#so sorry for the big wall of text

[melodicmoonbeams]

SAY IT LOUDER FOR THE PEOPLE IN THE BACK.

Hi, LGBTQIA+ female from SC, and y'all it is so much more accepting than people realize. I'm in a suburban town about 15 minutes from the edges of one of the largest cities in the state. Yeah, we still have some stereotypes that have some truth to them, but it's really just the older generations that are still being this way. Most of the classmates that were in my social circle either came out in some way in late middle/ early high school, or have almost fully transitioned in recent years. I came out as bi when I was 13. One manager I work with I am fairly certain is bi as well. Another made an open (non offensive) joke about going poly with his wife. Both are men like 10 years older than me. One coworker is quite open about her girlfriend. I wear pride earrings to work and get compliments on them from customers and coworkers alike. I wore these amazing rainbow dangle earrings while out in public and the staff at my favorite lunch spot adored them.

It's really just the dying elitist older generations that were raised upon the fearmongering put in place by those before them. It's the massive voice the vocal minority have been given through our shady, profiting governments while the common folk scramble to make a life out of what's left.

And you're absolutely right. I get so many people from so many walks of life through work, from the shifty, ragtag menagerie on the overnights, to the Latino construction workers coming in from the heat to warm up their lunch and get some drinks. I get uppity Karens who can't be bothered to look up from their phones with the heaviest application of makeup known to man and lovely African American ladies who greet me with such warmth it's as if I'm their own kid. I get the creepy old entitled white boomer men who make snide comments they think are jokes about my volume so people can hear me during rush period, or go on about how I should smile more because it's so pretty. But I also get the nice mail lady who almost always gets a Calypso and I get to ask about her garden and gave me tea bags when I lost my voice, and I get the regulars that I don't need to see their names pop up to know who it is when their food order comes in.

Most of us just live like regular ol' people. We go by each day, trying to make the best of things. But at the very same time I can see the tragedy of it all. The town/city I live in doesn't have the proper infrastructure in place to handle all of the influx of people. Rent is abysmally high. I watch as the same middle school I was at 6 years ago that was fairly decent turn into downright shit as all but a handful of teachers that I knew up and left because of the work conditions. And yes, I still see conservative bigots. I can pass by two houses next to each other with one having a pride flag and the other having a Trump 2024 flag. It is definitely still a problem down here, but popularized media does not fully accurately display what it's actually like.

You know what? Destroy the "people in rural areas are all ignorant conservatives" stereotype and start mocking the "trad"/anti-feminist/neonazi people that are obsessed with rural areas despite having never been to one

[dervampireprince]

there was a little interest in me sharing my writing drabbles and ideas about lucien (my visiting king oc) and lysander (my villain oc) as a couple so here's all the things i shared in my discord last week (how was it only last week, it feels like forever ago).

[18+ only, minors dni]

note: lucien and lysander are both trans men with bottom and top surgery

i tried to format this in a way that's readable. it's a mix of different little scenarios including my entire summary of their plot of how they'd meet and get together. i had no idea how to format thisss.

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the message that started it all: peaking in from my uhh 3 hours of drawing as i attempt to make a design for the villain and keep hating what im drawing and scrapping the design and starting again to say hey. you know who'd treat him right? the visiting king

i thought about it as a joke but um. i dont think its a joke anymore.

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

What if I shipped them:

Villain submitting looks like him crying, head throne back, sobbing, the king gently and slowly breaking him down, praising him, cradling him

King submitting looks like him on his knees, begging as the villain’s boot presses down onto his cock, begging to be touched however the villain sees fit, villain telling him how useful he is being 

Luce: I missed you. Ly: I was only gone for a week. Luce: Even an hour without your presence feels like a lifetime [kisses his hand]. Ly: [internally: what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck] [blushing profusely]

Lysander crying the first time Lucien fucks him because he’s being so gentle, works him open so slowly, tells him how beautiful he is, “Oh Zander,” Lucien coos when he’s finally seated inside him, Lysander embarrassed at how emotional he is, but Lucien pulls his hands from his face, kisses his them, tells him he’s perfect.

Lysander leaving Lucien with a cock ring on while he’s away.

Lucien is on his knees, ring around his straining cock. His moans are muffled, his hair tugged back and forth, as Lysander fucks his face. When Lysander pulls his cock out, Lucien begs. “Please Zander, please let me fuck you.” “Hmm,” Lysander pretends to think about it while Lucien keeps babbling, pleading over and over. “And what if I want to fuck you?” “Anything,” Lucien doesn’t even blink. “As long as my skin gets to touch yours, please, give me anything.” And what really can Lysander do with that other than have Lucien bent over the bed, fucking into him over and over, every time he gets close… he stops. He edges himself inside Lucien’s hole, all the while Lucien is unable to come from the ring around his cock. Once Lucien is relaxed and out of his mind enough to stop begging, to just take whatever Lysander gives him, to stop thinking, that’s when Lysander will let him come.

okay so how i see it happening.

lucien somehow finds out about what's going on in lysander's city and wants to help. they start meeting each other. lysander does not trust him, doesn't want to trust him, because he's never been able to put any trust or faith in a nobility or royalty or higher ups. but lucien just seems so... nice. good. and that can't be right, no one can be that nice without something to gain, without some agenda.

but time passes. lucien is really just that nice. and he sees good in lysander. and lysander knows what he's doing isn't wrong, he believes what he's doing is right, but he also doesn't really believe he's a good person. and lucien tells him he is. and that annoys him because it makes him *feel*.

and lucien ends up helping too much. or doing something to help lysander's people that makes lysander feel inept. who does lucien think he is, swooping in with his riches and power. doing things for them lysander couldn't because he didn't have the money. and maybe lysander takes it as lucien trying to make him feel small and poor, but that isn't how lucien meant it. and lysander knows that deep down. but it's easier to get angry at lucien than accept that it's okay if he wants or needs this man's help. so he gets angry at lucien.

and lysander know's he's wrong for blowing up at him. for pushing him away. and after an amount of time of feeling sorry for himself, he goes to see lucien. shows up on his doorstep and apologies. and lucien just accepts it. this stupid fucking kind man just accepts it, says he understands, *he* apologies for overstepping, that he should have consulted lysander, doesn't want to cross any boundaries, tells lysander he's doing a good job and that wall inside lysander just comes crumbling down.

lysander stays the night, in his own room lucien has set aside. and in the morning lucien invites him for breakfast. and then on a walk, touring his gardens. and lysander asks what the fuck all of this is. and lucien says he just wants to help, but admits to having one ulterior  motive. and lysander thinks finally he's got him but the lucien says "i wanted an excuse to keep seeing you".

lysander calls him a stupid man. blusters and tries to act like he doesn't understand what lucien is getting at, but he does. and lucien just stands there patiently, until lysander has finished ranting, and then asks lysander if he can court him. if he can kiss him.

and lysander says yes.

Lysander telling Lucien to stop fucking him like he’s gonna break. Lucien says he’s not into causing pain. But Lysander’s not asking for pain, he’s just asking if Lucien ever wants to just pound into him. It takes some convincing that he’s allowed too (Lucien is worried he’s too big and could too easily hurt someone) but Lysander assures him that he wants to be fucked hard.

[dustmint]

Haven't posted anything here in a good while, but!! I made a lodger oc :D

They're a florageneticist, and are looking for ways to mix in human dna with the one from plants to make them both coexist in one single body, while making sure that they stay alive through the process. They come from a species I made called flowerpeople and have flowers growing in their own body! In case some aren't recognizable, their flowers are: Foxglove, Mint, Chamomile, Lemon Balm and Lily of the valley

They're a bit distrustful towards other lodgers (and people in general) and tend to lurk, but they're pretty clingy towards the lodgers that they do trust. They're very averse to touch, specially touch on their hair, since it's pretty sensitive because that's where most of their flowers are, and they probably dislike a few people for having made comments about their hair or having touched them without warning

They also tend to idolize and feel intimidated by old people, so they're a bit terrified of Maijabi and Cantilupe, despite them not having done anything to them. They also idolize Henry in a way, they're incredibly grateful for him having invited them to The Society, and they may or may not be often knocking on his door to show him some of their experiments when they eventually get more comfortable in The Society

[brodorokihousuke]

Had to think slightly about Apollo's bracelet for my fic and realized a few things.

So, we know that it's some sort of super epic alloy that contracts (?) in response to body heat, or heat in general. This makes the bracelet constantly flush with his arm, so he can notice himself getting tense, and therefore... perceive stuff.

The problem there is, alright, if it's constantly tight against his arm, can Apollo even take the thing off? Metal can expand and contract, sure, but certainly not quick enough to loosen it on demand. And if the metal was elastic enough to do so, somehow, it would constantly be getting squished and deformed, if not just falling off entirely. Does he have to cool it to get it off, if that would even work?

We know from the one photo of younger him that the bracelet was loose at some point, so was he able to casually (?) take it off for a time before, suddenly, he couldn't? How does he even feel about that?

