#if its an inside emotion it can be pushed through because its mine and i can calm it down through stuff like fact checking and SIPS

[light-wrath-paradise]

Okay I think one of us may have lost the plot because I quite literally have no idea what you're talking about at this point.

i wish there was an easier way to tell the difference between an "if it sucks hit da bricks" situation and a "sometimes being an adult means doing things that you dont wanna" situation

[uarmygguk]

BACK TO YOU

ıllı . . . . . TWIRL ME TWICE — i'll treat you like a holiday and don't say you're over me baby, it's too late ⨾༊

brief, you always seem to go back to him, what about now? starring, drummer!jk x rich f!reader tags/warnings, smut. mdni. dry humping, dirty talk, cursing, oral (m) receiving, slight degradation(?) not pronounced, oc is an entitled rich girl, and jungkook falls for her antics basically, but don't get it wrong— he craves it. usage of drums during intimate moments (he's a drummer and he's jungkook so cut me some slack HAHHA) nicknames, pov shifts (clearly mentioned), emotional push and pull, kind of slow burn, characters are messy in their own ways but everything ties together— if something is unclear, send me an ask/comment !, angst (sorry babies). word count, 6.7k love diaries music rec, "if you lie down with me" — lana del ray, "heartbreak warfare" — john mayer, the party & the after party — the weeknd note, this started as an idea from js a simple thought of mine, can't spoil rn cuz what's the fun in that,, loved writing this because i accidentally js spewed all my need for a slow burn BUT not so slow (iykyk) in here. i edited this so many times its not even funny how i hyperfixated. did i mention how obsessed i am with drummer!jk? yeah that's it.

────୨ৎ────

“1,2,3.. stop!” the man, in his mid-twenties and ginger hair, which is the only color he stuck to for about 4 months straight now, practically yells into his mic.

“Jungkook you actually have to lock in, mate. This is not doing you any good, y’know.”

“You can clearly see I’m fucking trying, Jimin. I told you I needed to step out like right now, we’ve been at this for hours.” 

Jeon Jungkook. Lead drummer, easily a handsome lad who could be mistaken for a very successful celebrity. He’s got that aura, the charm to waddle into the hearts of numerous girls and guys alike, just like he does at those tiny desk concerts— the original miniature set-ups with a lot of sweaty bodies and headbanging. 

The raw stuff. Pure music. Flatlining passion.

“ ‘kay just go take a drag or something, but remember, return back by 7. Or I’m actually going to go hunt for someone else with no hard feelings.” Jimin passes on a complacent grin to which Jungkook rolls his eyes, he knows the latter cannot evade the decade long friendship they shared, nonetheless.

Jungkook walks over to the wooden door of the cramped studio where the duo was practicing, and since this very day consisted of rumbled musings and adjusting tones of the new release because the other members of “Seom” haven’t shown up and Jimin could only get hold of his dear brother to pour sweat into the new album along with him.

“Seom”— island in Korean, grounded the boys to their Southern roots, and tied them to the strings of reverberating music, just like how water expands and ripples around an island. It was mostly Jimin’s idea, to which Jungkook agreed immediately as he wanted their essence to be a part of this whole game. 

Ping.

Classic notification beep. The message is far from the “class”, however.

[shortcake] 5.57pm fuck you.

Oh he wishes. Start of the day so hellish all he wanted to do was be balls deep inside you. 

He shifts, leaning against the tattered door frame, locking his phone, shutting out the cascade of profanities filling up in your chat. The blob of silence that followed seemed to dissolve into thin air as a puff of smoke hindered his obscure view of people bustling about through the narrow alley.

Utter contrast to where he met you for the first time.

Back to : 6 months ago.

Jungkook wisely controlled the awe-filled sounds that threatened to leave his mouth, while Jimin and Hyunjin on the other hand, straight up wow-ed at the dazzle of golden chandeliers, polite service of umpteen number of waiters and waitresses catering to every other person, cold air that refreshed the scorching heat outside this magnificent yacht as soon as their lot entered the foyer.

“We’re looking for Conference Room 3” Jungkook referred to his emails before making a request at the reception, tapping his fingers on the crafted marble desk and adjusting the instruments on his shoulders.

In the meantime he luckily notices Hyunjin slide to the left, initiating loose talk with the other receptionist, thus pulling him by the collar to the latter’s unpleasant surprise.

“I was just shootin a shot, okay?” His lack of understanding was not the mood, especially for today.

They must remain composed and professional until the band’s first official performance for a crowd with more than a 100 people came to a successful end.

There was barely time for aimless flirting and fun. This was the foremost opportunity to grab a place and set the stone for Seom.

Hundred, however, is more than a few for a birthday party. But what more could be expected from a full-fledged family of chaebols. 

“We don’t have much time, but Kook, you need to brush up a few beats before the stage. I’ll go ahead with Hyun to get the set done by then.” Jimin unpacked his guitar set and signaled Hyunjin to follow him outside to the stage area.

Finally done setting up the drums and arranging the kit, Jungkook tests it for a few beats, before flipping through the music book for a brief second to make final touches.

Click.

The door unlocks and closes, assuming it’s Jimin and Hyunjin, he continues to maneuver the stick through the booming plates of the drum.

“Y’all back already? They set up the stage for us too or did something fancy?” He passes a casual joke, unbeknownst of the fact that you were on the receiving end.

“That was quite a faulty pun, Jungkook Jeon?”

You read off of the rear of his chair that had his name on it for identification.

Perched on a personalized chair paired with such a comment rolling out so smartly didn’t sound as cute to you.

His head whipped and almost cracked, turning around at the words that flowed so elegantly, as opposed to what he was expecting.

Hands folded against your chest, slightly bunching up the fabric of the baby pink satin body-con hugging your well-built figure, doing a bad job at leaving much to one’s imagination, especially with the thin straps as sleeves.

Composed. Professional. He reminded himself.

Having seen you during the meeting where Seom was selected to set sail and perform at your birthday bash, he deemed you as a handful when you chanted numerous details into your dad’s ears and when you disagreed with most of the proposals they had for the final track list. As mentioned, fancy was the alternate last name for the Choi family.

He could deal a handful.

Or so he thought.

The damn look in your eyes. It propelled him forward, leaving the wooden seat behind, walking towards you ever so slowly but steadily. 

“Careful, pink princess. Your dress boutta get messed up, don’t want those personal butlers to curse at you.” 

The corners of your lips twitch ever so testingly. As if a single smile could give it all away.

“Were you playing ‘Heartbreak Warfare’? Thought we finalized the track list accordingly.” 

You briefly look around the dingy room with dim lights and concrete walls, unpainted— fit to be a green room, he watches you closely.

Fairly enough, it was an embarrassing accident you wouldn’t admit. The yacht was genuinely too sophisticated and you lost your way to the ladies’ room.

Coincidentally, you hear your favourite song being played live on the drums from a nearby room titled “Staff Only.” No one could stop you from entering anywhere around on the yacht your dad booked for the big day. 21st birthday bash. And you knew you had everyone wrapped around a pinky.

With him, though? You don’t know.

Don’t know why a look at his face, seconds ago screamed “Not today.” 

His smirk yelling at your senses to keep your power to yourself.

And his unfiltered comment at the beginning? Perfect starter. 

You, nonetheless, took pride in your ability to bring what you craved for, at your fucking feet. Only, this one would take a lot more solo effort.

Consider it done because— goddamn was he a man. Sleeveless tank-top hugging his miniature waist ever so tightly, projecting whatever toned muscle that hid beneath, tattoos twirling around his left arm.

“Lined up our songs for princess’ birthday while she shares pretty strawberry cake with her friends.”

He leans on the backrest of the chair, with his name printed across a piece of white paper, tainting your eyes with dripping taunt.

“Can’t wait to hear it.” You spit, but surely you wanted to explore their band and music. 

“Would you give me some cake too, huh?” He slips the mockery in every fucking word with practiced ease, just like how he handles those drums.

“That doesn’t explain you playing ‘Heartbreak Warfare’.” You clawed at the previous question, ignoring the sly ask, genuinely curious as to why he chose that particular song minutes before an actual performance.

“Why, favorite?” He muses, flipping the book to a certain page yet again, positioning himself in front of the instrument.

“None of your business. Can you play it again?” Latter part of the sentence ever so feebly and hesitantly left your mouth as if it was tightly wound against your vocal chords, barely finding strength to be pushed out as a request. 

A wish. One that you don’t know— for the first time— would be granted. Having everything served on a platter from Day 1, this is a new deal for you. The doubt, the anticipation felt confusing to say the least. 

Seeing him steer through the papers and almost giving in to what you said, it seemed like a win.

Until it wasn’t.

“Afraid not, it’s my cue to be back on stage. That was my warmup song and I’m done.”

He sits forward, actions biting back on his words, as he looks least interested in hurrying to “be back on stage.”

“You’re literally performing for my party. It’s my crowd out there and they’d be forgiving if a drummer’s late.” Diving head first into this pointless banter was never on your agenda for today.

“Feeling entitled much?” He seemed calm, fidgeting around to pack up necessities.

“Says the one who’s owning that little wooden chair with his name on it like a throne.”

You were done. All restraints broke, a spiteful remark was nothing. None. Nada.

To your utter disbelief, it actually did nothing to him.

Jungkook finally got up from the damned chair, moving towards you and painfully looking into your eyes before gracing your ears with his raspy, raspy voice.

“Too bad, I do own my name. My own name. It’s my only throne.”

You weren’t stupid to miss the disdain laced stress on that particular word. Like he was throwing daggers at you. 

Tongue poking behind the smooth walls of your cheek, you watch him fucking leave.

His resistance to you was instantly delicious. 

Were you crazy for wanting him to be completely into you? Forget the back and forth and fall face first into the waters from a height to test your limits, when all you loved and have ever experienced was a cozy, elevating and classy cold plunge.

___

“Yeah, wine’ll do for today. You don’t wanna get too drunk.”

You nudge at Jessi, best friend, ride or die, whatever. Having known her since private kindergarten —the ones where a couple of selected children get tutored alone unlike the actual ones— she’s been a tad bit crazy, especially with alcohol and parties, as you grew up together.

“Why, you planning to get wasted and use me as your chauffeur because you can’t get your dad’s car sent?” She deadpanned, adjusting the MiuMiu purse that clung around perfectly on her honey skin.

“Spot on.” You squint your eyes at her, ridiculing, as you walk towards the venue.

“Look at herr!” Taehyung hoots in glee as you enter through the grand doors, starting a poor rendition of “It’s your birthday” as he pulls you by the hand, into the chaos.

Taehyung was the unavoidable guest at any party. He brings life with him, even if it mostly makes you question the invite.

“Guess what flavour of cake i got for your special dayy-“

Taehyung’s words blurred into the horizon as you were consumed by certain thoughts.

Kim Taehyung was no one distinct, just another man from your dad’s friends’ family who owned a bunch of inherited businesses like most of the people present in the party today.

Except the ones on stage.

The one, among them.

His name never left your mind, unusually so, because you don’t hold on.

Don’t build connections, never chain the beads of relationships with bare hands.

It always came with something.

But him?

A puzzling, faint secret.

Jeon Jungkook.

“Stop avoiding me just because I ordered strawberry shortcake, I wanted to give the new bakery a try too, now c’mon and clink clink bitch.” Tae was already tipsy and it was-

What did he just say?

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Kim fucking Taehyung. You literally took freedom for granted.” You shoot a sharp look at his red face, snapping back from the trance, but he just pouted in response.

“My bad I let you buy the damn cake, asshole.” You watch him pay no heed to you, going back to being an utmost social butterfly.

Everyone applause. 

Birthdays were not supposed to be this humiliating.

“Lined up our songs for princess’ birthday while she shares strawberry cake with her friends.”

You recall Jungkook’s words and everything and beyond you want right now would be the ability to sink into the fucking ground.

Courtesy : Kim Taehyung because he literally made way for Jungkook’s assumptions to come to life.

