#place libertine

[blueraconteurs]

re-listening to the tim burgess libs podcast episode and jfc it’s a ride…not only do p+c have about 7 arguments throughout but Peter is clearly furious (and trying poorly to hide it) when tim and carl detail their adventures in Montmartre 😭😭

[loveinthetimeofcoolers]

i know it's not like literal but it makes me laugh when up the bracket's like they said they'd pay me for your address but i was so bold. bro you live with him that's your address

[thetentaclecommander]

This is an 18+ blog. Pretty much anything under the Ao3 archive warnings section, and then some can and will likely be represented here, so no histrionics, plz. I don't have a DNI or 'required reading' but do have 'things' listed at post bottom in case they are like deal breakers or whatever so you cannot say you weren't given advance warning as to my content. *I will not waste my time reading DNIs, strawpages, Carrds or whatever new not on tumblr page. The block button is a great (sex) toy and you are free to use it at will. I sure as hell do.* +++ FAQ Who is this? Hi, I’m TTC

I write Nemesis and Jill boning a lot. For the plot, supposedly. Been doing so forever ago. What are you? An immortal sentient tentacle who moonlights as a jaded fandom old. I can and will out-drink you. What other names have you've gone by? I've lovingly been called That Tentacle and Server Satan. I'm a walking kink-filled perv factory full of bad ideas, hence the names. + What fics do you write? Fic list for the Devil's Saga AU. The Ships in the AU My AO3 + Tags for Blog Navigation Here. + (Con't under the cut for more general info and disclaimers)

Why is...this? Because I want to see more Nemesis/Jill content, and it’s a bitch to find. Also, after years of putting off even joining Tumblr, I wanna share my AU and keep this crack ship alive. Maybe even fanwank on my thoughts about Toll and Onery or even on Jill, the long-suffering bad bitch that Cap keeps forgetting has a compelling storyline right there. But this is mostly just blatant shilling of my AU + What’s your fandoms? Resident Evil. To be clear, I mainly stan RE3: Nemesis, not the remake one. The 1999 one. But in general, I like this goofy series, boulders, nonsense science, bad plot, and all. I do like other stuff that I might occasionally reblog. Could be silly shit like Helluva Boss/Hazbin Hotel or Arcane to heavy shit like BTD. I'm random like that. + Format of each post: A snippet, a link to Ao3. I’ll list any pertinent CWs if needed. My fics tend to be 18+ some of them marked with Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings and DD:DNE (ie unapologetically dark shit cause RE is a survival horror franchise), so keep that in mind. I might drop early snips; I haven’t decided on that yet. + Is Nemmy -ever- nice in your fics? Pffft (well, he’s 'nice' in bursts, as in a burst of tentacles through Brad’s face). In seriousness, in my take on him, he’s complicated, having the ability to be ""kind"", and ""caring"" but is a Tyrant through and through - basically closer to canon. I like canonical villains and I like my monsters monstrous and, at times, barely grasping that human/monster line. Expect infestations and murder. + What is your stance on RE3: Nemesis (1999) and RE3 (2020)? 1. remake Carlos got the glow up omg 2. Jill was sassy in both and I do love og but ngl remake!Jill was so done and I feels her 3. the monsterfucker vibes was mostly immaculate 4. og Nemesis was hotter and scarier. 3make massacred my boy (I don't judge those that like 3make, but maaan my boi T.T) like my biggest gripe along with the cut content was the game missing the point of Nemmy entirely reducing him to an annoying superman jumping nuisance and honestly lessening the N/J shippy vibes for me + Do you do fic requests? RPs? No. I simply don’t have the focus/time to do requests or things outside of my stories. I write what I want when I want. + Do you do DMs or Asks? I just flit in the night and talk when I feel like it. I prefer all convos in the broad daylight on public posts. But I’ll open my Asks. Be stupid, and I’ll simply close them. Capisce? Also if you DM me wastes of time things like 'Hi', 'hello' - the kinda shit ppl mock on dating sites especially with a pretty much blank profile, you'll be blocked. In fact, I block pretty freely as I value my time. + Don't Whine, You Know What I'm About [Disclaimers To Save People Time] This Tentacle posts here: -sex acts that ranges from soft to oh gods please don’t kill me -urk- -tentacle murder/parasitic 'fun'/horrible things occurring -high/low brow story drama (think Gothic Horror-esque) -crack ships mixed in with canon with zero regard about their 'purity' -monsterfucker shit, duh This Tentacle: -believes that fiction does not have the power of a death note over one's actions and believes people are not inherently stupid or unable to understand for themselves what they engage in -holds sex positive/pagan/kink and leather/poly/queer friendly/profic views -is against the -isms and/or -phobias used against others -laughs at killjoy puritans; your hell/churchy-speak means nothing to me a lifelong heathen eldritch egg laying being If you hate any of these you’ll -not- have a fun time with my content. Also, this shouldn't have to be said, but kiddos (under 18) Be not seen or heard as per ye old adult fandom rules. I reject all signal boosting requests/callouts; promotions will be at MY discretion. (More than likely, the answer will be 'no'.) We team SALS/DLDR/YKINMKBYKIOK in these parts. Be freely stupid with your ships; none of it’s real. Fandom is stupid, don’t take it so serious. Also, the murderkink. Gotta have the murderkink and worms. A'ight, Enjoy!

[milfsarahmccool]

hodor’s gay nightclub in belfast just shut down, no one look at me

[cloud-based-and-rainpilled]

Hey hey woah woah hey is this a Last Shadow Puppets reference in Good Omens fanart because I’m about to fucking self immolate

love like an ache in the jaw.

[seaxnymph]

ok so. after like. almost ten years on here I've decided to become a real tumblrina + writing my bs & reblogging without shame!!

[yzzart]

── ⋆｡𖦹°‧ DO YOU LOVE WHEN I CALL YOU THAT? .ᐟ

୭˚. ᵎᵎ content warnings: F!reader, 18+, Kenji referring to reader as his wife and being a fucking tease, unprotected sex, dirty talk, praise, teasing, touching, explicit words, explicit content.

Probably, in fact, there were many possibilities, the noises of the bed squeaking against the wall, even though it was made of excellent material, could be heard from outside the room; accompanied by moans, obscene noises and some indecent words. — But who would be able to complain about that?

Inside the room, a dimly lit environment but still showing silhouettes, all the noises and noises mentioned were more intense, powerful and lively, in addition to the sound of flesh struggling against each other; becoming much more than wanton and immoral. — And much tastier.

"I love eating that beautiful pussy." — His warm breath brushes your reddened cheek and is a little wet from thin tears, while you whimper when you feel his thick tip poking that sensitive and delicate spot. — "And you know a lot about that, don't you?" — A question, unanswerable, mixed with a grunt, moan came from Kenji's bold lips.

He dragged his mouth, uttering sinful praises and hoarse hums, along your chin and, at the same time, ran wet, sloppy kisses on your skin and leaned in to admire your reactions and expressions, showing an immense, intense, satisfaction and pleasure, almost becoming exulting; the immense wave of pleasure became agonizing, almost unbearable.

"Is that ok, my love?" — He asked, closing his eyes, for a few seconds, it almost became a growl, something so skittish when he felt your nails being dug into his back. — "Pf, look at those claws…" — Kenji murmured with a hoarse laugh, a shameless smile pulling at his lips, thinking about the thick, reddish lines that will decorate his back later.

"Ken..ji!" — Desperately, the only thing that was going through your mind was his name and nothing else, not even your conscience or notion, even respect for yourself, punctuated your little head. — "Mm, please, please."

"Oh, my beautiful wife." — Moving his mouth to your ears, scraping his teeth on the earlobe, Sato's words came out, satisfyingly, in a fascinating way, more than sensual and so impudent; performing an unsurprising action at the same time so libertine of you. — "Holy shit, damn…?"

Immediately, in a matter of agile and apprehensible seconds, after directing you with that statement, during his rhythm, Kenji felt your warm, inner walls squeezing, possessively, slyly and exaltedly, his cock; more moans, cunning and drawn-out meows came out of your lips, with your nails, eminently, stuck to the older's skin. — He felt your body softer, needier, in shock after his words, which left him intrigued, yearning.

Who could have imagined?

"Ah, you love it when i call you that." — He spoke, seriously, but with a little grace, ecstatic with what he had just felt and witnessed. Kenji's bold tongue flicked across his cheek, the taste of your sweat transferred to his palate, and he placed a soft bite on the apple of your cheek. — "My wife." — Sato moved his hips, moving away from the intimate and erotic contact, keeping the tip at your entrance, and then diving into your pussy again; highlighting a delightful and pleasurable thrust, once again reaching your sensitive spot.

"My beautiful, beautiful wife.

[rafesplaymate]

Introducing …

Pimp!Rafe Cameron x Vixen!Reader

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summary: The life of a cold-hearted Pimp and his man-eating Vixen. A libertine and debauchee, both completely sybaritic and in the same line of work. Two people who are one of the same with desires of luxury, wealth, sex and complete uninhibited hedonism.

warnings: prostitution / escorting. smut. substance use. power imbalances. dark themes / adult content.

a/n: yes ik irl pimps are terrible people (i mean it’s rafe) but just hear me out …

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Pimp!Rafe who makes his own version of the Playboy Mansion at Tannyhill. Tired of the stark emptiness that filled the mansion and looking into new business ventures. Quickly recruiting girls and buying the properties across Tannyhill to house his girls. Throwing parties and quickly building clientele through word of mouth to only those he deemed worthy.

Pimp!Rafe who hires mostly pogues who are looking to make a higher income and leave their lifestyles behind. Though he has a bit of kook girls who are more than willing for the fun of it and to up their income as well. He’s picky about who he hires, only desiring the top tier. Having rejected many girls with a stoic expression and flick of his wrist while he mutters a ‘you can go.’ Their eyes filled with tears as they run down the long driveway in embarrassment. Rafe is too cold-hearted to care.

Pimp!Rafe who makes his girls call him ‘master’ and wear gold chokers with the initial ‘R’ around their throats. Reminding his clientele, them and the island who they belonged to.

Pimp!Rafe who never gets shut down because the department is paid off by his hand and some of his best clientele. Indulging in the services his girls provide and protecting his reputation and image.

Pimp!Rafe who protects his girls vehemently and makes sure they’re always well taken care of and protected. Only putting them in place when they disrespect him. He often finds himself tangled within their various limbs on the ‘alaskin king’ he bought to accommodate his girls. His high-desire for sex satisfied completely.

Pimp!Rafe who is basically a libertine, a Don Juan if you will. He never falls for one of his girls and strictly views them as a form of satisfying his needs and supplying his income. His heart too cold to care and his only desire is to feed and satiate his hedonistic lifestyle. Setting rules and clarifying that everything is purely transactional from the start. Although most respect his desires, there are those who’ve tried and failed. So many times, he’s needed to kick girls out and rotate new ones in when they’ve fallen in love with him. Not willing to muddle or mess up his lucrative business.

Pimp!Rafe who only allows high-end clientele and ensures the safety and best interest of his girls by enforcing his excessive power. A sneer automatically setting on his face when someone from the ‘cut’ tries to reel in on his girls.

Pimp!Rafe who is adored by all his girls and excessively spoiled by genuine acts of affectionate to thank him. They do everything for him. Keeping him satisfied for taking care of them so well and suppling them with such great income. How could they not?

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Vixen!Reader who use to be a high end escort in Los Angeles. Specifically around Bel Air, Beverly Hills or Hollywood Hills. The highest playing clientele came from those areas. But WeHo night life was her preference.

Vixen!Reader whose staples are leather, latex, stripper heals, louboutins or stilettos. Chrome Hearts a staple jewelry alongside her valued diamonds and white gold. Versace’s Crystal Noir or Diors Hypnotic Poison always spritzed on her. Leaving a trail of intoxicating seductiveness everywhere she goes. Her fierce gaze always accentuated by either wispy lashes and glitter or a smokey eye that makes her look every bit like the vixen she is. Shimmery nude or pale pink glosses always slathered on her enticing lips.

Vixen!Reader who is a complete party girl. Hedonism runs in her veins. The life of the party, she always captures all eyes on her every where she goes and was the princess of LA’s nightlife. She’s practically a nymphomaniac; so unashamed about sex and nudity. It’s an art form in her eyes. A free spirit of pure shameless sexuality that would leave any conservative ready to throw holy water at her.

Vixen!Reader who is a total maneater. Only focused on her money, looks and internal desire to live the life she wants. She never falls for her clients and cuts them off when they fall for her. She doesn’t date, refusing to be tied down. She loves to mess around and have fun. She’s young, immensely sexy, desirable, making good money. She refuses to waste her best years committed.