On top of all of that! So, the bracelet's only function is to make it obvious when he's tense. If he were to lose the bracelet and/or have it taken from him, couldn't he just, I don't know, put anything else that's tight against his wrist on? Another completely different tight bracelet? Some silly bandz? It would work, theoretically, right?

Some footnotes under the cut.

I'm going to ignore the fact that Filch took Apollo's bracelet during The Monstrous Turnabout, as 1. that shouldn't have really been possible with what we know and 2. I refuse to believe Apollo did not notice something that is constantly, very firmly on his wrist vanish.

I'm also assuming that the bracelets have no inherent effect on Apollo's ability, i.e. his ability is, to summarize, just to tense up when he senses someone giving a nervous tell.

[maliciousalice]

@thresholdbb omg tumblr ate your ask but thankyou for asking!!!!

👕Character whose fashion you like.

Phoar! Startrek really isn't a show I associate with being fashionable. It's very camp isn't it? In theory a lot of the wardrobe is really cool and they wanted to gain that retro-future aesthetic. Did it work? I'm not sure. However it does make a statement. The Startrek aesthetic is really recognizable and that's important! I think that's where modern trek kind of looses the plot. It's not as careful about the unique visual design as a whole anymore and as a result it doesn't settle in our minds. Is it bad artistry? No but it's not as stringent. What I mean by that is older trek cared about nuance. For example every haircut was done the same way on men, or suits were tailored in a way to look sleek but practical (they weren't). Gaudy patterns were important to denote things like status. It looks ugly on the outside but when you're watching the show it envelops you and makes you feel welcomed into the universe.

I digress.

To answer this, the most fashionable character, hands down, is Quark! That mfer always looks good, and has the finest drip in the galaxy. Love that.

🥲 ST moment that makes you cry.

There are two moments that make me particularly sad. Kate's acting in the climax of Resistance is incredible. I read somewhere she had a special-wink-wink- relationship with the Director in the early seasons and she was being tested by this episode in some regard. I think it paid off. I treasure any time her captain-hood is removed, and the extreme vulnerability of Janeway is on display-MWAH MWAH poignant. This episode is beautifully intimate, particularly this scene. It's overall gorgeous and unique in how she whispers to him, as if there is nothing more important than to secure his peace of mind as he dies, and it's heart rending when it ends with her just crouching there, emotionally alone. I love how Janeway is forced into the father-daughter dynamic between her and Caylem, one that she would ordinarily resist (heh themes) because I think it inherently weakens her status. The back and forth throughout the episode of them taking care of each other's welfare is so it's terribly sad when it's torn down and we discover the truth behind Caylem's family. If you've dug around her character you know that her Admiral-Father has had impact on her life. She's haunted by him in both a figurative way by being a Captain, and literal sense later on in Coda. Much like Caylem, she looses her father in a violent manner that she has to carry around while she forges ahead. It also reflects well on Kate's relationship with her actual father, she recently revealed that she was never able to get him on her page, but in spite that she adore him with all her might. So a scene like this is really revealing-I believe she was able to draw upon those feelings and that's kinda neat to be so raw as an actor. SIGH.

This one just straight up made me cry fr because Prodigy s1 is a really mature, well done piece of (Startrek) media. Holo Janeway has an irony about it where in the end she is program designed to be a teacher, and she didn't expect to develop a strong bond with the crew. Her final moments are of displaying a huge amount of selflessness and courage to help the kids get out of trouble, similarly to how Janeway would approach dire circumstances. The music swelling and the ship activating is just OOOOF!!! I love how it parallels Dal's initiation of the first Protojump in a Moral Star. By that means It suggests how proud she is to get to do this for them. As a character she is really interesting to think about, in a way I can't entirely articulate. A lot of her moments are quite sad in general, she has to keep an active role so she isn't ignored, and help where help is needed, but at the same time she has constraints, one being that she manipulated by the antagonists. And In contrast to that, the kids do their best to help her feel like she is important and more than a command program to be used insincerely. She grew to love the Protostar crew, that's evident in her body language in this scene. She has a lot of depth overall. Equal to the real Janeway she deeply feels love, guilt and pain, but importantly she is transformed by the her time on the Protostar and while active, learns and grows with Dal, Rok-tak, Zero, Jankom and Gwyn. It's REALLY sweet that they care all care about each other.

I love her and I love JANEWAY!!!!

🥹 Favourite behind the scenes picture.

Ooooh I love all behind the scenes stuff. My brother in Christ It's super difficult to just name one thing and I'm very greedy!! I wish we had more BTS content for Voyager but sadly, it's a matter of grab what you can, however you can. Anyway, I have an inherent interest in seeing the cogs behind the wheel. I chose these samples because I think they're charming.

The continuity polaroid's are so fun and a lost technique, I like to think about assistants having to pull the actors aside and asking them to take those. How daunting! Kate's grin in the one where she is offset is SO cute. So she must have been in a good mood, super Cheeky!

Following that is a screenshot from a video of her having her makeup done. A rare catch. I like this because she often sooks about how much time hair and makeup was spent on her to become Captain Janeway. I get it's a huge time-sink, but love or hate it, the full irony is that her early season appearance is really iconic and in it's own right adds to Captain Janeway's sensibility. Silly goose Kate! Besides that, she looks hot checking herself out, haha.

Moreover, I love on-set editorial photos of actors in costume. While we did have heaps of them in the Starfleet uniform, I wish we had a larger collection with clearer releases, it would have given an opportunity to see in things of interest better detail. Particularly the lower half of unique costumes. For whatever reason special outfits weren't often established or framed for us to see the legs in the show, so a nice big photograph would have solved that. Also I love that these style of pictures capture an impression of an episode without giving it away.

Similarly, fly on the wall on-set photos are cool. They're way more intimate and candid than anything else and it makes me feel as though I am spying on the actors, but they're also a good way to document how things might have been on set.

The Timeless one is interesting too because it's of a deleted scene, we never see Chakotay look at a dead Janeway (how deliciously macabre!), but at some point in time it was in the script and they filmed it.

Hmm this bts picture of Janeway in the Cardigan is adorable! I believe it was worn by Kate for a Charity but look how cute she looks? Makes me wish we saw her mess around with things like that more because 7 Years is a long ass time to be in uniform everyday ( coming from someone who went to school in a Uniform and enjoyed it for the most part). Casual Fridays anyone?

I love this gif. It's from the first shoots of Caretaker and Kate looks so radiant! Her smile is is breathtaking! Whenever I see this gif I get a sense of delight. Poor thing had no idea what she was getting herself into, haha. Really though, check out the original Caretaker photos, they're super-cool. The history behind it is fascinating; I'd love to see more footage from that version of the pilot episode. Unfortunately, it's probably not preserved well, much like lots of Paramount's historical material.

On a similar trend, it's fun to see this set of pictures too. It's for the First Contact film / maybe the Universal studios ride, when she reprised her role as Vice AdmiralJaneway. Kate was genuinely delighted to do this cameo and it shows. As per her operandum she put her whole self into this small segment and that's so darling. It makes me wish we had more of this Janeway at that point in time. I love post Endgame chubby-Janeway. In a fictional sense it denotes that she is comfortable or stressed to be an Admiral (sadly it's the latter in real life) or whatever and I love that for her.

These kind of pictures are fun because it's been said that at times it was the most playful set to be on. There are tales that the cast were not that serious all the time. You get that impression here, and it's probably why the majority of them are still good friends to this day. They're like a family bros!!! Having worked in media I know that wrapping up after working on something for a long time is really rewarding and I bet they had a good time at parties.

Apropos previous, the opposite can be said. While they had fun, the hours were long and the scripts intensive. Kate was around for all of the episodes of Voyager in one way or another, and still managed to bring her A-game each time. She is truly admirable! Seeing her so exhausted is charming. She had a lot of weight to carry for the franchise and did an exemplary job performing her way through 7 years of weird and wonderful material. I wonder how often they fell asleep on set? I know I would. Get some rest queen!

Finally, I've been following Prodigy bts as best I can, and because of my career in animation I get pretty interested in Production art. I love seeing the fast metamorphosis of a visual style. It's really impressive how much attention they applied to the designs, maintaining the older stuff, while adapting a new frontier. One of the lead artists made some pretty neat observations to get Kate's appearance right. It's so cool that they documented that journey, because from my dabbling I know she has a very beautiful, distinct face that isn't easy to capture.

ANYWAY Thankyou for reading my fat thesis fellas. tl;dr i love this stinky Startrek Voyager and by extension the franchise.

[tass3l]

Hello gay boy. You asked for oc questions.