He didn’t have to be so lively, y’know.

“I need another cake there, in 5 minutes.” You whisper to Jessi, but she didn’t seem to notice, eyes glued to the train of texts being exchanged with her boyfriend.

___

21 wasn’t supposed to be as humbling.

The 20 somethings were to be full of cruises through picturesque islands and a possible girls’ trip if Jessi was into it. She’d be, but you wanted it to be a bit more relentless and intriguing. 

You wanted to explore.

Maybe your wish was granted— partly— earlier than you’d please.

“Seom” as you learnt from their introduction was nothing less than a fucking wave. One to explore. To indulge in, especially the lead drummer.

Even if you’d hesitate to admit, seeing Jungkook go all out on the drums, setting a bar so high and then hitting the lows before springing back up with just the taps of two sticks and a determined mind, he looked insane. 

Sweat clinged onto his forehead, wispy stray hair falling to the sides and god the tank top.

One that didn’t go unnoticed by you during the backstage shenanigans.

The music ends with thunderous applause from the audience, and you see Jungkook reach for the mic from Jimin, clearing his throat into it before speaking.

“We really enjoyed performing here today, but there’s a special ending note I’d like to play.” He signals for the others to exit the stage, claiming it alone with undeniable presence, blasting a beat into the speakers with those damn skilled fingers. 

He was playing the background score of “Heartbreak Warfare.” 

You weren’t exactly subtle with the reactions, eyes widening as the tune grew familiar.

“He’s so fucking good at this,” Taehyung slurred from behind. “But missing only one thing.”

“— a grammy nomination.” The man looked so proud of his witticism.

His luck, you were too engrossed in how Jungkook completed the rendition with absolute perfection, doing justice to every single nuance of your favorite song.

“Do we have any of the strawberry cake left?” Your unhinged doubt in the middle of the performance— consuming the premise, and people— makes Jessi chuckle from behind.

“Weren’t you the one who made me go place an order for another one? We literally cut the chocolate cake I had to run last minute for, and this boy is damn upset.” She points at Tae, who was mindlessly chugging another shot of his alcohol, looking farthest from upset. 

“___, we’re going to the dance floor now, c’mon” Taehyung started testing the material of your dress between his sloppy fingers, trying to grab your attention like a carefree kid.

“Can you ask them to send a piece over to Seom’s green room? Meet me at the dance floor after.” Running a hand through well-set hair, you look back again— eyes catching sight of his unrelenting drive towards music that almost topples you over on those fucking louboutins— before catching up with Taehyung’s jittery steps towards the party room next door.

Jessi was cent percent sure you were on to something.

Because, one piece of cake for 3— math wasn’t tallying up right.

And you taking personal interest to have it delivered?

Weird.

__

his pov.

The trio stands around the now droopy cold, untouched piece of sweet goodness dressed in baby pink icing, as if it was about to be convicted in court.

“Whoever sent it in, they could’ve packed three more.” Jimin sulks, as if more pieces somehow equals to finding whoever this anonymous confectioner is.

“But we’re only 3 people and one’s here already, dumbass.” Hyunjin analyses the situation as though satisfying their sweet tooth is the only problem here.

“An extra piece wouldn’t hurt you right?” 

The trial about a damn piece of strawberry shortcake ceased abruptly, hanging over the edge through Jimin’s harmless remark. 

However, someone in the room seems to have attained enlightenment— precisely not so— because he was praying, hoping to whatever higher power that it wouldn’t be what he thought it was.

The conclusion was inevitable.

“I’ll be back.” Lead drummer, guides his own way to the adjacent ballroom.

It wasn’t some sort of cinematic appearance— he didn’t enter in as the prince who aimed to claim his princess.

He was a walking mess. Like a literal strained bunch of bafflement.

At your fucking audacity. 

Like you were mocking his service. His team’s hard work.

There was no way to sugarcoat it.

You were being an asshole.

And just like a rifle zeroes in on its target, Jungkook’s gaze pinpoints yours among the sea of people. He moves further, a mild hurry outlining his steps through a bunch of sweaty bodies mixed with the expensive scent, lingering on, making it easier to distinguish the crowd as ones from high-end families.

He remains aware of the surroundings— the lap of luxury sprawled out and highlighted each speck of dust around— even in the air.

Nevertheless, that was gotten rid of.

His presence of mind packs a suitcase and makes a bolt out of its abode, as soon as your eyes meet his.

As if an urgent sense of victory ziplined through, he watches you slowly bite your lip, trying to hide a smile.

Not the one that looked like a perfect crescent moon, one that radiates joy, though. Yours was synonymous to that of a fucking Cheshire Cat on a mission.

“Knew you’d come.” Your red glossy lips mouth, and he caught it amongst all.

Jungkook was furious, but he was dissolving.

It was as if an imaginary string connected the both of your bodies, the pull growing stronger by the minute.

Slow and steady, wins the race.

But his libido takes over, avoiding all the speed bumps.

And then he realized. As if it wasn’t so obvious.

He wanted you.

However, you didn’t have to know that.

___

If it was the Jungkook 30 minutes ago —who fired up from backstage to ballroom in less than 2 strides to catch hold of the fucking menace of a woman for trying to deride his performance— he would’ve laughed at the face of anyone who tried to tell him, that he was holding that very woman by the waist in the middle of a dance.

Breath.

“Your heels are about to punch a hole in my feet.” He shifts you forward so swiftly with one hand on your waist, legs finally coming alive again after 2 minutes of torturous dancing.

“Tryna hold you together, if you fall apart. I can distinguish between a good dancer and a bad one, y’know.” 

“I’m gonna leave if you keep running that mouth of yours.” He whisper-yells into your ears, above the 165 bpm party music.

His jaw twitches at the reason he’s still anchored in the same spot.

Another request. One that took flight way easier than the previous one. Your pretty mouth asked for help.

“Don’t wanna look alone in my own party. Dance?” You had asked, peeking at his anger infused red eyes 30 minutes ago, through your angel-like lashes, which had him expressing distaste, but quickly securing him behind you.

Ass pressed up against his crotch, he knew you were testing his boundaries. He knew you were careful, measured, as your hands rhythmically made its way around his neck, adhering to the beat.

His hands still around the small of your back— unsure if it was to steady you or himself.

Minx.

His hands find solace in your swaying hips, pushing you forward, trying to maintain distance.

Because this was supposed to be a nice gesture. An act of goodwill so a girl won’t feel alone on her birthday.

Why the fuck was he sporting a semi?

“You’re enjoying this too much aren’t you, shortcake?” 

This time, he didn’t have to push you away.

You sprang off, akin to how the like-poles of magnets repel.

“The fuck did you just call me?” You had to yell, some of the drunk dancers sending weird glances.

“Isn’t this what you wanted? You pulled that act to-”

“Shut the fuck up.” You whisper, moving closer to his ears, dragging him out, swerving through to the common restroom.

____

your pov.

“What’s all this, __?” The sudden silence echoes his deep voice throughout the entire place, making you dizzy at its amplification as opposed to the hushed noises coming from outside.

“Huh?” You pant a little, looking up at him yet again with those eyes.

He hoists you up, cold marble coming in contact with your supple, exposed thighs making you wince in the faintest voice.

“What do you think you’re doing, ___?”

His face is dangerously close. Breaths colliding.

“You played it for me, Jungkook.”

“What?”

“Thank you.”

“You’re kidding me, shortcake.”

He jerks back, hands placed on the table, caging you in them but it wasn’t enough.

Jungkook’s head falls next to your shoulder, barely touching as his eyes remain closed throughout.

“There’s nothing I’m joking about here, Jungkook.”

He slightly looks up, still hesitant to catch your eyes.

“I think the fuck yes. You’ve been diminishing my presence the entire night, and that whole cake situation felt embarrassing, __. In front of my fucking bandmates, I felt like nothing.”

His head falls again, as if some inner beast caught his breath, sighing.

“I don’t see a reason for that.” You shrug, in genuine confusion this time.

“Yeah you wouldn’t. Because I made the mistake of agreeing to perform here, when Jimin and Hyunjin clearly had no reason to.”

“Is it ‘cause you owe my dad?” A sly smirk creeps up into your lips, as Jungkook finds it in himself again to look at you.

“Do I have a fucking choice?”

“You should’ve thought before wandering into our territory, asking for help.” You swing your legs, still on top of the restroom table like you’re on some play-date, enjoying ice cream on a sunny Saturday.

“I needed it for survival. Seom was falling apart, and we really required that sum of money. And oh, you’re talking about Mr. Choi, the ever so generous man, huh? Your dad has put me through it even if I was a minute late to pay him back each month.”

“I can help.” 

You offer. Simple, cut through. It was always the simplest of suggestions that seemed like the end of the world.

“You? You’re holding on by a thread to your family, but except your thread— it’s made of money. Mine isn’t.”

“Bingo.”

Oh.

“Be with me for a month and I’ll help you relieve some stress. Know you need it. In return,”

You pause, meandering your vision to his, watching his expressions twist, lightly.

 “I’ll tell dad about your situation.” This was your cue to pull him closer by the ends of his tank top.

“Best believe, you think I’d be on my knees, accepting your offer right now” He tears himself apart, now fully on two feet, the distance between your bodies increasing.

"Remember the name you own that you boasted about, back there? Don't forget about the price you have to pay my dad, to uphold it." Laid-back, pausing for a moment, you could feel the gears turning in his head, back facing your frame now.

“There’s only one exit, to every entrance.” You say, as he was headed for the door, coming down from the table, you had your hands folded, yet again. 

Always the same.

The sound of his resolve snapping, was another alarming echo, as two worlds collided.

It was the answer to your proposal.

His lips taste like unadulterated need. Those roamed around yours, in a hurry, like a telltale of passion. He occasionally presses your foreheads together, taking as much as he wants before dipping in again. 

There you knew.

This was about to turn into a constant cycle. An endless war against sanity.

You, him— one heated glance, two bodies meeting to fight it.

____

Present.

his pov.

It feels quite deranged to think about.

Approximately a year ago when Seom was in the trenches, Jungkook, unbeknownst to his bandmates, found himself in front of Choi Enterprises. Even though the sum he got from your dad was useful in a way, it was hell to pay off. He handled it all alone, and wanted it to be a secret deal.

He still remembers that day, where you sat in front of him, flaunting the information like it bothers you.

He still remembers the way you thanked him.

Two simple, simple words. The ones that were taught as basic manners in school, ones which are usually ignored. 

Two words he never saw coming his way, even with years of hard work and struggle, living in small dorms and surviving off of convenience store food for a dream.

No one ever appreciated him, except the person who he least thought would.

“Thank you.”

It held the fucking weight of the world when you elicited it from your posh voice.

It took him here. Landed into this mutual succour, drove him into the heights of insanity, shared nights and whatever remnants of passion he had.

It's been six months and a few.

Yet here he is, still tangled up in need for you.

You asked him for a month, but that was just a feeble fabric to mask how you both just wanted to have a good fuck after everything going on in your lives, seeking whatever you missed.

However, Seom was on its success grind. After the storm of hardships, you did keep your promise. Continuous shows, a few sponsorships.

There were clear boundaries in this mad game of push and pull. 

It always remained a casual fuck, right after his gigs or sometimes in the closed walls of your luxurious penthouse that he thought he’d never see.

Because, you were mostly travelling, going on trips with god knows who.

He finds himself concerned about your company to these getaways, more than you’d given him the right for.

He opens up his messaging app again, briefly glancing at the time before opening your chats.

Finally.

Three dots appear, leave for a minute— not to be mistaken— as it comes back again with a bang, bringing in hot trails of new messages.

It was as if you were waiting for him to see your previous string of profanities.

[shortcake] 6:10 pm Asshole, where the fuck are you? [shortcake] 6:10 pm It’s been a week, Jungkook. Send me your location or you know I have my ways.