Vixen!Reader is a local celebrity; her name infamous across the city and sought out all the time by wealthy men/women or industry celebrities. She’s been the muse of many musicians, writers and artist. Leaving them writing music or poetry about her fierce sexuality, hedonistic lifestyle and immaculate beauty or painting/photographing her gorgeous figure nude. Offered various modeling contracted she’s refused out of desire to keep the raunchy lifestyle she lives private. Satisfied with the influx of cash she makes; never settling for anything less than a rack and even that’s pushing it. She knows her worth. Other girls in the city trying to emulate her style and energy; always failing. She’s unmatched.

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Vixen!Reader eventually leaves LA. Tired of the clientele and negative stagnancy she started to feel in the city. Needing change, looking for new opportunities, people, experiences and more dirty cash. That’s how she finds herself moving to North Carolina, specifically ‘Kildare.’ Wanting to be around a beach environment she always enjoyed in California; yet so far away.

Vixen!Reader who realizes her savings were quickly running low, looking for work that paid her the income she became accustomed too. Hearing about Tannyhill by one of Rafe’s girls who was looking to scout her after being in complete awe seeing her at the market; knowing she’d make a perfect addition to their universe and please Master. Her desire for luxury and hedonism quickly making her accept.

Vixen!Reader who shows up to Tannyhill for the first time showing off her gorgeous figure in a tight black latex dress that barely goes over her ass. Her stunning legs accentuated by black “highness” louboutins; fierce gaze and beautiful eyes accentuated by a black smokey eye. Her sinful lips slathered in shimmery pale pink gloss and body slathered in oil/glitter; making her flawless complexion look so enticing. Vintage Chrome Hearts hanging off her delicate throat, around her wrist and decorating her pretty hands.

Vixen!Reader who walks into Tannyhill with an aura about her that exudes raw sex. Completely enigmatic and formidable, strutting across to the house entrance while other party-goers watch in awe. Ready to assert her reputation the way she did so all over Los Angeles. Quickly and easily succeeding.

Pimp!Rafe who feels that the world has stopped and his peripheral vision gets blurry the moment she steps into his line of sight. Making his body burn with the intense desire to own and dominate. She’s like nothing he’s ever seen on the island, a bewitching woman who he knew from the first glance was meant to be someone to him.

Vixen!Reader who struts up to Pimp!Rafe after being invited to the ‘VIP’ area by the girl recruiting her. Strutting in with a seductive sway of her hips, domineering steps and her gaze burning into his own. Gorgeous lips quirked into a small smirk as she stood confidently in front of him. Hands on both hips while she cocks one to the side. Letting Rafe run his gaze over her unabashedly as his legs spread wider and he adjust himself in his seat.

Pimp!Rafe who pats his lap and motions her over with a flick of his fingers. Draping his arms over the edge of the seat he sat on. Both of them holding eye contact with smirks on their lips and she walked over slowly. Some of the other girls strewn around watching in anticipation, gossiping, doing lines or shots. An energy of pure hedonism.

Vixen!Reader who plops herself with ease in Rafe’s lap, immediately looping her arm around his neck and legs crossing as she automatically runs her manicured nails over his buzzed head. Pimp!Rafe who purrs in satisfaction and shuts his eyes before looking back into her own. Undeniable chemistry and tension immediately fluttering around the area as they stared into each other’s eyes.

Pimp!Rafe who gives Vixen!Reader a soft peck on her lips. With a pinch of her chin, and a smirk on his lips he tells her, “welcome to your new home.” Satisfied with the way her eyes light up and the quick approval. Though she knew before she even came she would secure her position.

Vixen!Reader who rises to the top of the Tannyhill hierarchy very quickly, asserting dominance over the other girls as a former professional. Pleasing Rafe immensely with the huge influx of new clientele and dirty cash she was bringing him in. Not only praised by Rafe but adored by the other girls who view her as powerhouse. Quickly deeming her as the head of the group.

Pimp!Rafe who calls her his “little minx.” A nickname only reserved for her. She’s the only one he’s deemed allowed to call him ‘sir,’ or by his name. Quickly falling for her by the day, yet refusing to let his stone-cold heart thaw. Reminding himself what she was to him and where her position stands. Little did he know she was doing the exact same.

Vixen!Reader and Pimp!Rafe who constantly flirt and banter. Their energies matching each other’s own, chemistry constantly sizzling. Eventually the banter turns into late night talks that last for hours. Soft caresses and intense eye contact. Toeing the line they’ve both drawn. Building a bond they both promised to themselves wouldn’t happen in their line of work.

Vixen!Reader who is the only girl that doesn’t sleep with Rafe. She didn’t do it back in Los Angeles and she refuses to do it now. Her pride and professionalism overtaking her immense desire to fuck on him. Struggling to hold back when they’re inches from each other. She knows once she does her desire for him will increase; too afraid to admit how badly she wants him.

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Vixen!Reader and Pimp!Rafe who realize they’re one of the same. Desires for luxury, wealth, and freedom. Cold-hearted and shut off; domineering and formidable. Dark tendencies and raunchy lifestyles that could never be understood outside of their bond. Confessing the darkest depths of themselves to each other.

Pimp!Rafe who very quickly falls down a dark hole of infatuation, lust, possessiveness and burning desire for Vixen!Reader. His mind convincing him she was made for him, that she found her way here just to be his. That his decisions have led up to them meeting.

Vixen!Reader who feels exactly the same way. the two quickly growing possessive over one another. Toeing the line they refuse to cross, yearning for each other with fiery passion.

Pimp!Rafe who begins limiting Vixen!Reader’s clientele, assuring its for her safety rather than admit his body burns with blazing jealousy anytime he sees her near another man. She rolls her eyes at the ‘safety’’ excuse. He also stops sleeping with the other girls, preferring to spend his nights locked up in his home office to talk for hours with her instead.

Pimp!Rafe who gets Vixen!Reader a custom white-gold, diamond R.C choker so everyone knows exactly who she belongs too. The difference in design and material from the other girls a physical representation of her status and power in the little universe they live in.

Pimp!Rafe and Vixen!Reader who finally crack and cut into the suffocating tension they’ve built around them. Frantic kisses and confessions of infatuation. Hours of fucking in his office. On the leather couch, on his seat. Over the desk, on top of the desk. Against the window, against the wall. Taking each other apart in the little haven they’ve deemed the office as.

Pimp!Rafe who tells Vixen!Reader she’s his in a way the other girls aren’t. Refusing to admit yet what she is to him. Cutting her clientele to a complete halt and ‘promoting’ her as ‘mistress’ of Tannyhill. Guiding, protecting and taking care of the girls.

Pimp!Rafe who quickly moves Vixen!Reader into Tannyhill from the girls house. Making sure it was empty with no work and parties for a week. Sending away his staff and informing the girls to stay at the property he bought across from Tannyhill where they live.

Vixen!Reader who walked around Tannyhill naked most of the time, during that week. Opting for garters, crotchless panties, thigh-high stockings and either one of her various ‘pleaser’ platforms or ‘highness’ louboutins. Leaving Rafe hard constantly and pounding into her every moment with any chance he got.

Pimp!Rafe and Vixen!Reader who spend the entire week fucking each other’s brains out. Their matching staminas and dark desires being played out over every inch of Tannyhill. Even the luxurious garden. By the end of it their bodies are covered in marks. Both sticky from sweat, saliva and arousal. Rafe’s cum dripping out of both her abused holes and onto the soaked bedsheets of the master bedroom. Both quickly realizing they would never find the type of sex they have between them with anyone else.

Pimp!Rafe and Vixen!Reader who have a knack for substances. Snorting lines over each others bodies, popping pills into each others mouths, pouring champagne or cherry flavored vodka down each others throats. Rolling and blazing after their hours long fuck seshes and falling asleep tangled in each others arms with lines on the night stand, a roach in the ashtray and empty bottles strewn around with their clothes from their hasty undress they haven’t bothered to pick up. Too infatuated with one another.

Pimp!Rafe and Vixen!Reader who lay in bed panting after the latest round. Finally exhausted by the end of the week and tangled in each other’s arms while they mindlessly traced circles on each other’s skin. Soft kisses and sweet nothings whispered in each other’s ears along with soft caresses. Both quickly realizing they belong with one another. It must have been fate that brought them together; practically made for each other and fitting puzzle pieces.

Pimp!Rafe who finally after months of built up tension and a week of passionate love-making; tells Vixen!Reader she’s his woman. His mistress of the manor. She will rule alongside him, the empire he’s built for himself now hers as well. Admitting that his desire for her excels the physical attraction he feels for her. That the connection they have is a taste of hedonistic paradise he’s always yearned for.

Vixen!Reader who’s old desire to never be chained to someone now turned into a desire to only be chained to him. Confessing that never in her life did she think she would find herself in this position, let alone allowing him to be hers. Admitting that she feels that she’s finally found what she had come looking for. She won’t ever let it go.

Pimp!Rafe and Vixen!Reader who’s week ended with the beginning of an intense, passionate, volatile and all consuming relationship. A twisted love story that was only at its start …

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a/n: phew! that was lowkey long … i am so excited to put out this AU while i work on stepfather!rafe. i hope you all enjoy and any feedback is deeply appreciated. also …yall liking this new format i’m trying? i decided to stop being lazy with my work lol. much love, as always!

[titania-sleeps]

Angel Yandere x Nun Reader

mild nsfw, minors DNI pls, mentions of implied somnophilia

• Mikhael believed in the goodness within humans. Even if humans exhibited cruelty, it was as God intended, and everything would go back into place once the human's soul was purified.

• Mikhael thought his logic was sound, and thus lived his life charitably blessing humans. They would soon reach salvation anyway. Ease their suffering, and they would become good once more.

• Mikhael then met you. You were a nun in a convent near the church he frequented. Although you seemed rebellious at times, he knew your heart was pure.

• Mikhael enjoyed following you around. He knew that you couldn't see him anyway. Your daily life was mundane, but he enjoyed the knowledge that there were humans who took their dedication and faith seriously.

• Mikhael found himself drifting around you often. He feared that it would be inappropriate of him, but he convinced himself it was for the purpose of ensuring that your dedication was just. Even if it meant that he would be with you even while you slept.

• Mikhael would watch you sleep at night, gazing upon your moonlit form curiously. You elicited emotions within him that he thought he was far beyond.

• Mikhael eventually found himself craving the pleasures of the flesh as time went on. His body heated around you, and his heart pounded dangerously. It was so foreign to him, to experience the needs that he could only have imagined in the past.

• Mikhael wanted you to taint him. An angel felled by the hands of a human; it would stain your hands and his reputation, yet it would be so delicious. A whiff of your scent has his nails digging into his palms.

• Mikhael needed your touch. Without thinking, he would float down and lay next to you. He would cover his mouth with his hand and breathe gently into the nape of your neck as he let himself grind against you. He prayed for you in whispers and gasps; you would be forgiven for his sins.

• Mikhael grew courage over time. His nightly visits became a daily occurrence. Elation filled him as he finally touched his lips to your supple skin. Angels were not deprived of sin, as it would appear to be, since he seemed so deeply devoured by it.

• Mikhael learned the joys of lust from you. As you slept, he would slip out his cock, an appendage formed by the desires blossoming within him. His form grew more defined as his lust grew; perhaps he would benefit from becoming a demon instead.

• Mikhael would whimper as precum leaked from his head, the tip of his thumb swiping over the opening. He gasped, wondering if being inside you would cure him of his depravity.

• Mikhael never came. He wanted you to be the one to take his first. He wanted your fingers to be the finishing touch. He wanted your words to be the gospel that brings him to climax. He wanted you to devour him, to replace the sin within him with your very being. Only then could he be forgiven, and only then would he be satiated.

• Mikhael continued to follow you around, shame growing as his libertine habits flourished. He would bless you and pray for the men that would accidentally die around you. It was quite unfortunate, how you were unable to interact with a man.

• Mikhael wondered if you were secretly a temptress in disguise, but he couldn't ask you. After all, you couldn't see him.

-----

• You could see him. You were well aware of the angel floating around you. Unlike your fellow brethren, you were unnaturally attuned to supernatural elements around you. You could perceive those that many cannot; religious creatures and beasts of legends from across all cultures seemed to flock to you.

• Joining the convent was a means to avoid the dangerous creatures, but you really didn't think a filial angel would show up at your doorstep.

• You knew that he watched you when you were asleep. It was eerie, the way his eyes roamed your body in lust. Pained lust, you could tell.

• You heard mutterings and stifled moans from him at night. One day, maybe you could entertain him a little more.