Since your oc is an IT guy, when he first got stuck in the circus, did he try to break things? Or perhaps not break, but more find exploits? Can he do any percent adventure speedrun 10 minutes? And does doing so make Caine cry? (sorry but breaking games funny)

help i love how you started this ask HGDFHJGFJH

ANYWAYS thank u for the question!! and oh 100%. even without the IT job i imagine he was involved in niche speedrunning communities. the type of guy to sit through those 5 hour videos explaining sm64 glitches and understand them completely. i think on his first day, rather than participate on an adventure or panic, he spent a majority of his time poking around the circus grounds. (not that the existential dread isn't there, that'd definitely come later. right now hes utterly fascinated)

i like to think that this unorthodox reaction to being trapped forever in digital hell is what first intrigued caine. it's been a while since anyone with computer knowledge came to the circus! well... kinger is still there but. yknow. and even longer since anyone humored his antics/showed genuine interest in how things work. a bit self indulgent; but i also like to imagine that maybe eventually caine gets hassel's help in finding bugs/exploits when planning adventures. (and also the potential for angst ;) trusting a human enough to give him some of the tools to warp their reality only for him to go behind your back. its been rotating in my lil noggin for a while now...)

but the idea of hassel helping the others speedrun an adventure has me giggling. caine would be So Pissed (crying)

[flamingothing]

tag ramble

[hassianlovebot]

i've seen some people talk about einar's romance dialogue and how it feels offputting and rude to him but i'm gonna be honest,,, i never really saw it that way?

like i do agree that the player's dialogue options Suck compared to the other romances. something about it just feels really childish and definitely not as,,, "serious" or even committed as the other romance dialogue options. that being said, it never felt patronizing toward him.

to me, it feels like the player is just. being human. while einar is being galdur. the player doesn't get mad at him for not understanding certain jokes or not showing affection in the same way. and einar doesn't get uncomfortable with the player being human, making human jokes, or showing human affection. they're just Being Human and sharing their humanness with einar. which einar, while not always understanding of it, is completely used to and Does understand and enjoy it later on in the 3-4 levels. not that he didn't enjoy it before, but once you get closer to him, he Does understand more of the jokes and even joins in on certain ones (like the catch one!).

idk man it just always felt like the player and einar are just sharing their perspectives, personalities, and culture with each other. and of course there is the chocolate thing where he says he doesn't need it and the player has to learn what he actually wants from the relationship (ie spending time together). and there are still jokes that he ends up taking seriously, which yknow, that's kind of what i meant when i said the player's options often feel very childish compared to other ones. but it just never came off as patronizing to me, especially since einar repeatedly says that he enjoys spending time with the player and engaging in their "togetherness".

like to me it always felt like he enjoys learning about new things, even if he doesn't want to participate. like at the maji market when he says that while he doesn't understand the hotpot game, watching it fills him with "oneness". he enjoys learning about human and majiri culture and seeing them just be themselves! none of his dialogue implies that he's uncomfortable with the way the player shows affection (there Is something to be said about the dialogue options only ever showing one form of it,,, but tbf they can't put in 50+ options to cover the minutia of human brains lol)

idk i want to be clear im not shitting on anyone else's opinion on this!!! there's room for all perspectives here. i just wanted to share! i've seen SO many people say that romancing einar feels patronizing and like. i've just never seen it that way ! and it always confuses me when i see it akjhgd tbf i think some people are also neurodivergent (same lol) and don't appreciate the dialogue options that einar doesn't understand because in real life it Does feel patronizing when someone does it on purpose even knowing you won't get it. but for me, einar being galdur and not a neurodivergent human/majiri is an important distinction. he shows multiple times that he enjoys learning about human cultures and perspectives, that he enjoys talking to the player even when they don't understand each other, and that he's capable of understanding the player's jokes and sarcasm once explained to him. he Likes that they're different !

einar seems to enjoy the player acting "human" with him because he gets to learn about them! and he wouldn't want them stifle their true personality just to please him! einar is alllll about being true to yourself, your beliefs, your oneness, etc. he wants the player to understand him and his affection, but he also wants to understand the player's personality and affection. he wants them to share each other's "quirks". and don't get me wrong, i do wish there was more we could do to share in his way of affection (especially if his way is our way,,, like i'm Not flirty or jokey like that irl at all and i'd love to have more options where it really is just "hi i enjoy parallel playing with you :)))" lol) and that the dialogue options were less jokey or at least more affectionate/serious but idk,,, i think for me, i've just always seen einar as someone who wants to know and appreciate everything about the player, even the things he doesn't Immediately understand. he wants the player to explain things and share their culture with him SO bad

[on-dragons-wings]

@magnavaux replied to your post “/ one thing that worries me about hazbin is if the...”:

// the thing is, just because that's charlie's ideal doesn't mean it's possible. it's VERY POSSIBLE that she'll develop and realize that not everyone can be redeemed. Because redemption is a choice. Only those who choose to can redeem themselves, and characters such as the Vees... They're thriving. They have no reason to want to leave hell at this moment.

​Well, yes there's no way everyone will be redeemed (Especially bc this cast is just SO BIG LMAO) But I don't think the idea that redemption has to be a choice means that the idea that everyone CAN be redeemed is suddenly wrong. I think Charlie is even aware of that currently, I doubt she'd keep anyone at the hotel if they outright said they don't wanna be redeemed and wanted to leave. I think she and the show are more interested in showing the OPTION to change is always there rather than just... Saying everyone gets redemption

[kakusu-shipping]

Heartbeat

Mountain's Peak (Part 1) - Nepal Sanctum (Part 2) - Talk it out (Part 3) - The Fight (Part 4)

Here's hoping this is the last bit of Delinquent Zenyatta we'll be seeing for a while!! Thank you for reading!!

In which the heart is moved

Zenyatta had never understood the term "his heart sank". The human heart is a very vital organ that rhythmically pumps oxygen rich blood throughout the human body. It does not "sink", any movement from it's cadge in the chest would be catastrophic for the human in question.

He'd never understood.

A minor concussion, major whiplash, two broken ribs, three more cracked, a dislocated shoulder, a minor wrist fracture, a twisted ankle, and mild frost bite.

That was Emile's diagnosis.

Zenyatta stared passed Mondatta into the human's room, warmth rushing out from the lit fireplace. Emile lay unconscious on a makeshift bed he'd been using now for 3 months, just a pile of hay for a mattress and spare robes for blankets on the stone flooring of Mondatta's home.

"Zenyatta." Master Mondatta's voice brought Zen back from his thoughts. He stared up at his brother who stood before him and the resting human.

"Is-"

"He will be alright." Mondatta assured, "Sister Reya has tended to him the best she can, now he must rest."

Zenyatta gave another glance to the human, Emile, small as he was, bruised black and blue. He looked like a corpse. The grip Zenyatta had on Emile's broken glasses tightened.

"Emile tells me the two of you were sparring," Zenyatta flinched, and prepared for the worse. Exile, he assumed, forced out the monastery and onto the human filled streets of the outside world. He would need to sneak away in the dead of night, or Ramattra would surely follow him. "when he slipped and fell down the stairs."

That.. confused Zenyatta. That was not what had happened at all, had it? They had sparred, Zenyatta had laid his hand upon Emile until he could stand no longer.. correct...? Why would the human... lie..?

"Is this true, Brother Zenyatta?" Mondatta asked genuinely. He believed the human's words, or at least was willing to believe them if this was the truth he was willing to bare with.

Zenyatta hesitated, the glasses in his hand made a faint crunch as what little remained of the lenses fell out.

"...no.. Master Mondatta... That is.. Not what happened.."

"I see," Mondatta cupped Zenyatta's shaking hands in his own, leaning down ever so slightly to be on level with his shorter brother, "Perhaps you can tell me the truth of the events over tea?"

It was warm.. so warm... A soft chime played in the left corner, soft and mournful, a lullaby for someone no longer here..

Emile's eyes cracked open to see the now familiar blurry ceiling of his bedroom in Master Mondatta's home, the soft crackle of the fire by his feet much louder than is usually once when he'd first wake up.

Emile turned to reach for his glasses, which he'd always rested on his left side. His entire body ached at the motion, which turned out to be fruitless as his hand came to find nothing.

"Looking for these?" A voice asked, a metallic hand out stretched and slid Emile's glasses onto his face, "You have impeccable timing as always, human, I just finished repairing them."

"Zenyatta...?" Emile's eyes widened behind his cracked glasses, the Omnic in question sat in a meditative position in the opposite corner of the small room. He couldn't believe his eyes at first, assuming it some sort of dream that the monk who'd hated him most of all would pay him a visit during recovery.

Zenyatta wordlessly assisted Emile as he raised himself off the ground, leaning him against the back wall of the room, as the human racked over possible reasons Zenyatta would have to visit him.

Emile's eyes filled with tears as he came to his conclusion. He'd lost. He challenged Zenyatta and lost and had to fulfill what he'd promised to do. He had to leave.

Tears flowed down the human's face, which wasn't unusual for this particular human, but was still rather startling, "Wh-why are you crying? Are you in pain?"