[jungkook] 6:11 pm I’m at the studio. Come to my room, behind. You know it.

He wondered why you didn’t bother checking in for a week, and clearly popped out of nowhere.

It’s just a casual hook-up with a rich girl who helps, sometimes. Who’s a menace, mostly.

He reminds himself, yet again.

Reality is so fucked up.

___

your pov.

You barge into the small practice room, a sense of knowing wrapping around you, ‘cause you’ve fucked almost everywhere at this point. It’s filthy, but it somehow keeps you together.

There was not a living soul here.

Huh.

“Shortcake?”

Honey coated voice— the one you hadn't heard for almost a week— engulfs you, heating you up like molten lava.

You simply walk over, throwing your bag on his couch, now acting as if the entire place’s yours, before piercing on the stool behind the drums.

“Where were you?” He casually sets up the aircon, closing the door as if he knew what’d happen any moment from now.

“Not your business. But guess.” You extend your hands, flaunting a set of rings made of sea-shells.

“Maldives? You went on tour again?” He asks, placing your tender fingers on his, examining the rings before abruptly taking them off.

“The fuck are you doing?!” You round up, trying to get hold of one of your favorite pieces.

“This’d look good in our studio. We’re sea themed, and I’m starting to think you got these for me.”

“You fucking wish, Jeon. Give. them. back.” You try to reach for his hands behind his back, slightly urging the both of you to the walls behind, but he wouldn't budge.

And then he does.

He turns around, crashing his lips on yours in a frantic kiss, pushing you against the walls, hands still holding your rings behind his back. Clutching together.

Your hands free run to his face, bringing him impossibly closer.

Somehow, his lips roaming around yours, pacing back and forth between consuming your edged gasps, felt like the end  of something.

You can’t pinpoint what, though.

Standing tall, head straight to catch a breath, he throws your damned rings off.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Especially when you have him, diving down again to catch your lips in his, running tongue through its seams, ever so furiously.

“Fuck, you’re even better after each trip, __.”

The contempt tastes bitter on your freshly patched up lips.

You knew he didn't mean that.

Last week, before Maldives, you parted ways after a fiery argument about your 'big girl adventures' like he called them.

All it took was you to post a picture with your dad's friend's son, Minho.

He’s about to kiss you again, when those freshly done nails of yours press lightly against his chest, halting the actions.

“Go sit there for me, Jungkook.” You muse into his ears, pointing at the stool behind his instrument.

“Why do you have such a thing for those drums? Hm, shortcake?" His demeanor seemed out of track, eyes blazing into yours.

He’s always been vocal about what he wanted, the clear boundaries and whatnot. But today was in your hands.

You pull him forward, pushing his chest, forcefully getting him to sit on that little chair.

And the next thing you do, takes his breath away. Snatches it, visibly.

You sit on his lap, legs wrapping ‘round his torso— his hands instinctively moving to your hips, holding you in place.

“Your hair has grown so much, kook.” You scramble about, untying your own silky locks that cascade down, bringing the piece of hair tie to his wavy ones that fell ever so prettily over his forehead, arching your chest into his face in the process of crafting a man bun.

You could figure out his fucked up state under you, but the coherence lasts no longer than a second as his mouth envelopes your hardened nipples, from over your flimsy skims top, the friction sending a zap of electricity through you.

“Wearing nothing underneath, you’re always so planned, huh?”

He goes back, trailing slight kisses around your smooth, buttered up neck, grazing the one spot he knew would send you in spirals, as soon as you finish tying his hair up.

“Uh-huh, wanna see you.” You bring him up, his forehead displayed, skin shining under the lights that illuminate the room.

“Hmm, proud of myself.” You grin, as he pushes you forward, hastily, that makes you helplessly choke out a moan.

Because, he’s already hard, and amidst all of this, you’d almost forgotten the purpose of this visit.

“Show me more things that you’d be proud of, shortcake.”

He guides you again, folds delicately parting at the feeling of his hard on, hidden behind the slacks.

Stupid pants.

“Off. I need these off.” He lets you pull down the sweats, catching you off guard after, by stopping you with a grip on the wrists. 

“Don’t have much time. Just— fuck— just sit on me, okay?” 

Oh.

You inch forth, capturing the supple skin of his neck, sucking on it gently, and you swear he elicits a deep guttural sound that you’re so used to, but he pulls you back by the forearm, halting your actions.

“What is it now?” You roll your eyes, clearly tired of the way he stops you at every fucking step.

“Don’t leave marks, __. I’m serious.” His eyes mirror red-hot warning, which provoked your otherwise vague intentions of actually giving him a hickey.

But all you do is move on his growing hard-on, desperately, because,

Fuck trying to work him up when you can clearly see him snaking into your arms, your actions.

His hands fly to your hips, holding them against his own yet again as you set a rhythm with this entire thing, whatever the fuck it was— it was sure getting him riled up beneath you.

“Fuck, yes- sshit- just like that, shortcake.” He groans into your ears, hands frantically tugging down the white skims top to finally reveal your bosoms. He presses a light kiss to the very ends of your nipples that pebbles under the cold air of the room, making you hiss into his ears at the sensation, head falling back as your torso never fails to ride into his.

You could see how close he was, with just a look at his outline pressing ever so deliciously into the tight Calvin Klein's you were sitting on— claiming as yours with every stroke of friction felt in between your thighs.

“Just fucking want my- goddamn- performance to get over so that I can fuck you backstage, angel.”

Your stomach tightens at the idea, strings of what could be his name, and a few profanities slipping out of your mouth.

“You want someone to catch us, don’t you?” His doe eyes look up at your figure on his, and you just dip down in response, sucking on his neck again, purposefully leaving a dark, purple mark on it.

Maybe, you wanna see him mad.

“Fuck, __. You can never stop being a brat and listen to me for once.” You were achingly close to snapping that knot coiling in the pit of your stomach, the traction from the rough fabric of his boxers giving you life, just about to send you over the peak.

 But he just— as cruelly yanks you off his lap.

“Down. On your knees now.” He gets up, pulling his tee away from his body with just one hand.

This shouldn’t be turning you on.

But it was, so you do.

Drop down on your knees, behind the fucking drums, your frame hidden behind. 

The thought of someone barging in at the sight of Jungkook and you behind, seemed so enticing to you, but it vanishes as soon as it takes form, when the man right in front of you, grabs your open hair tightly in a pony-tail, before you could even pull them boxers down and take him in your grip.

“You’re not gonna utter a word, and do as I say.”

You look at him through lidded eyes, too far gone to even retort now.

“Use your mouth, __.” He spills out your full name, and that means it's done. Your part is over.

“Yes.” You state simply, his face contorting in amusement, before pulling his boxers down just enough for his fully hard cock to come up.

However, he was wrong, in thinking he had the full advantage of being the upper hand.

“What happened to having no time, baby?” You huff, too fast to let him catch the tone, before taking his tip in your glossy mouth, and all that came out from him in response was a lucid groan. 

You knew he wanted to curse at you, sputter pure despise at your audacity to ignore his words. 

Best part is, you also knew what your mouth did to him.

Something that sounded like a hushed out moan rumbled out of him, as he pulled your hair, guiding you well.

“Fuck, you love taking me, don’t you? Filthy girl doing so well for me.” He seems to have entirely forgotten your words amidst the mirage of pleasure your mouth enveloped him in.

“Can you look at me, __?” He sputters, hands hovering over your glossy cheeks, hollowed out around his cock.

He lets go of your hair, brushing it to the side and tucking it behind your ears, the blazing pull that burnt your scalp deliciously all along, finally coming to rest. 

His voice was gentle, the one you could feel everywhere, so you continued, without adhering to his wish.

Because, you were taken aback by the soft call.

Terrified.

What happened to the harsh monotony he put through minutes ago?

The sting on your scalp hasn't fully died out, yet.

How the hell did things transition so quickly?

Like he had a mid-sex awakening, purely due to some blood flow issues?

Hormones?

Focus, __. Your hands presses on the muscular flesh of his upper thigh, as movements grow confident around his cock, slightly stroking the base with your fingers now and then, teasing, the jerk of his hips against you so sudden, you mumble a hushed fuck that travels all the way up his breaking point.

“Yyes- ffuck- shortcake do you not hear me? Look up at me, __.” He forces your chin up, as your eyes follow his face, contorting in gleaming pleasure.

“You’re so f- pretty nghh-” Those sounds. Desperate and splintered.

“I’m c- god fuck, where do y’want me, shortcake nghh-” He makes the prettiest sounds, sure, but you were still dazed.

“Wherever.” Your blunt response caught him off-guard, as he slowly pulled out, his own hands taking over, desperately and rushed.

“I’m- fu- shortcake, you’re gonna be the end- ssshit- of me” He snaps, like its been forever, cumming so fucking hard, as it leaks onto your chin that he’s still got a hold of. 

At one point, he’s gasping, panting, riding his high like it’s the last time, stamina completely thrown off.

But the next minute, his hands are on your forearms, nudging you up, manhandling, imposing, lifting you up by the waist with the ease of his tatted arms, onto his drums.

Your ass presses far too much onto the rim of the drum pad, its nuances nudging your soft flesh as he clings his body onto yours.

“What the fuck was the attitude you gave me, __?” He rasps, bold and unrelenting into your face. 

“I’m leaving today.” You say in a breath, wanting to close your eyes and hide from his questions that you knew would follow after.

“You were the one who texted me, called me and came in here. Now you’re leaving? Is it because of the trust fund baby you posted last day? Minho?” He speaks into the afterglow that glistened your face, the lights more brighter as the evening transitioned into the fall of night.

“I won’t come to your concert this week.” You just keep on spewing these sentences, knowing that he’d get mad, but it was inevitable.

He pushes away, the sudden loss of proximity and warmth almost propelling your body forward to chase it again, but you control.

“I’ll use your restroom, yeah?” You grab the bag and rings that lay forgotten.

His lack of response was definitely novel, but you don’t dwell.

Jungkook plops down on the couch, hands slowly untying the man bun that knotted his hair tightly, ruffling the now free curls, raking his palms slowly through them.

You come back, hands washed and freshened up, seeing him sprawled out on the couch.

Those lingering moments and conversations weren't a part of the deal. As much as you wanted to explain— how you had to urgently leave for London and why you're missing his concert— the way his features softened during sex, while he had you on him, all over and consuming.

That was new.

Bemusing.

You wanted to say anything, really.

But what was there to tell him, that doesn't sound like a goodbye now?

So, you quietly gather your things— the only things filling up the space being the hum of the aircon and the sofa creaking with his legs shaking in somewhat an anxious tone— and leave the studio.

────୨ৎ────

note, endingment and all who am i lmao BUT

part two?

the post oc made with minho here

────୨ৎ────

[russo-woso]

Pls pls pls if your taking requests post breakup angry I’ve missed you sex with toxic leah being cocky saying to y/n that no one could ever fuck as good as she can with a strap make it filthy🙏🙏🙏

Only I can || Leah Williamson

Warning smut 18+, cunnilingus, strap-on, dom!leah, sub!reader

Summary Leah’s determined that she’s the person who can fuck you the best

“Leah, what are you doing here?” You asked, your voice full of different emotions.

Anger.

Sadness.

Desire.

You and Leah had broke up just over a month ago.

Your relationship had taken a toll when Leah drunkenly kissed a girl, and another, and another.

You’d confronted her about them all and she’d say the same thing every time.

She’d admit she had kissed a woman but explained to you that she was drunk and then afterwards, expected you to continue your relationship as if nothing had happened.

You didn’t want to end the relationship, because at the end of the day, you still loved Leah, but you figured it was better to end it so you wouldn’t keep getting hurt.

The first few days after the break up, Leah left notes, full of apologies, on your doorstep.

You would scrunch them up and throw them in the bin, knowing your heart would shatter if you read them.

You saw the notes as reminders that Leah was no longer yours.

As the weeks went by, the notes disappeared, meaning one thing.

