#they were meant to be with worse versions of each other. and they said f that

[teapot-of-tyrahn]

DL PEARL / LL SCOTT PLAYLIST !!!!

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2jcjF1OcF66AYc6IwUWA4N?si=6W4G3SKlTniuGxvgzdYrwA

for context, the start of the playlist is abt how dl pearl feels like she’s a temporary replacement for ll pearl ( ll pearl was stuck in the ether for a while and so ll scott teamed with dl pearl while waiting for him to arrive to have an alliance in the meantime + prove not all scotts r bad ! ). obviously their temporary alliance turned permanent when ll pearl saw ll scott teaming with dl pearl while waiting for him and abandoned him for ‘cheating’ on him by teaming with her . in which, both of them respectively abandoned by their og pearls/scotts, ll scott and dl pearl’s team-up became permanent and they became the powerduo of the server !

[honeekyuu]

stuck. [tsukishima kei x f!reader]

>>Tsukishima is the kind of best friend that makes you want to leave him, but you just can't bring yourself to.

or

You end up confessing in the middle of a fight and he fucks you to show you how much he really cares.<<

______________________________

tags: smut, fluff, angst, best friends to lovers, oral sex (f receiving), penetrative sex, fingering, rough sex, alcohol/drinking, college au, tsukishima kei is a dick, drunk sex, unprotected sex (dont do that), creampie, dom/sub undertones

a/n: ahahahaha this was my first hq work posted on ao3, and it is everything Mean Best Friend Tsukishima Kei that i needed. i hope you enjoy!

[feel free to buy me a cup of coffee!]

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

“Okay, I’m done! How do I look?”

“You look like shit.”

You sigh, trying not to let him get to you. 

Tsukki’s always been this way - dismissive, nonchalant, indifferent. Through middle school, he’d been sarcastic. He’d been snarky and brutally honest. And in high school, he’d only gotten worse. 

Anyone else in your position might have left him already. People you’d known in school had told you to find someone else, a better friend. Best friends don’t treat each other the way Tsukishima treats you , they’d said. His teammates had been in the habit of scolding him whenever he’d go too far, whenever he’d push your buttons a little too hard. The only one who could see your side had been Yamaguchi, and even he’d had his reservations at times.

But other people don’t know Tsukishima Kei. They know the Tsukki that would refuse to share his notes with you after you’d been out sick. The Tsukki that would steal parts of your lunch and hold it high above your head, far out of your reach, and call you mean names with a cruel smirk. The Tsukki that would often leave you behind after school and head home without you, leaving you to text him and wonder where he’d gone.

They don’t know that the same person would show up at your house with his notes, walking you through calculus and poetry lessons himself because he knows you learn better with a teacher. And, even though you never called him out for it, he would show up the day you’d been out sick, too, just to check on you. Just to watch movies in bed with you, waving off your concerns about him getting sick. He hated being sick, but he would ignore your complaints and force you to relax - because you’d only ever get sick when you overworked yourself, which meant he hadn’t been watching over you closely enough. 

They don’t know that Tsukki would secretly swap your lunch out for his own - better, homemade food that wasn’t the cafeteria slop you were often forced to buy because your parents weren’t home a lot. He would watch you push the food around on your tray while you’d laugh at something Hinata had said, identifying at least 3 things you were allergic to on that plate. So he would reach for it, leaving his own (allergen-free, thanks to Akiteru) lunch open for retaliation while he’d use his height as a way to take out his frustrations on you - his irritation that you never seemed to put yourself first, choosing starvation over just simply asking your parents for money before they go out of town.

And the times he’d leave you behind - well, half the time, it had been an accident. It was impossible to remember your packed schedule, all your clubs and student council meetings lumping into a vague ‘ Y/n’s busy ’ block of time in his mind. The other half of the time, it was because he needed to be alone. It’s not that he’s an asshole and loves to make you suffer - in fact, he would often call you later the same night, apologizing in his own, special Tsukishima Kei way and explaining himself. He gets overwhelmed easily, overstimulated by too many people, too many responsibilities, too many social expectations. So he would disappear as soon as he was allowed, needing to be alone with himself and no one else.

So, the people in your life had known a different version of Tsukishima than you do. Where they’d seen a bully, cold and unrelenting even for his best friend, you’d known nothing more than an introvert, expressing his care in a way that was unrecognizable to anyone but you.

Care that had carried over into college, the last three years filled with a Tsukishima Kei that even you hadn’t expected. A version of him that walks you from the library to your dorm at night, despite his increasingly hectic volleyball schedule. A Tsukishima who calls you in the morning on his walk to class to make sure you haven’t overslept, because - even if the calls consist of nothing but your crabby morning disposition, berating him for pulling you from your slumber - he knows you’ll thank him later, as you often do.

A Tsukishima who lets you drag him to parties, even though he hates them to his very core. He lets you tug him along to your dorm, lets you force him to sit through the hour-long ordeal of choosing your outfit. Lets you spin in front of him when you’re done, clearly pleased with yourself, and ask him how you look.

Lets you throw a pillow at his face when he tells you that you look like shit, even if he wholeheartedly believes otherwise.

“Tsukki, can’t you say one nice thing to me? For once?”

He scoffs when you put your hands on your hips, turning his gaze back to his phone as he lounges on your bed like it’s his own. It might as well be, with the amount of time he spends in this room.

“That would require you to have something worth being nice about, wouldn’t it?” He smiles mockingly when he catches the irritated twitch of your eyebrow.

“You’re a dick.”

“Nothing new about that.” Tsukishima watches as you turn back to your closet with a huff, taking the time to look you over appreciatively. No , he thinks, his eyes lingering on the curve of your breasts and the way your dress hugs your hips, the material tight but soft. His hand itches with the urge to touch it, to find out for himself. It’s not that you have nothing. It’s that you have too much.

He sighs, sitting up, and runs his fingers through his hair.

You have too much, and it’s fucking annoying. 

His eyes flick to you again, his own irritation growing. You’d always been too good. Too perfect, too overwhelming. He’d hated falling in love. It had sucked. High school had sucked . Having you cling to him every day and finding himself clinging right back. Not understanding these complicated feelings he has - ones that want nothing more than to hold you in his arms, against others that would tell him to push you away with his sharp tongue, to protect himself from this terrifying feeling. 

And now that he’s accepted it - it had only taken him the entirety of high school and at least a year of college - he almost hates it more. Being so close to you and somehow still feeling like he can’t breathe because it’s not nearly close enough.

So he stands, shoving his phone in the pocket of his jeans, and stares you down when you finally turn back to him.

“Can we go? The sooner we get to this stupid thing, the sooner I can go home.” He thinks he sees a flicker of hurt flash across your eyes, but that can’t be it. He’s said worse things before. You always bounce back, a retort on the tip of your tongue for everything he could throw at you. You always match him, blow for blow.

So why, then, can he see your jaw clenching as you turn away from him? Why does he feel like you’re pulling your jacket off the rack with more force than usual? Why are you leaving without responding?

What the fuck ?

-

Fuck Tsukishima Kei . 

It’s the only thought in your mind as you down the shot, wincing as the alcohol slides down your throat. You’d lost count of the drinks you’ve had about an hour ago, when the thought had been something more like ‘ Fuck Tsukishima Kei. Stupid fucking idiot. Never thinks before he speaks ’.

Clearly, you’d mellowed out a little, but the anger is still there, simmering in your chest and threatening to rise every time he gets close to you.

The walk to the frat had been silent, but he hadn’t mentioned anything about your mood, only scrolling through his phone and occasionally glancing over at you. You’d felt the irritation crawling under your skin with every pass of his eyes over you, but you hadn’t returned any of his gazes, only looking forward to getting to the party and being with other people.

But he hadn’t let you wander off so easily, his tall form following close behind as you’d tried to find some of your friends from class. You can tell he’s been trying to silently check on you, like he always does when he knows he’s bothered you. 

He’d brought you drinks, only smiling emptily when you’d glared up at him. It shouldn’t have made your heart skip that he’d done nothing more than offered you a drink, tapping his own red solo cup against yours and matching you shot for shot. It shouldn’t affect you when he does the bare minimum. 

He’d danced close to you, one hand on your waist and his warm chest pressed firmly against your back. You’d hated it - feeling so safe in the arms of someone who had derived pleasure from picking on you your whole lives. And even if that’s not true - even if you only take into account all the ways that he’d taken care of you, celebrating all your accomplishments with you and holding you while you’d cried about your failures - you still shouldn’t be feeling that familiar tug of nerves in your stomach when he presses his hips against your ass, slipping his fingers through yours and pulling you close.

And when that hadn’t worked - when you’d held your ground and managed to cling to your anger from earlier - he’d even tried to talk to you about it. That isn’t normal for him by any means, but you could see the confusion in his eyes when he’d leaned down to be heard over the music, mumbling his question against the shell of your ear.

“Are we okay ?”

It had taken everything in you to resist him, to resist the pull that is Tsukishima Kei. The same pull that had kept you next to him all these years, through all the teasing and the poking. The pull that kept reminding you that he’s just bad at expressing his feelings. He’s just bad at being nice. He’s just bad at holding his tongue.

But that doesn’t mean you have to sit and take it every time.

So you’d only smacked his hand away and glared when he’d cupped the side of your face, trying to get you to look at him. Stomping over to the bar, you had asked the frat boy for a shot of something random. 

After downing it, you try not to look back but fail miserably - you might be pissed, but you’ve never been immune to him. You probably never would be.

Glancing back, you can see his blond head in the sea of people. He’s trying to make his way to the bar, but his head is whipping to the side at the sound of something. A tall guy - you recognize it’s someone from his team - appears at his side, clapping his shoulder, and you can only assume he’d heard his name being called.

They start talking, Tsukki seeming distracted but drunk enough to at least pretend he’s interested in the conversation. You look away just as he’s turning his head back to you - you won’t be caught looking his way again tonight.

Luckily, there’s someone stepping up beside you, catching your attention with their bright smile.

“Y/n?!” 

You blink, startled by the recognition. But when you finally see who it is, you can’t help but beam.

“Oh my God, Bokuto?!” You leap toward him, wrapping your arms around the man’s neck and dragging him into a hug. You feel him laugh against you, his arms sliding around your waist and pulling you in tight. When you step away, he keeps you close, hand on your hips.

“What are you doing here?! You don’t go here, do you?” 

The man shakes his head, grinning down at you and pointing over his shoulder.

“Nah, I’m just visiting a few friends over the weekend.”

You glance past him, seeing a group of boys that seem like they could be familiar to you, but you can never tell - Bokuto Koutarou is friends with everyone.

When you look back, you catch his eyes wandering down the length of your body, his gaze snapping up to yours when you clear your throat. He has the decency to look ashamed.

“Sorry, Y/n - You’ve just, uh… grown up a lot since high school.”

You flush deeply, something that makes him grin when he catches it. 

At least someone thinks I look good tonight .

You’re smiling flirtily up at him, feeling confident enough to drag this conversation out. He seems to notice, an interested glimmer in his eye. But then he’s glancing over your shoulder, and his eyebrows are raising in surprise.

A hand wraps around your bicep, much tighter than necessary in your opinion. You barely have time to spot the blond hair in your peripheral vision before you’re being dragged away. You can only wave at Bokuto, who looks a little disappointed but mostly just amused.

Tsukishima only lets you go when you’re outside, his hand dropping from your skin like you’ve burned him. You whip around to face him, more than ready to yell at him on the front lawn of this frat house. But he’s already walking away, in the direction of your dorm.

“Dude, what the hell? You didn’t even say hi to him - he’s one of your closest friends!” You stalk after him, determined to figure out what could possibly be going through his mind. But he won’t answer you, just shaking his head and mumbling something that sounds vaguely like ‘exactly ’ as he makes his way down the street.

You scoff, turning back to the frat. He’s out of his mind if he thinks you’re just going to follow him home quietly.

You start to head back to the party, but you barely make it five steps before his fingers are closing around your wrist and tugging you back to him. When you look up, enraged at his entitlement, you see that he’s incensed, staring down at you with wild eyes. He looks pissed, which he has no reason to be. But there’s something else there, something that’s contributing to this almost panicked anger sitting just below the surface.

“Tsukishima, what do you want?” 

He bristles at the use of his full name, golden eyes narrowing as he stares down at you.

“You’re going home.” He punctures every word with barely concealed irritation, finally turning and dragging you back down the street. You don’t say anything this time, feeling that previously mellowed out anger returning full force as you stare at the back of his head.

The walk back is just as silent as the walk to the party had been, but this time you feel ready to explode. You’d been annoyed before, bothered and hurt by his words and the way he treats you.

Now you’re just ready to pick a fight. Which means you’ll probably say something you’ll regret if you don’t get away from him soon and take some time to calm the hell down.

When you get to your door, you’ve already got your keys out. He’d let go of you in the elevator, finally realizing that he’d been gripping you way too hard. You might just be able to get inside without him following.

But the second you unlock the door and slip inside, not a word said to the blond as you try to shut the door behind you, his hand is slamming down on the wood. He stops your attempt, staring down at you with annoyance.

“You’re joking, right?” And then he’s pushing into your room with an angry sigh, letting the door swing shut behind him. You only step back, crossing your arms over your chest as you look him over.

“What do you want?”

“What do I wa- What is your problem tonight ?” He squints down at you, eyebrows furrowed. When you only raise yours, his jaw is clenching. “Why the fuck are you so mad at me?”

“Because-” You stop yourself, taking a deep breath in order to maintain some semblance of control. “Because you’re an asshole, Tsukishima-”

“Stop fucking calling me that, Y/n-”

“-and maybe I’m just not in the mood for your shit tonight!” You yell over him, clenching your fists against your body. You need him to go. You cannot let him see you cry.