Zenyatta started to get up to go get Master Mondatta when Emile responded, "I-I'm sorry- I-I said I'd leave when I lost bu-but- I-I can barely sit u-up right now-" He hiccuped and rubbed at his eyes with his one good arm, "I-I'll leave, li-like I said, as soon as I can sta-and I promise,"

Zenyatta suddenly understood the term "his heart sank"

Zenyatta grabbed the human's cheeks, they were so hot, wet with heavy tears, soft and round and so very human.

"You won."

"I- h-huh..?"

"I... Forfeited. Just before you passed out. I lost. You won." His thumb ran gently against the under side of the human's eye, brushing away another tear before it fell, "so.. no more tears.. you may stay.."

Emile breath hitched, his entire body was shaking, the news hadn't sunk in yet. He reached to put his hand on Zenyatta's, only to flinch in hesitation just as his skin brushed Zenyatta's arm. "I-I- I'm sorry-"

"It is alright." Zenyatta kept his hands firm, pushing the human's cheeks together slightly with his force, "You will not hurt me..."

Emile gripped onto Zenyatta and sobbed into his chest. More tears, wet and salty and thick drained from the human's eyes. He was so warm. Had humans always been this warm? Zenyatta wrapped his arms around Emile and held him securely to himself.

"Did you know," Emile spoke as he wove red thread together on his lap, "You make a little chime tune when you meditate?"

Zenyatta looked up from his own work, a basket, and tilted his head, "A tune? Surely I would hear it if I did."

"That's what I thought too!" Emile shifted to turn to face Zenyatta, letting his legs hang over the edge of his bed, "But I caught Master Mondatta doing it the other day and asked him about it, and he had no clue what I was talking about!"

"So.. What, we make music only humans can hear while we meditate? That seems unlikely. Perhaps there is something loose in your head Reya did not pick up on the first time."

Zenyatta stood from his seated position on the floor and cupped Emile's face, rattling his head gently to emphasis his point.

Emile laughed, placing his hands over Zenyatta's, his left wrist still tightly bandaged from their spar three weeks ago. He'd been recovering well, both of them had.

"I'm serious! When we all get together for Meditation in the evening it's like a symphony! I can't believe you don't notice."

"Perhaps because I am busy meditating," Zenyatta pinched and pulled at Emile's cheek, "unlike some little human I know~"

"Oooow!! I meditate!!" Emile pushed at Zenyatta's head in a weak attempt of prying the Omnic off him. Instead Zenyatta doubled down and pinched the other cheek, pulling them both.

"Ah yes now I know the 'Chime' you are talking about, you do it too. It's called snoring."

"Aaaaaaaugh Uncle!! Uncle I tap!! I give!!!" Emile flailed until Zenyatta finally released him with a chuckle.

His laugh made Emile's heart soar and a flush rise to his cheeks, which were already red from Zenyatta's previous assault.

"Brother Zenyatta." Mondatta's voice came with a light knock to Emile's door frame, "You are playing nice with Brother Emile, yes? He is still in recovery you know."

Zenyatta flinched and spun to face Mondatta, plopping himself on the bed next to Emile before wrapping his arm around him, "Yes yes! Gentle as ever, Master!" He waved his hands as a show of innocence.

Mondatta gave a glance over the scene, before picking up Zenyatta's discarded half finished wicker basket with a soft hum. "Good then, though I hope all this playing is not getting in the way of your chores." He extended the basket to Zenyatta, who too it sheepishly.

"My apologizes, Master Mondatta.." Zenyatta held back from pinching Emile's squishy cheeks once more upon hearing the human giggle at his scolding.

Mondatta found himself admiring the quickly closing gap between his siblings. How fast they'd gone from hatred glances to sitting hip to hip. He still wasn't sure how they'd come to this, but he was happy non the less.

With a hum Mondatta motioned for the two to come stand, "Well then, if you two are ready, Ramattra is already outside awaiting us to head to evening meditation."

Zenyatta stood quickly and started to pull Emile up with him, but the human waved him off, "Go on ahead of me, I'll catch up."

Despite the quick relations Emile had formed with Zenyatta, he could tell Ramattra was still holding a distance, one he attempted to cover with a high voice and faked laughs. As much as he enjoyed Zenyatta's company, he wanted to give the monk time with Ramattra as well.

"Are you certain?" Zenyatta asked, "It's no trouble."

"I know. I'm fine, go on."

Zenyatta hesitated for a moment longer, then nodded and quickly was out of the room.

Mondatta watched his brother go before offering his arm to Emile, which the human took and pulled himself from the bed on wobbly legs. His ankle was still wrapped and stung when he'd put his weight on to it, and his chest still ached when he breathed too deeply, making meditation rather exhausting, and his wrist still occasionally seized in pain. All part of the healing process.

Still, Mondatta noticed the way his student would flinch upon stepping, or when he'd grab something with his left hand without thinking. He hated to see his siblings in pain...

Emile smiled up at Mondatta, "Shall we get going? Wouldn't want to be late."

Mondatta looked over his student once more, cheeks flushed red, glasses broken, old bruises littering his exposed skin turning green and yellow, wrapped in patchy bandaging. He wondered to himself if it was right to allow him to stay..

And then he remembered the laughing he'd heard from down the hall, a mix of human and omnic, joyfully playing together with nary a care in the world

Mondatta pulled Emile's robe up snugger on his shoulder, adjusting his clothes for a moment to be sure they kept him warm. He belonged here, same as all of Mondatta's other siblings, because he too was in tune with the iris.

"...Perhaps you should put on a few more layers first"

[bunloved]

hi its the anon that asked bout the DAs literally dont even worry about it my guy i understand n i thank you for the explanation, very thorough i now understand what you mean/gen

thank you for answering my question in a very respectful manner, and i hope you have a good day

HI! IM GLAD!!! I'm always happy to answer questions the best I can especially for my own experiences! But I also tend to worry a lot (har har the guy with psychosis is paranoid who would've thought!) (Silly)

But yeah! I love talking about this stuff and explaining it and if you have any other questions I'm happy to answer the best I can! ♡♡♡

I hope you have a good day too!!!

[cherrymoonvol6]

happy belated bi awareness day to the bi4bi couple ever (lunter)

[octothinq]

LIED. This is about Teivel now. I'm just going to post the small thang and you guys better not laugh at how bad I am at writing. Or I will cry and shit my pants.

[cursingtoji]

the cardio machine i want is on the cardio machine

cw: gym rat toji x loser!gf - size kink, sweat kink (?), toji is a big old meanie. loser!gf series: geto gojo nanami.

loser!reader who, like a million other sedentary people on new year’s eve, said “new year new me” and proceeded to enroll at the local gym.

gym rat!toji who knew how things are in the beginning of the year, so the first week he arrives one hour earlier than usual to avoid all the lazy fucks that won’t last two months.

of course he makes a few mental bets on the ones that would quit and how long it would take, you included.

it’s easy to spot the “i don’t want lift weights cause i don’t want look jacked” type of girl.

at the breaks between one set and the other he looked around, not surprised to see you slowing down the treadmill after running not even two whole minutes.

sometimes he caught you staring at him through the mirror, not an uncommon occurrence amonst the women there, though you surprised him one day by tapping his shoulder after he finishing his weighted squats.

“can you… give me a few tips?” he looked so intimidated, from up close his shoulders looked like a wall, he stared at you from above, dark green eyes seemed to be heavily judging you, “never mind this was a bad idea, sorry” you turned around, grabbing you bottle and running off the gym.

by the time you managed to gather the courage to show your face back there two whole weeks had passed.

“consistency is the key you know” you were distracted looking down your phone while slowly walking the treadmill when the handsome man appeared beside you, the sudden presence destabilized you.

before you could become the viral video of the week when inevitably a gym employee decides to post the security footage of your ass rolling off the active treadmill, toji wrapped one big arm around your waist and pulled you to the stable floor.

“you caught me off guard the other day” he said completely unfazed by saving you from a life of embarrassment, “then you disappeared.”

“yeah i didn’t know if i wanted to come back anyways, i haven’t see any results so far” you pulled the hem of your shirt down.

toji snorted, “‘course you ain’t seeing results, sweetheart, you don’t lift.”

“well, it’s hard…” toji rolled his eyes, there was always an excuse.

though he also did a new year’s resolution of being more patient, for his kids primarily but teaching a cute thing like you could be a good exercise too.

soon enough, toji was correcting your form, texting you asking why you haven’t showed up to the gym and ringing your bell incessantly when you complained about muscle pain and said you wouldn't go that day.

“it’ll feel better once you start to move” he explained, resting on your door frame when you opened the door on your pajamas.

“let me alone, just today” you whined.

“you asked for my help now go put on something without cartoons on it” he waited for you to turn around and slapped your butt. it had been only one week he was coaching you but there was already a weird intimacy due to the fact he was pretty much always looking at your body and touching you.

to correct your form. obviously.

"what do i have to do today, coach fushiguro?" you asked from your bedroom through an ajar door which allowed toji to get a peek at your pink underwear and cute ass.