• Perhaps it would be a little fun to play around with him. Luckily, you weren't a saint.

i um have a drabble do you guys want it,,,,, (it's a continuation of this)

-> masterlist

[blueraconteurs]

awesome to finally see up the bracket alley in person today although i think a bunch of it got painted over because this was the only part with quite a bit of writing, but it was nice to see it and add my own contributions nonetheless :) made me so happy to see so many love letters and lyrics n stuff, i love this band soooo much <3

[rinhaler]

perv!Rin always having a pair of your used panties on him when he goes on away games… 🫶🫶🫶

-🌹

this has been in my inbox for months sorry I am slow <3333 love my man love my pervy boyfriend rinnie mmmmmm

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, calls ur pussy she/her, male!masturbation, long distance relationship, perv!rin, panty thief!rin, descriptions of sex and pussy eating.

words: 1.2k

He thinks being apart from you is a challenge. It’s hard, of course, but he makes it a challenge.

There’s an edge to his plays when he’s been without you for so long. He thinks he performs better when he doesn’t even get to hear your voice. When he doesn’t get to hold you, kiss you, feel you, he’s unbeatable.

He’s not a weak man, but he is for you. He’s wrapped around your finger and he knows he’s never felt love like he feels for you. You are his only weakness, but you’re also his strength.

He lies awake at night thinking of you, desperate to call you. His heart races as he thinks about your head resting on his chest whilst playing with your hair, whispering sweet nothings until you fall asleep or can’t take it anymore. You allow him full control over your body when you’re tired, succumbing instantly to the way he gropes and pinches at your supple skin as the pale moonlight bleeds through your windows.

Those moments are the closest thing to heaven, for each of you.

And to be without that for days, weeks, months… it’s plain torture. He wonders if it pains you just as much to be without him, if you miss him nearly as much as he does you. It takes a colossal amount of will power to not pick up the phone and call you.

He can never keep track of time differences when he’s away. Maybe you’re already fast asleep, or maybe you’re out in public with your friends. What good would it do to whine about how desperately he needs you when you can’t give him what he needs?

He’d give just about anything to hear you moan needily down the phone to him. He wants to tell you to touch yourself and lower the phone between your legs so he can hear the way your wetness squelches, drooling profusely as she knows nobody touches her better than he does. Nobody’s fingers are as perfectly thick and able to pummel and rub all of your sensitive places perfectly, so perfect that you unravel in record time.

She knows that it won’t just be once, either, not when he’s mastered the art of making you cream and mess yourself so expertly that he can do it again and again and again.

The sight in his mind of you cumming like that makes him sit upright in his bed, panting heavily as he reaches for his phone. His breath fans across his quickly typing thumbs as he messily writes some frenzied message to you.

He stares down at his writing with a heavy lidded stare, his breathing beginning to slow as he sees what a pitiful string of words he’s combined. Telling you that he misses you and how fucking hard he is. That he hopes you’re at home and you can call because he needs more than anything to get off to the sound of your voice, your mewls, your soaking wet cunt.

But he erases it. All of it. This libertine thinking will make or break him if he allows it to consume him. He doesn’t want to break, he never wants to break.

He turns on the flashlight of his phone as slowly rises from his seat in the middle of his bed, apprehension in his steps as he wanders towards his suitcase. There’s sweat beading at his hairline, a droplet sliding down his temple. It’s on his mind, it’s a targeted endeavour, and still, he’s fighting against it.

This is the compromise.

That’s his train of thought as a glob of saliva bulges down his throat. He drops to the balls of his feet, carefully unzipping a pouch to retrieve an innocuous item he always borrows for these trips away.

He wouldn’t survive if he didn’t.

He wouldn’t win if he didn’t.

Your worn panties are part of a ritual for success. He doesn’t steal the same pair every time. It’s always different. This time, they’re white and lacey. He thinks they might be your favourites, they seem to be the ones you wear the most.

They’re soft, he touches the material carefully. The harsh light of his phone makes it hard to see, really see, the pads of his fingers are his guide. He feels the intricate pattern of the lace detailing as his resolve crumbles faster and faster by the nano second.

And soon, he’s smothering himself with them. He takes an ample inhale, a breath so deep it resounds throughout the room. His breath is shaky as he breathes out the rakish scent of your used panties. His eyes almost fall back into his skull as he feels his cock spurt from your scent alone.

There’s sure the be a stain on his sweats, but he couldn’t possibly care less. He takes them off before walking back to bed, lying comfortably, completely naked, as he looks up at the ceiling.

He continues to breathe in the incomparable fragrance of your worn underwear, his dick getting wetter and wetter as he leaks from his tip like some kind of Pavlovian response. Like it knows the smell of your cunt and what it means. Like it knows it’s about to taste or feel you wrapped around the length until his balls tighten and he floods your insides with his love.

He can barely keep quiet as he tugs and squeezes furiously in a desperate bid to reach his climax. His inhales become sporadic and shorter as he begins to surmount the peak of his reward for having some semblance of restraint. This is restraint. He didn’t text, he didn’t call like he wanted. Like he needed. He settled for his salacious little secret. Your stolen, your borrowed, panties that you made smell so perfect for him.

Just for him.

He wonders, sometimes, if you know of his twisted little habit.

He isn’t sure what he considers more of a turn on. The fact that you’re clueless and he’s been getting away with something so sickeningly perverse for so long. Or that you possibly have known all along, but don’t care. Maybe it turns you on, too, knowing that he needs your help to make it through these long trips. And you help him so effortlessly.

All you need to do is wear panties for him to take, for him to get off like this.

He moans boisterously as the idea of you knowing seems to win the interest of his perversions. He almost suffocates himself with the lace, using it to stifle his raucous undoing. Thick creamy ropes of cum shoot from his cockhead and splash on his tummy. His flexing abs decorated and sparkling, the streetlights illuminating his figure as his toes curl and his breathing begins to stabilise.

He's exhausted, finally. The gnawing unease gone and forgotten as the desire to sleep overrides anything and everything else littering his thoughts. He uses your panties to mop up the sticky cum coating his abs before tossing them aside.

He’ll get them cleaned before he comes home, he always does.

There’s one thought still booming in his mind that is louder than the desire to close his eyes and sleep. He grabs his phone, writing out a shorter, more cohesive message for you to read.

Goodnight princess, I love you x

He can’t hide his smirk when three little dots immediately pop up.

I love you too Rinnie, goodnight x

And with that, he can finally sleep peacefully. But, still, he can’t help but wonder…

Do you know?

© 2024 rinhaler

[kidasthings]

Noa and Mae: A Taboo Affair?

Hi, there! Kida checking in again with yet another controversy - you've been warned.

I see a lot of people on Tumblr and Reddit pointing out that a Noa/Mae (#NoMae?) pairing would be at best controversial, at worst beastiality.

I mean, he IS a CGI ape, right?

Not so fast.

I'd like to break down a few points, if I Mae (pun intended!), and address this argument. I'll be using a few of the comments I've seen on the web already to do so, on the part of the dissenters to the pairing.

1st Argument: "Planet of the Apes wouldn't show a kiss between a human and an ape. Ew."

Reply: Oh, they already have, my friend. Not in the full-blown sense, but they definitely did film Zira and Taylor kissing lips to muzzle in 1968. You can view that lovely bit here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gEp7yunwVF8

I apologize in advance for impinging on your delicate simian sensibilities. #sorrynotsorry

2nd Argument: "Why would they even depict a human/ape couple? Humans and apes can't even reproduce in the franchise."

Reply: They can't? News to me. There was a Hum-Ape written into the early scripts and screen tests for Beneath the Planet of the Apes in 1970. Seems the Planet of the Apes franchise truly thought it was worth exploring back then. You can read all about that little guy right here: https://planetoftheapes.fandom.com/wiki/Hum-Ape

Aww, just look at that adorable lack of face-fur!

3rd Argument: "The audience of today isn't ready for that kind of thing."

Reply: And the audience in the 1960's/early 1970's was? I didn't know we became even more conservative 50+ years later. I'll be sure to adjust my high neckline and clutch my pearls in absolute horror at the thought of all of those deviant libertines living before me. Excuse me, I must go confront my parents about this.

BUT, before I do, I do want to point out we seemed to accept an on-screen kiss between Goliath (a gargoyle) and Elisa (a human) during a certain Disney children's cartoon show in the 1990's - anyone remember that?

Disgusting. I bet his breath smelled like rancid pigeon.

Additionally, we have more recent films such as Avatar, The Shape of Water - which won 4 Academy Awards, including best picture (not bad for a human and a fish-man pairing), and Beauty and the Beast.

And hey, if a living monster is not your thing, you could always opt for Warm Bodies. Think female human and male zombie. Necrophilia, anyone?

4th Argument: "Okay, fine, I see your point on the Taylor/Zira thing. But that only worked out because it was a human in a monkey suit, and we all sort of knew that. It didn't make it so strange. As for the other films you listed, well, those creatures don't actually exist so it's out of the realm of true possibility anyway. Noa is depicted as a real chimp, and him getting with Mae just makes it hit too close to home for comfort."

Reply: #Ishetho? Let's take a good look at what a "real chimp" looks like:

He's so damn Chimpy.

Okay, now let's look at our leading man--er, ape:

Looks like Chimpy had a love-child with Owen Teague. #shudder

As you can see, the two are pretty different. Chimpy has a true muzzle and a mouth that curves around it. Noa has a flatter, human face with an actual nose bridge and wider-spaced eyes.

And the EYES. My god. If you don't see the humanity in those baby-blues you might want to get checked for psychopathy. Besides that, Chimpy lacks eye-whites and has rounder eyes than Noa. Additionally, that pronounced brow ridge on Chimpy has thunder clouds gathering beneath it. Don't get me started on the ear comparison between the two, I'm sure it goes without saying!

Anyway, I think it can be safely stated that no chimp alive on this earth looks like Noa. He's too physically humanized to resemble an actual chimpanzee of the typical zoo variety. Thus, I would place him safely in the category of fish-man, the tall, blue cat creatures from Avatar, and those barbaric blue aliens that keep cropping up on certain ice planets in books #ifyouknowwhatImean.

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

All that said, everyone can ship what they want. If you want Noa playing house with Caesar, never mind that trifling little timeline issue, you go with your fine self and write that fanfiction. Create an account on DeviantArt.com and fill it with their anthropomorphic babies who eventually grow up to be the first ape astronauts. Someone out there is going to love it and eat it up, I promise you.

For the points above, this is about Noa and Mae. They've got something, something tangible. Whether or not it becomes canon is yet to be seen.

For now, it lives on in our minds. With our inner eye, we can see it just fine.

[pmamtraveller]

JEAN-HONORÉ FRAGONARD, "THE SWING"

The Swing was commissioned by Baron de St. Julien, a well-known French libertine, to be a portrait of his mistress. Although other painters like Doyen rejected this unusual request, a painter known for more serious historical themes, Fragonard eagerly accepted it, creating the most famous piece of the French Rococo style.

The painting shows the baron lounging in the rich vegetation, with one arm reaching towards the maiden's dress and the other arm supporting his posture. He provided Fragonard with detailed instructions, requesting to be positioned where he could see the legs of the lovely girl. His lover swings through the air on a forest swing, the beautiful woman letting go to playful surrender, her shoe slipping off in the excitement.

In the backdrop of the painting, there is a figure that was initially supposed to be the Bishop as requested by the Baron, but Fragonard decided to change it to the mistress's husband. The husband has a smaller part, overshadowed by the Baron, who is illuminated beneath the maiden's clothing.

The statues also contribute to the narrative. Two cherubs situated underneath the swing seem troubled by the immoral behavior of the people above them, one gazing apprehensively at the women and the other turning away with a frown. In the composition, to the left stands a stone statue of Cupid, gesturing to keep the upcoming affair a secret by placing a finger on his lips.

In general, Fragonard's painting, full of symbolism, not only captures a spontaneous moment of joy and liveliness but also hints at a possible illicit affair either in progress or about to start

[msnanu]

Libertine 08 | JJK

Libertines put value on physical pleasures, meaning those experienced through the senses.

❧ Series Masterlist ❧

⏤summary ❧ He has a reputation for being the most promiscuous man on campus, and you, well, you are basically him in women’s pants. It will be the very first time that Jungkook is faced with someone who is gonna make him question his feelings and actions.

⏤𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 ❧ f*boy jungkook x f*girl female reader

⏤𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 ❧ some fluff, smut, mild angst, teasing and lots of sexual tension.

⏤𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 ❧ mature language, NSFW🔞

❧ banner by: @dojakoo ❧

Hearing your own name, you forced yourself and took a step back, freeing yourself from Jungkook's strong grip. Your eyes were widened, and your breathing became loud, ragged, you swallowed hard and gazed up at him superbly. Your gaze was filled with arrogance and pride. Your mouth was slightly open as you cautiously pondered what your next words would be.