“I’m always an asshole! How is tonight any different-” He’s taken a step further into the small bedroom, and you take a step back, feeling overwhelmed. You’re immensely glad you don’t have a roommate, so they don’t have to deal with the mess that is your friendship with Tsukki.

“Tonight isn’t any different, you dick. It’s the same as it always is. I’m just tired of it tonight.” You feel yourself growing angrier when he just laughs, throwing you a mocking smile as he paces the room. He’s definitely drunk.

“Oh, excuse me, I didn’t realize I needed to account for Little Miss Y/n’s fucking mood swings whenever I open my mouth-”

“What the fuck did you just sa-”

“I just didn’t take you for someone who’s sensitive-”

“Well, maybe I am, you fucking asshole! ”

You’re definitely drunk, too.

Tsukishima stops short, taking you in. He can’t hide the shock on his face when he sees you - the way your hands are shaking at your sides, the quiver of your lip as you try your best to stand up to him. You’re trying so hard not to cry, he can tell.

Wow, I really am an asshole.

“Y/n… I-”

“Did you really think I would still want to go to that party once you’d made it clear how much you didn’t want to go? That you think it’s stupid to hang out with your best friend on a Friday night doing something she wants to do - because your idea of a good time is so different from mine that you would try make me feel like a fucking idiot for it?” 

Tsukishima’s starting to panic - had he made you feel that way? He’d just been talking. He hadn’t even been thinking about how it would make you feel - he’d thought nothing could hurt you, that your friendship is guaranteed and that having you next to him is a given. 

Now he feels like he’s losing you. 

“Maybe, once in a fucking while , it wouldn’t hurt you too much to tell a girl she’s pretty when she’s just spent an hour trying to look good for you.”

The frustration on Tsukishima’s face drops, and he’s left staring emptily at you. 

That’s what this is about? 

He stares for a while, his eyes just flicking back and forth between yours as he thinks of how to take that. It makes you nervous. You’d said too much. 

“Fuck this.”

You blink, staring up at him in disbelief. What is that supposed to mean?

“What do you- mmh -” 

Tsukishima had crossed the room in just two steps, taking your face in his hands while you’d been preparing to yell at him again. And then he’d smashed his lips to yours.

Your heart jumps into your throat, and you let out a noise of shock, muffled against his mouth. Your eyes remain wide open, flitting in a panic over his features as you feel his lips move against yours. His brow is furrowing behind his glasses, and you’re realizing that you still haven’t kissed him back. You push against his lips experimentally, watching that wrinkle between his eyes all but disappear when he feels it, and you think it looks a lot like relief.

He’s nervous.

Your body moves of its own accord, hands sliding up his chest to grip at his shirt, and your eyes slide closed when you feel one of his hands fall to your waist. He nudges you backward, and you feel the hard surface of your closet door against your back.

Tsukishima slides his tongue against your bottom lip, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth when he feels you inhale sharply in response. He takes advantage of your surprise, pushing past your lips and brushing his tongue against yours. When you slide your hands up and around his neck, tugging at the hair there, he groans and leans down. 

Planting a hand on the door behind you, he angles his head, slotting his lips against yours. He presses his hips into you, and you can feel how hard he’s getting. You sigh into his mouth at the feeling, smiling when his body reacts to the sound, his cock hardening against your thigh. 

Tsukishima Kei might be impossible to read sometimes, but he never could hide from you.

He drops his mouth to your neck, latching onto a spot under your ear and using his other arm to pull you flush against him. The sounds you’re making are clear now, soft gasps and whimpers echoing in your tiny dorm room.

“So stupid… ” 

You barely hear him, too busy wondering why it had taken so long to feel his lips on your skin.

“The only person in the world that can see right through me, and you were stupid enough to believe what I said. ” He mumbles it into your ear, taking your earlobe between his teeth and sighing when you moan against him.

“You’re so mean…” Your breath catches in your throat when you feel his hand drop to your leg, pulling the fabric of your dress up slightly. He grips at the back of your bare thigh, brushing against your panties and kneading into the plush skin just below your ass.

“What were you gonna do, Y/n, go home with Bokuto?” Tsukishima all but growls the question against your neck, dragging your thigh up and wrapping your leg around his hip. He feels your dress slide up, feels your warmth against his jeans. He’s desperate to get out of them.

“Y-You called me ugly-”

“I never said that.” Yes he had. He knows he had. He just hadn’t realized you would take it to heart. Now he hates himself for even saying it. For pretending you aren’t the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen.

“Bo said I looked good… Figured I might as well go for someone who’s actually attracted to me…” You whimper when Tsukishima presses his erection against you, your thin panties useless against the rough fabric of his jeans.

“Does it feel like I’m not attracted to you?”

You breathe out a laugh, clinging to his biceps as he sucks another bruise into your skin.

“How was I supposed to know, you dumbass? You only ever say mean things, and I thought I could get over you by-”

“By what?” He’s getting irritated again at the thought of what could have happened tonight if he hadn’t brought you home. If he’d left you alone, like his brain was telling him to. If he’d given you space and just texted you in the morning. 

“You thought you could just fuck some other guy and get over me?” He lifts his head, grinning cruelly when you look up at him, your lip trembling. “Because I didn’t call you pretty tonight? Because you were tired of me being mean all the time?”

You nod, a gasp leaving you when he wraps an arm around your waist and hoists you up so you’re eye-level, slamming you back against the closet door and pinning you there with his hips. Your dress is bunched up around your stomach now, leaving Tsukishima with a perfect view of the wet spot on your panties when he glances down. His grin widens, an evil glint shining behind his glasses.

“But it seems like you like it when I say mean things, Y/n.”

You whine in protest, growing louder when you feel him rut involuntarily against you at the sound.

“This is different, Tsukki-”

“Is it?” He’s distracted when he asks, too busy steadying you in his arms so he can lift you up and away from the closet. Making his way to your bed, he drops you unceremoniously on the mattress, smiling when you yelp. He removes his glasses and leaves them on your bedside table, dropping to his knees at the edge of the bed and wrapping his arms around your thighs so he can drag you toward him.

You sit up, taking his face in your hands and pressing your lips urgently to his - even on his knees, he’s tall enough to be eye-level with you. You feel his fingers, long and calloused, drift up your thighs and hook into your panties while he nips almost affectionately at your bottom lip.

“Tsukki… ” You whisper against his mouth, but he’s quick to shake his head, mumbling back to you.

“Not that. ”

You’re a little surprised - you never really call him by his first name. He’d found it uncomfortable the one time you’d tried it as a joke. But if he’s asking, then-

“Kei .” His pulse quickens under your fingertips when you murmur against his lips, his kiss becoming more full, and you realize just how much he likes it.

You pull away and press kisses to his face, peppering them across his nose and cheeks. It’s a moment that’s far softer than either of you had had before, one that has Tsukishima’s heart beating a little too hard in his chest. 

God, he hates being in love.

He pulls away from you, planting one hand on your chest and shoving you away from him. You fall back onto your elbows with a noise of surprise, bouncing lightly on the mattress. Tsukishima only reaches for your panties again, tugging them down and smiling to himself when you lift your hips to help him. 

He throws them somewhere over his shoulder, refusing to break his attention. Planting his hands on each of your knees, he pries your knees open slowly, glancing up at your face for any signs of discomfort. When he finds none, his gaze flicks back down to what’s in front of him.

And then his breath is cutting short at the sight of you lying bare in front of him. You’re glistening, even in this dark room, and his cock is suddenly unbearably hard. 

He’d been thinking about this moment for far longer than he’d ever care to admit. 

“Well, isn’t this just the prettiest little pussy I’ve ever seen?” 

You throw your head back at his words, moaning loudly. 

“Oh, shut up.” You know Tsukki’s slept with his fair share of girls since you’d started college - being a popular volleyball player has its benefits. You’d done the same, hoping to squash down that jealousy in your own, twisted way. To hear him praising you like this - like you’d always wanted - has you clenching and squirming from the desire coursing through your veins.

“First you get mad because I’m too mean, and now you’re mad because I’m being nice?” He tilts his head, his voice mocking. “You really need to make up your mind.” 

And then, before you can let out some kind of snarky quip, he’s dipping his head and dragging his tongue over your slit in one long stripe. 

You gasp loudly and moan out his name, falling back onto the mattress as your hands fly to his head. You bury your fingers in his hair, tightening your grip when he does it again, licking through your folds before latching onto your clit, pulling the nub gently into his mouth.

He moans loudly against you when you mewl and pull his hair. The vibration on your clit makes you squirm, and you’re involuntarily rutting your hips against his face. He only laughs against you, his breath tickling your skin, and wraps an arm over your hips to hold you steady on the bed.

He pulls his mouth off of you, and you lift your head to look at him in annoyance. He smirks, holding eye contact while he brings his other hand to your folds. When he runs his fingers through them, stopping briefly to circle your clit, you whimper. And when he drops his middle finger to your entrance, nudging gently at it in question, you bite your lip and nod furiously, just wanting him to touch you already-

“Oh my- Kei-” Your head falls back when he slides his finger in and drops his mouth to your clit to suck on it. He sets his pace with his finger, thrusting into you and curling gently up toward himself, repeating the process until he can tell by your squirming hips that you’re starting to feel something.

And then he’s pushing another finger past your entrance, his cock twitching when you moan at the stretch. He’s been painfully hard for a while now, and all he wants is to be inside you of already. He doesn’t realize you’re feeling just as impatient, only noticing when your hands drop to his shoulders, tugging on his shirt.

“Kei …” You pout down at him, your eyelids fluttering when he thrusts his fingers into you again. His fingertips are brushing against a spot you’ve never been able to reach yourself, his fingers much longer than yours. You think you might become addicted to his hands soon. But you only pull again on his shirt with a whine, hoping he’ll get the message. 

Luckily, he does, because he’s pulling away to rip his shirt impatiently off his back, wiping his mouth with it before throwing it to the floor. He unzips his jeans as he makes his way up to the bed, pausing to scoop you up into his arms and tossing you closer to your pillows so he can climb on top of you.

When he pushes his mouth to yours, you’re moaning. He tastes like you, something he’s apparently proud of, because he’s just smiling against you and shoving his tongue past your lips. He drops his mouth to your neck again as he fumbles with his jeans.

“You taste so good, you know that?” He latches onto your skin, sucking harshly. “So much better than I’d imagined.” He pushes his pants just past his thighs, growing impatient. You gasp quietly when his cock brushes against you, the sound changing to a moan when Tsukishima runs it through your folds, sliding against you.

He lifts his head to look at you, his eyes searching yours in a moment of astounding clarity given the insanity of this whole night.

“You sure?”

Your heart jumps when he asks. He’s got the tip of his cock nudging against your entrance, clearly holding himself back. But the way he’s looking at you makes you realize he wants this to be done right - after all, this had started with the two of you fighting. He doesn’t want you to regret this later and be even more upset with him.

He doesn’t want to lose you.

The idea that that’s what been hiding behind Tsukki’s eyes tonight - that vague panic that you couldn’t put your finger on - makes your heart sing and your stomach swoop with butterflies. You can only nod, cupping his face and bringing him down to your lips. His kiss is gentle and full of something that makes your nerves worse, something that makes you feel more than sure.

“I want this more than anything.”

Tsukishima’s heart skips, and he’s swearing softly against your lips. He hovers over you, keeping his mouth on yours as he presses his thumb against the head of his cock, guiding it past your entrance.

You gasp together as he pushes slowly into you, a moan pulled from your throat when he bottoms out and breathes out your name. The fog in your head - a mixture of alcohol, arousal, and nerves at the realization that you’re having sex with your best friend - worsens considerably when he drops his head to your neck, making an admission against your ear.

I’ve wanted this for so long …”

You whimper, curling your fingers into his hair and holding him close as he pulls out slowly just to slide into you again. You moan at the slow stretch, feeling his shaky breath against your ear.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you…” Tsukishima doesn’t know why he’s choosing now to have this conversation, when you very well can just talk about it after. But there’s a strand of fear twisting around the butterflies in the pit of his stomach, and his mouth is moving without his permission. He needs you to understand what this means to him.

“I didn’t know it would hurt you… I didn’t mean it…” His hips are still slow, moving languidly against yours. He’d expected this to be rough - sex is only ever rough for him - but he needs to concentrate on what he’s saying. And you feel so good like this, so warm and tight around him.

You’re having the same problem, your head completely empty as you feel him push into you inch by inch instead of all at once. You can barely hear him, your ears ringing and your skin overheating while you try to process that this is actually happening - that you finally have Tsukishima Kei the way that you’d always dreamed about.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry, Y/n.”

Your heart stutters when you realize what he’s been saying. Even with everything else going on right now - even as his hips are picking up the pace, even with his breath shuddering against your skin as he moans quietly in your ear - he’s distracted, trying to apologize. Trying to make things right between you.

“It’s okay…” You whisper forgiveness into his hair, but you feel him shake his head, his grip on your hips tightening.

“It’s not. I shouldn’t hurt you. Not you…” He gasps quietly into your neck, his hips stuttering momentarily before he returns to his previous speed. “S-Sorry… You feel really good… Trying to focus.”

You flush, clenching around him and pulling him closer when he groans. You think about what he’s saying. ‘ Not you ’?

You’re about to ask what he means, but he’s mumbling another admission against your skin, this one much more intense than the last.