Leah was getting over you.

That’s why it was such a surprise when you opened the door late one night to be met with Leah.

“Let me in. Please.” Leah commanded, quickly remembering to use her manners.

“Leah. No. I promised myself I wouldn’t let you hurt me.” You replied, trying to hold it in so you don’t break in front of her.

“Please, Y/N. I love you. Only you. I was stupid. I was drunk when I kissed them girls. I promise it won’t happen again. I only want your lips. I only want you.” Leah said, stuttering a few of her words.

“Le…” you began, your mind disappearing as you thought about the situation. Wondering whether to let Leah come in and what would happen in the long run if you did let her in.

“I only want your lips on mine. No body else’s.” Leah mumbled as she took a step closer to you, your bodies inches away from one another’s. “Let me show you how much I love you.”

You nodded your head, desperate to have Leah back, and within seconds, Leah’s lips were on yours.

Leah controlled the kiss as she pushed you inside, your back immediately finding the wall once she’d shut the door.

“I’m gonna show you that you belong to me. No one else.” Leah said, her voice deep, as you moved your head backwards to give her more access to your neck. “Bedroom?”

You nodded desperately. Eager for Leah to do something.

Swiftly, Leah picked you up and carried you up the stairs.

After taking her own clothes off, Leah climbed onto the bed, hovering over you.

She immediately attached her lips back to your neck, only separating them to take your top off.

You grabbed the back of Leah’s neck as she managed to find your sweet spot on your neck.

Leah worked her way down to your boobs, gently taking your already hardened nipple into her mouth.

Your head hit the pillow as she swirled her tongue around the sensitive bud.

Her tongue continued to trail down your body, leaving marks that only you and her would see.

Eventually she was face to face with your pussy.

She pressed kisses to your inner thigh and you sighed in response, desperate to feel some sort of pleasure.

Just as you were about to tell her to hurry up, Leah’s tongue made contact with your core, her tongue swiping through your soaked folds.

You bucked your hips into Leah’s face, the feeling of Leah smirking into you as you did.

Leah’s tongue explored you like it was its first time.

You looked down at Leah, your heart rate increasing once you laid eyes on her hands.

Her hands were laid on your thighs, a firm grip on them to keep you in place.

Her arms flexed as she squeezed your thighs.

You moaned at just the sight of her, catching Leah’s attention.

You made eye contact with Leah, wordlessly saying that you were close to your high.

“I wanna hear you pretty girl. I want the world to hear how good I make you feel.” Leah said against your pussy, pushing you more and more over the edge.

“I’m gonna cum - oh god - I’m coming.” You let out, your head flush against the pillow.

Your eyes had shut in pleasure but reopened as you felt the weight of Leah disappear.

You watched as she got off the bed, walked towards the bedside table and open the drawer.

“I knew it would still be here. It’s as if you knew I’d come back.” Leah murmured, quickly putting the harness on before making her way over to you. “You’re going to be a good girl for me, okay? You’re going to cum when I say. You’re going to do everything I tell you to.”

“Yes, le.” You replied, your voice hoarse from your moaning.

“Good girl.” Leah stroked two fingers through your folds, gathering your wetness and using it to lube the strap.

Leah pressed the tip against your clit before sticking it into you.

Your mouth widened as Leah continued to get deeper and deeper.

As her skin met yours, she gently pulled out before entering again.

A light smirked stayed on Leah’s face whilst watching you take her.

“Fuck, le, you feel so good.” You moan, your eyes meeting her darkened ones.

“I know I do, pretty girl. I’m making you feel so good, aren’t I?” Leah cockily replied, continuously pumping in and out. “Only I can make you feel this good. Only me. No one else can make you cum this hard.”

“Only you can.” You managed to say between ragged breath and moans. “Oh god - right there, le. God I’m gonna cum.”

“You’re not coming until I say so.” Leah repeated and you tried to nod but the pleasure coursing through your body restricted the movement.

“Le, I’m so close, please.” You whined, so close to your orgasm.

Leah leant down to kiss your neck, pressing light kisses to your jaw and sweet spot as she increased her speed.

“Only I get to do this to you. Only I get to touch you like this. Only I get to kiss you. You’re my pretty girl, no one else’s.” Leah whispered in your ear. “Let go, baby. You know you want to.”

And with them final words, a mixture of curse words and breathy moans of Leah’s name escaped your mouth.

“Only you can do this to me Leah.”

“I know, babe.”

Requests are open :)

[rubywillkins]

Hi, this is an order for your cafee. Dont know if I picked too much, i just did one from each.

Can I have skim Milk, bruchetta, spaghetti, club soda, pork chops, potato gnocci and dark mocha. With mv1 x fem reader🩷

Thank youuu

Sure darling ♥️, you didn't pick much sweety its actually a bit less so the ff will be a bit short ♥️

Max Verstappen|

Tension and Tenderness

Pairing max Verstappen × female reader

Skim milk dry humping bruschetta edging spaghetti hand cuffs club soda pillow talk pork chops "so good for me, look at how much you came" potato gnocchi "shh, just look at me, baby" dark mocha dating

The paddock was buzzing with its usual energy. Y/N stood near Max's Red Bull garage, chatting animatedly with one of the mechanics, Lucas. She admired how Lucas was always so patient explaining the technical intricacies of Max’s car, and her curiosity often led her to these lighthearted conversations.

Max, who had just wrapped up his debrief, spotted them from a distance. His jaw tightened as he saw Y/N laughing at something Lucas said. The warmth in her eyes sent a pang of jealousy through him, though he knew deep down it was irrational.

By the time Y/N rejoined him, Max’s mood had visibly shifted.

“Had a good chat?” he asked curtly, his tone sharp.

“Yeah, Lucas was just explaining how the new setup impacts—”

“Lucas this, Lucas that,” Max interrupted, his voice low but edged with annoyance. “You seem to spend more time with him than me lately.”

Y/N frowned, caught off guard. “Max, are you seriously jealous? He’s just being nice and answering my questions.”

Max huffed but didn’t reply, his blue eyes betraying the storm brewing within. They finished the rest of their day in strained silence, the usual playful banter replaced by tension.

The drive home was quiet, and Y/N felt the weight of his emotions. Max rarely let his insecurities show, but when he did, it hit hard.

As soon as they stepped into their shared apartment, she turned to him. “Max, talk to me. What’s really going on?”

He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. “I don’t like seeing you with him, okay? It gets to me. I know it’s stupid, but I can’t help it. You’re mine, and the thought of someone else catching your attention...”

She stepped closer, placing her hands on his chest. “You’re the only one I want, Max. You have nothing to worry about.”

His eyes softened, but the tension in his body remained. Without another word, he pulled her into a deep kiss, pouring all his unspoken emotions into it. Y/N felt the shift—his jealousy melting into need, his anger replaced by a longing to feel connected.

The night unfolded in a whirlwind of passion and tenderness. Max’s hands explored her as if reminding himself she was his, every touch filled with a mix of possessiveness and love. "You deserve to be punished young lady" he said while putting handcuffs on you... You hesitate a bit but you were enjoying it.. you don't see this side of max often..

He picked you up and made you sit on his lap kissing you roughly.. his hands caressing your ass and slowly pushing it towards his hardening dick...

At this point you were also turned on and both of your bodies were moving in sync Fully clothed...

"max.. don't make me more needy baby... Just put it in.. pls.." you said yearning to feel his dick inside you...

"Not so easily baby, this is a punishment.." he said smirking...

In one go both of your clothes were on the floor..

He inserted himself into you .. making you gasp because of the sudden movement...

It felt so good.. he was slowly pounding into you making it unbearable for you...

"baby pls.. pls a bit fast" you said.. "are you sure"

He started to pound in you roughly.. it was good very good but rough at the same time.. but he pulled out the moment you were about to cum...

"oh.. god no... Max... Why don't you let me cum"

"its a punishment baby" " max pls..it didn't feel good" you said with your big baby eyes.. which melted his heart right away.. "shh, just look at me, baby"

He started pounding into you again this time perfectly.. not too much rough.. but it felt amazing to you... When you both were about to cum.. he increased his pace go max.. it was good.. infact it was the best part... And you both came at the same time..

"so good for me, look at how much you came"

He said resting his head on your head panting from cuming right into you...

they lay tangled in the sheets, their breathing slowing as the adrenaline ebbed. Max traced lazy patterns on her bare shoulder, his head resting against hers.

“I’m sorry for overreacting,” he murmured. “I trust you, I do. It’s just...sometimes I forget how lucky I am to have you.”

She turned to face him, her fingers brushing through his messy hair. “Max, you don’t have to be jealous. Lucas is a friend, but you’re the one I love. You’re my everything.”

His lips curved into a small smile. “I just don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” she promised, leaning in to kiss him softly.

They stayed like that for hours, talking about everything and nothing—his next race, their plans for the future, and the little moments that made their relationship special. The vulnerability in their conversation only deepened their bond, and by the time sleep claimed them, the earlier tension was a distant memory.

In the quiet of the night, wrapped in each other’s arms, they both knew they had something unshakable.

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐞-𝐭𝐨-𝐎𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 (𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒)

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies.

MDNI. 18+

Gilbert grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and pushed me down onto my stomach, forcing his fingers between my legs without mercy.

Emma: "Ah…!"

The pain was stronger than the pleasure this time, so I reached out for a nearby pillow.

Gilbert: "I told you that I'd take it out on you, didn't I?"

(It feels like he's pouring all his pent-up emotions into me.)

His cold fingers kept on plunging into my fluttering core while he bit and licked my back.

The repetition gradually numbed the pain, leaving only pleasure in its wake.

Just as I caught my breath after he withdrew his fingers, he discarded his clothes, grabbed my waist, and entered me with his full length.

Emma: "Ah! Haah…"

My vision blurred from the overwhelming sensation, and I buried my face into the pillow.

(No, I can't.)

(Just enduring won't make any difference.)

I still didn't fully understand what he said about taking control, but I knew what I had to do right now.

Emma: "Gil…"

Gilbert: "Do you want me to stop?"

I shook my head and forced my body to move.

Perhaps sensing my intent, Gilbert loosened his hold and allowed me to face him.

Gilbert: "Fufu, you're crying."

Emma: "That's because you made me."

Gilbert: "Can't argue with that."

Emma: "Ah…"

He pressed his whole body to mine and thrust again deep inside me.

I clung tightly to my slipping consciousness, cupping his face with both hands, and kissed him desperately.

(I just want him to understand so he won't lose sight of what really matters as a person.)

The fear that once made me tremble had long been overtaken by pleasure, sending violent shudders through me.

My entire body had become so sensitive that even the lightest touch of his fingers on my nipple made tears spring to my eyes.

He pressed his lips against mine, eager to stop me from uttering words of protest.

Maybe he knew. Maybe that's why he didn't hold back.

Once again, he shoved his hot shaft deep between my trembling legs.

(Ah…)

Maybe I grabbed his face a little too hard because his eyepatch slipped off and landed on me.

His gentle blue eye slowly opened, reflecting me.

Gilbert: "Are you sure? Without my eyepatch, I can see every bit of your messed-up expression."

(It wasn't intentional, but—)

Emma: "Then look at me properly."

I pressed another kiss against his lips and gazed into his eyes.

Emma: "I love the part of you that gets angry for the powerless."

Gilbert: "………"

(If this doesn't get through, things will just turn violent.)

I gripped his shoulders and used my entire body to push him down onto the sheets.

The positions had reversed, and now I was the one straddling him.

Even so, he didn't push me away. Instead, he lifted his hand and gently stroked my cheek.

Leaning into his palm, I moved my body against him.

Emma: "Ah… ngh… Do you understand me now?"

Gilbert: "More than enough."

The cold, distant light that had always flickered in his gaze finally softened, filling with something human again.

Emotions spilled between us, and my body trembled, overwhelmed by pleasure so intense that even the pain etched into my skin felt like love.