"cardio, bicycle first. get some blood flowing on those sore muscles" he tilted his head and raised his eyebrows watching you bend over to grab a biker shorts at the lowest drawer then holding back a laughter at the grunt of pain coming from you.

"once it gets better i can teach you other types of cardio" he walked around your kitchen examining your cabinets and stuff you kept in your fridge. needless to say it was all junk.

"can't wait" you replied sarcastically, failing to understand the meaning.

it took a few more days till you got used to toji's training, then he decided to focus on your upper body.

"such a simple movement, how do you manage to get that wrong?" he raised from the bench he was sitting behind you watching your form through the mirror. you almost dropped the weights at your feet when he came close. it was almost scary how much bigger than you he was especially seeing it throght the mirror. his right hand wrapped around yours on the dumbell and his bicep touched your arm as he pushed your arm closer to your body, "tuck your elbows in, straight your back" his free hand pushed your shoulders till they were touching his chest.

how come he smelled so good, so... musky and...

"are you even making any force?" he lowered his head, his reflection looking annoyed. so you decided to ignore the sudden heat between your thighs and flex your arm the way he taught you.

and just like he promised, when you were consistent enough and handling a good 5 minute run he decided to show you a more pleasing cardio.

"toji please~" you whined, thighs burning from riding him, you were using his rock hard abdomen as a support, but still.

"one more minute, come on" he looked at the watch on his wrist and slapped your ass, "haven't i prep-ed you good enough?" his thumb rubbed your bottom lip then pushed in meeting your tongue, where you tasted yourself in his digits one hour after he ringed your bell and said he was going to reward your good discipline, but he had to strech you first.

"good girl" you felt his abdomn flex when he raised from his laying position on your bed, "now leave it to daddy" he pecked your lips and quickly changed positions, putting a pillow under your ass and rolling his neck to start his cardio of the day.

[beloveds-embrace]

Idgaf abt how military works sorry yall but imagine the 141 gang having to do mandatory charity and no, not even Ghost can opt out of it regardless of how he says he’s honest to god not fucking fit to be visiting sick patients. But alas.

But they end up meeting you- frail, fragile, and sick you, no visitors around you. Though you look at them with curiosity and admiration, you keep yourself away, almost as if you don’t want to bother them.

You can’t help looking at them, though. You’ve been sick all your life- born to a mother who left you on the doorsteps of an overcrowded orphanage, left alone often and long for your body to just… fail you. You don’t think you’ve seen outside the orphanage walls and then these hospital grounds since your birth. You would be dead now if it weren’t for the CEO of the hospital taking pity on you after you turned eighteen and the orphanage cleaned their hands off you.

And so, you can’t help but envy them just a little. Strong, agile people in the military, bodies fit and healthy. Despite knowing they are always putting themselves on the line, constantly in danger, you can’t help the longing you feel. Longing you don’t realize is clear as day in your eyes.

The one to approach you first is the man you thought one of the prettiest men you’ve ever seen. He introduces himself as Kyle, and despite your silence- your interactions with others that are not doctors or nurses are far and few, and you are painfully shy- but he is nice. Gentle. Easily keeps the conversation going despite. He is so easy-going he has you grinning and laughing in no time. It catches the attention of a the Scot with a mohawk, who joins in by sharing even wilder stories. And then the man with the scary ghost mask, so often in their stories, comes to your little crowd. He is big, scary if the nurses’ reactions are anything to go by, and yet the only thing you’ve ever truly been afraid of is dying with a life not truly lived. So you don’t flinch or cower from him, merely ask if he has anything interesting to share with you.

The last you speak with is John Price. Captain John Price. If there is a man that can embody a bear, it has to be him. You are sure of it. Especially when you witness him smacking the back of Kyle’s head lightly after a teasing comment.

Maybe your chances of a long, fulfilling life are slim but today, just for today, you allow yourself to envision a life with them. Such a strange desire, a useless and wistful one.

“Thank you, for today.” You tell them quietly, when it’s nearing time to leave. Your hands are held in Kyle and Johnny’s, frail and weak compared to theirs. You smile at them, squeezing lightly. “I think this is the most happy and content I’ve been all my life. I won’t forget today.”

And in return? Neither will they. How could they ever forget you, the sweetheart in the hospital bed, your sickness keeping you away from the joyful life you deserve?

The won’t forget you. Not at all. And when you start receiving gifts, polaroids and letters and texts, you already know who is sending them to you.

It makes things just a little easier- your life just a little brighter.

Other works + help me choose a title for this!

[hoseoksluna]

LITTLE JUICE | JJK

pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x wine!oc

genre: smut, pwp

rating: 18+

summary: when you get insecure about being constantly needy for your boyfriend, jungkook shows you that it's okay.

word count: 6.4k

warnings: the plot is TEENY TINYYYY in this one, pure filth, mirror sex, dd/lg, little space, new roles for the wine universe omg, jungkook is a caretaker, pet names, degradation kink, praise kink, dry humping, they're so in love it's sickening, oral sex (f. & m. receiving), fingering, squirting, daddy issues, heavy dom/sub dynamics, handjob, penetrative sex without condom, cowgirl, plushies used in a sexual situation.

luna's note: i'm so sorry i couldn't get this out for you on xmas day since i was so sick, but let this be a gift for the new year! i missed writing smut sooooo much, and i can't wait to get back to it starting january. this was so fun omg. i missed wine sm. my daddy issues be daddy issuing so this has something new in it, i'm super excited abt it!! i hope you like this and that you enjoy reading. make sure to let me know what you think in my ask box!! mommy luna is baaaaackkkkkkk. HAPPY NEW YEARRRRR. <3 (one day early but i felt like saying it idc) BIG MWAH.

luna's necessary side note: i missed u all so damn much wtf. OH, AND HAPPY BDAY TAEHYUNGGGGGG.

𓂃 ౨ৎ

taglist | join here: @jjk7k, @tkslovechild, @euphoricmyth, @cinmmongirl, @ririkookiemonster, 

@perfectiondazesworld, @https-mei, @bangtansonyeondanue, @jungkoock, @cinmmongirl, 

@hoseokkie-caeks, @kam9404, @fr0ggieth1nk, @parkinglot-nights, @sadgirlroo

The mirrors, lining the walls, are nearly all fogged up once you take a step inside the vast rehearsal room. A certain mellow, yet familiar song led you towards the right door—one that made your ears perk up in curiosity because it reminded you of something you’d heard a long time ago, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. Not until you rearranged your bobas into the crook of your elbow and slid open the door. 

The stuffiness of the room only added to the sensual aura of the song, and your legs nearly gave out on you. 

No BS by Chris Brown.

The song that started it all.

Jungkook, clothed in black from head to toe, seems to be locked in his own world as he moves his body in the center of the room, his chest and feet hitting each beat without a singular mistake or a misstep. And when the chorus of the song flows in, his whole figure follows suit. It rolls into the rhythm like the slowest, most passionate wave of the sea that splits in the middle and begins to course down your sternum. Your cheeks darken with a feverish tint. You feel every inch of his movements inside you as if he were there, and when Jungkook spins and sinks to his knees, propping only one Nike-shod foot on the floor, and he hip-thrusts before he continues those rippling motions to the last beats, the muscles of your thighs quiver on reflex and your dampened private parts flutter.

You did not expect to see that when you texted Jungkook you were going to visit him just because you finished work early and you could get boba before your favorite shop closed. You feel as though you just got blessed twice. 

TGIF, indeed. Never in your life had you ever thought you’d celebrate the work week ending like you are right now—with two bobas in your arm, cooling your heated skin, and with your eyes witnessing erotically angelic artistry in a humid room. And with your sensitive parts outright dripping, too, because the song ends, enveloping the room in a silence that welcomes in Jungkook’s heavy breathing as he slumps back onto his back, his chest lifting and falling in the air. 

You feel fuzzily faint. He made you wet in record time and he hasn’t even touched you. Nor has he looked at you. 

Instinctively, your hand grasps your mango boba and you press it against the side of your face. Smile to yourself as a lightbulb flicks to life in your mind. 

Leaving behind your purse, you take both of the delightful treats and walk over to him. His eyes are closed as he’s absolutely unaware of your presence, your steps soft and sly. His round, sweat-splotched nose puffs out hard breaths that move through you and you coo to yourself silently before you place both of your feet on either side of him. You squat down, careful not to let your bum touch his lap, and you get his boba ready, placing your own on the ground. And with the loudest roar you can muster, you press the drink to his glistening cheek. 

He yelps. His fear-filled eyes fly open, his hands quick to catch you as you tumble down on him in reaction, your lungs submerging the room in your obscenely loud giggles. Tears of laughter cloud your vision, preventing you from seeing the horror twisting his face, but the little you saw was enough to douse your body in extraordinary elation. The tapioca inside the long cup swirls as it swims ferociously in the thick, violet liquid, mimicking the roundness and the blackness of his pupils with utmost perfection. 