“I love you, Y/n… So fucking in love, it hurts…”

You inhale sharply, your heart stopping in your chest. But then there’s a moan ripping from your throat, because he’s hitting a spot in you that you didn’t even know existed, the tip of his cock bumping up against something that makes the coil in the pit of your stomach twist harshly.

“I- fuck - Tsukki, I love you, too…”

Tsukishima lifts his head then, staring down at you with surprise written all over his face. You can only breathe out a laugh, moaning quietly while you giggle.

“What, you’re shocked? I just told you I almost went home with Bokuto just so I could stop thinking about you.”

His eyes darken at your words, and his hips are snapping harshly against yours. You moan in surprise, feeling your stomach flip at the way he’s looking down at you. He seems to remember now just how this night could have gone.

He sits up, knocking your hands away when you reach out for him with a whine, and pulls out of you completely. Slipping off the edge of the bed, he wraps his hands around your thighs and tugs you toward him roughly. He only smiles mockingly down at you when you slide across the mattress with a quiet yelp, pulling your hips flush against his.

When he slips into you again, the soft, caring Tsukishima is gone, replaced with the Tsukki you’ve always known. The one who has no problem running his mouth just to get to you.

“That’s it then, huh? If I hadn’t dragged you home, you’d be wrapped around another man right now?” He slams into you, watching with delight as you cry out and arch your back. He keeps this pace, his grip on your hips bordering on painful as he drives his cock into you.

“Tsukki-”

“What did I tell you? ” His tone cuts through you, yanking hard on that coil in your navel and setting off a fresh flurry of butterflies.

“I- Kei -”

“You think you can forget about me that easily? You think I would let you?” 

You’re writhing under him, hands gripping your sheets tight as you gasp with each hard thrust of his hips on yours. The sight makes Tsukishima’s hips stutter, and he feels his orgasm coming on. He drops his thumb to your clit to push you closer to the edge, throwing his head back with a moan when you clench around him.

“Kei, please- feels so goo- ah- ”

“S-Shit, Y/n, I’m not gonna last… Where should I-” Tsukishima almost loses it when you claw at his hands on your hips, latching onto his wrists as you moan.

“Insi-Inside… Inside, Kei, please…” You look up at him, taking in the flush of his cheeks, the way his eyelids flutter when you clench around him. The way he bites down hard on his bottom lip and moans after a few seconds, breaking his hold on you so he can slam his hands down on the mattress on either side of you, his hair falling into his face as he pants down at you.

“Fuck -” He reaches down, brushing his thumb over your clit again. When you tighten around him this time, he’s letting out a choked gasp and your name, and you’re suddenly filled with warmth as his hips stutter, as he spills into you. He drops his head to your shoulder, his breath shaky as he thrusts into you, riding out his orgasm.

And when he’s done - when his cum is dripping out of you while you squirm, feeling full but unsatisfied - he sits up, pulling you against him again. He wraps his fingers around your wrists, smiling breathlessly when you cling to his forearms, and uses you as leverage when he draws his hips back and snaps them harshly into yours.

You cry out, feeling yourself throb the more he all but drags you down onto his cock and tries to draw your orgasm out of you. He releases your wrists, his thumb circling that little bundle of nerves while his other hand grips the back of your thigh, spreading your legs even further. 

When he changes the angle of his stroke, you’re gasping, unable to handle all of the sensations he’s causing in your body. There’s too much going on, too many feelings happening, each of which is bringing you closer to the edge. You slap your hands down over your face, trying both to muffle your moans and also hide your face, feeling embarrassed that your body is reacting so strongly to everything Tsukishima does.

He only coos down at you, his tone almost insulting.

“Oh, is my baby going to come?”

You whine loudly at his words, so rude but so endearing - your stomach swoops as the coil tightens, but you nod anyway. His low chuckle reaches your ears.

“Let me see you, then.” When you don’t respond, only moaning into your hands with each thrust, he clicks his teeth at you in annoyance. “Come on, Y/n. I wanna see how pretty my best friend looks when she comes on my cock.”

Tsukishima beams when that does it, your back arching as you cry out his name. You screw your eyes shut and fumble desperately for his hands. He slips his fingers through yours, holding tight when you come, your walls fluttering around him. He fucks you through it, inhaling sharply when you become impossibly tight, and then drops down over you when you're done, pressing his lips to yours.

You let out a sob against his mouth, your limbs heavy as you try to catch your breath. 

“Tsukki …” You wiggle uncomfortably, wrapping your arms around his neck and clinging to him. He laughs against your neck, pressing kisses to your skin. And then he leans up again, pressing his lips to your tiredly.

“Let me get you cleaned up.” He snickers when you whine but joins in on your soft gasp when he slides out of you, both of you sensitive. Stripping you out of the dress that’s been bunched up on your stomach this whole time, he leaves you on the bed, kicking his jeans off as he makes his way into your connected bathroom. When he returns, it’s with a wet rag and a gentle hand on your thighs.

Tsukishima scoops you into his arms when he’s done, setting you carefully against the pillows and climbing into bed with you. Your head is still empty, and you reach your arms out uselessly for him, mumbling his name. He only smiles, pulling you against his chest and kissing the side of your head.

“You okay?” When you nod sleepily against his chest, he smiles, tugging you closer. “Not too mean?”

You giggle, planting a kiss on his neck.

“I like you a little mean.”

Tsukishima snorts, shaking his head.

“I know you do. But still…” He meets your eyes, suddenly shy, his cheeks flushing. “I’ll be better from now on. Less ‘ toxic boyfriend ’ and more ‘ insufferable but still cute ’.”

You beam at his words, your heart skipping.

“Boyfriend , huh?”

He rolls his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Oh, I’m sorry - I forgot you and Bokuto were basically married.”

“Oh, right, I should probably tell him the wedding’s off-”

“You’re a dick.”

[therese-lokidottir]

Also this is from sylvie fans when I comments that sylvie is not thinking further when she kill HWR , can you translate what they meant because I confuse what they trying said to me 👇

okay actually season two really mistreats Sylvie and her decision to kill HWR in a way that really irks me. the only reason Sylvie was "wrong" to kill HWR was because it opened up the possibility of a multiversal war, but nothing is done to change that so season two ends in exactly the same place season one did. season two throws in the loom just to distract you from the fact that Loki does nothing to fix that original problem. by taking his throne at the end of time, Loki is allowing the multiverse to exist and allowing each timeline to create its own Kang and allowing this multiversal war to happen exactly the same way that Sylvie did in season one, but because he "fixed the loom problem" that didn't even exist in season one, it's painted as a noble sacrifice where he singlehandedly saves all of creation. in reality, all he's doing is saying that Sylvie was right to free the multiverse and he would give his life to ensure that nobody can walk back that decision.

tl;dr the moral of Loki season two is actually that Sylvie was right to kill HWR 🙏

(this fic takes a different route though because the TVA is just going to swoop in and snag the evil Kangs before they can do Evil Kang Things™️ which means it fixes the problem of season one, someone season two completely neglected to even attempt to do) (I am bitter) (#SylvieDefenseSquad)

Oh, you just threw a bunch a words at me at once and I have no idea. What is this loom bullsh***? Where did that come from? The first season and the surrounding films about the multiverse were about how the universe crossing over and the potential problems that could cause by that. Why are universe just falling apart on their own now?

The problem that I saw with Sylvie killing HWR was the fact she didn't care about the consequence and actively if it created more problems and people got hurt. It sounds like the exact thing happen in season 2, killing HWR created more problems. Now the things Loki seemed to be worried about, something worse taking kang place, wasn't exactly the resulting problem. Loki didn't want HWR to keep ruling, he wanted to stop and think about some other kind of solution. Sylvie just killed one person and then f**ed off and that didn't solve the problem at all.

Killing one guy didn't solve fascism, people still tried to carry on the mission until others step in and stop them. Sylvie is proven short sighted and wrong in thinking killing HWR was the solution.

Sure, maybe the idea of freeing the multiverse is better than having time fascists destroy all but one version time is correct. But that rewriting what was going on in the season one finale. Sylvie was not arguing any kind of morals or philosophy, she wanted revenge.

The entire series is a tangled inconsistent mess of mismatched ideas. Saying Sylvie was right is rewriting why she did what she did. It's ignoring that what she did didn't solve the problem. It's ignoring that Loki just want to stop and think and there was never real ticking clock preventing them from thinking it through the first time.

[daboyau]

C, F, K, Y, and Z :)?

C: What member do you identify with most?

I’m assuming member is referring to characters. So TMNT related, with Rise I relate most to Raph. Every other iterations, it’s Leo all the way. We all have eldest child syndrome and I live for that. That said, when I write Donnie I do tend to give him more of my own traits and habits. (And I project my sister onto Leo all the way.)

F: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Mmm I answered this one earlier, but here’s a different bit, from this story here. (Some parts cut out for brevity.)

“It’s so much easier here. We were always safe in the tunnels, but the world is so big,” Raph whispered like he was telling Leo a horrible secret. “And there are so many things that want to hurt us.”

“Oh. Listen, you don’t have to worry about that. Those guys are all gone!” 

“They hurt them. Hurt…hurt you. It’s my job to keep everybody safe, and I couldn’t do it. I failed! I messed everything up over and over and—“

“Hey, no. No, no, we are not doing this.” Leo sank to the ground, sitting cross legged and shifting his little big bro around so they could look each other in the eye. The darkness glittered. It felt hungry. “Listen to me. You did the best you could, which is what matters most. You kept us all alive and got us out of trouble again and again no matter how many stupid things we did to make that harder on you. But — and this is important — that burden should never have been on your shoulders. Do you hear me, man? You were a kid, just like the rest of us, and I….”

“I’m sorry,” Leo croaked, and he covered his face, not wanting this version of Raph to see him like this. Still, he forced the words out through hiccuping breaths and a tight throat, hating himself a little more with each one. “I made things so much harder on you. I was such a little shit, and I hurt you so many times. I helped put that burden on you, and you never even complained even though I never helped you carry it. I should have done more, I should have told you how much you meant to us, but instead all I did for so long was find ways to tear you down. You were never alone, but we made you feel like you were. I don’t know why— I never really felt— ugh! I want you to know that I never—“

Sooo mostly I like this one because it made me emotional and felt sort of cathartic to write lol.

K: What’s the angstiest idea you’ve ever come up with?

Another one I answered already, but The Loyal Remains is pretty angsty and only gets worse….

Y: A character you want to protect.

Rise Raph 100%. I’m ready to throw myself in front of a truck for him any day.

Z: Major character death–do you ever write/read it? Is there a character whose death you can’t tolerate?

Sooo it isn’t something I write often, but I do in fact write major character death, and it is a large part of current fics I’m writing and planning. I don’t seek it out when I’m looking for things to read, but it isn’t something that would scare me away from a fic.

[misslisamiray]

I said Chapter 2 would be up today, and here it is!

Please note it's roughly 650 words longer than Chapter 1 - having the whole family talking/arguing meant a lot of dialogue. The following chapters will all focus on 2-3 characters, so they should be shorter. 😊

And now, without further ado, I proudly present the next chapter of Down With the Rickness!

The end of the countdown was drowned out by urgent knocking and the rest of the family yelling at once.

“Rick! Let us in! I have a right to know if there’s some kind of alien mutant sci-fi bacteria in my garage again!”

“Grandpa Rick! You good in there? Your flashing cube things said we were all fine, sooo…”

“Dad! What’s going on? Should I be worried? Is the President going to show up in a few minutes with a bunch of guys in hazmat suits, or whatever the interplanetary version of that is?”

“Rick! Come on! L-let us in! What’s wrong? If nothing’s wrong and this is a joke, it’s not funny, and you’re an asshole. But if something is wrong, it sounds bad, and like maybe you need help. So let us in!”

“Shit, shit, shit!” Rick muttered, pushing the cubes and the computer displaying the test results aside. He cleared his throat and said more loudly, “Alright, alright! It’s not locked, and since when the fuck do any of you knock?! You can come in, just maybe stay back. Don’t get too *COUGH!* close.”

The others all looked at each other hesitantly for a second, then Morty opened the door.

“Dad? Are you alright? We uhh, heard your alarms going off, and it sounded like the last one said you have some kind of infection. Is this something we should be concerned about? Those alarms sounded awfully…intense.” Beth said worriedly, taking a few tentative steps forward.

“Yeah, sorry about that. It’s a system I implemented a while back but never f-finished. It’s supposed to detect any type of viral or bacterial pathogen. From any planet, satellite, etc, in any reality. *Sniff!* And ranging in severity from ‘You may not even realize you have anything’ to ‘By the time you realize you have something, you’re already dead.’” Rick started to explain, keeping his back turned to the others. Unfortunately, at that worst possible point in the explanation, he started coughing badly again. The looks on everyone’s faces became more concerned. Jerry clung to his golf club tightly, now practically hugging it instead of getting ready to swing it.  

“R-Rick?...” Morty said timidly, moving a little closer to his grandpa. Beth pulled him back by the collar of his pajama top.

“Sorry again. I know, the timing of that couldn’t have been any worse. Or more clichéd. What I was trying to say was, this system is supposed to automatically differentiate between what’s trivial and what’s serious. But it’s unfinished, and there’s clearly some wires to uncross. So what happened was a high-level response to a low-level *ACHOO!* threat.” Rick continued, his voice lower and more gravelly than usual.

“So what is it exactly? Because no offense Grandpa, but you sound like shit. And I’m guessing the reason you’re not looking at us is that you look worse than you sound.” Summer said. Spotting a box of tissues on a shelf, she tossed it to Rick. It bounced off his shoulder and landed next to him on the floor.