Jungkook narrowed his eyes on you. At first, seeing you trembling, Jungkook felt sorry, and a part of him regretted putting you in that situation. However, that last look you were giving him made him furious, annoyed.

He swallowed hard, getting up from the counter. His heart was racing, his face was hard. Dear God, how he hated being in that position. In the position of someone who had given in, somehow confessed.

Seeing you wet your lips to initiate some sort of response that he already knew wouldn't be decent, Jungkook anticipated.

“I see.” 

It was the only thing he managed to say before his voice started to crack.

Jungkook was keeping a safe distance from you. Not so close so you could manipulate him and not so far away that you could escape.

Hearing his answer, you took a step forward and sought to place your hand on his arm.

“Jungkook,” you pleaded.

You seemed determined to answer him, not to let that conversation go unfinished, but whatever answer Jungkook got now wouldn't make him feel much better. He dodged your fervent hands, seeking his way out of the kitchen. That space was getting too small for all that drama.

“I don't care.” Jungkook said defeated. “And I don't wanna know.”

He turned away, hearing your footsteps follow him.

“Jungkook, wait.” You raised your voice, insisting.

Jungkook stopped halfway, standing in the center of the room. He thought for a few seconds if he should turn to face you. He knew that looking at you now could bring him to his knees. Despite all that drama, you were still the same Y/N who had caught his eye in the courtyard, the same one who had rejected him, who had slept with his friend, who had slept with him.

You had a certain power over him, which although it was painful for him to admit, he knew you disturbed him.

Thinking of his own well-being, Jungkook took a deep breath and continued his selfish steps toward the door. He couldn't give you a chance to explain.

Without turning around, with his hand on the knob, he said softly. “I can take you home now.” 

He thought of adding a “if you wish” to the end of the sentence, but regardless of your will, it was his will that you’d go home. If he stayed one more second in the same room with you, either you would fight badly, or he would end up talking too much about how he feels about you. And neither of those two options sounded good to him.

He heard you scoff.

It was a scoff that filled the entire room, making it unbearable to be in. Jungkook didn't need to look to know that you were staring at him with probably the most arrogant demeanor you possessed and your face in disbelief.

In a matter of seconds, the mocking sound were replaced by your steady steps towards the door.

You didn’t understand him. You didn’t understand his feelings or yours. He is a certified fuckboy; you are just the same. His words were too difficult for you to process and even more, to believe. It was in your nature to not feel anything for the people you slept with. But who were you kidding? You both were way past that, even when you were denying it to yourself and him. Neither of you wanted to let your guards down.

To Jungkook's misfortune, your agility in getting through the door caused your cursed scent to leave an intoxicating trail behind. It was the purest scent of agony mixed with lust. A scent that made Jungkook want to take you by the arm and strip all of your clothes off, slowly so that you agonized, as he kissed every inch of your body, as he worshiped every inch of you. At the same time, it was a scent that made him sick to his stomach, that made him want to throw you out of his life for good.

You were intoxicating, venomous, and noxious. A real danger to his peace of mind.

Oh, dear God, how in that moment he wished he'd never met you, never looked for you, never crossed your path. Quickly Taehyung's speech about seeing you as a challenge came to his mind. He had indeed seen you as a challenge, something impossible that he would somehow achieve, but now that didn't matter, it didn't make the slightest difference, he already knew he had lost. And worst of all, he knew he cared for you, felt it in his bones, that he cared for you.

You had rejected him. At the slightest sign of affection that he'd let slip, you'd rejected him. Without even saying a word.

His thoughts were trying to organize themselves, trying to figure out a way to forget about you or at least forget about that shitty kitchen scene. 

He watched you get into his car with the same boastful look on your face, your mouth healing into a fully disgusted pout.

The drive to your house was extremely torturing. Jungkook was physically uncomfortable. You remained silent, slowly your hard face turned into a soft, relieved face, which made Jungkook feel even more uncomfortable. You didn't look so angry anymore, it was like you felt…satisfied or more at ease.

Your breathing had calmed down and your body didn't seem anxious. 

Jungkook felt hatred.

His eyes were so wide on the street in front of him that he could barely understand how he had noticed so many details of the girl next to him. With each turn that approached your house he let out a low sigh, his hands were eager on the steering wheel, it was as if the end of the world was coming.

Approaching your building, Jungkook began to swallow hard, his throat getting drier than usual. It was that old feeling of anticipation, but this time it had nothing to do with sex, and that was terrible.

He parked slowly and refused to look at you, even though his body was practically forcing him to. His eyes were trembling, practically begging him to look at you. His fingers drummed the steering wheel, crying out to feel the softness of your body. And his lips twitched, wanting to taste you. 

You leaned on the car's gearshift and approached Jungkook. Again, your scent made him take a deep breath. In a slow and extremely long movement, you placed a kiss on his cheek, making him clench his jaw. It was a gentle kiss, without a hint of lust.

It wasn't an “I'm sorry” kiss, much less an “I care about you” kiss, but it was a kiss of resignation, at least that’s what he thought. It was as if you were telling him that nothing had changed, that he could look for you again. It was weird. The naturalness with you managed to sound so unassuming with just a simple kiss on his cheek. While his emotions were running high, his mind seemed to have no control over his body, you were there beside him, calm, serene.

In reality you were confused as fuck, you couldn’t understand why he was so upset. He didn’t even let you talk. You felt like he was constantly confusing you. One day he is rubbing in your face that he’s with Seulgi, the next day he is saying that he cares about you. How is it possible to believe his words? And if it was the truth, you really didn’t know how to handle it, you didn’t want to start overthinking about how he makes you feel, you were just fucking for crying out loud!

God only knows how much Jungkook wanted to look at you right now, wanted to turn and hold your face close, wanted to kiss you until he forgot why he was so pissed. Everything in that small space in the car seemed amplified. His blood felt even hotter, the softness of your lips against his face made him shiver, even the crackling sound of your kiss on his cheek seemed too loud.

With his jaw still clenched, Jungkook struggled to keep looking straight ahead, not an inch to the side. Despite every fiber in his body begging him to give in, he didn't want to, he already felt small enough next to you, he didn't need another reason to feel even worse.

When you slowly pulled away, he allowed himself to take a deep breath and loosen his grip on the steering wheel.

You didn't wait for him to look at you, with all the calm in the world you got out of the car and walked towards the entrance of your building. Out of the corner of his eye, Jungkook saw that you hadn't turned around at all. That situation was pure torture.

And there went another shitty weekend. For the first time in his life Jungkook was looking forward to Monday, at least in college he wouldn't have to think about you.

Absolutely everything he did reminded him of you. His bed had that fucking good smell, every part of his sheet smelled like that. The kitchen had few memories of your smiles, your kisses. The living room reminded him of the two of you lying together, teasing each other. It was the embodiment of hell on Earth.

You had made his own house unbearable to be in.

It was different for him to feel this way, to feel so affected by a girl, especially by a girl who was supposed to be just another fuck in his life. Jungkook couldn't say he hated that feeling. On the one hand it was exciting, dangerous, as if he were pushing the limits of his own body, on the other hand it was depressing, worrying, and extremely vulnerable.

All weekend his body begged for you. It was physically painful how needy he was for you, for your body. At the end of Sunday, he thought about calling you, he thought about going to your house, he even thought about relieving himself, but he knew it would only make him feel weaker. His ego hadn't diminished enough for him to humble himself for you, not yet.

As he made his way to the courtyard to meet his friends on Monday, Jungkook silently thanked God. He was... happy. Heavens, that was absurd. He couldn't understand how a girl could mess with him so much as to make him like going to college. 

With hurried steps, he craved the company of his friends. He wanted to hear about Yoongi's weekend with some random girl, Jin's football bullshit, Taehyung's advice, even wanted to roll his eyes at Jimin, anything that would keep him from thinking about you.

It was time for the last class, he wanted to be in college, but he didn't really want to participate. So, it felt good to arrive for the final class. At least the professors wouldn't complain about his absence all morning.

Approaching his group, an incredibly familiar laugh emerged.

Slowing his steps, his eyes caught a small figure in front of Taehyung. With your hair down and shorts that barely reached mid-thigh, you were gesturing something that was making his friend laugh.

His other friends seemed engaged in their own conversations, but you and Taehyung were in your own little world. Your laughter was loud and joined together in unison, making the scene even more irritating for Jungkook. Your body was moving excitedly, your hair felt extremely soft as it moved under your shoulder, and your skin glowed against the sun.

He tried to swallow hard, tried to scold, even tried to blink to see if you were really there, but his body failed to show any stimulation. Despite your loud voices, he just couldn't hear the conversation, his mind was blank, a complete void.

“Son of a bitch.” He muttered to himself.

Finally, mustering some strength, his face turned into a sneering, incredulous smile.

Seconds later his gaze met Taehyung's, who was clearly not aware of the unpleasant situation you both had ended up in on Friday.

“Kook! I thought you weren't coming today.” Taehyung roared happily.

From that moment forward, all events were exceptionally planned by some superior divine force to mistreat Jungkook. He felt like the entire universe was plotting against him, punishing him for something he didn't know he'd done.

Oh, how roles had reversed, he didn’t even realize that he was feeling the same exact way that girls who slept with him used to feel afterwards when he ignored them completely.

Your voice fell silent. Your body slowly turned to face him, your hands were now down and all the excitement from before was gone. Your face was serious, impassive as usual, but with a hint of superiority. Looking at you from above, he could even feel a little better, but that feeling lasted seconds.

There it was just the two of you, there was no Taehyung, there was no one else.

“Don't you have your own friends to bother with?” The words came out bitter from his lips. “Or somewhere better to be?”

Okay, he is mad.

Before you could respond, Jungkook caught Taehyung's startled reaction behind you. His hyung was whisper-screaming what Jungkook guessed to be a “Dude, what the fuck?”. Taehyung seemed, at the same time, discredited at his friend's lack of manners and confused by his gratuitous rudeness.

“I actually do, indeed. I just wanted to talk to you today.” You replied simplistically, your voice low.

Your calm in certain kinds of situations should no longer surprise him, however, once again he found himself speechless. You were standing in front of him with your posture straight, exuding a degree of confidence that could defy even death. Your voice, though low, was extremely steady, and your eyes dared not leave his.

You were really a seductress, a kind of sorceress, who could at any moment wrest whatever you wanted from him.

Jungkook didn't want to talk to you, didn't want to hear what you had to say, didn't want to give you even the chance to manipulate him, but in some kind of twisted way he wanted to be in your presence, despite denying it to himself.

Struggling to hide his surprise, he simply nodded.

“What do you want?” He asked dryly.

A mocking giggle escaped your lips. “Not here, not now, Jungkook. I have class n-”

God, his name sounded like the most esoteric thing in the world coming from your mouth.

Annoyed by your laughter, he quickly cut you off. “I can only talk now, darling.”

What an asshole he is.

Watching you swallow, Jungkook couldn't help but smile triumphantly. That had been one of the few times he'd managed to make you uncomfortable, he had to be given credit. You huffed, looking at him impatiently. He knew you didn't like to skip classes, which made this scene even more fun for him.

You bit your lip, staring at him with disdain.

“Fine.” You gave in. “But not here.”

Once again, a smile played on his lips. For the second time since meeting you, Jungkook felt the upper hand. And this time, it had nothing to do with sex. 

“Lead the way.” He said blatantly, making room for you to pass.

Before following you, his gaze met Taehyung's, who now seemed even more unhappy with your communication or lack of, should I say? Jungkook made a point of winking at his friend, desperately wanting to show he was in control, even though he knew a snap of your fingers would bring him to his knees.

For a brief moment, he felt bad for his friend. He knew that Taehyung was trying to help him, that all his mention of you had been intended to get him to finally "settle" with someone. But Taehyung didn't know you like he did, at least that's what he liked to think, didn't know that you could be a demon when you wanted to, that you'd already rejected him, that you could at any moment sleep with some other friend of his.

There were several things he would never admit to his friend, things that were part of his private insecurities.

Following in your footsteps, Jungkook noticed the people around them dwindling, as did the side conversations. You were taking him to the college garden, behind the athletic field. Your footsteps ahead of him were steady, loud, and he could see that your hands were clenching, as if they were trying to control their anxiety.

You didn’t even know what to say exactly. Since when do you have talks with your fuck buddies? You fuck and go, that’s the beauty of it, there’s no complications, no feelings involved, no ‘I care about you’ but somehow, here you are, about to have a talk with Jeon Jungkook and you are fucking anxious because this is not your comfort zone at all and worst of all, you know he has noticed it.