You swipe a finger under your eye, speckles of your glitter smearing its pad. You lean down, your laughter subdued as it slowly fades out, and you can see the horror smoothing out and transforming, seamlessly, into a relieved adoration that taps against your heart. You kiss him with the boba now cooling your cheek as well. Leave behind a hard peck on his perspiration-coated mouth that makes him softly hum into this physical exchange of love, and just before you draw away, he breathes out against you with his nose. And that doesn’t just tap on your heart, it knocks on it most warmly. 

You love him so much. Too much. So much that the simplest of his body and human reactions make you feel things. Things that normal girls don’t normally feel. 

Good thing you’re not a normal girl. 

You’re a messed up girl. And you’re a girl in love. Have been for the past year. 

“You scared the shit out of me.” 

Your mouth widens into a pleased grin, and the light bulb that shone in a bright yellow melts into a warm, dusky pink tinge that floods your spine—only because he squeezes the dip of your waist that you’ve been working hard at carving out. A new thing you’ve implemented into your daily routine after you’ve gotten a new job that doesn’t allow you to fuck him all day long like you used to. The sex has gotten even better with time as the wine of his love ripened and matured. To such an extent that you found yourself craving it more than you had in those times when you were just seeing him for sex. Two rounds aren’t enough for you—and you remember well that after two rounds you were usually too exhausted to even keep your eyes open. Now, because you have matured too, your vessel for his love and his liquid stars has grown, needing more to feel satisfied to the fullest. The new job kept you away from him, the long hours teased you. So much that your bathroom breaks were too frequent and obvious and you spent them locked in a bathroom stall with one hand in your panties and your other holding your phone to your ear while Jungkook guided you, his hand, too, in his pants, locked in the same place on the other side of the line, whispering encouraging, lewd instructions that sent you shaking over the edge in mere minutes. 

Instructions that got him in trouble at his workplace, hence why he had to come up with a solution. Because your thirst was never quenched in minutes. His voice was too pretty, and too soft. 

Gym five times a week for you, dance lessons for him, physical distance for the both of you. A perfect solution for a perfect problem. All that sexual frustration was released during those exercises filled with delicious pain and you went to work the next day free of that carnal lust swishing in your veins. You focused on your work, and you didn’t have to take long bathroom breaks. You didn’t even need a spare pair of panties in your purse anymore.

It worked—and it’s completely crazy to you that all it took for you to break your public purity streak was seeing him dance like that. 

You sit up and with your swift movement, the squelching sound of your cunt rubbing up against your juices sounds out across the room. Your cheeks heat up with a different shade of red as embarrassment runs down your spine, especially as Jungkook’s brows twitch upwards and his eyes widen, his large hands lowering down a little, following the curve of your figure that leads to his favorite part of you. 

Your hips. 

A blush scatters upon his cheeks, too. He heard it. 

He calls out your name, sweeping his tongue across his abruptly dry and chapped bottom lip. Your name, not princess, not baby. Your government name without any embellishment of adoration. 

You’re in trouble. 

Your embarrassment pinches you at the two dimples on the small of your back. “Y-yeah?” 

Jungkook opens his mouth, but he pauses for a moment. As if he could sense where the emotion touched you, his long and warm fingers find its icy traces that it left behind while still keeping the crooks of his thumb anchored on your hip bones. 

“Did you get wet for me?” 

A shiver cascades down the slender column of your back, a visible one for his eyes to see that coax out his softness for you, evident in the roundness of his bottom lip that he juts out, triggering your unprecedented shyness. What a drastic shift of dynamic in your relationship you perceive this to be. All along, for a year long, the atmosphere of your shared love has been nothing but an environment of safety, where you could unfold your sexuality as naturally and confidently as you wanted to without an ounce of coyness. Introduce an unyielding desire and a well-meaning solution for it into the equation and watch the change bloom. 

For some reason, you’re reminded of his past, now distant, liking of a certain degradation kink that once grew like vines across your intimate relations with him. The memories travel along your veins—the vulgar pet names, the calling out, the rough handling—and crest at your core, moistening the center of your panties even more as your walls pull in. And the way Jungkook takes that bottom lip between his teeth divulges to you quite clearly that he feels it. 

Which is a bad thing because you can’t lie about it. 

But… you can’t divert his attention from it. 

You slosh his drink in your hand. “I got you your favorite,” you chirp, the boba twirling beneath your hand while his identical pupils remain unmoving, unblinking, fixed on you. You manage a smile, but its staticness crumbles as soon as you realize that Jungkook isn’t really influenced by your change of topic. “Taro boba. I got a milk one, too. Mango. You wan—”

His hands descend down to your thighs, squeezing, halting the tide of your words, the progression of your trick. His fingers slip beneath the hem of your skirt and before you know it, he lifts you just a little bit to maneuver you and make you sit on the shaft of his semi. A low gasp gushes out of your throat as well as a leak of your dew not only onto the fabric of your underwear but onto the material that now clings to his manhood. 

He twitches, hardening beneath your pussy, and gooseflesh pricks your skin. 

“Mango? You always get Taro with me.” 

The glitter from your eye make-up that you smeared across his cheek during your kiss twinkles underneath the dimmed light and he doesn’t guide your hips to move against him. No, he rolls his own—ever so slowly, ever so discreetly. His hands merely hold you down, but nothing about it is forceful. Subdued pleasure springs up your sternum, pooling in your head, making you woozy as quickly as if he were pouring booze down your throat. And when he heightens the pressure enough that he twitches again, you recognize he’s doing the same move that is a part of the choreo he was practicing. 

Your heart hammers against your chest. Your nipples pebble against your cotton top, and Jungkook’s eyes fly to them, catching and taking in their aroused state, perhaps even coaxing it out of them. 

A sigh leaves his mouth. He fists the hem of your skirt, dipping his head into the current of the pleasure he’s giving both of you, and so do you. 

You just can’t help it; you can’t fight it. When your toe touches the surface of the wine of your shared love, nothing can keep you from taking a dip. And the same applies to Jungkook, too. In this case, he’s dripping in red, having slipped entirely into the current, one arm out of the water, fingers wrapped around your ankle, pulling you into the water. 

And something about his desire lessens your strange coyness. His lack of solution offering brings down the stigma, setting you free. And you missed him. You missed him terribly. Haven’t felt his dick in five fucking days. 

You place your hands on top of his. 

A small fire begins to burn within the snug blackness of his eyes. All of a sudden, the noises he stifled come out in soft, almost inaudible growls that cause your clit to throb and your nails to dig half-moons into the skin of his hands. A green light from you for him to enjoy this—and he does. Jungkook throws his head back, his pretty chin pointing to the ceiling, and his big chest heaves. 

It is only at this moment that his eyes leave yours just to bask in this forbidden pleasure. 

Anyone could walk in—the doors aren’t locked, nor are they shut at all. Anyone could think the practice room is available for personal use, without a single soul present. And anyone could see you riding the horsey because the sight of him lost in the vivacity of it all forces you most carnally to give him more. 

You hump him. 

“My friend got it the other day and she said it was delicious,” you breathe out, speaking of your unordinary choice of boba. The movements of your hips are small, minuscule, but hard enough that his knuckles get painted with a shade of ivory that sprinkle your chest with little shocks of joy and pride. A thick vein bulges on the side of his throat as Jungkook tries his best not to let out the entirety of his noises that his body is brimming with—and for that very reason, you grab his hands and place them very brattily on your perked, full breasts. “I wanted to try it and see for myself.” 

This feels good. This feels like the time before you got older and greedy. And the feeling is validated when Jungkook whisks his eyes back at you and grapples your tits, squeezing them so hard that it’s you who bites their bottom lip until you nearly draw blood, your body set on fire with a blue desire that kisses his big hands with such roughness that he whimpers. 

But the moment is ruined all too soon. 

A myriad of high-pitched voices is carried through the thick air, accompanied by giggles. You gasp, looking behind you, and before you know it, you’re up on your feet and Jungkook’s unopened boba is knocked to the side, now rolling sideways towards the mirror. 

You go to fetch it, but a strong hand on your arm prevents you from doing so. You spring back to your place in front of him and you glance up at him in confusion just to see him frowning down at you. 

Sweat drips down his temple. The tips of his brows almost meet in the middle, but swim away and relax at the sight of your puzzlement. The voices grow louder, your breath hitches in your throat and Jungkook’s hand lifts and pets down the back of your head, awakening the butterflies in your tummy as if he’s done it for the first time in your life. 

A yearning to kiss him consumes you. 

“Stay here,” Jungkook murmurs, keeping his hand wrapped around the back of your neck. “If they see us like this, they’ll walk away.” 

You nod, understanding if you were to do as you wished, the girls would’ve taken it as a sign to enter the room and perhaps mingle. But if they see you stuck in an intimate moment like this, they quietly and quickly leave without any unnecessary fuss. 

Smart man. 

