sometimes be a little insecure in my portrayals of characters and sometimes I get a little depresso espresso over it. but knowing that people like my interpretations of them just makes me grin! even though I have yet to actually play this game (I’ll get there at some point hhhh!!) I am extremely passionate about a lot of the characters and I want to create good content of them!

more people should delve into Scara’s trauma… like, not only is it good reverse comfort material, he needs to talk about it!! recovery only starts when he begins to open up and share it with people, and develop bonds with others that allow him to open up in the first place. a romantic partner is a good place to start opening up! it’s ok fandango man you will get to a better place eventually, just let people help you- XD

AND AS FOR DORIAN!! aka Subject Two, Susbedo, Rubedo, whatever you wanna call him… oof. I have so many feelings about him, I am looking both respectfully and disrespectfully, and he’s so exactly the type of character I love. I’ve seen the yandere take on him quite a bit, and yeah, like you say, don’t get me wrong, I can absolutely see why people would take him in that direction! but personally, he doesn’t seem like a full-on yandere to me… and this is coming from someone who’s been known to fall for yanderes! (Cole from Blush Blush, I’m looking at your Cyno-VA-sharing smooth voiced ass)

Dorian is just this broken, pathetic, jealous little mess of a man who desperately wants what Albedo has… and sees no other way to get it other than to take his place. he doesn’t think he deserves good things, because Rhinedottir/Gold told him he was a failure and left him for dead for seemingly just existing (like, there doesn’t seem to be anything ‘wrong’ with him, you know? so it’s like, what the FUCK was even her reason there?)… but he really wants those good things. he doesn’t want to take the good things from Albedo, but he doesn’t know how else to go about getting them for himself. he wants to be loved and accepted without someone attaching conditions to it or expecting him to be something or someone else.

and, of course, that said… once he starts living with Albedo and they come to actually be brothers, you would not BELIEVE how quickly he warms up to that sibling affection and how fiercely he would protect his little family. he goes from wanting to kill Albedo to replace him, to being 10000% ready to destroy any threat that tries to kill Albedo.

… anyway I could literally talk about Dorian in particular FOREVER. if I ever get the opportunity to write a thesis on a fictional character it will be HIM!! I have so much to say about him.

YOU’RE TOTALLY VALID THO!!! OKAY?? I like my characters pitiful, complicated, and physically weak/sickly/etc. so I have ample opportunity to take care of them =)

I know this took me a hot minute to answer but!! you too!!! <3