“Dammit, Summer! It’s too early for you to be this perceptive! Ugh. Also, thanks.” Rick grumbled, eagerly grabbing the box.

He blew his nose loudly, then, still not bothering to get up, turned to face the family and continued, “I know, I know. Between the scare the alarms gave us all, and the fact I am clearly not doing great at the moment, me telling you everything is fine is not likely to inspire a lot of *Cough!* confidence. But rest assured, we’re dealing with a nuisance, not a crisis.”

“Rick, you’re still kinda talking in circles and not actually answering any questions. You keep saying, ‘This isn’t serious.’ and “This is nothing to worry about.’ But what is ‘this’, exactly?” Morty questioned.

“*SIGH!* Fine. It’s, it’s… a virus that originates in the Gloppydrop system. It causes the individual suffering from it to experience symptoms of r-random illnesses, cycling through them like you’re on the universe’s worst game show. It’s had millennia to evolve and adapt more diseases into its fucked up little database, so there’s no telling what’s going to happen next.” Despite how calm Rick was about that explanation, everyone else’s expressions quickly turned to varying degrees of horror.

“I’m sorry, but how the hell is that considered a low-level threat?! You have some transforming alien virus that can incorporate any illness, both known and unknown to man! Sure, right now it seems to just be giving you a terrible cold. But what happens if it morphs into space AIDS, or bubonic plague, or some kind of…turning inside out disease?!” Jerry panicked, dropping his golf club.

“Now honey, calm down and let Rick finish explaining. Maybe this really isn’t as dire as it sounds.” Beth said gently, wrapping an arm around Jerry’s shoulders. She then turned back to Rick and sternly switched to, “Seriously, Dad, what the fuck?! I am very worried about you right now, but I’m also pissed because it’s sounding more and more like those alarms were, in fact, justified.”

“No, you don’t get it. This is a mimicking disease. You feel like you have whatever thing it imitates, but you don’t actually have that thing. So you can’t die from it, even if you have the shitty luck of landing on all the worst spaces of its Wheel of Misfortune. And it l-leaves no lasting effects once you’ve recovered. So that’s why, while it has the potential to be incredibly painful, it’s not actually dangerous. Does that make sense now? It better, because I can’t dumb it down more than that.” Rick explained. Jerry still looked confused and more concerned than the others, but everyone else was visibly less worried now.

“I…guess so. Can we do anything to help?” Beth asked.

“Not really, sweetie. *Cough!* *Cough!* There’s no cure, and symptom management changes fast since, you know, the symptoms this virus tricks you into thinking you have do. But it goes without saying I should have something for whatever it throws at me.” Rick answered.

“Ok, so if I’m following this and you’re not bullshitting us, we don’t have to worry about this thing actually killing us, but what does happen if one of us catches it from you, Rick?” Jerry asked.

“*SNIFF!* For fuck’s sake, Jerry, weren’t you paying any attention?! If you catch it, it’ll be the same for you as it is for me – you’ll be varying degrees of miserable for 3-10 days, then be perfectly fine. But it’s probably a moot point, anyway. Infection with Gloppydropian Mimicking Disease is rare in humans to begin with, and, umm… there’s never actually been a recorded case of human-to-human transmission. So before anyone asks again, no you’re not in danger, and yes, the alarm was completely unnecessary.” Rick explained, growing more irritated by the second. Morty and Summer exchanged a look. Something didn’t make sense.

“So, I guess this bug must have a pretty long incubation period, huh? I mean, Gloppydrop? When was the last time we were anywhere near that system?” Morty commented, walking over to Rick. Summer followed, Beth not stopping either of them this time.

“God dammit, Morty, do you not understand what “originates from’ means?! The stupid virus comes from Gloppydrop originally, but it’s spread across the universe. I could have picked it up practically anywhere.” Rick replied crossly.

“Yeah, but you haven’t exactly been off-planet much lately. It’s been at least a few weeks again, hasn’t it? And if this is so rare in humans, it’s probably not something you caught going to the corner bar with Dad and Gene.” Summer pointed out.

“Christ, what is with all these questions?! Yes, children, Mimicking Disease does happen to have an extended incubation period. I most likely contracted it months ago. That being *COUGH!* said, Earth’s not as boring a planet as it used to be these days. Which is cool and all, but one downside is shit like this making its way here. So, while it’s unlikely I got it locally, can’t rule that out, either. *Achoo!* Are we finally done talking about this?! We’ve established there’s no emergency, and everyone’s managed to annoy me more than my illness is. You’re all gonna go about your day anywhere but here and let me deal with this now, right?” Rick snapped. There were a few seconds of silence, followed by the rest of the family all yelling at the same time again.

They mostly drowned each other out, but then Summer’s voice cut through the noise, saying, “Your detection system must be more broken than you think, Grandpa. I mean, apparently, you’ve had this alien virus inside of you for a significant amount of time, and it didn’t clue you in until you were already hacking up a lung? You do see how that would be an issue if this were something serious, right?”

Rick glared at her, but didn’t say anything, prompting Summer to continue, “Also, it was hard to tell with the alarms, but I’m sure I heard it say something about the virus’s origin being Earth. Which is a weird thing to say about Gloppydropian Mimicking Disease, don’t you think?” She gave her grandfather a challenging look, daring him to argue with her. Everyone else was quiet, eyes locked on the two of them.

“What the hell, Summer? It’s stupid early, I’m sick, and do you think anyone’s more pissed off by, or aware of, just how broken the stupid detection system is?! Why are you being such a bitch to me?” Rick yelled. Or rather, tried to yell – his throat hurt and he was losing his voice a little.

“Both of you calm down. Dad, don’t call Summer a bitch. She’s right, and you need to fix that system, like, the second you’re feeling better. I can help if you want. Summer, being right doesn’t mean you can be a bitch to your grandfather, especially right now.” Beth scolded the two of them. Neither Rick nor Summer said anything, as they were now locked in a staring contest. Rick lost when he sneezed again.

“Ugh, I am so over this horseshit already!” he complained, grabbing a handful of tissues and muttering more profanity under his breath.

“Yeah, I bet. It’s a good thing you have this crazy transforming disease that should switch things up and give you a whole new set of symptoms… ooh, any minute now, according to this article I found.” Summer replied, tapping away at her phone and triumphantly showing Rick the screen.

“Are you seriously *Sniff!* fact-checking me now?! What is your deal today?”

“Yeah, Summer. Don’t you think maybe you’re being a little harsh? Rick’s not feeling well, and…” Morty tried to interject.

“Morty, shush. You can go back to kissing Grandpa’s ass after I prove my point.”

Rick, meanwhile, had pulled a small notebook out of his pocket, and was now furiously scribbling something in it.

When he finished, he threw the notebook, and his car keys, to/at Summer, saying, “Listen up, I just decided something. Even though the risk of any of you getting infected is low, we’re not gonna *Cough!* chance it. For your safety and my sanity, everyone’s getting the hell out of my garage now. Sum-Sum! Congratulations! Since you’re being so smart and helpful this morning, you get to leave first and go the farthest away. Here’s a list of shit I need you to get and places I need you to go.”

“What?! Grandpa Rick, you can’t be serious. You’re gonna send me into space, just because I called your bluff about…” Summer started to object. A large, semi-clear purple bubble engulfed her and hovered her outside to Rick’s car.

“Sorry, Summer, can’t *Cough!* *COUGH!* hear you. We’ll talk when you get back in a day or two! Car, autopilot to Space Walmart. The, the good one, just past Neptune. Do not, under any circumstances, go to the one on Venus, understand?” Rick instructed.

“If you’ve seen one Space Walmart, you’ve seen them all, but sure. Whatever you say, Rick.” the car agreed sarcastically, flying off with a furious Summer.

“Dad, I’m not trying to second guess you, but are you sure that was necessary?” Beth questioned.

“Beth, sweetie, you should, uhhh, go to work. You’re the breadwinner of the house – can’t risk you getting *SNIFF!* sick. So yeah. G-go to work.” was what she got in response.

“Dad, I don’t work for another 5 hours, and I’m in my pajamas, and…” Beth started to object. Her protests were cut off by a large bubble, like the one that had carried Summer off, transporting her out to her car.

“Not cool! You being sick does not make this acceptable behavior!” she yelled as the bubble deposited her in the car, then vanished. Beth looked at the house and thought about trying to go back in, but quickly decided against it.

“Why fight it? There’s extra scrubs at work, and it’s not like I particularly want to deal with all this.” she sighed, driving off.

Back in the garage, Rick was saying, “Dammit, Jerry. You still don’t have a job I can send you to to get you out of my hair, huh?”

“Really, Rick? That’s all you’ve got? You are off your game today if you expect that old chestnut to hurt me.” Jerry scoffed, picking up his golf club again.

“*COUGH!* I don’t have the energy to try and hurt you, Jerry. I just need you to be one less headache for me to deal with. Should’ve had Summer drop you off at the Jerryboree. It’s even on the way! Damn, I really can’t think straight right now.” Rick griped, rubbing his temples and coughing more. Morty and Jerry were both watching him closely.

“If it helps, I’m, umm, not allowed there at the moment anyway, Rick. For now, I’m only suspended and not banned, but there’s this investigation pending, and well…” a slightly embarrassed Jerry informed him.

“Really, Jerry? Was it at least worth it?”

“That’s the worst part! No, not at all! It was one quick kiss and a handshake! A limp handshake at that!” Jerry pouted.

“Eww! Dad, why? Why is the whole family like this?! Actually, no. I don’t wanna know!” Morty wailed, shaking his head and covering his ears.

Ignoring his son, Jerry continued, “And now I don’t know if that me said something because he has regrets, or blames me for how pathetic it was, or if it was some random other me who saw and complained because he was jealous, or judging us, or maybe just a tattletale… It keeps me up at night!”

Rick nodded and said, “Yeah, been there. Shit sucks. You have my sympathies, Jer. Hmmm. I’m out of ideas for what to do with you, so just go be stupid upstairs, okay? Or go spend the day with Gene, or… I don’t care. Just *Achoo!* go.”

Jerry studied his father-in-law sympathetically. Summer was right – Rick looked bad. His hair was messier than usual, his nose was running, and his eyes were bloodshot. Still sitting on the garage floor, he was starting to shiver, and seemed exhausted.

“Fine, I’m going. But not because you told me to. I have an idea to make you feel better, Rick. I just have a little research to do first.” he said smugly as he strode out of the garage, clearly proud of whatever idea he’d just come up with.

“Okay, so we’re gonna have to deal with whatever that’s about later, too. Cool.” Morty sighed, at the same time Rick said, “That’s great, Jerry. Can’t wait. I’m sure you’re gonna win a Nobel Prize or something.”

And then it was just the two of them left in the garage.

[lowkeyclueless5137]

I know the concept of dark magical girls especially when they fight against the normal and good magical girls.

I got this idea from the Yes 5 Precure movie where that basically has the magical girl team go against dark magical girls(there was one very sweet and sad “move you to tears” moment, but we’re not here to talk about that), where the overblot part of Malleus creates this fake dark magical girls to battle the others in their dreams(heck maybe even Ortho encounters one of him created by the overblot part of Malleus when trying to investigate within the barrier to figure out a way to solve everyone that’s trapped in it). Their job is that they are like super guards that are meant to keep a certain set of people from daring to break out out of their dreams or to intervene with said dreamers.(PS I might use a bunch of images/gifs from said movie to hopefully help better visualize the idea)

Basically what something like that were to appear in front of book 7 group aka a dark version of magical girl Yuuki(Bonus if Orpheus gets a dark counterpart that uhhh also just happens to turn into a dark magical boy) they fight each other(it also just so happens this is happening with any others that are stepped out of line, also this is fun to imagine the dream people in Lilia’s dream just plain confused where are these sparky people came from and why the heck they are fighting each other? Also uhh watch out from that magical blast just now) of course there will be a moment where eventually Yuuki beats their dark counterpart but instead of destroying them, they spare their dark counterpart’s life and actually even let the counterpart come with them and to show said counterpart what the real world is like once this is all over after well, this dark magical girl knows they are a fake and they believe they ever be. Even jealous of Yuuki well was(but this can also applies to Ortho’s dark magical boy counterpart if you want, plus Orpheus’s own counterpart can also be spared and follow the group too). The counterpart of Yuuki expresses a small wish to see the real sky and experience the real world(for Ortho’s counterpart it would be to not only see the real sky but also experience flying in it even just for a mere moment). Then after traveling with said group. They once again encounter the overblot part of Malleus again, he’s really ticked off that Yuuki, Orpheus, Grim, Sebek, and Sliver managed to wake up Lilia, and yeah another fight(this becomes even more difficult now that he is ticked off), it goes pretty bad. And Yuuki was in very much danger to be dragged down into a deeper sleep(and potentially worse, or in Ortho’s own case he not only unfortunately encounters Malleus but nearly was about to be taken out too).

That was until Yuuki’s counterpart stepped in and took that finishing blow that was meant for Yuuki(Ortho's own counterpart threw himself in between both Ortho and Overblot Malleus to protect his counterpart), they betrayed their former master for the real Yuuki’s sake. both Yuuki and the other Yuuki get knocked back from the blast. Yuuki themself was okay. The other magical girl on the other hand………

The other Yuuki got extremely hurt and damaged to the point they can barely move, it didn’t help that the one thing stabilizing their form got damaged in that very fight. Yuuki themselves would most likely ask, why did you save me back there? To which the counterpart(this will also apply to Ortho’s own counterpart too, plus Orpheus’s counterpart also had to deal with the same having saved his real self had he been spared[plus whatever happens with Yuuki’s counterpart also happens with Orpheus’s counterpart]) says “Why? Because we’re friends, that’s what you said before right?” The dark magical girl soon explains that it would have been better had the two had met in a better and different place, sadly it was impossible for they were simply a fake, a copy of the real Yuuki. Despite Yuuki themselves believe that despite the other a fake, the other still are a friend to them.