I collapsed onto him, gasping for breath, and he quietly ran his fingers through my disheveled hair.

Emma: "Have you calmed down now?"

Gilbert: "You're the one who should be saying that."

Emma: "I don't think I can move for a while."

Gilbert: "I see."

Emma: "…..…"

His hand deliberately stroked my waist, making me glare at him.

But instead of being intimidated, he only laughed, his usual sharp, beast-like aura and suffocating presence completely gone.

Gilbert: "See? Controlling me was easy for you, wasn't it?"

Gilbert: "No matter how sickening things get, no matter how much I want to destroy everything, just knowing that you love me somehow keeps me from crossing the line."

Gilbert: "Maybe, deep inside, I'm not so different from the Emperor. But you always pull me back to being human."

(So that's what Gilbert meant by control.)

(It wasn't through force or deception, but through sincere, unwavering love.)

I wanted to say something back, but I couldn't think straight.

Gilbert: "Emma, you're at your limit."

Seeing my state, he gently laid me down on the sheets.

His fingers brushed against my forehead, and a wave of drowsiness washed over me.

Maybe it was the exhaustion finally catching up to me—or the relief after everything—but wrapped in his warmth, I drifted off to sleep.

The next day.

Gilbert: "Little rabbit, little rabbit, do you have anything you want me to do for you?"

(Wait, this feels familiar.)

Completely calm, he greeted me like usual, welcoming me with tea and sweets.

Gilbert: "See, I did something awful to you yesterday, so I thought I should make it up to you."

Emma: "You've already spoiled me enough. I got my compensation in advance."

Gilbert: "That was my intention too, but somehow, it still feels like it's not enough."

("Intention"? So that means…)

Emma: "So from the start, you knew you'd take your anger out on me... and that's why you pampered me beforehand?"

I questioned him, and Gilbert responded with a bright, almost refreshing smile.

(Everything finally made sense.)

Gilbert: "See? When it comes to my requests, you either listen—or you're made to."

(This was supposed to be an apology, but something feels off.)

(But this is actually perfect.)

Emma: "In that case, I have a request for you too."

Gilbert: "What is it? Which country do you want?"

Emma: "That's not what I mean."

Emma: "If you ever feel like taking your anger out on someone, take it out on me."

Emma: "If you ever lose sight of people's hearts in your rage, come straight to me."

Emma: "No matter what, I'll protect your heart."

Gilbert: "..........."

Gilbert: "You really do spoil me too much."

He motioned for me to come closer, and when I did, he effortlessly pulled me onto his lap—like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Gilbert: "Emma, do you know what happens when a true villain falls in love?"

Emma: "The world becomes peaceful."

Gilbert: "Ahaha! That's just your wishful thinking. It's not that simple, you know?"

Emma: "Then what happens?"

Gilbert: "I don't know."

Emma: "You don't know?"

Gilbert: "Yeah. That's why I need you to teach me."

Gilbert: "No matter what happens—keep loving me."

Part 1 ╎ Part 2 ╎ Part 3 ╎ Part 4

[delicatebarness]

cry baby | chapter eighteen

Summary: "Can we talk?"

Warning: It's a Bucky and Cry Baby-only chapter.

Word Count: 791

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A/N: My heart. Now do you understand why this had to be its own chapter? Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as it is mine. - B

Tags: @buckys0whore | @thezombieprostitute | @lanabuckybarnes | @mishkatelwarriorgoddess | @softieekayy | @noonespecial90 | @hello-therree | @randomawesomeperson102 | @whoreforbarnes | @thejutvtsupport | @somnorvos | @cjand10 | @plasticbottleholder | @birdenthusiastez

For a moment, you hesitated, uncertainty gnawed at your mind as took in his demeanor and appearance. Yet, something compelled you to nod, stepping aside to grant him entry. 

Bucky stepped inside, his eyes boring into you as you closed the door and turned toward him.

“Why didn’t you tell me about him?” Bucky’s voice was quiet, his eyes searching for answers you weren’t sure how to give. 

His question hung in the air as you took a deep breath the tension in the room began to amplify as you met his gaze. “Why does it matter?” you counted, your voice laced with an unexpected defiance. 

“Because I care about you,” he replied, his voice filled with frustration and something more vulnerable. “You’re my…” he paused to sigh. “You’re my friend, and I had to find out this way? In the middle of a bar fight?” 

Running a hand through your hair, you tried to collect your thoughts. “I didn’t think it was a big deal, James. We were just… enjoying ourselves.” 

Bucky’s expression hardened, his jaw clenched as he stepped closer. “You didn’t think it was a big deal? You didn’t think it ‘mattered’ to tell me you have a boyfriend? “ he questioned as his body loomed over you. “Everyone else knew before me… Steve, Nat… Sam! Why was I the last to know?” 

“It wasn’t some big secret,” you sighed, a feeling of guilt surging within you. “They just found out over time.” 

“It’s me, though,” Bucky insisted, his voice edged with hurt. “I thought we were closer than this.” 

“Closer?” you echoed, your voice softening. “Why didn’t you tell me about Leah?” you asked, a hint of hurt now evident in your voice. 

“This isn’t about Leah,” he snapped, his voice rising. “It’s about you keeping things from me!”

His raised voice echoed off the walls, an oppressive weight filling the room. You flinched at the volume, his words crashing down on you. You took a step back, his presence feeling suffocating. 

“James, try to understand,” you pleaded, desperation crept into your tone. “It wasn’t…”

“Stop calling me James!” he roared, reverberating around the small apartment. Your words seemed only to stoke the flames of his anger. His chest heaved with each ragged breath.

You pushed back against his anger. “I’m sorry, Bucky,” you began, your voice becoming steadier by the word. “But you disappeared for weeks without a word, and again, you didn’t tell me about Leah, either!”

If you had blinked, you would have missed the flicker of guilt flashing across his face before it was replaced again by anger. “That’s not the same thing,” he snapped, his voice sharp.

“It IS the same thing,” you insisted, you weren’t backing down. “You shut me out, Bucky. You left that night and didn’t come back, and then you came back and everything was different.” 

Bucky’s jaw clenched, for a moment it looked like he was struggling to find a response. His fists balled at his sides. “I had my reasons,” he muttered. 

Your frustration boiled over, the emotions you had bottled up for so long now began erupting like a tsunami. “What reasons could you possibly have to justify any of this?” you demanded, your voice trembling with anger and hurt. 

But no explanation came, instead, he turned away from you, his shoulders sagging. For a moment, the apartment fell silent. 

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice barely audible.

His admission only fueled your emotions. “You don’t know?” you repeated. “After everything we’ve been through, you owe me more than…” 

Before you could finish your sentence, he closed the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a desperate, frantic kiss. One hand found its way to your waist the other, to your face. He pulled you closer to him as if he needed to erase the distance. 

For a moment, you were lost. The sensation of his lips against yours, the taste of him, your senses became overwhelmed. 

As the kiss deepened, you responded, your hands reaching up his chest, clenching his shirt in your fists, pulling him closer. But, the doubts lingered at the back of your mind. 

When you finally pulled away, your breath became ragged as you gasped, struggling to make sense of what had happened. His gaze met yours, searching for something, anything. You couldn’t find the words to express the emotions swirling inside you. 

His eyes filled with remorse, sighing heavily. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his eyes beginning to well. “I never meant to hurt you.” 

You nodded slightly. “I know,” you replied softly, the weight of the evening washing over you. “But you did.” 

There were no easy answers, no quick fixes to mend what was lost between you.

---

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[darkest-depravity]

Two Forms of Desperation

I'd love to keep you in a chastity cage for weeks, and tease you every single day. You're a kept woman, of course, but that doesn't mean the teasing needs to stop when I go to work. I'll leave you with a remote vibe inside your cage and a plug in your ass and steadily edge you all day, every day. You'd better not fucking fall behind on your housework because of this. But you're such a good girl, and I know that you fear me even more than you want me, so you don't.

I'll watch you deteriorate as a human being. Watch you debase yourself, so frantically desperate for any kind of release. Watch you devolve into wrenching sobs as you cling to my feet, not daring to glance up at me for fear of meeting my cold eyes, indifferent to your suffering.

Then, one day, you're doing dishes. Your whole face feels puffy and tight from crying, but still, the tears flow down your cheeks as the pain in your cage remains unbearable. You look so broken. That's when I decide to take you. I grab a fistful of your hair and drag you to the living room, throwing your body to the ground and your face into the carpet. You feel an overwhelming surge of relief as I unlock the cage, and all you can do is whimper, "Thank you, Goddess" over and over in a frail, choked little voice. I don't start slow. I fuck you harder than I've ever fucked you before. I keep the vibe on you and turn up the intensity to its maximum. The effect is instantaneous. The most incredible orgasm you've ever experienced in your worthless little life and fresh tears of joy stream down your face as you're completely overcome with pleasure the likes of which you never could have even imagined.

But then I don't stop. I slow down and lower the vibration just enough for your body to recover between orgasms, then ramp it up to maximum again. Over and over, shuddering tidal waves of pleasure burst through your entire being. Your body convulses and you feel like every single one of your muscles is spasming out of control. It's too much. It's too much. Soon, each wave begins to decline in pleasure and the sensation shifts to pain. It hurts now. Every thrust sends a stabbing pain through your body, and every orgasm depletes you more and more of energy you didn't even think you had left. You beg me to stop. I ignore you. You scream and wail and cry and beg and feel as though your body is being torn apart. All of your senses seem to blacken and some instinct drives you to get away, to please make it stop, but I'm just so much stronger than you and I've already left you so weak. I hold you down and push your face into the floor, then fuck you even harder. Somewhere in the only minute rational corner of your mind you have left, you wonder how I could possibly be fucking you harder than I was before.

This goes on for what feels like hours. What began as heaven has twisted into hell. Eventually, your screaming ceases and you become silent, accepting the piercing pain that rips through your body with each thrust. This is what penetration feels like. You forget who you are. You become an unthinking husk.

Finally, I stop.

I collapse on the floor next to you, pulling your small, violently trembling body into mine, and kiss your neck so softly. I stroke your nipples and caress every inch of your round softness so gently. I tell you over and over how perfect you are, how wonderfully you did, and how much I love you. I know you're not strong enough to stand, so I lift you up in a bridal carry and take you to the bed. I make you drink water and I cook you your favorite meal. We watch one of your comfort movies as you melt into my arms and freshly sob. I coo reassurances and stroke your hair, and you cling to me so tight that your knuckles turn pale. Finally, mercifully, the emotion slowly subsides and you drift off into the heaviest and most restful sleep you've ever had.

When you wake up the next morning, you find two things: a plate of breakfast and a hot cup of coffee on the nightstand made just how you like it, and the chastity belt locked around your waist.

[creepybeanie]

RELATIONSHIP: Patrick Bateman x Fem Reader

SUMMARY: After inviting Patrick back into your life, you both solidify the relationship with a night filled with intimacy. (PT.2)

WORDS: 1,010

TAGS: Patrick Can’t Live Without You, Fluff & Angst, Bad Decisions, Toxic Past, First Love, Mixed Emotions, Passionate Kissing, Love Confessions, Naivety, Emotional Manipulation, Love Making, MATURE CONTENT 18+

🎧: “Die For You” by Joji

Patrick’s hands traveled all over my body like he was searching for something I’d stolen from him. The familiarity of his touch made my heart ache with nostalgia. I hate that I miss him. I hate that I love him. I hate that I hate him because it meant I still gave him an ounce of my emotions, time, and energy. It meant, to some degree, I still cared even if I didn’t want to. My heart pressed against the fabric of his shirt, dying to reconnect with his. We found ourselves upstairs, hurriedly pushing past the door, making the doorknob crash into the wall as it flung open. Without struggle, Patrick lifted me up and carefully placed me on the bed.