When you were a good distance away from the rest of the students, you stopped abruptly and leaned against the gym's railing.

The silence between the two remained for a very short time.

“So?” Jungkook asked, feigning indifference.

You took a deep breath, your mouth starting to mumble some things Jungkook couldn't understand. You were hesitating.

As helpless as you looked, he couldn't help but find that scene a masterpiece.

He took a step forward, teasing you. “Y/N?”

With his head tilted slightly, he felt he had invaded your personal space.

“I'm not here to apologize to you, Jungkook.” You said between a long sigh. At this point, it was obvious how uncomfortable that situation was for you. Your whole way of acting screamed insecurity, your feet were restless, your hands were clenched, and your lips were moist at an absurd frequency. “I just... I... You seemed distant when you dropped me home on Friday.”

Were you for real?

Worst of all, you actually looked serious as you spoke to him. Jungkook was so incredulous, how could you be so ignorant? Acting as if his behavior was something unusual for that situation. Which then again, for you it was unusual.

You couldn’t stop thinking how much of this is so weird for you and out of all people that you’ve slept with that he, the most promiscuous guy in the campus, is the one confessing that he supposedly ‘cares about you’. It’s hard to think that any of his words could be truthful.

Jungkook couldn't help but frown at you.

“Why do you care? As far as I remember, you don't feel anything for me.” He grinned teasingly. “Right, Y/N?”

Jungkook wanted to sound much more serious, cordial, tough, but the atmosphere at the moment practically begged him to be a complete asshole and use every mocking tone he possessed.

You were just a few feet away, your scent as always making a point of showing him that you could dominate him whenever you wanted, whenever you felt like it. The white blouse you were wearing was tight, which molded your body even more. The shorts you were wearing drew even more attention from his eyes to your thighs. It was a whole compilation of things that made him lose his mind just being around you.

To his misfortune, besides teasing him in the right measure, you also knew exactly how to deal with the kind of attitude he was having.

Before even allowing your face to transform into one of indignation, you forced yourself to return his smile.

“Right, Jungkook.”

Jungkook.

Thousands of girls could repeat his name and none of them would compare.

You continued, flashing an even more brazen smile. “What a spoiled man you are. Or should I say boy?” You took a step forward trying to intimidate him. “I’m not here because I want to apologize for leaving you without an answer.”

Watching you build confidence was quite a show for Jungkook. That's because on Friday you looked like the most helpless creature in the world in his house.

He enjoyed that.

“I’m here because our sex is great, and I don’t want lose it.” Your voice came out steady, serene.

Is it only for the sex, though? He was indeed the best sex you’ve ever had. But you were denied to see it as something more, even if your stomach felt weird every time you looked at those doe eyes. It’s just sex, you repeated yourself in your own mind.

A silly smile played on Jungkook's lips; his eyebrows involuntarily raised in surprise. He'd already lost count of how many times your sincerity had frightened him. He thought with time he would get used to it, but every time it was the same shock. 

You kept your face relaxed, and your tone was extremely smug. You could defeat even the devil with all that arrogance.

Seeing that Jungkook had made no move to question you, you continued to tease him, unabashedly. “Are you mad because you were the first to give in?”

Your voice was now a whisper, almost menacing.

At that, he had to laugh.

It hadn't been intentional, but Jungkook just couldn't hold back the loud laugh that came to his lips. You both had a playful smile on your faces, but it was clear that yours was more confident. Even with Jungkook's mockery you held your ground.

“You know so little about me, Y/N.” He leaned forward, forcing you to take a step back.

A mocking sigh rose in the air. “Too bad for you, boy, I know everything about you.” You narrowed your eyes and tilted your head, looking straight at him. “I know how much you hate being in this position, how you love when women come after you, when they get jealous of you. I know how much you enjoy the way Seulgi acts when I’m around you.”

Jungkook swallowed, trying to maintain his composure.

He was definitely not expecting that one, those details, that mention of Seulgi. You were playing to win while he was just having fun, it was time to turn the tide. 

The pair of piercing brown eyes were still looking at him, as if challenging him, as if begging him to fight back.

“For someone who didn’t want to be bothered by me that day in the cafeteria, you’ve been paying awfully a lot of attention to me.” One more step forward, the idea of depriving you of avenues of escape made him more confident.

Two steps forward, Jungkook brought your body into the fence that surrounded the sports court. He didn't touch you, but the pressure he put on you made you step back. Your breathing became audible, and your mouth parted, trying to control your anxiety.

You licked your lips, mustering up all the confidence you had to challenge him again. “Did you really think I would sleep with you without first arming myself against your schemes?”

An inaudible “oh” escaped him.

He had no way of knowing if you were telling the truth, if you were trying to disguise how much you paid attention to him, or if you had actually done a little “research” on him. However, he had to admit your qualities. You knew exactly how to get away with that kind of teasing. 

He liked the way you continued to amaze him, even if it was used against him.

Bracing one of his hands on the fence behind you, Jungkook leaned forward so that he was almost leveled with your face. A faint smile played on his lips. There was room for you to move away from him, but you remained still.

“You’re one of the smartest girls I’ve been with.” He confessed, closer to you.

He expected you to blush, to feel intimidated, even to curse him, but you looked at him with disdain.

“Should I feel praised?”

Bitter.

Finishing your sentence, Jungkook hurried to continue his. He didn't want to make room for you to feel comfortable. His other hand went to the fence, and the space between your bodies became ridiculously small. He could feel your hot breath hitting violently his cheeks. His eyes went straight to the slightly reddened lips in front of him.

Always beautiful.

“The smartest, dedicated, thoughtful girl I’ve been with.” He pressed his lips together, watching closely for your any small movement. “It even makes me feel a little bit better about giving in.”

The last part was definitely a lie. It was more likely to snow in hell than he admits that he'd be glad he'd given in before you. He knew his life with you would be easier if he would just admit that you had messed with him, that he had an interest in you, but that would force him to be vulnerable, to let his guard down, definitely something he had no interest in. Same as you.

Plus, it was almost his graduation year, he's gonna manage to maintain his reputation as a rake for a little longer. It was just patience. It wouldn’t be you who would ruin his entire legacy.

“Is that how you do with all of them?” The breath of your voice snapped him out of his little reverie.

Your breath was excessively hot and smelled faintly of mint. 

You had a small smile on the corner of your mouth, and your face was slightly tilted up. He was inches from your lips, one simple movement and he could end this argument.

“I don’t care about all of them.” He replied convincingly, even if he was a little confused. Were you referring to other girls? Could that be a hint of jealousy? He would like to think so.

Your voice instantly retorted him. “Do you always use this husky voice of yours, this heartthrob pose and this womanizing charm?” You licked your lips, and he couldn’t control his smirk.

Jungkook was still annoyed with you, even though you were there flirting with him, you still rejected him. However, he would never back down from one of his advances, at that moment, you were there with him, alone, restless, desirous, he would surely be able to handle the rest of “your” situation later.

“Is it working?” He asked and one of his hands went to your face.

You didn't even flinch when his thumb started to caress your cheek, didn't even try to pull away, no sound of complaint came out of your mouth. Instead, you moved your face a little to find the warmth of his hand.

Jungkook leaned his body further against yours, just enough to find physical contact.

“You can pretend you don’t feel anything for me, Y/N,” His thumb rubbed your lips, and he heard your gasp. “But we both know I’m the one who leaves you wet, who makes you shiver inside, just aching to be touched.”

Motherfucker.

Involuntarily his body rubbed against yours. That had been an asshole move of his, and he knew it. Embarrassing you like this in “public” wasn't his intention, but it was as if he needed it, he needed you to once feel dominated, the way you dominated him most of the time.

He could have thrown it in your face at any other time, but in a private place it wouldn't have the same effect. Any student or professor could walk by and see you both, and then it would be the famous Y/N falling under the spell of the stallion Jeon Jungkook.

With the contact of his finger on your lips, your mouth was slightly open. There was a small air of outrage, but what prevailed was desire.

“Son of a bitch.” You whispered in his lips. Your voice wasn't as steady as before.

His hand left the fence and cupped your face. 

Instinctively your hands gripped his wrists, not trying to restrain them, but surprised by the contact.

He chuckled. It was funny to see you uncertain, hesitant.

His thumbs pressed lightly against your chin, and now your lips were at the same height. Jungkook couldn't help but notice, for the hundredth time, how beautiful you were. With your face upturned, your dark locks fell further over your shoulders, your jaw was perfectly shaped, your lips were extremely soft under his previous touch, and your eyes were mesmerizing, flickering between his eyes and lips.

With a simple advance, Jungkook brushed his lips against yours. It wasn't exactly a kiss, it was subtle, tricky. When he met your mouth, his fingertips felt the tiny hairs on the back of your neck prickling.

“I forgot to mention, one of the prettiest too.”

Fuck. He’s gonna be the death of me.

Your lips parted, letting out a low moan. The small space was enough for Jungkook’s tongue to slide in to meet yours.

For a long moment he kept his hands on your face, holding you as if his life depended on it. Your hands loosened around his wrist, and Jungkook took advantage to advance further on you. Your body was now pressed against the fence, your tongue was lost between his lips.

Despite the limited space, your body shifted anxiously beneath his. One of his hands went to the back of your neck, and he could feel your lips curve into a small smile between your kisses.

When his lips finally left yours, his other hand traveled to your waist, gripping you and pulling you even closer to him. His mouth trailed kisses down your chin and down the length of your neck to the beginning of your collarbone.

“Jungkook.” Your voice cracked.

It wasn’t a groan, but a warning. He couldn’t tell if it had to do with the two of you or the people who might pass by. However, as soon as your hands wrapped around his neck, he preferred to believe that you weren't worried about what people would say if they saw you there.

As the grips on your waist intensified, your mouth innovated in new curses. Meanwhile, Jungkook's lips took advantage of your entire neck, with kisses, light bites. You were completely at his mercy and didn’t even make a move to stop him. 

In that small moment, in that corner of the college, you were entirely his.

His face rose back up to kiss you again when he found a goofy smile dancing over your lips. He didn't know if he should have seen it, it looked more like it was your own personal smile, one you only gave when he wasn't looking.

From that smile alone he could have sworn you were in love with him, but then he remembered your face when you'd rejected him in his kitchen.

Ignoring those thoughts that insisted on returning to the surface, Jungkook collided, with some violence, on your lips. Taste of you never ceased to be good, your body never ceased to be soft, and the moans that escaped during your kisses never ceased to be musical.

God, why did you have to be so frustrating? Why should you have rejected him? Why were you so good? So... sublime? So… made up for him? 

He knew he wouldn't make it. The thoughts were everywhere, haunting him every time he thought of you, every time he touched you. It was as if that moment in the kitchen had defined the relationship you would have forever, whether as fuck buddies or something else . He hated to think of the idea of having you as “something else”, but he hated even more the idea of not having you at all. Jungkook’s mind was a mess. He didn’t even know what he wanted.

His hand came down to your thigh, squeezing it tightly, he wasn't thinking straight. A desperate groan crept between his lips. You were panting loudly, your tongue trying to get lost between his to prevent louder sounds from coming out.

As soon as his hand went up to your inner thigh, seeking to find your core, a smug giggle followed by a light clap of hands interrupted him.

Fuck.

Your hands instantly left his neck and went to the shorts you were wearing, making sure there was nothing beyond the normal exposed. Your face heated up and you quickly turned around, hiding in the crook of Jungkook's neck.

Slowly, calculating every move, Jungkook released your body and turned to face the figure who was cheering both of you. He wore his most arrogant face, ready for anything. He could fight anyone, argue, accept punishment for breaking the college's code of decency, he could even have an argument with Seulgi if he had to, but he couldn't face the man who was standing in front of them with a shameless smile.

“So, is that what I pay you college for?” The voice was serious but light.

You have to be kidding me.

Jungkook took a deep breath, his body rigid. “Dad.”

Jungkook swallowed, feeling all the skin on his body prickling. God, of all the people he imagined might be there watching him and you, his father was the one he least imagined, and also the one he feared the most. Not because of his severity, – he was not scared of his dad – but because of his petulance.

Every cell in his body was practically begging for this to be a dream, for him to magically wake up and be in his house, alone.

Hearing the word “dad” come out of Jungkook's lips, made you slowly lift your frowning face, you seemed to gape. Your eyes frantically analyzed the whole scene, trying at all costs not to miss any detail of the two men in front of you.

It was quite a show for you.

“What- What are-” Jungkook stuttered.

Without even getting a chance to finish his sentence, Jun-Yeol interrupted him. “I'll give you two a moment to settle down.”

His voice was so calm. Terrifyingly calm. 

Jun-Yeol nodded cynically, moving a few feet away from where you and Jungkook were.