“I’m also so fucking hard that I can’t even hide it,” he continues, lowering his tone even more. It penetrates you, making your clit thrum, and as your grin blossoms, so does a romantic shade of blush across your cheeks. You envelop your arms around his torso, propping your chin on his chest, radiate your love up to him, and Jungkook smiles down at you. “As per usual.” 

He kisses your forehead, lingering there for a beat longer before he lifts his head and focuses his gaze at the situation at the door. You don’t care much because you dwell on the hot and cold sensation he left in his wake from the warmth of his mouth and the iciness of his lip ring—something you’ll never get used to and something that will always ruin your panties. 

“They’re gone.” 

And so is he. Off to shut the door and lock it, peeking through the little rectangular window to check if anyone is around. Once the coast is clear, you sense him behind you as you bend to pick up his knocked off boba and you stumble upon his gaze in the mirror as soon as you straighten your spine. 

A hungry look is wrung into his features. 

The corners of his eyes droop in arousal, narrowed as they are. His pupils are blacker than the tapioca in your hands. His teeth nibble on his bottom lip impatiently and you flutter all over, taking in his state and his large stature towering above you. You could melt into him and never be found again, hidden in the crevices of his body that you still believe are there for you. Hidden forever, safe and sound. 

He’s delicious through and through—and it’s been five days since you last had a taste of him. 

Five torturous days. 

“You must be thirsty after all that dancing,” you say, breathless and thirsty yourself. His chest heaves, colliding into your back, and all those soft crevices of him touching you brings you back into that ravenous, greedy state you can’t get out of so easily. Dangerous, he is. Utterly, utterly dangerous. Erasing your clean streak like that. “Let me open it for you.” 

You go to turn around and fetch his straw from your purse, but he doesn’t let you. He encages you where you are by a mere placement of his hand on your hip, fingers back to gripping the fabric of your skirt. He can rip it off if he likes—he can buy you a new one and make your heart elated anytime. 

The idea hardens your nipples, making a show for him all over again. 

He pushes you flush against him, earning a sultry gasp from you. The fingers that gripped your skirt elongate across your mound while the other graze your chin, elevating it a little, ensuring a strong eye contact. 

You flutter. Can’t take it anymore. He has to take you home and fuck the shit out of you before you— 

“I am thirsty,” he purrs, his lips borderline touching yours. “But for something other than bubble tea. Care to guess what it is?” 

Your breath lodges in your throat. You know well what he means, but out of habit and out of personal pleasure you pretend to be dumb. You want to hear him say it—you want him to be as detailed as he was during those naughty afternoon phone calls that got him in trouble with his boss, who told him off for having long work breaks. You want him, his filthy mouth and even filthier, condescending manners. 

You want the old times—and for the sake of your desire, you remain silent. Twist your brows in feigned confusion. Widen your eyes a little. Puff out your cheeks. 

Your adorableness makes him twitch against your hip. Jungkook sucks in a breath. Takes the hand that caressed your chin and glides it down your neck, your chest, your stomach that flexes under his touch until he winds up at the waistband of your skirt. There he stops and he tilts his head to the side, sweeping his tongue along the pillow of his bottom lip. 

“What I want,” he starts, his breathing quickening. “Is the little juice that is in here.” He skims the pads of his fingers down your mound, beneath the hem of your skirt and along the sopping surface of your clothed feminine flesh. You mewl, your hips instinctively riding his fingers, following the sailing, back and forth motion. Your adorableness deepens with the influence of the sudden pleasure by the way it scrunches up your features and Jungkook whimpers again, stopping his motions when he feels you timidly soak his fingers. “I want it so bad that I can’t go one more minute without it.” 

You glance down more to see how big of a mess you’re making on his hand, but as attuned as he is to his role, brought about by his arousal, Jungkook takes your breath away with his following actions. 

He moves you closer to the mirror. Bunches up your skirt even higher so you have a perfect view of your panties, which have a large wet spot in the middle. Little rivulets of your juices flow out of their confines and down your inner thighs, proceeding to make a puddle on the hardwood floors beneath your feet. Jungkook’s fingers are shiny in the light, coated in your lustfulness, and he drifts them up and down that stain—over your swollen clit and sensitive lips. 

“See? Here. This little wet princess part of you is what I crave.”

And just like that, owing to his words, you flourish into the little girl you haven’t been safely dwelling in for months, sliding into that role as easily, tenderly and meekly as if you were slipping your feet into your fluffy slippers. You regress, beautifully, making sweet little noises into his neck as you go to hide in there, poking his drink into his hand, silently telling him to take it while you rub your sticky thighs together, eager to get the uncomfortable throbbing feeling away. And he does, solid in his own caretaker role, sinking down onto his knees, placing the drink on the floor against the mirror. But he remains there, looking up at you, eyes big and round, yet still steady, sure, mature and irrevocably dependable. And you sense those eyes to be telling you to take your panties off and give the Daddy what he craves. 

You hook your thumbs under the waistband of your underwear and drag it down past the middle of your thighs, letting him handle the rest, but you catch his eyes watering ever so gently—and the discovery causes your heart to skip a beat. He’s taken in the role you’ve slipped into, having watched it happen in real time in all its glory, and perhaps he’s nostalgic, or perhaps he’s just euphoric, but he takes the time to bask in it all. 

And he kisses the cotton fabric of your panties first before he kisses the soft flesh of your thigh. Drags it down. Lets it pool in his hands at your ankles. Peeks up at you. 

“The way you willingly give yourself over to me never fails to mesmerize me,” he purrs, pressing another kiss to your thigh without taking his eyes off of you. Your stomach jumps, energy-charged butterflies scurrying to the front of your stomach in longing to kiss him, too. “You’ve been feeling bad about being needy for me. Worked hard for weeks to be a good girl, but what you don’t know, princess, is that you were a good girl even when you called me up at work asking for me,” he continues, lips brushing against your skin with every pronounced vowel. He edges around your knee and begins to pepper gentle, wet kisses there. Your mouth falls open—and you discover this place is a spot of more sensitivity than your neck. You double over, grabbing a tight hold of his tousled, yet soft hair, and Jungkook moans against you. “And you’re a good girl right now for giving yourself over to me, even when you’re so careful about being horny for me in public.” 

Your body forces out the same kind of noises, so tender and pained, your heart rapidly kicking against your ribcage. Your arousal is heightened by his words carrying such devastating praise, even when the most inert core of you aches for such different debauchery—the very opposite of what he’s giving you. 

You leak for him, nonetheless. 

Unable to take it anymore, Jungkook cradles your ankles and carefully rids you of your ruined panties, half-stuffing them into the front pocket of his jeans. A tiny bit of the pink fabric sticks out of it and the sight intoxicates you, pulling you deeper into your little space. Even more so when he finishes his praise because he wasn’t done yet. Not quite. 

“And to see you be little for me so prettily again after such a long time,” he husks, spreading your legs far apart enough to see that gleaming rivulet make its way down the inner of your thigh. “That makes me the happiest man in the world, princess. I missed you. God, I missed you.” 

Jungkook leans in and, with his tongue flat against your inner thigh, he collects the little juice you leak for him. He moans at the taste, but the sound is broken by a cry marked by yearning for more. He doesn’t stop there—he delves immediately, without sparing a second, into your lap with such a verve that your back crashes against the still fogged up mirror. His mouth seizes your clit, making kissing sounds as he laps and sucks at it with a hunger that could never be replicated in the arts. You grip his hair tighter for support, almost sliding down the mirror while struggling to contain your noises, the pleasure permeating every inch of your body that is ultimately submitted to him. The pressure of the delight he’s giving you deepens when he places one of your thighs on his shoulder, helping you take it while he continues to moan into your pussy and eat her like she deserves. 

But you can’t take it. Not at all. Not when he begins to flick his tongue on your clit in a way that he does. 

Your foot slips, but Jungkook is in control. He makes sure you land on your bum safely and painlessly, not once ripping his mouth off your cunt. His eyes continue to be steady, fixed on you, narrowed into such thin, alluring slits that it hastens your sweet release. You hiccup as you take little breaths, overwhelmed by it all. Your cheeks burn, and the fire spreads down your limbs, leaping over to your boyfriend at work, who glows with a rosy tint. Jungkook pulls away a little bit, dripping in arousal and perspiration, and he allows you to see his technique in all its glory. 

The tip of his tongue stimulates your engorged clit with rapid, hard flicks. 

Your orgasm inches closer and closer. Jungkook pushes your legs all the way back until you’re a squished mochi that he can’t get enough of, and when he puts a bigger pressure on your little bud, it is your absolute undoing. 

Closer and closer, the orgasm takes over you completely. From the top of your head to your little toes that flex in your sneakers, you begin to shake uncontrollably as the highest level of the delight bursts upon your body. Jungkook’s noises grow in volume simultaneously, enraptured as he is by the view of his created paradise unfolding over you—and he never stops looking at you. 

Not even as you come down from your high. 