Our breaths quickened as we began to undress, eager to be whole once more. The cycle felt like I was stuck in a torturous hell of an unsuccessful marriage. Separation and divorce- our papers are finally finalized until the universe attracts us another time. My lonesome heart ignored my sudden realization that we were back at square one, committing the finalizing act of our matrimony…again. My hands explored his body while my mind was elsewhere; ripping open his shirt, the buttons flew across the bedroom. Each one creates a different sound as they fall on the polished wooden floors.

“I miss you.” I confessed.

Patrick’s forehead rested on mine. “I’ve missed you more than you can imagine.”

He slides out of his pants and briefs with the anticipation of entering more than just my home. I extend his stay, sliding out of my underwear and wrapping my legs around his waist. My mind hated my heart for following through with its need to be loved by him. He gracefully pushed himself inside of me, and uncontrollably, I gasped at the feel of his fullness. God, I miss him. His mixed emotions were something I was used to, but the size of his well-endowed cock was a surprise each time he had me.

“I love you, Y/N.” He pulled himself closer to me. The warmth of his body was like a quilted blanket—warm, comforting, and easing any tension in my body with its weight. My eyes filled with tears when my mouth regurgitated the words my ears hated to hear.

“I love you too, Patrick.” I whimpered. I held onto him, digging my nails into the smoothness of his defined back. His rhythmic thrust made me hold him tighter. I wouldn’t let go. I couldn’t let go. A warm, slick sensation traveled up my neck, and it was Patrick’s tongue tasting the delicacy of his prey. He was a vulturous wolf, and I was his oblivious bunny, who was knowingly pouncing in his habitat. I knew he would always be near, lurking in the shadows, and I hoped he would jump into the light to catch his weak-minded prey. His thrusts become more passionate, his grunts become whimpers, and his body becomes closer to mine.

“I’ll never leave you.” He moaned. “Please forgive me. I need you.”

The words were like a broken record, continuously stuck on the same chorus. I allowed myself to hear the same song repeatedly, like a hit single, but I was stuck in a trance with the words that relieved me. Maybe the song was not so bad, and I could always buy another record. Perhaps this one would be different. There would be no scuffs, no song stuck on repeat. Maybe this time, the song would play fluidly, and I could enjoy its tuneful notes.

“Stay with me.” I said, running my fingers through the softness of his hair. I gently shut my eyes, remembering a time when he allowed me to wash his hair. A kind of intimacy he was not keen on, but eventually, he was fond of feeling my nurturing touch catering to him.

Patrick looked into my eyes. Those swirls of deep brown put me into a hypnotic state of naivety.

“You’ll never have to worry about that, Y/N.” He reached for my hand, interlocking our fingers together. “I can’t bear to be away from you.”

His breath shuddered, and I could feel his cock pulsating inside of me. The melody of his climax reaching him made me closer to a bliss I hadn’t experienced since he’d left. My clit swells with arousal when I feel his thrusts become slower. He allowed me to feel every inch of himself, and my walls constricted around him, feeling the same as I, wishing he’d never leave.

“Hold me, pumpkin.” He moaned.

I cradled his neck, tightening the space between us, our sweat becoming the glue to hold us together. I could smell the cologne he always wore, suffocating my nostrils with its smokiness. Momentarily, I parted away from him, seeing the look of desperation on his face. His softened eyelids and mouth slightly parted as he attempted to catch his breath. I cupped his face, keeping a steady gaze on him.

“Stay just like that.” He said. “Fuck, I’m going to come; you’re so beautiful.”

He leaned into my touch, tilting his head into the warmth of my palm. Our sounds of pure pleasure filled the room. Our eyes burned into each other like we’d never see each other again. Our lips touched, becoming inseparable. We tasted each other, concealing a bond that couldn’t be broken…for now.

I feel Patrick’s seed planting inside my lonesome but now sexually fulfilled garden. He collapsed onto me, and I caught him, refusing to break contact. As we lie with each other, we hear nothing but the sounds of our exasperated breaths. I imagine a world where this would be never-ending. A world where I wouldn’t find myself in this position again and would instead be celebrating another matrimonial year with Patrick. I closed my eyes, feeling the intensity of his heartbeat.

“I’ll never leave you again.” He whispered.

The song I hated was one that I loved to hear. Would it be true this time? I would hope so.

Thanks for taking the time to read this story and supporting my writing!

If you loved this story it’ll also be posted on my Ao3 “SpookyBeanWrites”

This story is a part of my “Bedtime Stories” collection. A collection of various short stories of horror villains that I love 🖤

This will be the final part to this story as I’m not expecting these to be too long!

Thanks again for reading! Scare you soon 😈

[wearesociety]

Day Five: Lovers to Enemies

She lives in a paradox. It’s the only thing Bonnie is sure of these days. Which should be a painful admission on its own and yet she doesn’t feel the burn in her chest.

Bonnie has a theory. It comes to her slowly as she comes to, muscles aching, a burn between her legs and a flood of memories of last night. This is the moment she should jump from the bed as though it burned her and find her scattered clothes but all she does is pull the white sheet higher over her chest and ignore the goosebumps that rise on her skin. She tells herself the first lie of the day— It’s because of the autumn breeze the morning brings and not the man next to her. It’s foolish thinking. Well. Bonnie is a foolish girl these days.

Her theory is th—

Klaus stretches and captures her. As if this is normal. As if this is something he’s done for years.

She wants to be angry. But all she does is sigh and allow him to spoon her. His neck settles against hers, his warm breath skating across her skin. The act awakens her— the beast— all over again.

Flashes of light hit her. Of the first awakening of the beast, as she calls this want she has for him. Her, pressed against a wall of the seedy bar. Him, lowering his face to her ear, his sweet wolfish voice capturing her all her attention.

Klaus lets out a self– satisfied groan, his hand setting on her stomach. Her breath catches, a want swirling in her stomach. “Go back to bed.” His low gravel voice sends a shiver down her spine. Which causes him to chuckle— so condescendingly.

Hot white angry cloaks her. “It’s morning.” She deadpans.

Bonnie is more angry at herself— well her body. It acts without her instructions. Any little thing Klaus does, her body must react to. She’s not used to someone having this type of control over her.

Least of all him.

Klaus bites down on her ear. Bonnie yelps from surprise. “I see I haven’t tried you out enough.” He says, a hint of knowing in his voice. He palms her stomach in circular motion.

Bonnie's eyes flutter slightly and she releases a soft sigh. It is a whir of emotions colliding all at once. She’s aware that he’s lulling her to a comfortable state.

His hand goes lower, until his fingers brush against the stripe of hair on her mound. Bonnie grips his forearm.

Klaus tsks. “You did so well last night.” He kisses her pulse. “Remember how you opened for me, allowing me in, inch by inch.”

Her body acts on his words and her legs open wider. His fingers comb through the fuzzy patch of hair until he goes lower, gently opening her wet lips.

Bonnie bites down her bottom lip. An act of defiance, the last she has. She desperately clings to it. That only makes Klaus work harder.

He knows she hates how she responds to him, how she actively fights against moaning at how he touches her. She’s the first woman to not melt against him.

Klaus slips his finger inside her, deep and brutal.

Bonnie gasps, her fingers digging into his skin. “Fuck.”

While last night was a haze of emotions exploding all at once, he was still gentle, coaxing orgasm after orgasm. This is anything but that. He sets a brutal pace with his fingers. Bonnie has no choice but to succumb to the constant wave of pleasure that hits her.

“Oh—God.” Bonnie whines as his thumb strums against her hardened clit.

Klaus kisses her shoulder. “Can’t fight it can you, love?” He says, softly. It’s the softest she’s ever heard him. He works his fingers deeper, never relenting in his pace, her legs shake.

Bonnie clenches down. Klaus groans but still continues his pace. “P-please Klaus.” Her voice cracks. Her orgasm is building nearing its peak.

“It’s right there. I know. The world on your shoulders. Villians to slay. Damsel’s to save. But this—” He pulls his fingers out just to push them back in. Bonnie mewls. “— this is for you.”

His words bring her to life. Her hips start to move against hand as she starts to ride his fingers. “Yessss. Mine.” Her toes curl. Bonnie’s entire body locks, a white hot pleasure crashing into her as she explodes.

Even as she’s drenched in her orgasm she still hears his voice clear as day. “There’s a girl. Did so well for me.” He praises.

Maybe it’s his fingers that lazily rub her clit or his words but she shakes with aftershocks and cries out.

That only Klaus can truly hurt her. And yet it seems like he’s the only one that can give her this type of pleasure.

Fuck.

[jammingjoellie]

Someone hurt Ellie, it flares up overprotective instincts in Joel.

***

.

.

.

An argue seldom escalates unnecessarily when in patrols. Who enlists themselves are lectured clear minds and steady heads excel in their tasks. Emotions are allowed, everyone are still humans, though those mustn’t rule amid crucial decisions.  

Ellie recalls these lessons whilst her fingers knead her sweat-slimy forehead. Fuck, her achy eye could bloat out its socket any minute. “Fucking brat,” she swears under her breath. Her little feet carried her away her blood-spitted white basin attached to the wall of her small bathroom, careful of avoid the mirror; she knows her reflection is a goddamn mess.

Jackson has relentlessly taught her in the last five years how living in a community and incline for the common well-being, but FEDRA taught her how to withstand the sear throb of a backhand or the cruelest humiliation. So, she’s not stranger to quarrels, certainly not a pummel some whiny asshole swing at her. Council already placed hands in the case, violence between villagers within the walls neither outside isn’t welcomed.

Her palm jabs shut the tap her tub, brimmed with scalding water, she tugs off her underwear and sinks in encircle in stillness and blackness. ‘What a fucking day,’ she thinks sourly, tucking her legs against her chest and resting her chin on her knees.  

Frankly, what she truly frets, is some dickhead approached Joel with the novelty.

            The little stove shoved in a corner whirls a toasty heat within her bones as her sweatshirt skid down her damp and chilly figure. She croons softly whilst her hands fiddle with Maria’s plastic tupper, tape-sealed; Ellie’s. Chicken Wings neatly written— and starts eating. Her tummy croons likewise, soothing the greedy hunger she hasn’t realize she was. 

Two knocks writhe her door, followed by a voice. “Ellie.”

Shit.

More than telling, his schedule in the lookout has apparently wrapped up. “Open up, girl. I know you’re inside.” His voice is impassive, his sentences are cold structured, anger just simmering. 

She swipes one swift scan around her tiny house but there’s no use, lacking options, she sighs surrendered. “Come inside,” she calls weakly. 

Joel slowly pushes her door open, hinges whining against his weight, soon his wide silhouette fill the threshold and his frown lands on her. She tilts her head opposite to the light. “Good Lord, Ellie. Do you have any idea how worried I was?” He snarls, his chest inflates and deflates in quick successions, “I- I imagined the worst, I wanted to come as soon they’d allow me.”

She let out a whoosh of air through her lips, “I’m okay, really it was a stupid thing. But I handled it.”

“It ain’t seem like. I got Tommy tattling me how you skip infirmary when you were a bleeding mess!” His anger ignites, he steps further her home, slamming shut the door with a flick of his boot. “Tell me,” he says darkly.

At this macho performance, Ellie rose off her couch scowling and fuming just like him. “Don’t pull out your shit on me, Joel! I can take care of myself! I sent that fucker with his balls up his throat. And half the blood wasn’t mine, we encountered some Runners.”

He tsk, “you don’t understand, Ellie!”

Doesn’t she? Half her life she had deal out fine by herself. This afternoon was just a run-in-the-mill incident for her. “Well, explain it to me then,” she sneers, crossing her arms. “Because it seems like you’re overreacting.”

“Goddamit,” he mutters. “Look ‘t you! You’re bruised.” Suddenly, he saunters towards her with his hazels eyes set and jaw clenched, sliding both his hands around her soft nape, rapidly prickling beneath his touch. Her stare widens, those gorgeous emeralds enthralls him before his mind clicks again and he fastens his lips down hers. She gasps oh so sweet into his mouth. Their lips blend together, melt together, it’s a breathless frolic of surged dread, woe, and tenderness… it’s not enough. He eases their lips apart, panting just like her, “Ellie,” he swallows thickly. “I can’t bear the thought of you getting hurt. I reckon… I’ll not hold myself of my actions.” His fingers-pads delicately caress her reddened cheek, blotched purple.