“But……I never quite learn how to smile like you” says Yuuki’s dark counterpart despite the small smile on their face. “I don’t think I even get to see the real sky nor world either. I wish I could have seen them for myself”(for Ortho’s counterpart case, “I don’t think I get to ever see nor fly in that open sky will I……I wish I could have seen and flown in that very sky just once”) and they say this with a few stray tears yet still tried to smile in the end before well fading away too. Yuuki definitely cry their heart out and also definitely be more determined to stop and take down overblot Malleus for what he did now. This also acts as a catalyst for the magical boy part of Malleus to start fighting harder than ever to help. He doesn’t wish for his child of man to let out such a heartbreaking cry, and also can’t let what his overblot self continue this any further(in Ortho’s counterpart case, hearing such a heartbreaking cry from the little shroud hurts, that his overblot self’s actions are causing this sadness and pain. And who knows how long till Yuuki and Orpheus suffer from that as well, and so). Malleus’s magical boy self steps in and helps them escape from the overblot’s reach as well as fight even harder now than ever to stop his overblot self from causing more harm and sadness to all the others too. The fight in stopping overblot Malleus becomes even more serious more than ever, he has to be completely stopped before anymore sacrifices had to be made.

Also sorry for this one being really long 😅, I just had a lot to explain regarding the idea. That aside, what do you think of this long blab of an idea?

:0 long✨

I could add some more to the sacrifice part... Let's say that since overBlot Malleus made those counterparts in the dream world... There is no escape for them. Like at all. Once overBlot Malleus is defeated, so will the um be lifted and as such, all products of the dreams would cease to exist.

Here I have decided to also reveal Idia's magical warrior: Sebek. Sebek is a very skilled fighter and takes on the more masked/secret hero persona. His weapons are hand guns and he has some good chunk of experience.

Hence why, Sebek will serve as a very important figure, as his fight with the dark counterpart is the first one and also the one where Sebek destroys his counterpart, sparing it from the inevitable painful demise it would have once the spell is lifted.

But in that fight, I decided to add that he and the real Malleus get separated. So the 2 have to work together and navigate this chaos, in order to pick up the others.

And Sebek gives to Malleus some advice. He protected him all this time, until Malleus himself somehow got dragged into this mess. Being a magical girl is not all that sunshine and rainbows and sometimes, sacrifices have to be made. Sometimes the option that sounds more cruel is actually the most merciful outcome.

Meanwhile, Yuuki and Orpheus have their own encounters. Not knowing about the pre-determined demise of all the counterparts in the dream world, they try to save as many as possible until they meet with Sebek and Malleus.

Imagine the sheer angst that would be when the overBlot is defeated and the spell is lifted. All the counterparts realising they were never meant to exist on their own and slowly fade away, being in truth, only a small part of the originals. A part that would continue to live inside them and to please never forget it.

[1kook]

crunchyroll & rail

the 10th installment of my netflix & chill series !

SUMMARY Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. WARNINGS smut in the forms of making out, jk nipple play, some 69 action, cunnilingus, blowjobs, brief choking, jk trying his best to listen to oc but he doesn’t rlly :/, fingering, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, unprotected fuckin raw, its romantic but when is it not… MISC fluffy and domestic <3, weekend getaway <3, the Big Question, shy jk, sailor moon supremacy, jk makes this big elaborate speech about the sun and moon, mentions of 240p YouTube quality, RATING m (18+) WC 8.7k

NOTE (!) the smut in this chapter is relatively short ! I was more concerned with writing this monumental step in their relationship, so sorry to all the lads who come here specifically for the p0rn but today we focus on the l0ve <333 anyway nc 10!!!!! Can u fuckin believe….

Jungkook mentions it at the dinner table one night. You’re not eating— well, you are not eating; Jungkook has been stocking up on his protein intake like a madman —but finishing up some work you had brought home. Your back aches, your eyes burn. The mere sound of his soft voice has all those feel-good endorphins shooting through your nervous system like a shot of adrenaline. “We should take a trip,” he says, fork clattering against his plate to signify the end of his feast. 

Your fingers tap across your keyboard, eyes flickering between an Excel sheet and the report you’re typing out. It takes you a moment to respond, a delayed, “huh,” that even Jungkook doesn’t find convincing.  

In the background, you’re listening to what has to be one of the worst voiceovers of the original Sailor Moon series in a language you don’t even understand. But you know the series like the back of your hand, know what exactly is happening even if you don’t understand what they’re saying, because you’ve watched it only about a million times. It’s mostly just there for background purposes anyway, some white noise to try and replicate the noisy soundtrack of your office. 

To make matters worse—complicated?—, you had been too lazy to get onto your usual pirating sites and had settled for the five minute, five part, 240p clips of Sailor Moon on YouTube (you know the ones), and Jungkook has to wait until Episode 74: Part ⅖ ends before you grace him with a proper response. “Where do you wanna go, baby?” you ask, giving your eyes a break from the data as you move to scour YouTube for Episode 74: Part 3/5. 

He’s stretching back now, arms wound up above his head. His hair— god, his hair —is an ashy color now, a faded version of its golden ancestor from a few months ago. Soon, he’s planning on going back to brown, claims he’s getting too old to be dying his hair, whatever that means. For now, you watch his inked fingers run through his scalp; he looks delectable. Maybe you’re hungrier than you initially thought. Or at least thirstier. “A cabin,” he suggests, and he offers this little half shrug that would otherwise seem normal had you not been well-versed in the art of Jungkook Body Language. His front teeth nibble at his lip, eyes laser focused on his empty plate. Even now, he still gets nervous asking you out. That thought alone makes your ego soar as high as an airplane. “Just something small.”

Usually, “something small” with Jungkook ends up being something big and, in most cases, something expensive. Which you’re totally not opposed to— you’re at the point in your relationship where you don’t even bother trying to dissuade Jungkook from showering you with gifts. It’s one of his many, many, many, many forms of loving you and, well, he knows you like the back of his hand. He rarely misses. 

Lo and behold, it is a grander affair than a simple cabin. “Well, it’s more like a resort,” he confesses, reaching across the table for your hand. Immediately, his thumb finds itself rubbing over the simple band of your promise ring. “Just wanna do something nice for you. I know you’ve been tired lately,” he adds on, voice a quiet murmur that nearly gets lost under the intensity of the pout that appears whenever he becomes even the slightest bit bashful. 

You smile, the fondness in your heart skyrocketing to impossible heights when he lifts your hand to press those pretty petal lips against your knuckles. “Well, just let me know when,” you tell Jungkook. “So I can request time off from work.” 

Episode 74: Part 3/5 starts playing after an ad, and you’d pause it for the sake of preserving this moment with Jungkook, but it’s hidden under so many tabs on your laptop that you lose it the second you leave the tab. Jungkook’s head tilts to the side, sending his ashy locks cascading beautifully. “You know that show is on Crunchyroll,” Jungkook says, seemingly moving past his bout of shyness now. “And you have the password.” 

“Do I,” you murmur, but he’s lost you once more, your true talent of typing with one hand showing itself as you return to your Excel sheet, the other still firmly squeezed in his grasp. Jungkook releases soon enough anyway, cleans up the table quickly, and disappears off into the kitchen. He sings when he washes the dishes, likes to pretend he’s a terrible singer even though you’ve told him countless times he could easily take X Factor by storm. (And you know exactly what it takes to wow those judges— you spent the entire last month psychotically watching multiple X Factor seasons from multiple different countries, nearly considered joining the damn audition yourself.) The horribly dubbed Sailor Moon is yelling now, shrieking really, and Jungkook calls from the kitchen, “don’t forget to take your contacts out, sweetheart.” 

It’s domestic and it's nerve-wracking. 

You want Jungkook, that much is a fact. Aristotle and Socrates and that other guy could debate the philosophical intricacies of the world, turn this dimension in on itself until it was a scrambled mess of emotion and thought, but the one thing they could never change, could never even question, is your love for your boyfriend. You want Jungkook badly, but more importantly, you want Jungkook forever. 

And you’re sure Jungkook probably, maybe, hopefully feels that way too. But the way you feel is… slightly concerning to say the least. For starters, you’re convinced your love for Jungkook was meant to be, and that’s saying a lot coming from you. You’re not one for cheesy, soulmate tales— that was more Jungkook’s thing —but the more you think about it, the more you become convinced that you and Jungkook were destined to meet. Like the planets aligned one year, the stars conferred, a tectonic plate somewhere in California shifted; whatever it may have been, something happened somewhere that led to the birth of this beautiful romance of yours. 

Lately, being with Jungkook has this inexplicably fiery feeling blossoming in your chest, these waves of emotion that sometimes have you fantasizing about the weirdest of scenarios with him. Like yelling at him for not taking the garbage out on time, or bumping into each other as you make dinner in the kitchen, or buying a new rug together. 

(Most drastically, the other day, you had a dream where you were pregnant and Jungkook was there and there was a house and a dog and an annoyingly friendly neighbor and this god-awful tile in the bathroom.) 

Long story short, you’ve been fantasizing about a forever with Jungkook. The concerning part is the timing; was this too early? You’re nearly halfway through your second year with Jungkook now, and you know most people date for many, many years before the mere thought of union even occurs to them. In another life, maybe you were the same, would have held off until the very last moment. But with Jungkook things just feel right (at least for you), like there wasn’t going to be anyone else after him. And you sincerely hoped there wouldn’t be. 

You slump back into your seat, eyes fluttering shut. Too many thoughts swirl around your mind, and the screech of the Sailor Moon voiceover on screen certainly doesn’t help. How you managed to spiral that far down your thoughts in the span of one 240p, five minute clip of a larger episode amazes even you. To add onto your worries, the clip abruptly ends and Episode 74: Part ⅘ is nowhere in sight, a fact that draws a frustrated moan out of the already sensitive you. 

Luckily, Jungkook eventually returns, standing closely behind you. His presence is enormous, the room suddenly overflowing with a shit ton of those feel-good endorphins all over again, except this time they reach an all-time high when he leans over and quietly shuts your laptop. “Come sleep,” he says softly, and it’s a pleasant mixture of his genuinely caring voice and that horndog purr of his that lures you into bed. And it’s that same voice that croons softly into your ear, fingers nestled between your folds until you’re orgasming yourself into a deep slumber. 

Much to no one’s surprise, the cabin turns out to be quite the luxurious lodging; two floors of dark oak everywhere you turn, a stunning stone fireplace in the bedroom, and a truly breathtaking view of the resort’s snowy hill (read: front row seats to watch all the snowboarders and skiers wipe out in the snow). Jungkook had splurged quite the pretty penny on it, so you make a point to clap it up for him when he first opens the door to your temporary home for the weekend. 

The main bedroom is beyond words. It’s got an attached balcony (that you doubt you’ll be using in this chilly weather), and a wooden canopy bed that makes you feel like a royal (that you will certainly be using). It’s separated into two areas, the bed space and a tiny entertainment area on the other side of the room. Perhaps the best thing about the room— and the cabin itself —is the huge, smart TV mounted above said stone fireplace and the fact it allows the phone mirroring option in lieu of not having any streaming sites. And as is with every and anything to do with televisions, Jungkook is the most excited of the two of you. “Baby, look,” he beams, pointing excitedly at whatever he’s got mirrored onto the television this time. Knowing him, it’s probably another documentary. 

You had the forethought to finish your work before the trip, spent two days in the office going absolutely ham on this month’s final reports until your department head promptly sent you home to finish the rest there. You had given yourself a fright upon entering the bathroom that night, the state of your under eyes so severe, you feared it was sufficient cause for a national emergency. Similarly, Jungkook had done the same with his work, cooped himself up in his study until he was free from the shackles of capitalism for the weekend. All this to say you’ve missed him these past few days. 

But even though you’re sorely malnourished in the affection department and craving a good kiss or two, you wouldn’t dare interrupt one of Jungkook’s little nerdy, tech-induced fanboy moments. They’re cute, in their own geeky way, providing some insight to a mellower side of your boyfriend who looks on with childlike wonder; Jungkook’s eyes always get so big when he talks about nerdy stuff. You get to work hanging up the silk shirt he packed for tomorrow night’s fancy dinner at the resort, listening to some British narrator’s detailed description of the functionally extinct Northern white rhinos living under 24-hour surveillance in Kenya.  

(Jungkook’s really into nature documentaries again, had spent a few nights sniffling as he watched that one Koko the gorilla film.) 

The original plan was to head to the nearest store and whip up something small to eat at the cabin. But Jungkook is a little tired from the long drive, slumps down into the couch in front of the now lit fireplace like a limbless blob as he tunes into his documentary. His nose is a little red from the outside chill. It’s so cute. He’s so cute. You love him so much, you fear you’ll accidentally squeeze his cheeks to death. It’s a thought that occurs more times than you’d like. 

According to the pamphlet on the nightstand, the resort has its own room-service to order from. Normally you would do that, but not this time; you had gotten into a bit of a squabble with the man at the front desk after he had tried to withhold Jungkook’s reservation for arriving two minutes past your check-in time, called each other all sorts of names before he backed down and gave you your room key. So you’re still a little salty, to say the least. Instead, you settle in for some pizza in front of the huge TV, calling up the nearest place to order some of Jungkook’s and your favorites. 