Jungkook blinked a few times, still hoping that this was a dream and that he wouldn't have to put up with his father in five minutes.

Slowly, delaying each move, he turned to face you. Without quite understanding why, a feeling of shame swept over him. He didn’t know if it was because his father had caught him in a “compromising” situation or because you were witnessing that scene.

When his eyes finally met yours, he was surprised. You weren't bothered or at least, you didn't seem to be judging him, you just looked a little embarrassed. Your cheeks were flushed, and your lips pressed together, holding back laughter.

“Well, that was… weird.” You sighed, defeated.

You seemed incredibly resilient. A small smile playing on your lips as your hands frantically untangled strands of your hair. On the other hand, Jungkook was a nervous wreck. Nothing there was comfortable or funny. His serious face contrasted with the serene face of the girl in front of him.

Jungkook took a deep breath, looking at you in disbelief. 

“I’m sorry.” His voice was low, almost a whisper. Jungkook was noticing that more and more the word “sorry” was appearing on his lips, and that realization was horrible.

Your eyes looked over Jungkook's shoulder at the figure of his father. You bit your lip trying to piece together a quick profile of the well-dressed man standing in the middle of a college campus. He didn’t look awful, didn’t look nasty, just strict. He looked impatient, and as you returned your eyes to Jungkook, you couldn't help but notice how incredibly similar he was to his father.

“It’s okay.” You tried to quickly reassure him, but it was in vain.

“No, it’s not.” He immediately responded angrily.

Jungkook felt his heart racing, a noisy headache was starting to bother him. He wanted to get you out of there, he didn't want you to have any more contact with his father, any more dialogue would ruin you, and he didn't want to take that risk. At this point, he was too considerate of you to make you submit to an unpleasant conversation with his father.

Slowly, he looked behind him, trying to figure out some way to get past his father without him stopping you both in your tracks, but his position was extremely strategic, making it impossible to slip through unnoticed.

“God.” He whispered to himself.

You stared at him determinedly. “Jungkook, it’s okay. Come on, just forget it.”

Giving one last check on the status of your clothes, you let out a long sigh and began your brisk walk towards Jun-Yeol. And before you could go even further, Jungkook reached out and grabbed you lightly by the waist, stopping you midway. He heard a sound of protest leaving your lips, but he couldn't even laugh at the situation.

“Wait. Wait. Wait…” He hurried. “Just…”

A long sigh escaped the depths of his lungs.

“Don’t– Don’t take anything he says personally.”

You frowned at him. God, his father must be the biggest asshole in the world.

“There’s nothing wrong with you.” He still had hope that you would give up on going to his father.

It wasn’t his intention to scare you, but he didn't want you to be taken by surprise when his father started dumping all his inconveniences on you. Jungkook had a very strange and unusual sense of protection over you.

You were still looking at him suspiciously. “Okay… Shall we?”

And there went another moment of you being the coldest, most passive person in the world and scaring him as usual. 

He raised an eyebrow at you, trying to disguise his mood. If you were so calm maybe it would be better not to infect you with his pessimism.

Feeling extremely defeated, Jungkook walked after you. It was a mixture of defeat and bad luck, he couldn't believe his father had actually shown up to college, and on the day he was with you. He could have seen him with anyone but you.

It was only a few feet away, but they were extremely torturous feet.

As you approached, his father had his back turned, he seemed to be entertained by something he had seen in the courtyard. Delaying each moment, Jungkook cleared his throat slowly, drawing his attention.

“Dad.” Jungkook nodded.

“Oh.” Jun-Yeol turned away in a slightly more malleable mood. “Jungkook! There you are! Much more presentable.”

Quickly his father's arms wrapped him in a hug, startling him. He was expecting to receive a scolding, a scowl, even a curse, but his father, one of the most insensitive men he'd ever met, was hugging him.

He thought maybe he wanted to impress you, pretend he was a good father, but considering the situation he'd caught the two of them in, it didn't make sense to keep the polite line around you.

Then he thought he was being sarcastic and teasing him, as if he knew he couldn’t be rude with him in front of you.

Many theories circulated in his head while his father ceased the hug.

“I was waiting you’d return my phone calls with any kind of news, but since you didn’t call me back, I came to pick up the news in person.” Jun-Yeol said in a teasing tone.

Jungkook mentally scoffed. There he was, the nasty, sneaky figure of his father.

“I’ve been busy.” Jungkook replied monosyllabically.

His father let out a weak laugh as he regarded him with a certain degree of disdain. “I could see it. Very busy indeed.”

Two minutes in his presence and Jungkook already felt suffocated. A lot of sarcastic answers came to his mind, but he didn't want to cause an unnecessary misunderstanding at the very beginning of the conversation, especially with you being there.

“Dad, this is Y/N. A friend of mine.” He pointed at you, who maintained a calm expression.

“Friend? Is that what you young people call it these days?” His reply came quickly and in a disapproving tone. 

Jun-Yeol turned to greet you. Jungkook watched the scene with some surprise. You were a lot like his father when it came to not giving in. You were both very stubborn, so watching you maintain a confident expression in the face of the unyielding figure who was his father was charming.

“Y/N?” He wondered. His fingers were pointed up just like a true politician, his face was confident, and he wore a smug smile. “You’re not…”, he turned slightly to Jungkook. “What was her name again? Your other girlfriend? Seungi, Sungi?”

Instinctively, you parted your lips, your eyes were widened, and your vision met Jungkook’s. It was not your intention to demonstrate that the information somehow “shocked” you. All this time teasing him that Seulgi was his girlfriend, even though you didn’t really believe it, for his father to say it like it was the most well-known truth in the world.

These are the kind of things that made hard to believe the words that came out of Jungkook at his house the other day. But then again, you weren’t an idiot, clearly his father really likes to get under his son’s skin.

Not so suddenly, the air seemed to be sucked from Jungkook’s nostrils. His body stiffened; his posture straightened. How he hated this behavior, this kind of little game that his dad loved, he could have asked that later, of course he could, but he had this need to embarrass him.

Hesitantly and with an irritated face, Jungkook raised his voice just enough for his father to hear. “Seulgi. And she was not my girlfriend.”

“Of course.” He mocked. “Nice to meet you, Y/N.” 

Jun-Yeol subtly stole your left hand for himself and placed a quick kiss on your knuckles.

“Likewise, Sir.” You were quick to respond.

“Oh, don’t make me feel old. You can call me Jun-Yeol, please.” 

“Jun-Yeol.” You nodded, repeating the name on your lips, testing it.

He raised an eyebrow at his son. “Even more polite, beautiful. What a nice upgrade, son.”

An annoyed sigh escaped Jungkook's lips, and he glanced over his brow at you. You both exchanged a slight smile, and Jungkook was once again surprised by your coldness. You’d just been caught in a less than ideal situation for a college, the man in front of you had just “confused” you for Seulgi and was being a complete idiot, and you still stood your ground.

As soon as he let go of your hand, Jun-Yeol hurried on, not giving Jungkook room to end with that torture soon. “Anyway, I was here thinking about taking the two of you out for lunch.”

Jungkook scoffed to himself in disbelief. 

Immediately he turned to you, moving even closer to you. “Oh, I’m afraid Y/N has class now, right?”

Looking at you, Jungkook was met with a priceless reaction. You were still looked self-assured, but there was an indecision present in your next action, which caused your entire body to behave in a way he had never seen before. 

You could easily see that Jungkook hated being in the presence of his dad, he was so uncomfortable. Maybe if you were to accept that lunch, his dad wouldn’t have much chance to bother his son, at least not this time around. Wait, why do you even care?

Your eyes were still slightly wide from his father's mention of Seulgi, your lips pressed together tightly, your hands began to rub together anxiously, and the air you were breathing in felt heavy, so loud was the sound coming out of your nostrils.

You were undecided. Even late, you could still get into second class if you wanted to, but something about you showed that you were curious to find out more about his father and have lunch with the two of them together.

“I think it’s okay... I’m... already late. I can- can skip it.”

Lie. 

Why were you lying? You hated skipping classes, you'd talked about it before, seen it. Jungkook wanted to question you right there, but that would put even more pressure on you. He didn't need an answer, but he wanted one.

Before he could even persuade you to drop the idea, his father intervened.

“Marvelous. I'll be waiting for you two at that restaurant near your house, son.”

You smiled politely at his father.

His voice was so convincing, irritating, that Jungkook had to struggle not to roll his eyes right there in front of him.

Lately, God and all the celestial stars had been testing his patience. It wouldn’t be a lie if he said that since he’d crossed paths with you, his life had been extremely turmoil, and not always in a good way. 

It seemed that everything about you tormented him: you had met just about every important person in his life, his friends were now your friends, and all his thoughts had your name, your scent, your texture.

Jungkook pursed his lips, holding back every curse that came to mind.

He approached you, feeling defeated. “You don’t have to go.”

“You don’t want me to go?” You took a step forward with a smile.

“Well…” He rebuked. “You just saw it for yourself. Do you really. want to go through this?”

He really cared about your well-being, didn’t want you to spend too much time in his father’s company, hated the idea of you becoming intimate with him, it was dangerous, toxic. Even he couldn’t handle his father himself.

At those specific moments Jungkook missed his mother even more. He hadn’t met her, but he was sure his father would be a more tolerable person if she were still here. From the things he tells him, she was an amazing human being.

“He’s certainly something.” You said wryly, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Trust me, it will be over sooner than you think.”

Jungkook smiled as he watched your mock. You were so carefree he could barely remember why you were arguing ten minutes ago. 

That was your problem. You fought, had sex, then fought again, then got together, it was a vicious cycle, an unhealthy cycle, he was aware of that. Both of you were aware. It wasn’t supposed to get this complicated. 

He could say that he enjoyed it, but more and more he felt incapable, weak within this cycle. Seeing you there having fun was good, it made him feel light, made him believe that things in life could be good. However, when he remembered that you had “rejected” him, everything went gray, his mood brutally declined, it wasn’t supposed to be like this, it was just a rejection.

He was feeling a sense of anticipation, realization. 

It was weird, new, he had never been in love with anyone. Not that he was now. Well, he didn’t know how that feeling acted on the human body, didn’t even know if what he was feeling was love. He felt good when he was with you, and he hated to think that you most likely didn’t feel the same way. It was hard to decipher whatever was going through your mind.

And it wasn’t something to think about now.

“Shall we?” You said, already walking towards the parking lot.

Like an obedient servant, he followed you in silence, not daring to challenge you anymore.

The drive to the restaurant was smooth, calm, certainly different from the conversational tone he and you had been having a few minutes ago. When Jungkook parked in front of the place, his eyes caught the figure of his father seated at the first table of the restaurant, right at the entrance. He quickly turned away to look at you, who offered him a knowing smile.

Jungkook felt his breath hitch, his throat itched.

God, this was going to be the longest lunch of his life.

“Are there any topics I shouldn’t bring up?” You said as you walked to the table.

A wry laugh escaped his lips. “Don’t worry. He will speak for you.”

It was kinda cute that you were worried about what to say to his father, as if he wasn’t the most unpleasant person you’d ever met. In this you were certainly better than Seulgi. He remembered when his father had caught him in bed with her, under those very circumstances: invading his personal space without any fuss.

Slowly, he realized that this situation could have been much worse. He could have shown up at his house when you were there, or in the library. Heaven forbid, there were so many worst-case scenarios that Jungkook was starting to feel slightly better.

“Still driving at that slow pace, son?”

These were Jun-Yeol’s first words when he saw Jungkook coming to the table.

“Yep.” He responded by sitting up, ignoring the sarcasm.

He would be superior, he would not discuss useless things, he would not fall for his trials. On the brief walk to the table, he’d decided he’d be better than his father, at least once in his life. There was nothing that would take away his peace, nothing.

He could try to get him into an argument, but Jungkook was willing to win this lunch.

Sitting beside him, with you in front of him, Jungkook stretched out his legs to meet yours under the table. 

He saw you hold back a laugh and for a moment allowed himself to relax.

“I think we should already order. Has Jungkook brought you here before, Y/N?” Jun-Yeol’s eyes were fixed on the menu, and before you could even formulate a response, his voice dropped to cruelty. “Oh, no, I confused you with Seulgi again. My apologies.”

My God, this man is really a snake. Now you get why Jungkook told you before not to take anything his dad says personally.

Jungkook turned quickly to him, swallowing hard. “Dad.” 

He scolded him on the spot. However, his father's carefree expression didn’t reassure him about the rest of lunch. He didn’t know if his father was testing him or if it had been an unintentional slip-up.

“It’s okay.” You tilted your head slightly, your gaze flicking between Jungkook and his father. You cleared your throat, and continued with a smile that Jungkook could have sworn was one of the fakest he’d ever seen. “I’ve never been here, but I think this Caesar salad looks pretty good.”