Ellie’s distressed expressions sags, “I’m seventeen, Joel. Gimmie some credit.” He nods dutifully, she doesn’t believe him though. Another incident and for sure he will inflict tremendous damage of whoever the poor bastard lays fingers on her.

He gestures at her dinner, pleased she’s eating, “I’m sorry I interrupt you.”

She shrugs, “I was finishing anyways. I just wanna lay and sleep.”

“Right,” he nods, “uh- “

“With you,” her eyes glisten, “in your bed.”

His bore on her, “lemme take care of that, what do you think? And then we… sleep.” He links their palms together, dragging her outside her house and into his. Trailing up his room.

.

.

.

[zombiejette]

BIG THREE TIME!! 🌙🔮✨

Hey there Non/Disney peeps! I know how much we all love to choose beloved characters that represent ourselves, whether its for personal or roleplay reasons, so I think it's time we expand this trend even further. I thought why not shake things up and combine this side of tumblr with my favorite form of self-insert...

Astrology!!

you know y'all want to. So what are your Big Three signs represented by animated characters?? I will start with mine:

☀️ SUN: Aries ♈️ 🐏

I know it's a bit on the nose, but I can't think of anyone more like the Ram than Merida. Stubborn, impulsive, firey, playful, passionate... it's all her baby. Even has the red-ass wildwoman hair. For me, she is most like how I behave on the surface, especially when I'm having a good time. She loves fiercely, plays recklessly, and isn't afraid of a bit of danger in the pursuit of living fully. Everything about her is loud, proud, and in your face- and just like the sun, you can't tone her down even for a second. Especially when she's angry. But that anger is a good thing too- it reminds us to stand up for ourselves, for the injustices we see, and to fight wholeheartedly for what's right. She shows us that our emotions are our greatest allies, and if you befriend them, they will help guide you towards your truest path. All this boldness and authenticity allows her to be a truly fearless leader, and one who isn't afraid of breaking traditions to do so.

🌙 MOON: Virgo ♍️🏺

Helga, for me, is the epitome of my Moon sign. She's no-nonsense, likes things to be efficient and effective, and is constantly scanning for problems to fix. She can also be intimidatingly scary and judgmental when she's pushed into a corner, and then all of those analytical skills can easily turn into weapons of mass destruction. But the more healed way it usually manifests for me is through her tough-love Mommy energy. She has a "right way" in mind, and knows what works and what doesn't. It's not that she's trying to be cruel, or too abrasive, but she sees when someone needs that push and won't hesitate to give them it. She's often the best person for advice if you don't mind being torn to shreds in the process lol.

↗️ RISING: Cancer ♋️ 🦀

Now if you were scared at all by the hard-headedness of my first two signs- fear not! My rising sign is here to make me less of a dick lol. Might be a controversial choice, but Genie is definitely a cancer rising. "You've never had a friend like me" is sort of an inside joke of mine, and it's because I truly seek to be the most authentic and loyal friend you've ever had. I'm not just here for a good time- I'm here to change your life! Emotional intimacy is the hallmark of this goal, and I love to really "see" someone, to bear witness to all their ugly and do away with the surface barriers society imposes upon us. I know how crushingly lonely it can be to feel like no one really understands you, or even tries to, and so my bleeding heart takes up arms against this strongly. The way Genie bends over backwards and selflessly grants wishes- even ones he didn't have to- and genuinely wants the best for Aladdin despite the sacrifices it costs him, is the heart and soul of what this sign is for me. Not that this is always a good thing- I've definitely given away way too much without proper boundaries and gotten burned by it- but the way I feel for someone's situation, and want to do everything in my power to make it all better for them, is what Genie and I have in common. The shackles around him often feel how this type of empathy feels too- knowing you care so much and so deeply about someone, trying your best to "poof" their problems away, but having to free yourself from helping them or else it will drag you down as well. It's a big lesson this sign often has to learn the hard way, and boy have I learned it. But still, when it's used correctly and for the right person- nothing feels better than knowing you helped someone feel a lot less alone in this crazy world, and made a positive impact on their soul.

So those are mine! Please reblog with yours, and let me know why you chose your characters! I love pop-psychology through animation, and just in general lol, but either way, it was super fun to do. 🥰✨

[fipindustries]

time and space

time

there is a concept that i always always always love which i call palimpsested layers of history. its when you can see clearly the stages of times clearly depicted in physical from in a seamless way.

one of the clearest examples is an archive of civic records, wherein the nearest shelves you can see modern, clear white paper in plastic folders printed with toner all prim and proper but as you go deeper into the shelves you start to see yellow paper typed by typewriter in manila folders and then you start to see old cracking parchment, written with florid quill and leather bound. and its all one continuous system, its living history.

my favourite execution of this is in portal 2, where you go back all the way to the very begginigns or aperture, arguably even before that when it was merely a salt mine. you get to walk down the old caverns and then into the very first lobby and then through all the different layers of offices above that and its all one continuous path! you can go from the highest headquarters of modern aperture and merely following stairs and hallways you can walk all the way down to the old installations (with the help of your portal gun, granted, but the spirit remains).

on the one hand because i like being able to see living history re-play before my very eyes. i like to see the evolution of things, to see how things become other things. it can be easy to forget that everything that exists didnt just spontanously appeared as it currently is, but that there was a long arduous process that brought it here and i love to see that process.

but also there is something magical about the linkage of time and space, about the way in which your own two feet can carry you to the past and its all one continuous path. the illusion that there is a thread, a powerful, unbroken chain running through the ages. its the same feeling i get when i see immortal flames or the oldest cities in the world still standing.

space

another concept that i love is that of the architectonic megastructures. but not the hollow ones. im talking about castles, mansions, palaces.

gormenghast is a great example of it. i love this idea that wether you are in the lowest dirtiest dungeon or the highest cleanest tower, you are still, in a sense, in the same place. within the same thing. that the small sideways bathroom in the servants wing is part of the same structure as the big banquet hall. that the tiny hidden away portcullis, tucked within the cliffside upon which the structure rests is just as valid a way to enter or exit as the giant 10 meter tall entrance for the carriages.

its something about transitions, again, continuity is key here. is about erasing the borders between two things that are very different. that there is a path from the lower kitchens to the north side library. i love this idea that every single stone belongs to the whole. that the moment you are touching one of the rocks in the giant wall surrounding the perimeter you are technically touching the place, all the place.

i love this image of a partly fallen wall, in the farthest corner of the perimeter, the one that is pushing against the forest, where the wall is merely two meters high and one of the branches is hanging over the terrain and you could just climb the tree and get to the branch and you would be inside the great beast.

this can also apply to great ships, to mazes, to universities, to really big machines.

i dont even know what my point is here. just trying to capture emotions

[thecatfarm]

The elated frustration bubbles in my chest, while the universe collapses, its edges ending at the porch on which we stood.

You move a couple feet, and release your energy again. It sends shivers down my spine as it crashes into me, and I devour it, hungry, desperate.

I sigh.

You can see it work. I look at you, and deliberately move to the right. The mechanics escape you, but you understand it. You send another wave my way, flustered that it seems to work.

I nod, and move again, and urge you to repeat it.

You move closer. No matter where you stand, it still seems to crash into me. You start looking for physical objects that could explain it, give it bearing, but you can't find an anchor. I can see the edges of your mind grasping at the empty space between our souls, looking for an alternative source.

The universe tightens its grip.

"It's not locational, you idiot,

it's never been locational"

I catch myself calling you an idiot, and I start stammering, apologising for it.

You look at me, perplexed, and start laughing as you move towards me, dragging the force of the cosmos with you.

"I didn't mean to call you an idiot, you can't see how it works, it's not fair" I mumble as you fall into my arms, and I hold you as close as I can muster.

And here I am, thrown back into the desert again, the wind billowing through my dress

my heart pounding in my chest

desperately trying to remove the distance between us

so I can feel your soul against my own.

And I can feel the inside of your body shaking, pulsing in rythm with the universe, as the pressure builds, and your hands can't stop trying to embrace me harder, and I feel you repositioning me, again, and again, as if you're trying to find a configuration that will allow you to melt into me.

Aeons pass us by. The universe won't stop exploding around me.

I'm so tired, so old, so confused. My soul is turning into dust. I start wishing I could make the universe stop.

My mind, in tears, tries to tell you that I understand that you can't do it, and that you don't have to, that I love you regardless, that it never mattered, and as I brace myself to let you go, as I always do, I feel your mind inch closer, and I can taste your mouth on my teeth.

Time paused. The magic crashes.

The universe shifts its borders inside me, as I start to panic, and my emotions return to me.

"I knew it'd-" -be horrific, and you'd regret it immediately, and we'd both realise there was never anything there, and this is the end, and maybe I've never even loved you, and there is nothing left but dust -I try to push those words out, but your mouth stops me, and my paranoia melts away, and I love you, I love you, I've always loved you, my universe, you actually managed to break free and crash yourself into me, and my entire existence thanks you, I love you, I-

"Yes" -you shout, looking like joy itself, your body shaking around me in an exhilarated dance -

"Yes.

Yes"

You take my face into your hands, and you kiss me again, and I collapse into you, sobbing, and laughing, and screaming, insatiably feeling every inch of you against me, the sharp edges of your face burrowing into mine, and I never want to let you go, all teeth, and agony, and trepidation.

"How long did you -no, you told me-" you say "-I told you the day we met" I say

You thank me for waiting, and I cry -laugh?- when I tell you I thought we'd die before you figured it out, and I no longer know if you're denying it'd take you so long, or kissing me, because you try to do both, and I love you, I love you,

I love you

"I told her not to call my wife an idiot" I mumble.

And you smile as if I gifted you the stars. And that smile is the reason I created the universe in the first place.

And it finally rains.

And I love you,

I love you,

I love you.

[ama--ryllis]

Its rly late and i just couldn't not write this right now. This idea came up while watching a short hope you enjoy this os.

Character: Itoshi Sae

Genre: angst

Warning: none

It was all happy with him, he opened up to you, you clinged to him and you both ended up here together in a healthy relationship....

So far.

You had tons of sweet moments together, including praticing with him at home. He kicked the ball towards the cage in a curved motion, not going too hard on you, your talents as a libero clearly helped because you easily changed its direction to above the cage. You grinned putting your fist up, unlike sae, you showed your emotions a lot more. A soft smile creeped up on his face seeing you're excited and happy expression. You ran to him jumping on him, he easily catched you, for him your weren't very heavy. Your arms were around his neck and your legs around his waist. It was him looking up to see your bright smile, you interwined your own hands behind his head and leaned in. Both of your lips joining in a loving kiss, some of his pushed back hair tickled your face making smile even more against his lips. After your tender and affectionate interaction you jumped out his arms, the top of your head now reaching a little higher than his shoulder ( unless your taller than him) you went to grab the soccer ball, putting it next to the door of the backyard, Sae followed you back inside, in the next few instants he was back hugging you sniffing your neck" today was tiring. Take a nap with me ?" You chuckled putting your hand over his" of course kind sir. Who am i to deny this intriguing offer" he slightly giggled at your words. These were all sweets and great moments but it couldn't last forever could it ? This world hates you because it chose the wrong times to break the only thing you had left.