You plop down beside him, instinctively cuddling closer when he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “So,” you start, flipping through the rest of the resort’s introductory pamphlet. There’s a loud roar on screen. In all honesty, you didn’t even know what Northern white rhinos sounded like until then, and you probably never would have if not for the man beside you. “What are you in the mood for tonight, sweet boy?” 

You’re not sure if it’s the fatigue or the overall relaxed vibes he’d been exuding since the moment you entered the cabin, but Jungkook is weirdly cooperative today. “Whatever you want,” he responds, head on your shoulder. He even places the remote in your hands, gives your enclosed fist a gentle tap as if he’s just handed you the secret to eternal youth. In other words, it’s a rare sight to behold. “This is your trip, pretty girl.” 

You appreciate the sentiment, but feel the need to clear the air, tucking your feet up onto the couch as you snuggle closer. “Our trip,” you clarify, and snatch the remote anyway before he changes his mind. 

Jungkook releases a quiet huff of laughter, head rolling back against the couch cushions to display his thick, juicy neck that definitely doesn’t awaken any vampiric tendencies in you. “We can even watch some anime if you want,” he murmurs, casually throwing an arm around your shoulders in a way that would have made any teenage girl in the early 2000s squeal with excitement. It’s one of those barely there touches, but the way he holds you makes you feel so safe and warm and loved. So loved and in love. “The ones on Crunchyroll, though.”

For the sake of preserving these good vibes (and your ears [and Jungkook’s sanity]), you navigate to the Crunchyroll app on your phone, quickly finding your latest obsession and mirroring it onto the big television before Jungkook can react. “Sailor Moon?” he asks with a tone that implies a feigned interest, mostly out of respect for you; he’s, sadly, still not the big dorky anime fan you had hoped to convert him into. 

“In the name of the moon, I’ll punish you,” you recite dutifully, snatching up the throw blanket on the end of the couch. It’s barely big enough to cover the both of you, has Jungkook’s outstretched legs and your booty subject to the chilly air. Who cares, Jungkook is a furnace anyway. 

He snorts. “Punish me,” he mumbles, as if he doesn’t believe it. His snarky comment wins him a playful pinch against his doughy cheek, not that he particularly defends himself against it anyway, eyes fluttering shut as you tug at the pale skin. 

“Don’t fuck with the moon, Jungkook,” you warn him, snuggling closely against his side as your favorite opening song begins filtering through the speakers of the television before you. It’s infinitely better than the 240p YouTube clips you had subjected yourself to the entire last week, the graphics scarily clear. 

“Right, of course,” Jungkook says, but a hint of amusement seems to curl around the sound anyway. Nevertheless, he lets it go, cuddles into your side as you pour your full focus into watching yet another group of ragtag teenagers with supernatural abilities kick some ass. 

You can tell Jungkook isn’t really into it, and you’re torn between just snuggling him into a well deserved nap or taping his eyelids open so he can become a fan of this show with you. 

The loving, caring, adoring side of you says Jungkook deserves the entire world and more (the more in question preferably being a fluffy blanket and a nap). He worked hard this week, just like you, and on top of that he was the one who planned this entire weekend getaway for the two of you to enjoy. You want him to rest up.

The obnoxiously in love girlfriend-slash-best friend in you says Jungkook is sorely missing out on one of the greatest shows on planet Earth and that naps are for the weak. 

Your jumbled thoughts are interrupted by a loud sound on the television, a yelp from Ms. Sailor Moon herself that has you jolting up in surprise. Jungkook welcomes you deeper into his embrace, chuckles at your little fright. “Scared?” he teases in that low voice that makes you feel like you’re going crazy, really. So crazy and irrational, and the only thing that stops you from bombarding him with an unexpected outpouring of love is that hard and sharp thing that pokes your side when you get too close to him. It’s not Jungkook, sadly, but something in the front pocket of his hoodie instead. 

And for some reason, part of your brain is stuck all of a sudden, rewinding the last two and a half years like a broken cassette tape that had the tape reel hastily stuffed back inside by a toddler. It’s choppy to say the least, and it certainly doesn’t help when Jungkook calls your name softly, tenderly. “__,” he murmurs. It’s a little weird; it’s not often he says your name, mostly referring to you with one of the many pet names from that part of his vocabulary that focuses exclusively on terms of endearment. Your heart skips a beat. 

Now, if anyone were to ask, it’s approximately around this time that you begin to spiral. The pink curve of his bottom lip is just too close, the mole on his nose too prominent. Paired with the obnoxious tittering of Usagi on screen, you can feel your thoughts begin to overlap, bumping into each other within the realm of your brain until all that comes out are the messiest of messy thoughts. 

They go like this: 

Most episodes of any anime run for approximately thirty minutes. Take out the commercial breaks, the opening and ending credits, and it becomes something closer to twenty. Twenty minutes per episode, filled with plot and gags and tears and whatever else necessary to make you feel something, anything really. 

“What’s in your pocket?” you ask tentatively. 

In contrast, it takes approximately two seconds for Jungkook’s lips to quirk up— first the right side, always the right side —and his eyes to crinkle. Two seconds for him to smile, a sweet expression that reminds you of Netflix and college and quiet laughter and tattoos and silly YouTube videos and cookies and cell phones and job applications and blond hair; two seconds to make you feel everything all at once. 

“There’s nothing,” he says, but his cheeks are pink, and it’s not from the cold anymore. His smile is so big it makes your own cheeks ache just looking at it. You can’t even hear the television anymore. Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. “It was supposed to be for tomorrow,” he admits, unwrapping his arm from around you. 

It’s a little funny, somehow, because his hands are covered in ink, in tiny doodles and intricate pieces of swirls and words that ooze this aura of strength and toughness. But they tremble when he opens it, as unsteady as a wispy dandelion on a windy day, fumbling with the box. And when you look closely, he’s been biting at the skin along his thumb again, that nervous habit you’ve been trying forever to help him overcome. 

Someone is saying something on screen, something important to the plot. The volume is loud, but not as loud as your heart. Not as loud as Jungkook’s quiet murmur when he speaks again. “Will you marry me?” he asks softly, looks at you with flushed cheeks and big eyes and his heart on his sleeve. 

The answer has always been the same, hasn’t changed since the first time he planted the seed in your mind. Still, it catches in your throat, nearly loses out to a surprised and emotional sob that you barely manage to bite down. You had just been speaking, had just been ready to deliver a whole spiel on the importance of him watching Sailor Moon with you. But when you try now, it’s raspy and dry, as if you haven’t used your voice in years. “I— yes,” you exhale, surprised by the lonely tear that trails down your cheek. You go to wipe it away, but Jungkook beats you with a gentle hand cupping your cheek. 

His smile is wobbly, patches of red blossoming across his face that eventually consume his entire appearance as he leans his forehead against yours. Only then do you realize he’s crying, and you laugh out of reflex. “You’re crying,” you say, and Jungkook snorts. 

“You cried first,” he sniffles, smiling. “You made me cry.” 

He looks like a wreck, but, like, a hot wreck. An engaged, hot wreck who’s eyes flicker back to the TV to remind you to pause your anime, always so considerate. You do, hastily smashing buttons on the remote before remembering it’s controlled by your phone, hands flying back and forth as your nerves actively work to retire themselves after Jungkook’s proposal. “Easy there,” he soothes, eventually catching your hand in his, drawing it up for a kiss against your knuckles. 

The ring fits perfectly, snuggly. Vaguely, a memory drifts through your thoughts of Jungkook and Doyeon on a rampant mission to reorganize your jewelry box a few months ago, but it disappears as quickly as it came. You’re taken by the ring, a simple band with a pretty diamond on top. It’s a good mixture of you and him; flashy yet mild. 

“You love me,” you marvel, a revelation you’ve had the honor of experiencing time and time again with Jungkook. Still, it never fails to render you speechless. He hums. 

“I do,” he says, taking your hand in his. “It’s the easiest thing for me. Like breathing, or existing. I think I was made to love you.” And normally, you’d be the first one to correct him. Jungkook was made for so much more, a fact he’s proven time and time again with his abilities and the sheer size of his heart. He was your golden boy, could do anything he set his mind to. Always amazing you, always making you fall in love all over again. 

But now, with the weight of his words sitting heavy in the air, you find yourself incapable of negating the fact, instead sniffling at the meaning. 

Pleased with your silence, Jungkook places another chaste kiss against your ring. “I love you, __,” he confesses, voice nearly a whisper. Your entire body feels as if it is doused in gasoline, lit aflame over and over again. Your heart threatens your rib cage, pounds away with the strength of a world renowned boxer. Jungkook’s hands curl around your wrists carefully. “I used to think we were like the moon and the sun,” he admits, “that you were my sun and I was your moon. In love but always separated by those thin veils of the sunrise and the sunset.” He pauses, nuzzling sweetly against your palm once more before gently guiding them down between the two of you. “But that really sucks— saying goodbye to you every night? I hate that, __. I hate watching you leave, I hate watching you run off in the mornings or halfway through the day, having to drive back and forth from your place to mine. I hate having to be away from you when all I wanna do is hold you. I— I want to be by your side,” he rambles, eyes nervously meeting yours. They’re still glassy, dark lashes framing his chocolate irises wonderfully. “Forever.” 

Your heartbeat stutters, the simple word looping itself in your mind like that night in his dining room all over again, all the fantasies of having a forever with Jungkook bubbling to the surface. Jungkook pushes on. “You are my sun,” he says softly, mostly to himself. “But… I don’t wanna be the moon anymore. Being the moon means, eventually, I’ll have to say goodbye. In the night or in the morning, it always comes to an end. And I don't want there to be an end with you,” he insists, clutching your hand tightly. “I wanna be another star, the closest one to you. The one who gets to be with you forever. I wanna be by you and shine with you and—“

“Explode into a gazillion little fragments of cosmic dust with me,” you offer, and Jungkook nods along eagerly, too amped up on his speech to bother scolding you for your playful comment. 

“Yes, I want to— to—“ The words catch in his throat. So much emotion from the man you once thought was the dictionary definition of calm and collected. “To—“ 

“Marry me,” you fill in, and Jungkook practically blows a fuse from how emotionally fired up he’s become, exclaiming a resolute, “yes!” that leaves you stupidly grinning back at him. 

His outburst leaves him with flushed cheeks. “I do,” he reiterates in a softer tone, averting his gaze from you as if embarrassed by his cheesy outpouring of emotion. Usually, it’s the other way around; you make all the corny declarations of love and Jungkook laughs along suavely. It feels nice to have the tables turned. 

There’s so much to say, but the words all fade away when Jungkook shyly looks at you again. You settle on tackling him back onto the couch cushions, taking his surprised little yelp in stride as you suffocate him in your embrace. “Save those words for the big day, superstar,” you giggle, peppering his red face with tiny kisses that make him scrunch up cutely. “I can’t wait to blow up into one huge supernova with you.” 

Beneath you, Jungkook groans. “I’m sorry,” he huffs, voice muffled against your shoulder. Begrudgingly, his arms come up to envelope you, pulling you closer until the blanket scrunches up uncomfortably between you two. “That must’ve sounded so lame.” 

Leaning back so you’re not completely squishing him, you carefully push his silvery hair away from his forehead. “Don’t be,” you assure him, placing one chaste peck against his pouty lips. “I thought it was cute. I didn’t know you were into astrology.” 

A sigh. “Astronomy,” he corrects, “astrology has to do with zodiac signs and placements.” 

You run your thumbs over his cheeks, collecting any of the drying tears that paint his face. “Oh, like how you’re a Virgo and I’m a“— 

The TV remote you had lost somewhere along the way is suddenly rematerialized beneath your knee, sends the speakers blaring to life with a deafening screech that has both you and Jungkook leaping up like two frightened cats. “You always do this,” he laughs, that loud boyish sound that makes you feel like you’re sitting on a cloud. He watches you with a gentle smile as you hurriedly shut off the television, the remote haphazardly tossed somewhere behind you afterwards. You return to his embrace, wrap your arms around his waist and snuggle into his warmth. His heart thumps a steady rhythm beneath your ear. 

“You’re gonna be stuck with me forever,” you warn him, clutching at the fabric of his shirt like he’ll suddenly disintegrate before your eyes.

Above you, Jungkook hums, placing a kiss against the crown of your head. “I look forward to it,” he responds, pulling you impossibly closer, until you can feel the wrinkles in his shirt imprinting themselves against your cheek. He’s back to being that suave bastard again, and you find yourself wishing you had milked those big crocodile tears out of him for just a little bit longer. 

Fingers gently press against the muscles in your nape, push themselves in deeply until you can feel all the tension seeping out, turning you into a limbless blob over Jungkook. “Jeez,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut. “And you wanted to wait until tomorrow.”

He huffs out a laugh. “I just thought you’d rather get engaged at a fancy restaurant with a pretty dress,” he defends, and you can hear the grin on his face. “For the photos.”

“Fair point,” you concede, eventually pushing yourself up so you’re not entirely squishing your boyfriend beneath you. Jungkook is already looking at you when you lift your head, has got this funny double-chin from this angle that makes his normally sharp jawline disappear. You find yourself tapping a finger against his chin, on the chocolate chip mole that hides itself beneath his plump bottom lip. “If anything, just propose to me again tomorrow at the restaurant.”

It wins you an eye-roll. “I’m not gonna propose to you again tomorrow,” he laughs, doesn’t even push you away when you become annoying and start tapping your fingers against all his beauty marks like you’re playing Whack-a-Mole. 

“Booo,” you frown, but let it go soon enough, foregoing your little game to press your lips against his. “Then I better make this a night to remember,” you murmur, tilting your head to the side.