Jun-Yeol choked in false surprise. “Oh, you even have good taste in food. How you got it right this time, Jungkook!”

A unison of laughter formed at the table and Jungkook couldn’t help but roll his eyes this time. 

It irritated him the way he spoke, as if he and Seulgi had been interacting for hours and he’d really gotten to know her. He’d seen her in bed with him, then had a quick breakfast in his kitchen, nothing more.

Yes, he knew you were infinitely better than Seulgi, it was obvious. You had everything, you were beautiful, intelligent, and appeared to be a much kinder human being. But all that mention of Seulgi, comparing them, made him more and more anxious.

Without even looking at his son, Jun-Yeol held up one of his hands, excitedly calling for a waiter to serve him.

“I’d like two Caesar salads, please. And…, Jungkook?”

“A burger, please.” His voice was as low as a breath.

Hearing a long, disappointed sigh from his father, Jungkook and you looked at each other.

Really? He can’t even choose a food without his father judging him.

You were biting your lips with a certain violence; your eyebrows were slightly arched. You looked so understanding there, your eyes seemed to sink into his thoughts, it was as if at any moment you could start to speak what was on his mind.

Once again, he saw how superior you were to him. You were dealing with all that bullshit a lot more resiliently than he was. You didn’t seem nervous, intimidated, much less bothered by his father’s conversation, although he imagined you were, you were just too good at hiding it.

You smoothed his leg with yours under the table, catching his attention again. “U okay?” You whispered, almost incomprehensible.

He nodded slightly at you. There was no reason to tell the truth at that moment.

“So, Y/N, what do you study?” Jun-Yeol called out, startling you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see that Jungkook had leaned back in his chair, wanting to ignore all the dialogue that was about to ensue.

“Classical Literature.” Your tone was so excited that you even looked surprised at yourself.

Jungkook smiled to see you speak so proudly.

“Oh, that’s amazing. It is definitely an interesting degree.”

“I love it! It kind of brings together all the things I like, literature, myths, and a little bit of teaching.” Your voice was strangely high-pitched.

“Teaching?” Jun-Yeol leaned across the table, showing interest. “Do you plan to be a teacher?”

At that moment, Jungkook leaned back slightly from his chair. It was a topic that even he wasn’t aware of, and for various reasons he still couldn’t explain to himself, he was interested in your future plans.

“I think so. I- I don’t know, I haven’t given it much thought, but it would be nice.”

Your eyes strayed to Jungkook, who was raising his eyebrows, just waiting for you to look at him.

“You would make a great teacher.” He confessed, smiling.

Your eyes narrowed as a smile filled almost the entire lower part of your face. You were genuinely happy for the compliment, and Jungkook was finding it quite a show to watch you happy. There you were, not the Y/N who had rejected him, who was playing games with him, you were just Y/N, a happy, beautiful, girl.

“Thank you…”

Before he could even relax into his chair again, another topic he also knew almost nothing about came up.

“And you were born here in Seoul?” Jun-Yeol amended.

Before answering him, you arched an eyebrow at Jungkook, making a point of showing that you had sensed his interest in the conversation. “No, I’m actually from Y/C/N.”

He watched, waiting for you to break eye contact first. Luckily for him, his father’s words caught your attention.

“Y/C/N.” He tested the word. “I heard it’s a great place to live too.”

By the end of that sentence, Jungkook couldn’t hold back the laughter that rose in his chest. It was as if he was considering whether that country would be a good place for his son to live with you.

It was pathetic, and funny.

The waiter interrupted you with a three-course tray, and Jungkook mentally thanked for the speed of the establishment. The faster you ate, the faster this torture would end, and he could walk away. He knew he would have to face his father at some point, as he always did, but at least you wouldn’t have to go through more shit.

“Did your parents move here too?” 

You choked, putting your cutlery down. Immediately, Jungkook looked at you, your eyes were slightly wide, your mouth was slightly open. For the first time since the moment this encounter had begun, you looked unsure.

He remembered that the last time you both “talked” about this subject, you had briefly mentioned that you hadn’t grown up with your parents. You had no reason for that topic to make you so nervous. Or at least that was what Jungkook thought.

These were the kind of conversations that you always avoided. There were really few people that you would open up to. It wasn’t like there was something to hide – although there was one thing that you didn’t tell Jungkook last time you talked about your family -, you just didn’t like sharing some of your personal matters.

You weren’t used to it and you had armed yourself for quite some time to avoid attaching to people, it wasn’t going to be easy for you to put your guard down and start spilling all your life to anyone.

Your loud breathing took over the table. “Ah, no... Ehr... I grew up in Seoul with my aunt, and my mother– she… stayed in Y/C/N.”

So far, the details Jungkook knew about your parents matched what you had told him. Nothing new. But he wanted to understand the reason for your nervousness, your face was serious, even your posture had stiffened.

“And your father?” Jun-Yeol continued his interrogation.

And that’s when he finally managed to understand.

You craned your neck, smiling nervously. “Ah… he died. I– I actually… didn’t meet him.”

Jungkook wished he had better disguised his reaction when he finished listening to the words that came out of your mouth. He was feeling, somehow, betrayed. He knew it was a selfish feeling to feel, that it wasn’t his right to feel this way, but a strange sense of bitterness filled him.

This wasn’t the way he’d expected to know this sort of thing, you could have talked it over with him, or at least mentioned it. Did you not trust him enough to open up about this topic?

He never wanted to go into details about his mother because he didn’t feel comfortable, but in the few moments when the subject came up, his body practically begged him to open up. It was a sense of urgency that always felt right, like you were the right person to listen to him.

The fact that you had never commented anything about your father, not a single mention, made him feel uncomfortable, insufficient. He expected you to feel like he did, tempted to open up, to be vulnerable, but you, on the contrary, never showed any kind of weakness in the matter. You were so good hiding your feelings. He never suspected that one of your parents had died.

That topic was, most likely, the most common thing you both had together. The frailty, growing up without a father/mother figure, all the agony during the commemorative dates, you could have shared so much together. You could have spent hours talking about it, helping each other, healing each other. 

God, how betrayed he felt. Even when it was selfish of him to expect for you to open up to something this deep for you, he couldn’t help to feel once again that he wasn’t enough. Ugh, the insecurities were playing with his mind.

Jungkook forced himself to swallow the bite of snack stuck in his mouth. He needed to force himself to look away, to act casual, but he just couldn’t. His body was restless in the chair, and the noise his movements made practically announced his discomfort.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” His father said casually. “You’re just like Jungkook, but with his mother, of course.”

Immediately, Jungkook thought he was in hell, he just hadn’t been formally warned of it.

You remained silent but your eyes were restless. They couldn’t keep their focus on one thing, wavering between his father, the salad in front of you, and him. You looked at him with compassion, as if he were a stray dog, it was a terribly disturbing look to him.

He hated to think that you were feeling sorry for him.

“Haerin was an amazing woman, she would have loved to meet you.” Jun-Yeol continued.

“Can we not talk about this?��� His voice came out loud, startling the man beside him.

Jun-Yeol chuckled weakly, his self-centered posture did not allow him to face his son. Instead, he leaned his elbows on the table, and bent his head to get closer to you. “Well, truth be told, she’d love to receive you at home with a big lunch or dinner. And the two of you would definitely talk about literature, she loved to read.”

A loud scoff escaped Jungkook’s lips. He looked up at his father. “Please.”

You swallowed hard watching the scene. It was one of the first times you’d seen Jungkook say a “please” so pleadingly and not just out of politeness. You saw his jaw clench, and his fingers tightened even further on the snack in his hand.

“What’s the matter, Jungkook? People die, we get over it and we keep living with it.” His father snapped back angrily.

Keep living with it? Sounds quite insensitive for me.

You curled up in your chair, were about to witness a real fight between Jeon Jungkook and his father. It wasn’t something you were expecting to happen, but it was definitely something you were curious about.

“I’m begging you.” One of Jungkook’s fists hit the table almost unintentionally.

Jun-Yeol leaned back in his chair, slovenly. “Okay, that’s fine. But don’t pretend you are respecting her memory.” His tone was assured, utterly provocative. “Or what? Do you think she’s proud of you now? The way you’ve been acting?”

An inaudible “oh” escaped your lips as your eyes widened.

This is so fucked up.

Jungkook stood up abruptly, pushing the chair away. “That’s enough.”

His body stiffened, his posture was painfully straight, and his fists were clenched. You stared at him scared and could have sworn that if that wasn’t his own father, they would be grappling on the floor.

It was a Jungkook you’d never seen, not even when he’d quarreled with Jimin. The vein in his neck was standing out, flashy, and you could see the effort it was taking for him to rebel against his father.

“Jungkook, sit down.” Jun-Yeol said slowly, not as a threat, but as an order.

You saw his body bow slightly, as if Jun-Yeol’s words had real control over his actions. Jungkook’s face contorted in something akin to pain. He was trying hard not to sit down.

He gasped loudly and finally snapped out of that kind of trance that had left him almost paralyzed. His feet moved off the table, and his eyes searched desperately for your figure.

“Shall we? I can take you home now.” 

You knew it wasn’t a suggestion; it was a plea.

Again, your eyes darted frantically to the two men in front of you. Jun-Yeol kept a calm expression, as if he knew he was bothering his son, that he was in control of the situation; and Jungkook had his brows arched, practically kneeling for you to get up and follow him.

You choked, dropping the silverware next to the rest of your salad. In your mind your movements had been faster, but it took you a long time to get to your feet and finally nod at Jungkook’s request.

“I’ll see you at your home. And it was a pleasure to meet you, Y/N.” Jun-Yeol’s voice echoed in the back of his mind.

Jungkook saw your lips tighten in an attempt to answer a simple “likewise”, but no sound came out. So, you simply nodded at him with a small smile on your lips.

When his feet finally stepped outside the restaurant, Jungkook allowed himself to take a deep breath without guilt for the first time since meeting his father. He could hear your hurried footsteps beside him as you tried to keep up with him.

“I can take you to eat somewhere else if you’re still hungry.” He said low.

“I’m fine.”

He didn’t dare look at you. He was feeling embarrassed after that “scene” with his father.

When he got into the car, his hands were shaking, and his feet took a while to grip the pedals. His breathing was loud, and to his unhappiness, you were completely silent, making the sounds of his nervous body stand out even more.

“Are you okay?” You finally spoke, your voice now music to his ears.

He avoided answering you. He was far from “okay”, and he was sure his voice would fail the moment he decided to start talking. The silence lasted a long time, but not long enough to reach your apartment.

“Jungkook,” You placed one of your hands just above his knee.

His body stiffened and he cursed himself for it, because you sure as hell had noticed. The air seemed to have been sucked out of his breath. You wanted him to look at you, you weren’t going to continue your sentence if he didn’t look at you, but still he kept his eyes fixed on the street in front of you.

When he parked in front of your building, he didn’t wait for you to say goodbye. Immediately, he got out of the car, seeing you get slightly confused.

You got out of the car and looked at him smiling. “What are you doing?”

“Taking you home.” His answer came out humorously.

Amazing how your presence alone did him good, even with all the arguments you had, you had this power to bring out the best in him. He was still a nervous wreck over his father, but a little time alone with you already made him light, light in a way that even worried him.

“You don’t have to.” You laughed, heading towards him.

“I insist.”

The elevator ride to your floor was complete silence. Leaning against opposite walls, you faced each other, competing for who had the worst grin on their face. Being in such a small, closed cubicle with you was a nightmare for Jungkook. The scent of your perfume filled the entire space, and he felt even more helpless around you.

As the doors opened on the seventh floor, he mentally thanked God.

“Seventy six?” He took a chance.

“Seven.” You teased. “Did you come all this way just to find out which apartment I live in?”

You approached the door but made no move to open it. You leaned against the doorframe, pursing your lips while staring at him. You stared at each other for a long time in silence, as if talking mentally. Your face showed resilience while his showed a mixture of confusion and regret.

Jungkook braced a hand against the door. “I’m so sorry.” His voice came out weak, not as confident as he wished.

What is he apologizing for?

You opened your mouth in mild astonishment. “You are not your father, Jungkook. You don’t need to apologize to me.”

“No, it’s not just about that.” He promptly replied, almost interrupting you. “Earlier, I was not– I…– that wasn’t very manly of me.”

He was referring to the scene before his father interrupted you in college.

A little scoff escaped your lips. You didn’t seem to believe he was apologizing for that.

“It was a line we crossed together. I kissed you back, didn’t I?” You had a smug little smile on your face, your head tilted slightly next to his outstretched arm.

Always superior to him.