Not even as he, with your little juice dripping down his chin, turns you around and stacks one of your feet on the mirror while he keeps the other leg back with his hand. His limbs surround you, and as you blink through the blinding fog of your orgasm, you realize that you accidentally managed to match your shoes with his. High Nike dunks, black. The ones he got for you as well when he bought a pair for himself. 

Your hole clenches in the mirror. A stream of your little juice makes a larger puddle on the floor beneath you. 

“Look at you dripping for me, fuck.” 

Hooking your leg over his right limb, he strums your entire feminine flesh with the four of his fingers, the squelching and squeaking sounds of your pussy pulling a tortured groan out of him as if he hadn’t gotten a taste of you a mere minute ago. His other hand sneaks to your tits to feel them up, stopping at your pebbled nipple, which he fondles as he breathes against you, inhaling your scent. Your hips buckle, your drenched seashell sensitive from his feast, and Jungkook lets out a pleased chuckle. 

“My pretty little pussy. Always so sensitive from all my love, huh?” 

You nod, meeting his gaze in the mirror, and Jungkook grins before he places a fat, rewarding kiss to your cheek, the two of his fingers, middle and ring, one of them adorned with that white Miffy plastic ring, starting a series of circles on your clit. 

Your hips buckle again, the pleasure soft yet dizzying, overwhelming your senses. Jungkook tightens his grip around you, squeezing your breast. 

“Whose pussy is this, princess?” 

In the middle of it all, a light bulb flicks to life once again in your woozy mind. And a pleased smile, just like his, begins to grow on your mouth. But Jungkook is impatient and you’re not responding fast enough for his taste, so he lifts his soaked fingers and uses them to grip your mouth. 

There it is. 

“I asked you a question. Whose pussy is this?” 

You’d bite your lip if he weren’t squishing your cheeks together, but your satisfied smile reaches your eyes, crinkling them. That causes him to relax his hold and give you a chance to give him the answer he seeks. 

Little does he know you’re about to manipulate him into giving you the sin that you desire. 

“This slutty little pussy is yours. Yours and no one else’s, Dada.” 

His brows twitch and light unrolls across his face, softening his features in a way you’ve never seen before. He curses, momentarily rolls his eyes back, and he plunges his wet fingers into his mouth before he seizes your mouth in a compulsive kiss that thoroughly shuts off your brain. You taste yourself on his tongue, and you comprehend he licked off his fingers and didn’t swallow only so you could get the treat he had himself—because he busies his fingers by burying them inside your fleshy heat. 

And he fucks you hard and doesn’t stop even when you begin to make intense little noises into his mouth. 

You struggle to kiss him back when he curls his fingers and pistons into you with rapid jerks from this angle. His other hand tugs your top upwards, finds its way into the cups of your bra just so he could pinch and rub your nipple in the way that you like. And when his tongue flicks against yours and his mouth purses softly against yours before he deepens the kiss, your orgasm hits you so unexpectedly that you’re as surprised as him once you come apart all over not just his hand, but the mirror, too. 

You splatter it with your little juice and even then, Jungkook doesn’t stop. Growling with heavy breaths, he strums your clit as fast as he can until there’s nothing left you can give to him. 

You slump against him, high on the complexity of yours and his aphrodisiac love. Specks of your glitter—your small shooting stars gravitate down to your flushed cheeks, and then his fingers are in your mouth, traveling far down and deep until you grace him with the sound he likes. You gag around them and he nods, pleased, smirking. 

“Good girl. Your slutty little juice tastes good, doesn’t it, baby?” he asks, and your stomach springs, your drunken feelings intensified by the fact you finally got what you yearned for. “Your mouth makes me fucking crazy. Dada, slutty pussy. I’m gonna lose my mind.” 

You mewl, your eyes heavy, but you want more—you want his cock, and he can feel it, he knows it. He knows it when he pulls out his fingers and kisses you as if the world was meant to end in the next minute. He knows it because he withdraws and he tells you. 

“Dada’s gonna fuck that slutty little pussy of his, hm?” Jungkook murmurs, and then his zipper is down, and just like the old times—he doesn’t rid himself of his clothes and gives you a brand new world with his strokes just the way he is. 

Fully clothed, with his hard drooling cock poking out of his unzipped jeans. 

He presses you against your wet juices on the mirror, spitting on his hand and lubricating the tip of his manhood. He enters you and you gasp, fogging up the mirror with your breath, and the hand that holds your head steady against the mirror buries into your hair while the other wraps around your hip. He sheathes himself inside you slowly whilst your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of finally being stretched out by him and once he bottoms out, it’s over. 

Your life is over.

“Dada’s pussy always so tight.” 

He pounds into you religiously—creating a new order for this brand new world. Hard, merciless strokes that scramble your brain and turn it into a mush. Your ass ripples with each collision and his noises melt into yours, a hymn for the utopia he’s fucking you into. And then he’s lifting you from the mirror and keeping you flush to himself, staring at you in the reflection while your tits spill out from your bra, bouncing, and Jungkook can’t get enough. Both of his hands drag down your straps, freeing your breasts, and he’s groping them, pinching your nipples without ever stopping the entrancing snapping of his hips. 

“Pretty princess getting fucked. Look at you. So pretty and all mine.” 

And then his Miffy-adorned finger is back on your clit, rubbing hard circles, and your personal world is finished—because your pleasure is his ultimate undoing. 

The smacking of skin quietens and his hips begin to roll—a languid, staccato version of his choreo that got you all needy and wet but an hour ago. Jungkook whimpers into your ear how much he loves you, over and over again, as he stuffs you full of his cum, and he doesn’t stop rubbing your swollen little clit until you come all over his twitching cock. 

And he doesn’t pull away. 

He holds you like this, panting into your neck, his grip still tight, still evoking a sense of safety you won’t find anywhere else. Your drowsy eyelids flit, consider yourself well-spent, and the thought begins to sing a celebratory song in your chest—because all that hard work paid off. 

You’re no longer greedy; you’re gratified after the first round. 

Jungkook kisses the nape of your neck. “We should go before Bunny and Vinny start wondering where we are.” 

The song wraps around your heart, which dissolves at his words. Jungkook pulls himself out of you, but you swivel around and throw your arms around him, catching him off guard. His still erect and wet length brushes against your thigh—and the contact makes you quiver in his arms.

“I feel good,” you explain into his ear. “I don’t need more.” 

Jungkook chuckles. Wants to look at your face and he smooths your hair back, grinning at you. “I’m proud of you, princess, but look,” he says, glancing down. You follow his gaze down and perceive he’s talking about his private parts. “I’m still hard.” 

His cock twitches at his words and twitches once more at the sound of your giggles—happy, happy giggles because the stigma behind your neediness withers and completely disappears, never to be found again, only because Jungkook isn’t embarrassed or afraid to show you he needs more. Your chest becomes light, light enough that you think you grew a pair of wings to fly around the room with.

“Gym, Gguk. You have to hit the gym more often,” you joke, knowing his work out schedule transcends beyond the five days you spend at the place. 

The corner of his mouth curls as mischief twinkles in his eyes, divulging to you that he likes the way you challenge him. 

“Oh yeah?” he questions, lifting his arm, pulling back the oversized sleeve of his T-shirt to flex his biceps. Your cheeks heat up at the strong mountains that appear and your hand can’t help but to knead it. “These aren’t big enough for you, huh?” 

You scoff and shush him at the same time, leaning over to plant a singular kiss to his muscles. Jungkook uses the opportunity to hide you in his embrace and you both sputter into laughs and giggles. He pecks your hair, but something interrupts your sweet moment. 

“Look at the mess you made,” he says, pointing at the mirror, and you gasp when you turn around. 

An imprint of the side of your face is left behind on the reflection. Foundation, mascara and glitter amidst the little pearls and rivulets of your juices. You worry what you look like now if your make-up is smeared to this extent, but it soon is washed away from your mind when Jungkook crawls forward and makes a heart on the wetness of your slick. 

He takes a picture of it and then he cleans it off with his gym towel. The floor, too. 

At home, you fuck him hard for it. 

With his Taro boba in his arm, Vinny on his chest and Bunny in the crook of his other arm, you ride him until your thighs burn and he resembles the prettiest rose you’ve ever laid your eyes on. Having come more than enough on his cock, you jerk him off while you flick your tongue on his tip, and he moans, flushes and convulses until he spills all over your hand and his stomach. Ropes of him cum reach the plushies, too, as he can’t stop coming and, growing feignedly jealous, you swallow him, longing for him to drip down your throat. 

He comes so much that your belly is full and he’s as gratified as you were in the practice room. 

And after a quick shower, you both drift off to your brand new world unexpectedly, the events of the day having exhausted you enough that you fall asleep within the next heartbeat. Vinny and Bunny tumble on in the washing machine while you and Jungkook dance in the new paradise, having stepped into the role of parents having a date without the kids. No stress, no stigma—just the freedom of being loved right. 

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