Your hands dip into his luscious locks, fingernails tracing thin lines along his scalp that are certain to send tingles down his spine. As predicted, Jungkook releases a quiet groan soon after, a sound that’s muffled against your own lips. He’s pliant tonight, but not in a way that would elude fatigue. Pliant in a way that suggests he wants you to take the reins tonight, exhaling softly against you as he parts his lips. 

“Let me take care of you,” you hum, the hand that had been mindlessly hovering along his cheek drifting down to caress the side of his neck. Jungkook nods, his irises swimming in lust. You smile at his silent compliance, give his throat a light squeeze that makes his breathing hitch in surprise. 

He’s always at his prettiest when he’s beneath you like this, limbs moving in slow motion as you guide him along. You can already feel the beginnings of his arousal stirring beneath the front of his sweats, his cock slowly making its presence known against your thigh. You press your lips against his once more, making sure to make it rougher than the first kiss. Your tongue is met with little resistance, slips past his lips and dips into the hot cave of his mouth where Jungkook releases another trembling breath. 

Two hands come up behind you, trail themselves over your back and down to your ass, where he gives the two globes a tight squeeze. It draws a whimper out of you, one that Jungkook greedily swallows up. His tongue rubs up along yours, the wet muscle daringly pushing back against yours. His rebelliousness is only quelled with another press of your fingertips around his throat.

“Slow down,” you tell him. The first roll of your hips against him is slow, cruel in that you cut the motion short just as Jungkook begins to push back. A bratty huff escapes him, swollen pink lips pushing out into that endearing pout you love so much. It makes you grin, releasing the grip around his throat to carefully brush a stray strand of hair away from his eyes. 

It’s a gesture that works to soften Jungkook as well, the petulant look on his face melting away as you trail your pointer finger along his cheekbone. It’s replaced with a more tender one, dark lashes blinking up at you slowly. “Open,” you command upon reaching his mouth, finger pressing down against his pink lower lip. Jungkook obeys, opening his mouth until you can see his pink tongue and the dark abyss that leads down his throat. Your finger pushes itself in, and Jungkook certainly doesn’t try to resist. His lips suction around the digit fairly quickly, tight enough to keep you there but loose enough for you to slowly draw your finger in and out, each short plunge pressing down against his tongue. 

It’s a rather short affair, one that comes to an end when he accidentally bucks up against you, pressing his hardened member against your core. You retract your finger.  “Can you,” he tries, but his cheeks are stained red and he refuses to meet your gaze. “Just…” 

You intercept him with a chaste peck, maneuvering your legs until your knees are firmly pressed into the couch cushions beneath him, his thin waist trapped in between. When you sit up, you feel drunk on power and the way Jungkook looks up at you certainly doesn’t help. “Can I sit on your face?” 

He chokes. “I— sure, please,” he blurts out. His gaze follows you as you slip off of him, quickly discarding your pants and top on the floor. One pat against his thigh has him hurrying to shimmy out of his clothes, his sweatpants caught around his ankles. 

“You’re excited,” you laugh, stripping him of his bottoms when the frustration takes him over. 

Jungkook scoffs. “Well, yeah,” he mumbles, tugging his shirt off with one smooth motion. The ink around his bicep is as dark as ever, contrasts wonderfully against his warm face. “My fiancée is gonna sit on my face.”

The title makes you preen, quickly finding your place on his lap once more. With your clothing out of the way, Jungkook really does become a furnace. Every inch of his body is hot to the touch, soft too. “Fiancée,” you giggle, hands on his chest. They slide down, fingers playfully nudging his brown nipples. Jungkook flinches at the touch. “Gonna sit on my fiancé’s face,” you parrot back, delicately pinching one nipple between your fingers. A moan spills from his lips, his cock pushing against your thigh once more.

It’s the reminder you need, pushing back dutifully against him as you continue to toy with his chest. He’d look pretty with piercings, you find yourself thinking, watching on in fascination at the way his pert nipples stand at attention. Beneath you, Jungkook begins to grow desperate, his hands finding their place on your waist to encourage you to grind down against him once more. 

Jungkook swears up and down that he’s not particularly sensitive about having his nipples touched. But when you’ve got him like this, sinfully laid out before you, you can easily confirm that his claims are nothing but lies. He loves having his nipples touched, squirms beneath you impatiently with each playful tug and twist you bestow upon them. 

You duck down, pressing a kiss against his pectoral, just beside his nipple, and Jungkook’s entire body shivers. A few careful drags of your tongue against his warm skin only serve to string him along further, the prettiest whimper pulling itself from his lips when you finally envelope one of them in your mouth. “Wait,” he gasps, clawing at your clothing as if he both wants to push you off and push you closer. You grin, brandishing one mean nip at the sensitive nub. 

Eventually, your incessant need to play with Jungkook’s chest is fulfilled. “Lay back,” you instruct, watching as he shuffles down flat on the cushions, silver hair tumbling away from his eyes. He’s so red, eyes hazy. Your panties are discarded, joining the ever growing pile of clothes on the floor. 

Once upon a time, the idea of sitting on Jungkook’s face had terrified you, filled you with nightmares of crushing his windpipe or breaking his nose. For the most part, they’re pretty unrealistic fears, ones that can be easily shut down after one careful Google search on safe sexual practices. These days, it’s all too easy; in the mornings, especially, it’s become natural for him to guide you on top carefully, holding your hand as you whimper and sob over his face. 

In the current moment, you find yourself stroking a hand down the side of his face, completely enamored with the huge puppy eyes he levels your way. Jungkook likes having your pussy in his face just as much as you do, loves making you feel good in any way he knows how. But there’s a separate matter at hand, one that stands at attention beneath his black boxers and successfully wins your attention. 

Truthfully, there is no dilemma to ponder over; you want both to ride Jungkook’s face and suck him off. The solution?

“We’ve never done this before,” Jungkook mumbles in amazement, his voice slightly muffled from his position beneath you and slightly behind you. Still, his arms dutifully wrap around your thighs, guiding you closer to his mouth where his hot breath fans against your glistening folds. You rock back willingly, hands preoccupied with pushing his boxers down and away from his engorged cock. 

“Really?” you ask, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with the cock before you and the tongue that gently laps at your folds. Jungkook makes a sound, something between a hum and whimper, his mouth slowly getting to work against your folds. “M- Maybe,” you stutter, all thought processes coming to a halt as you carefully take him in your hand. 

His cock is hard and long, his tip an angry shade that weeps with precum. From this angle, you get to watch Jungkook’s huge thighs twitch at the sensation, the tattoo that marks up one of them doing little to hide the fact. Your hand squeezes him, watches in awe as another fat droplet oozes out of his tip. A moan tears itself from his throat, and it’s so goddamn sexy it nearly drives you insane. 

It’s one particularly long lap of his tongue over your clit that sends you into action, back arching at the tingles that shoot down your spine. Wasting no more time, you guide Jungkook’s cock into your mouth, let your own tongue shower his mushroom tip in kitten licks that have him bucking upwards. He releases your clit with a lewd pop, hot breath fanning across your lips. “Fuck,” he gasps, voice harsh. 

Admittedly, it’s more difficult than you thought it would be. 

You’re not one to be easily overwhelmed (says you), but with Jungkook’s twitching cock in your mouth and his teasing tongue dipping into your entrance, it becomes hard to juggle your attention between the two. Even Jungkook, who is quite frankly the master of cunnilingus, seems torn between the two, his breathing shallow and quick against your folds. 

With each slow descent around his cock, he shudders, thigh muscles tightening in anticipation. It causes a lull in the pace of his tongue, the generous kisses and licks against your folds subject to a somewhat uneven pace that, surprisingly, leaves you more on edge than you’d ever expected it to; right when you think he’s about to suck your clit into his mouth, you’re met with a harsh exhale instead, one that makes your lips flutter. 

You’re both disappointed in yourselves for never having tried this mind-blowing position before, and equal parts understanding as to why you haven’t tried this position before— it’s a lot. His cock is halfway down your throat when it twitches, sends a gush of precum into your mouth that has your eyes rolling backwards, a whine slipping out around him. Jungkook appreciates the vibrations, letting it fuel him as he plunges his tongue into your hole. It’s a two way street, you realize, one that is constantly experiencing traffic. 

“Baby,” you gasp, pulling off of his cock with a slick sound, hypnotized by the trail of saliva that connects your lips to his tip. Jungkook’s tongue prods along your slit, makes your eyesight go blurry when the tip of his nose brushes along you as well. The idea of his cute nose buried deep someplace it shouldn’t be has you grinding down on him. “We can— we should stop,” you stutter, your trembling hand reaching forward to grasp the base of his cock. 

He’s slick with your saliva and his precum, and your hand makes a squelching sound upon contact. It must feel good, because Jungkook moans against your folds, his thighs unconsciously falling farther apart as you slowly jerk him off. You think you might’ve heard your name slip from his lips, but your mind is fuzzy, lost in your lust as Jungkook licks a sinful line from your hole to your clit, curling his tongue at the end. “J- Jungkook,” you cry, flinching away because it’s become too much, your toes curling as the beginnings of an orgasm threaten you. 

Before that can happen, he relents, leaning back with a heavy exhale, his hands loosening their grip against your ass and plopping back down against the cushions. “Fuck,” he pants, his cock twitching in your hold. A lonely droplet of precum trails down the side, your knuckles coated in the glossy substance. Beneath you, Jungkook rubs one soothing palm against your hip. 

You slink off before he can get any funny ideas, maneuver yourself around until you’re kneeling between his parted thighs, his fat cock standing at attention between the two of you. From here, he looks ravenous, and you begin to question who exactly is taking care of who. Jungkook looks like he’s a second away from pinning you down and swallowing you whole, a thought that makes your toes curl. 

It’s with a cautiously horny hand that you reach for his cock again, holding him with both hands. Jungkook growls, head lolling backwards until all you can see is his neck and his chin, thick veins protruding along his skin. Jungkook doesn’t waste a moment longer. “C’mere,” he purrs, hauling you up until you’re clumsily leaning over him, palms framing his face. A lone finger runs down your spine, its faint touch making you arch forward. “Sorry,” he says, securing an arm around your waist. “I know you wanted to take care of me, but…”

You roll your eyes, submitting yourself to his clutches as he masterfully rolls the two of you over. The couch is soft beneath your back, and Jungkook looks pretty from above too. “You just can’t sit still, can you?” you murmur playfully. 

Jungkook’s forearms find their place beneath your thighs, the fold of the back of your knee perfectly slotted against his warm skin as he shuffles closer. “Maybe another time,” he laughs along sheepishly, his hard cock gliding over your slit, teasing your clit. You gulp, eyes scanning over his lean build as if it’s the first time. “Sorry,” he repeats, but he’s got this stupidly dopey grin on his face as he glances down at your pussy; he’s insane, he’s got to be, what man makes heart eyes at a pussy?

Your man, apparently. Grasping the base of his cock, Jungkook takes care to drag it along your folds collecting your wetness along his length, a deep shudder wracking his body through it all. “I knew you would do this to me,” he mutters, so low you nearly miss it under the thundering sound of your heartbeat.

“Huh,” you mumble, and you’d like to defend yourself and say you weren’t as cock-crazy as Jungkook was coochie-crazy, but that would be a lie. You’re staring at his cock as if it holds the secrets to the universe right now.

Jungkook juts his head to the side, a motion similar to the one he does when he’s trying to crack his neck. His tongue prods along his cheek, eyes laser-focused on the point where your two bodies meet. “From the moment you walked into my house,” he grunts mindlessly, finally lining himself up with your entrance. He chances a glance up, meets your gaze with a patient look, “all good?”

“All good,” you hurriedly reply, fingers finding their place against his broad shoulders. With the way he had prepared you earlier, mouthed along your clit and your folds until you were pleasantly aroused, the glide now is too easy. Tight, but easy, has the two of you releasing twin moans that echo off the wooden walls of the cabin. 

Jungkook’s forehead is covered in a thin veil of sweat, one that glistens when the evening sunset pours in through the balcony doors, highlighting him in a golden light that makes you dizzy. The angry tip of his cock sinks into your walls, Jungkook’s ashy strands sticking to his forehead and his cheeks. For some reason, you find yourself reminiscing on the aforementioned moment Jungkook had spoken of. Of the soft sweater he’d worn that day and the dinner he had made, the blond tips on his chestnut hair and the way he’d clung onto every word you’d said. 

It makes you tear up, and, after laughing at Jungkook early for crying, you quickly turn your face away. 

Jungkook isn’t dumb. “What now,” he chuckles, though his breathing is labored, every inch of his cock that penetrates you further bringing with it another rush of adrenaline. At the hilt, you’re embarrassed to say there’s multiple tears streaming down your face, so you can’t even play it off as you usually do. “Crybaby,” Jungkook teases, but his voice is so soft and tender you don’t know what to do with yourself. 

“Just move,” you bite out, shamefully covering your face with your hands. Jungkook leans over you, the movement pushing his dick deeper inside of you, your walls clenching around him. A kiss is placed over your knuckles, just shy of your engagement ring. Your chest lurches with a silent sob. “Jungkook,” you whimper, sinking further into the cushion, “please, just—“

“I got it,” he assures you, placing one final peck against your handmade (literally) shield. And then, so quietly you almost miss it, he makes sure to whisper, “love you,” before unsheathing himself. 

You shudder, your heart feeling so full, you fear it’ll burst. You both love and hate when he treats you like this, like an ice sculpture in the scorching heat that has him doing everything he can to keep you solid. His touch is soft, the roll of his hips too slow for your liking. You feel so small and vulnerable— too pampered. “Harder,” you beg, your voice an airy whine that has Jungkook chuckling above you. 