" we're over"

Those words hit you like a boulder, your hand rubbed your stomach, you were still processing this, eyes widened with shock. But when it all got together in your head, you softly smiled looking up at him with tears rolling down your face like waterfalls. It was really was the wrong time." You know itoshi." Hearing you call him by his last name gave him the envy to cry his heart out but he just couldn't, he still loved you, but he didn't want you to go through the pain of him almost never being home. Little did he know he was making you go through much worse..." I went through a lot of shit, you went through a lot of shit. We went through a lot of shit together. But.." you couldn't stare at him in the eyes, you couldn't say this, you weren't able to, it was too painful." I can't believe i have to bring myself to say this itoshi but...i never thought i'd have to go through the shit of being a single mom or neither single pregnant woman." Just as he heard this, he absolutely regretted his words, building a family with you, what else could he ask for..he extended his hand to you about to say something but you interrupted him" i know what your about to say. Im sure you have valid reasons to do this because i can see the love and regret in your eyes Itoshi. But dont give me that, you know damn well that the last thing i would wanna hear from you" silence, for the first time you saw a tear roll down his cheek, then another and another one." I want you to promise me one thing. That when this pathetic life of mines ends in the few years i have left, to take care of this kid. To love them with all your heart and take well care of them." You looked in his eyes, he could see flames in your iris" promise me Itoshi Sae. That if i can't take care of this kid anymore, that you will protect it with your life" he stepped back, he nodded furiously" i promise..." You smiled, you thanked him quietly before grabbing your stuff, you walked out if his house. You knew he couldn't cancel all his life plans and his travel for the u-20. You didn't look back....

You praticed volleyball while being pregnant until it became too harsh on your body. Your teammates were here for you but when you gave birth it was now all you. All you and you alone, at first you found it hard, you had many sleepless night but you loved that baby. Loved it so dearly, the first year passed and you were finally able to go back to volleyball. It was hard to balance your time but you managed, you had a well raised little boy..

today~

You had your three year old son in your arms, a cap and sunglasses hiding him from papparazzi. The poor baby buried his face in your shoulder, he was scared, suddenly a taller body was in front of you, shooing the papparazzi away. When the person turned to you, you immediately recognized him, Sae, standing there, infront of you. You could see he just the slight changed but his piercing gaze was the same. You smiled at him" thank you Sae." He nodded holding back the smile from.hearing his first name coming from your lips. Suddenly some shifting could be seen, the little boy doing grabby hands motion towards his biological dad. The said man, looked for approval from you, you handed him the baby, which he teared up as seeing the kid he wished he could have seen at birth. But you and the kid were here, maybe he could somehow make it up to you.

End~

Thank for reading lol. I wrote this quite quickly so i hope it wasn't too messy. See you another time~

[urspiritualnurse]

Living was hard.

Thinking was hard.

Feeling was hard.

Being.....was hard.

Well, when I first became a self, I think I started off in a rocky cliff.

The first encounter I had with life did not go well. The impressions life and I had of each other was not much of a help either.

The very start of being alive is like learning how to do something, like riding a bike.

I think my start was not well, although I was taught how to pedal, the way to do so was very discouraging.

My feet that only knew how to pedal backwards, lived a life of torture.

All around suggested forward movement, and every place I wanted to reach was ahead of me.

Oh, how frustrated i was, I wanted to reach somewhere, and the unethical clock kept ticking.....but my feet....my damn feet.....couldn't pedal forward....

I resented the very teaching, I frowned upon those who taught me wrong....

But even doing so, I felt no relief.

We are asked such intricate questions, "are you living your life?"

Ofcourse we all do, because it is an inescapable pocket we are stuffed in.

It is like being asked, "are you pedaling your ride?"

Ofcourse I did, I could never bring myself to stop.

Life felt like a sadistic tide that only got frozen into a land, if kept moving....pedaling.....the moment one stopped.....the bending land would turn into an unforgiving tide, swallowing whoever that dared to stop.

I knew I was doing what was needed of me, we all do.

Noone is ever truly dilly dallying around life......nomatter how much of a sloth they appear to be.

But the real needed question was...."How are you living?" "How are you pedaling?"

That's the thing of being alive, the torture was not life, it was how we functioned around being alive.

It was how our mind pedaled its way through thoughts.

It was how our heart pedaled it's way through emotions.

Our new and young mind who was in the very beginning taught, a method that inflicted tension and torture, didn't know how to function without inflicting the said sensation that it first learnt.

And thus, we grew apart from our mind.

We loathed it......we wished it would shut up.

My mind functioned......but the way it did was very hard to tolerate.

Each thought had weights of accusation, every curiosity had the pressure and panic behind it, pushing me to know. Know. And know.

No wonder, thinking was painful.

I got angry with my mind, "why do you torture your very blood and Kin? Aren't I you? Aren't you mine?"

But I realized, just like myself, my mind was taught only that way to be alive.

Back pedaling, torturous and tense interrogative dynamic.

Like a little baby, curled up inside my big skull, i shook it's cradle with violent outbursts.

It was not evil, it was not an enemy.

It was just taught wrong.

Now what else can I do besides become competent myself in spirits and teach it from the very scratch.....how to be.

It is like I was in spirits way ahead of my physical self, already past the finish line and from there I shouted and cried out my name, yelled out to my heart and mind and said eagerly, to come reach me.

But from that finish line all i could witness was my mind, heart, pedaling backwards........Doing everything they can to move but never ever closing our distance....I grew so frustrated and agitated......."Why can't you simply be swift? Are you doing this on purpose ?"

But once my fury grew some patience, I noticed their poor feets that knew no other way to pedal......

Now from here, I shout out new ways, they hear me, they do.

I teach them everyday, how to pedal in ways where their efforts are rewarded with results.

That is the thing.

Living becomes hard.....when the method of being alive is unconciously leading towards the very first sensation we picked up.

Tension, panic, forcefulness, exhaustion.

Our selves are blind, and the braille that we trace to see and perceive through is our senses.

So the mind and heart that first sensed pressure and panic learned that those sensation is the sign to keep going, a reassurance of some sort that tells them, "that's the right way".

So each time we sense pressure, it is reassuring our parts that we are indeed headed towards the right path.

We search for external torture in men to ever begin finding humane empathy.

But torture is more so an internal thing.

A man unscathed by life is deeply scarred nevertheless.

By his own mind and heart.

His mind that was left with untrimmed claws, and taught movements that scrapes his innocence away, bleeds every alive moment of his.

No need to look for parental history, the relationship he has ever had, the height he has reached and how much he still needs to climb to declare, that the man deserves, to be left alone in peace.

Thinking was hard, I can still remember vivid as today, how every thought that surfaced had axe in hand, chopping down my peace, each swing heavy and painful to bear.

I know well enough, the importance of good relationship with the mind and heart.

So I donot dare to speak dispute in someone.

Such lonely and pitiful beings we are, sensible yet depraved by survival instincts.

We long for goodness but are too timid to make the bold decision to claim, one infront of us.......is indeed good.

We have so severed self image, not an ounce of good impression we have of ourself that we search for it externally, we yearn deeply like a hungered prey, nearing predators, desperately fixated to the green crushed under the bloodied claws.

Yet, stubbornly standing our prideful grounds, declaring hostility towards connection, yet starving for an encounter where one finally meets someone......plausible enough to submit.....and tolerable enough to admit....to the good impression they made.

No wonder we are the most guided creatures in existence, where every inch of earth is decorated with signs on where to go.

Nomatter who was born under what weather, what roof.

I can forever find similarities in all whom I meet.

Because we all were taught.

And what we have learned is sometimes painful to execute.

To be alive is a great achievement in itself.

To live with your assigned mind and heart every day is courageous enough.

[dearrosaceae]

Am I close to my period or has my yearning reached its climax?

Dear Tumblr, if you have been keeping up (and keeping it real) with me, you’d know that there is a consistent character who I have a romantic attachment to but not necessarily reciprocated of course. Ever since he texted me again, I have been imagining us just.. kissing. Kissing HOT. In a faculty lift, at his university.

At first it was a peck. I started it of course because I am an emotional wreck all the time and has zero regard for shame. He froze when our lips touched for the first time. Actually he already was when my hands cupped his cheeks, pulling his face closer to mine since he is taller than me.

His eyes widened at the strange texture of another person’s lips that he is heavily unfamilliar with. Not like he was familliar with anyone else’s either, he just had his first kiss! This is what it’s like to touch someone else’s lips with his own lips! I couldn’t blame him either, it was my first time too but I mustered everything in me to keep it cool.

Our faces were just inches close. I can feel him breathing down my face when I asked him “Can I kiss you? Or are you seeing someone?” which was weird to ask. Way to potentially ruin the mood too because it doesn’t matter if he did or didn’t see someone else, if he said no then it was no.

So he said no.

But he said “No, I’m not seeing anyone else”.

I smiled and tip toed to get closer to his face. “Okay, then I can kiss you” I said before smashing my lips against him. I made sure to allign our lips together so they properly meet, as I feel his flatten against mine. At that second kiss was when he finally closed his eyes and gave in.

His arms- initially dumbfounded and straightened not knowing what to do- found its way wrapped around my waist, supporting me who was tip toeing to reach him. As he drew me closer into his chest, my arms circled around his neck, engulfing him completely into a hot, breathy kiss. My legs almost dangling off the floor but I insisted on not letting him go.

Now Tumblr, take note that this was our first kiss. Both of us were first time kissers. In the beginning, we just keep smashing lips, moving our lips around and changing the placement of our heads. As we create momentum though, and feel a LOT less shameful, my tongue tried to penetrate his lips, in which he responded by letting me entered to freely explore the insides of his mouth.

The kiss deepened. Our lips just plastered onto each other’s faces with our tongues deep into our throats respectively (anomatically impossible but metaphorically accurate) We just wanted more of each other. My legs went numb and spaggethi, not because I was tired but due to the arousal that circulated throughout my body. I just feel HOT, like in heat. Heat stroke.

He knew that my legs have gave in, but he didn’t seem like he wanted to end it either. At some point, I thought he was more aggressive than me, because he took lead and tighten his hold around my waist. His face just got so into mine as he lowered his head more, so my legs didn’t have to dangle or tip toed on the floor anymore.

His aggression, and resistant to letting me go- even to catch some breath- resulting in me almost suffocated and moaned in his mouth. It wasn’t even erotic at first, but when I started moaning, his right hand travelled from my waist to my back then pushing my shoulder closer into him. His left hand went further down just right above my hips, rubbing me through my slacks.

Being ticklish, I would laugh out of defense but my struggle to escape that tickling feeling in combination with my intense arousal, made me moan. In return, he deepened the kiss and rub me some more as if he was encouraged by my response. I was baffled by this man like who are you? A few minutes ago he was frozen like he was struck by lightning when our lips graze each other’s.

Anyhow, we needed to breath sometime soon and I needed to catch mine earlier than him. My left hand left his neck and cupped his cheek, rubbing his face gently as if to say “pause, let me fucking pull away for a minute”. At first he seemed unresponsive, like he didn’t want to heed to that request.

Eventually, both my hands went to cup his face and I have to slowly pull away from him while he still insisted on the kiss. Our mouths finally depart, forming a few long lines of mixed salivas on our lips. That was when I gasped loudly for air, as if I had been underwater for a long time. He did too but he seemed like he was covering it up than me.

I pulled him closer until our foreheads touching. My hands around his neck, intertwining my fingers together while we both heaved from the deep kiss we just had. In the first few seconds, we were speechless and refused to see each other’s eyes but then, we erupted in laughter. Nothing about that was funny but we were having some of the best times in our lives in a public place where anyone could’ve walked in.

I wiped the saliva off his lips, when I noticed that his lips were redder than when we didn’t kiss prior. Were those bruises? Was the kiss brutal? He wiped mine away in favour, which made him raised an eyebrow. I suspected that he must be thinking of the same thing, that my lips must be strikingly red.

You know, apart from the smudging of red lipstick all over my mouth.

His hand went back to around my waist. We just stared into each others’ eyes, longing for something but what is it? Do we want to be by each others’ side? I don’t know. I know he doesn’t know it either, but we just smiled at each other. This could be fun, huh?

Even if this is just an imagination, it already brighten up my day. What if it really happened? Would it brighten my whole world?

My period is due tomorrow by the way.