Jungkook let out a long weary sigh. He was feeling more and more lost about you, his head hurt just thinking about getting home and talking to his father, college seemed interminable, and he felt more distant from his friends, he was living a horrible period.

“I hope you know you are better than the things he says.” You said softly.

“Am I?” His face came slightly closer to yours.

When he saw you nod, he couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corner of his lips.

Might be the first time he hears a compliment coming out of your mouth and he’s enjoying it so much. His body was still for a while, his eyes studying your face. You were really one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, and he couldn’t tell if it was just your looks, or if your mature demeanor influenced that view.

More and more he understood you less, he thought that with time he would be able to decipher you, read you, but things became more confused, nebulous. You had said you were with him for the sex, but all your kindness with him at times when you didn't need to be kind left him questioning whether or not you cared for him.

One thing he had realized, had been almost forced to realize: he liked you.

He felt good with you, craved your company. In college he looked for your face, even if it was just for you to curse at him; at home he missed the way you just fit into his bed; parties had lost interest because he wasn't looking for someone anymore, he kind of already had someone.

“Jungkook–” Your voice woke him.

“You’re not gonna invite me in?” He cut you, roughly.

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⏤ author's note❧ FYI, the "Y/C/N acronym stands for 'Your Country Name'. Long chapter once again! 😄 Sorry for making you wait for updates guys, I really want to make this story worthy so I might take some more time to write the next few chapters in order to do that so. Please, don't hesitate on leaving your feedback, reblog, send me asks, whatever you'd like. I absolute love reading your comments 💜🥰

⏤ tag list❧ @chimsworldsstuff @erica2283 @ahgasegotarmy116 @whoa-jo

[headlinxr]

𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 ─── 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠-𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧, 𝐤𝐢𝐦 𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐨

SYNOPSIS  !  In Sung-hoon's eyes, you are not just a mortal. In you he finds a mirror that reflects not only the horrors of his own nature, but also the possibility of something more, something that had discarded as an illusion lost in the sands of time: Hope. To Sunoo, however, you are a toy, a pawn on his chessboard of chaos. He sees you as a spark that could be extinguished with a simple gesture.

But his carelessness is a mistake, for even he to feel the impact of your presence. In you he senses a discordance that threatens to fracture his indiference, a crack that hints at questions he, until now, had refused to ask: What remains of the soul when everything else is lost?

GENRE. vampires, non idol! au, sung-hoon and sunol are brothers, reader is a maid. brother vs brother, f!reader.

WARNINGS. this is a bit experimental.

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

In the heart of a world where night is not merely the absence of light, but a sovereign empire that consumes time and reason, stands a castle that seems to tear apart the veils of eternity. Its silhouette is a perpetual shadow, a cathedral to the void whose towers rise like the hands of a penitent crying out to the sky, aware that their plea will fall into the abyss of silence. Each stone of its walls, worn by the weight of centuries, bears the memory of primordial pain, like scars that whisper laments to the immortal winds. It is not a dwelling, but a mausoleum erected to guard torn souls, a sanctuary dedicated to hopelessness where eternity itself seems to have found its reflection.

In the heart of this gloomy domain dwells Sung-hoon, prince of the vampires, son of the eternal tyrant Dracula. Like a Prometheus chained to the rocks of his own immortality, he observes his existence with the melancholy of one who examines ashes that refuse to cool. In his eyes, dark as the abysses that separate man from God, burns a fire that does not illuminate but consumes. It is the reflection of an extinguished humanity, a vestige that struggles not to fade under the overwhelming weight of its own eternity.

Sung-hoon is not simply an heir; he is a martyr of a lineage that drinks from life to prolong its curse. Immortality, far from being a divine gift, presents itself to him as a spiritual desert, where each moment is a question thrown into the void. His existence is a perpetual dilemma, a crossroads between the duty to perpetuate the darkness and the yearning to break the chains that bind him to his father's legacy. He is a modern Lucifer, exiled not for rebellion, but for the cruel irony of a will that was never his.

In contrast, his younger brother, Sunoo, seems to inhabit the same eternity with the insolence of one who has made peace with the void. If Sung-hoon is the penitent seeking redemption in a desert of doubts, Sunoo is the jubilant Cain, the libertine who has embraced his condemnation as a dance in the shadows. For him, immortality is an endless feast, an ocean of pleasures and chaos where he sails without fear of shipwrecks. He does not seek purpose, for he finds it in every shadow, in every scream stifled by the night. He is a Faust who has sealed his pact with darkness and, instead of fearing it, has turned it into his canvas.

However, the brothers are nothing more than two sides of the same cursed coin. They share the same fate, the same condemnation: an eternity that strips meaning from everything they touch. Sung-hoon, consumed by the flames of his introspection, and Sunoo, immersed in the vertigo of his hedonism, embody the extremes of an endless existence: the fruitless search for meaning versus the acceptance of absolute emptiness.

In this duel of opposites, an unexpected figure emerges: You, a maid whose humanity becomes a beacon that defies the gloom. Your presence should be irrelevant, like a speck of dust in a cosmos governed by immutable hierarchies and bloodlines. But, against all logic, your mere existence unleashes storms in the hearts of the immortals. Your steps, light as whispers, and your gaze, as serene as a calm lake, burst into the fabric of eternity like an anomaly, a crack in the impenetrable wall of immortality.

In Sung-hoon's eyes, you are not simply a mortal. In you, he finds a mirror that reflects not only the horrors of his own nature but also the possibility of something more, something he had dismissed as an illusion lost in the sands of time: hope. Your humanity, far from being a weakness, is an impregnable stronghold that awakens in him desires more dangerous than the thirst for blood: The longing to regain a humanity he believed lost.

For Sunoo, on the other hand, you are a toy, a pawn on his board of chaos. He sees you as a spark that could be extinguished with a simple gesture. But his carelessness is a mistake, for even he begins to feel the impact of your presence. In you, he perceives a discord that threatens to fracture his indifference, a crack that hints at questions he had until now refused to ask: What remains of the soul when everything else has been lost?

While Sung-hoon and Sunoo grapple with their own desires and the rivalry that consumes them, the castle itself seems to come to life. This bastion of shadows, cathedral to oblivion, becomes another character, watching with its cracked walls as a tragedy unfolds that could change the rules of the universe. The stones, silent witnesses of countless lives consumed, resonate with a tension that even eternity cannot contain.

Sung-hoon, the tormented prince; Sunoo, the rebel dancing in chaos; and you, the spark that threatens to ignite everything, become figures of a dark poem, a tale that explores not only the limits of immortality but also the mysteries of humanity itself. And so, in a world where light and shadow intertwine in an eternal embrace, the presence of a mere mortal becomes the flame that could challenge even the oldest darkness.

The tension between Sung-hoon and Sunoo reaches its peak on a night when the moon, usually distant and serene, is tinged with an apocalyptic red, as if the very sky were weeping blood before the imminent fracture. The air in the castle is dense, laden with a silence that is not the absence of sound, but the suffocating presence of unspoken words, of secrets that sink their claws into eternity.

At the top of a worn marble staircase, Sunoo stands as an unyielding judge, his figure bathed in the flickering glow of a torch that casts erratic shadows on his stony face. —Love is a fallacy, Sung-hoon— he declares, his voice as cold as the edge of a scythe. —It is the opium of mortals, a refuge for those who cannot bear the void. We, who are eternal, do not need such illusions.—

From below, Sung-hoon watches him with a mix of weariness and defiance. His posture seems that of a man closer to the dust than to the heavens, but his eyes burn with an intensity that belies his apparent fragility. —The void is not an enemy, Sunoo— he replies, his voice resonating with a dangerous calm. —It's a teacher. And love, far from being a deception, is the only act that defies time and death. It is not weakness, it is the flame that can ignite even the ruins of our soul.—

Sung-hoon's words pierce through the columns like an ancient echo, as if awakening dormant memories in the very stones, silent witnesses of centuries of tragedies and betrayals.

From the shadows of a Gothic arch, you advance with a serenity that belies the tempest around you. Your mere presence seems to disrupt the gravity of the moment, like a lightning bolt illuminating the chaos only to reveal its magnitude. —They are both wrong— you declare, your voice as firm as the tolling of a bell. —Love is neither a refuge nor a redemption. It's a test. And like all tests, it doesn't promise answers, only deeper questions.—

You fix your eyes first on Sunoo, whose mask of indifference begins to crack under the weight of his gaze. —I'm not a pawn on your board, Sunoo. I am not here to confirm your truths or to reinforce your chains. I am free, and my freedom terrifies you because it challenges your control.—

Then, your attention turns to Sung-hoon, and although his gaze is softer, it is no less incisive. —You, Sung-hoon, cannot seek in me a salvation that I do not possess. If you love me, let it be for who I am, not for what you expect me to represent.—

The frankness of your words strikes the two brothers like a lightning bolt. Sunoo, always the architect of order, feels something within himself give way, like a dam that can no longer hold back the waters of a dark and deep ocean. —Love is a prison— he finally murmurs, his voice muted like a condemned whisper. —And I have sworn not to be a prisoner of anyone, not even of myself.—

But even as he utters these words, something within him falters. You have sown doubt in him, a crack of vulnerability that forces him to confront the possibility that, in his rejection of love, he has built an even more oppressive cage than the one he feared.

Sung-hoon, for his part, finds in your words a strange form of comfort. He does not seek in you an idol or divine salvation, but an echo of humanity that connects him with what he thought was lost. —If love is a test— he says, his voice laden with a determination that transcends despair, —then I choose to face it with you, expecting no reward other than the privilege of walking by your side.—

You smile, but your smile is neither that of a conquered maiden nor that of a redeeming angel. It is an ancient smile, laden with wisdom and melancholy, as if you contained the sum of all the love stories that ever existed. ─Then walk with me, Sung-hoon— you answer. —But remember that on this path there are no promises, only choices. And each choice carries a shadow with it.—

The scene dissolves into a silence that is not empty, but full. Sunoo, defeated but not humiliated, retreats into the shadows, his figure enveloped in a twilight that embraces him like a mantle. His footsteps echo on the stone like a requiem for a life of certainties now eroded.

Sung-hoon and you remain in the foyer, as the first light of dawn timidly penetrates through the stained glass windows. The light neither burns them nor redeems them; it simply envelops them, like a reminder that even in immortality, each new day brings with it the possibility of choice.

The castle, a witness to centuries of intrigue and suffering, seems to breathe, as if eternity itself had suspended its judgment.

In this story, there are no absolutions, no closed endings. Just one eternal question, hanging like a sword over their heads:

Can love, with its fragility and its strength, redeem even the immortals? Or is it simply a mirage, a flame that flickers briefly before being extinguished by the wind of time?

You, Sung-hoon, and Sunoo follow divergent paths, but the threads of their story remain intertwined. In their choices, in their doubts, not only the weight of immortality is revealed, but also the irreducible spark of humanity, which persists even in the face of the abyss.

[everything-laito]

Would Laito be considered a Libertine?

I want to start off that the simple contemporary definition would describe Laito, but the real application of a Libertine is more part of counter-culture and actively going against certain religious/sexual morals (it was originally coined to describe opponents of religion and establishment and then in the 18th/19th century it was associated with sexual freedom but then it evolved further into full rejection of "moral restraints"). Laito's not seeking to break sexual stigmas or religious thinking associated with sex nor are his amoral acts are from a place of belief that "men should be like this towards women" (more on that later).

Basically, the term itself is so fucking complicated and has changed so so much throughout history and I would love to do a deep dive into it, but this paper is pretty interesting and does it already so I'm linking it instead. CW for out the wazoo misogyny for most of it.

From the simple contemporary dictionary definition: Religiously? Absolutely. Sexually? Absolutely, but with an asterisk.

I do want to make a footnote: similar to how he REALLY wants to be viewed as a pervert, I feel like if he learned what a libertine is he would absolutely be using that word to describe himself lmaooooo

But I also want to mention that he doesn't seem to have any guilt about treating women amorally, it's more so about him convincing himself that he himself is sexually amoral or a pervert because that's what is expected of him (paradoxically he's creating the expectations of others for himself). He's not taking part in any philosophical revolution or think-tank, so I wouldn't actually consider him Libertine.

It's like a teenager learning about different philosophical outlooks in school and choosing the one that sounds the coolest or the most different to embody even if it doesn't 100% align with themselves. bro's all about how people perceive of him, and it's just about him and not necessarily changing the current zeitgeist.

Thanks for asking, anon!

Also when I looked up the word to just double check I knew the definition, holy shit google's synonyms

bro I have not heard of most of those words before in the bottom row that's crazy (or even some of the ones in the top row)

@nam00n wake up babe i got new english words for you