He lives to please you, hiking your leg over his shoulder with a renewed vigor. His hands find themselves on your waist, forcefully pinning you down against the couch cushions as he sets upon fulfilling your latest request. The next series of thrusts are jerky, have you jostling in his grip as Jungkook pounds into you with an all new mindset. “Lemme see you,” he huffs, thumbs painfully digging into your skin. You tremble in his arms, heart swayed by the quiet plea in his voice. “Let me see your face, pretty girl.”

Reluctantly, you do, brandishing your tear-stricken face his way. Jungkook smiles, that stupidly handsome smile, his hips snapping into you roughly. “Fuck,” he moans, the expression never leaving his face, even when run your nails over his chest harshly. “You’re so pretty.”

You ignore him for the sake of your already weakened mental state, focusing instead on the brutal force of his hips, the way his cock stretches your walls out. Each push has you seeing stars, thighs quivering from the sensations that shoot up your spine and down your toes. “Oh,” you mewl, hands gripping his biceps as you lose yourself to him. Your eyes roll back, vision a mess of colors and nothingness all at once. 

“Is this hard enough?” Jungkook husks out, and he sounds so close. His proximity is confirmed when his mouth slots against yours, his harsh breath mingling with your own as he continues to frantically buck into your inviting heat, each new round of thrusts leaving you weaker and weaker than before. “God,” Jungkook cries, the sound nearly lost beneath your own moans and whimpers. “Gonna k- keep you forever,” he spits, tongue slipping into your mouth.

He’s messier than usual, moves with unrefined movements unlike his normal self. You don’t care, you love him all the same. His sloppy kisses turn into desperate ones, matching the pace of his hips. “Kook,” you sob, arms wrapping themselves around his neck, pulling him close until his thrusts are reduced to a shallower depth. 

“I’ve got you,” he croons, lips against your jawline. His cock presses in and you swear you feel it alongside every inch of your walls, a warmth blossoming in your stomach. He’s layering messy kisses down your face now, lips sucking dark marks any chance he gets. 

True to his word, Jungkook indeed has you. His cock pistons in and out at an astonishing pace, each surge into your folds making you dizzy over and over again. It’s a feeling you fear you’ll never grow tired of, in fact, it’s a feeling you fear you’ll begin to crave even more in the future. The good thing is, that future will extend into forever. 

You yank him towards you, swallow his low laughter with your lips. Jungkook doesn’t complain, lowering himself until he’s practically squishing you beneath his beefy body, cock ramming in and out despite all that. His tongue glides along yours, makes it his mission to muffle each of your cries. 

It doesn’t take long for you to be fulfilled. Given the fact you had sucked him off like a lollipop whilst having him eat you out, you’re not entirely surprised. That and the emotions of tonight have you melting into him sooner than you’d like, his name falling from your lips as your thighs clamp down around his waist. Jungkook takes it in stride, slows the maddening pace of his hips to cradle you in his arms. You’re like jelly, practically flop back into the cushion when he slips an arm beneath you. “You’re so good for me,” Jungkook praises, lavishing your throat in tiny pecks as his orgasm circles around. “My pretty girl.”

“Love you,” you sigh, and your body feels numb, his intrusion but a small touch now that he’s tired you out once more, your walls tender and raw. Jungkook presses a smile against your throat and, moments later, releases inside of you. 

Even minutes after the deed, the feeling refuses to return to your legs. He didn’t go that hard— well, you’re not entirely sure. The memories always become blurry toward the end of your escapades. Everything rushes back in waves, and for some reason, your first thought is, “where’s Sailor Moon?”

Your post-rump conversations have never been the most coherent, usually filled with pretty weird thoughts and ideas. Still, more grand things have happened tonight for you to be worried about a magical anime girl. Jungkook draws himself out of your core with a huff of laughter. “On the TV,” he answers, unfazed by the oddity of your question. 

That’s how you know he’s a keeper.

It takes a while, but eventually Jungkook responds. “Avocado toast,” he says, though his answer is dripping with uncertainty. He’s naked as the day he was born, snuggled up beside you in bed. He’s propped up on one arm, looking down at you over the ample swell of his manly bosom. It takes everything in you to keep your hands off his chest. 

“Correct,” you respond, “and what movie did we watch?”

Without missing a beat, “Transformers, the first one.”

You nod, glancing at the ceiling as you rack your brain for any other trivia questions to ask your fiancé. “The title of the playlist you made?”

A flush paints his cheeks. “Date Night playlist,” he answers through a pout, reprimanding you for bringing up such a memory with a flick to your forehead. You wince. “I was young and silly,” he defends.

You beam, cuddling into his side until he’s forced to lay back down. “Yeah, yeah,” you tease. “We’re only gonna get older from here,” you lament. You’d say it’s difficult to picture him with a gray head of hair, but his current silvery locks don’t leave much room for your imagination.

Jungkook pulls you close. A beat of silence passes, and then, “so who are we telling first?”

Definitely Namjoon.

Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[erwinsvow]

𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.

summary: you and eren, your boyfriend armin’s best friend, have always had a strange relationship. things take a turn when armin goes home for the weekend, leaving the two of you alone on friday night.

warnings: smut, oral sex (f receiving), guilty reader feels bad, implied infidelity, masturbation, slight dumbification, dacryphilia, daddy kink

word count: 6.8k

author’s note: i once said i would never write for eren, so i guess that was a fat lie! enjoy!

You’re not sure about exactly when you became so comfortable with having Eren around. It was kind of like a two-for-one deal with your boyfriend, Armin, since he was so rarely seen without his best friend at his side. Their majors were so different that they hardly ever had classes together, and so the pair of them made up for lost time by spending all their other time together. 

It wasn’t totally out of the blue if Eren would crash on the couch next to you, while you were curled up beside Armin, hands interlaced and head resting softly on his chest. You’d jolt at the impact of Eren—a huge guy compared to anyone’s standards—jumping beside you and disrupting the peaceful intimacy you were sharing with your boyfriend. Armin didn’t seem to be annoyed or frustrated, and so you wouldn’t prove to be, either. You and him would welcome Eren with a laugh, directing him to the leftovers from your take-out and enjoying the company of a man who wasn’t your boyfriend far too much. 

It was easy to fall into the trap of it. Maybe Armin was always missing the way Eren’s eyes raked over your figure whenever you’d walk into the room. Maybe he was too enraptured by his marine biology textbook to notice how Eren stared at the supple skin of your exposed thighs when you took a seat next to them, dress hiking up a little or skirt much too short for a study-date with two boys. You were never much of a tease because it was so easy when you and Armin started seeing each other, so natural and comfortable that you didn’t have to try any unusual flirting methods on the golden-haired boy. As a result, he didn’t really know what bubbled under the surface of your skin and all the different thoughts that plagued your mind. 

So you think that’s why it was so easy to fall into the trap of it all, making eyes at Eren while your boyfriend sat right next to you. Choosing outfits that had previously been stuffed into the depths of your closet, because you didn’t think Armin would approve. You kept up the facade in front of your lovely boyfriend, though, because at the end of the day, you loved him and no one else. You didn’t want to break his heart by cheating on him with his closest friend, even though the electricity between you and Eren made all the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and made goosebumps appear on every inch of the soft skin of your legs that Eren loved to leer at so much. No, because at the end of the day, it was plainly wrong to even think about another man when you had Armin in your life. 

That’s what you told yourself when you stopped exchanging glances with Eren, started wearing blue again instead of green, and asked Armin if you two could have more time alone. You thought Armin looked confused, and he was, but for entirely different reasons. While you had been concerned with Eren’s gaze and intentions, Armin had been silently paying attention to his best friend and girlfriend. You thought he was innocent, sure, but he wasn’t stupid. And there wasn’t a thought in Eren’s head that Armin couldn’t figure out well in advance. If you wanted to fuck Eren, all you had to do was ask, but he quickly realized you were trying to be a good little girlfriend again, rather than the devilish slut you had been recently. Well, if you weren’t going to do anything, he was going to have to take matters into his own hands. 

Eren had always wondered why you spent so much time with Armin, and by virtue of association, with him. Any other little girlfriend would at least take some time alone to study, but you practically spent every minute at Armin’s side or in their shared apartment. Armin’s explanation of how you didn’t get along with your roommates made so much sense, especially now that you were going to be sleeping in Armin’s room for the weekend while he went back home for a ‘family emergency’. 

You had asked Armin if Eren would be going back with him in a certain voice, one that he couldn’t exactly pinpoint as he eavesdropped from his own bedroom. A mixture of uncertainty, nervousness, and excitement? Was that excitement he noted? He wishes he could look into your eyes to tell, but all he can do is listen to Armin tell you that Eren would be staying in the apartment. 

Eren can almost hear your heartbeat speed up, eyes blinking quickly and heat rushing to your face. Of course Armin trusted his best friend to stay with his girlfriend for a weekend. The two people he loved the most would never betray him, and so he had nothing to fear. 

Back to being the devoted girlfriend you are, you help Armin pack his bags late Thursday night. You folded clothes on his bed and tucked them into the duffel bag neatly, while Armin looked around for his books. He would be leaving right after his classes Friday morning, and so you knew by the time you returned after your classes, he would be long gone, leaving just you and Eren to fend for yourselves Friday night. 

In the morning, you’re greeted by Armin pressing a kiss to your forehead as he heads to his eight-am lecture. Through the daze of sleep and heavy-lidded eyes, you grasp his hand softly in a failed attempt to keep him with you a little longer, but you hear him murmur something that distinctly sounds like “Don't worry, baby, Eren will take care of you” before he leaves.

You fall back asleep after, missing the way Armin and Eren talk briefly before he departs. You wake up in Armin’s bed alone, to the sound of your alarm. Usually, Fridays are your favorite day of the week because you have a light schedule and you get to spend most of the day with Armin. His classes end right when yours start, so you’d get to grab coffee with him and meet for lunch after, before either heading to the library to get work done or to his apartment because you knew Eren wouldn’t be around and therefore you could be as loud as you want.

But not today. You had to get breakfast alone, before going off to class and sitting in the library alone. You didn’t realize how quickly the day had passed by, in between studying and texting Armin to make sure he got home safely, and avoiding the pit in your stomach that kept reminding you that you’d be going home to Eren soon. You looked outside the library window from your seat, and saw the sun was setting, meaning the library was closing soon and that you had to face reality. You’re thinking about how to put going back to the apartment for even longer, maybe stopping somewhere to eat dinner, when your phone buzzes with a text notification. 

You pick it up quickly, hoping it’s from Armin, but your stomach drops again when you see the screen lit up with Eren’s name. A singular message from him reads: Did you eat yet? 

Bastard. How does he know your thoughts before you even think them? 

You’re faced with two choices. Lie to him, then go get dinner by yourself, and then finally go back to your own home and put up with your terrible roommates for another night… or go to the apartment, order dinner with Eren, and avoid his lecherous looks long enough to get yourself safely inside Armin’s room with the door locked. 

You feel your heart pounding inside your chest at the thought of having dinner with Eren alone. He never did anything too forward or telling with you, but you suspect it was only because Armin was always right beside you. There’s no telling what he would do if he got you alone. Your heart’s pounding, but another feeling altogether is creeping into your stomach and up to your chest, one that’s making you feel hot all over despite how chilly the air in the library is. 

You’re nearly lost in your thoughts until your phone buzzing again brings you back to reality. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in as you read his text, this time longer; We can order dinner when you get here. Promise I don’t bite.

You feel like hurling your phone across the empty library, because every sane thought in your mind is telling you not to go over there, but every bone in your body feels like it’s being pulled towards Eren. Suddenly you think back to all those times you had teased him intentionally, and how strange you feel right now, like two different versions of yourself are fighting with each other. A third buzz makes your decision for you. 

Am I really so much worse than those roommates of yours?

Eren was many things, but that was one thing he was not. You quickly remember just how often you had shown up at Armin’s doorstep in tears, or so angry you had steam blowing out of your ears, because of how much you hated them. You only had to deal with them for a few more months, so it was easy enough to avoid them and only stop by to get clothes and the occasional shower. To make matters worse, it was Friday night and they would definitely be having some kind of a party or get-together, which meant there was no way you’d be getting any sleep there. 

I’m on my way, can we get pizza? 

… 

It’s only seven-thirty when you and Eren are sitting on the couch, some movie playing on the television that you aren’t paying attention to. Your nerves only let you eat a slice of pizza, while Eren scarfed down nearly half the box. You knew you were fucked when Eren opened the door, clad only in grey sweatpants and the slick sheen of sweat apparent on his entire body, from his muscular arms to his abs.

Bastard, bastard, bastard. He opened the door like that on purpose, just to see you react with a splutter and blush red.

“I’m just gonna jump into the shower, can you order the pizza?” he shouted to you while walking back to his bedroom. He came out with a towel, and you had barely processed the words because the only thing you could think about were his arms. You knew Eren was fit, anyone could tell just by looking at him, but you had no idea he was built like that. If you were a lesser woman, you would have tried to sneak glances at Eren getting into or out of the shower during all those opportunities you had, but you never did, because it felt wrong to look away from Armin’s blue eyes to focus on Eren.

But now, with no one else there to stop or distract you, your eyes were glued to his muscular figure. It wasn’t too hard to think about how easily he could pin you somewhere—up against a wall, or a door maybe, or across the dinner table. It wouldn’t even take him both hands to keep your head shoved down or keep both your arms pinned back as he—

“Hey, you okay? Did you hear me?” Eren asks again, standing right in front of you. He’s trying his hardest to sound sincere, but there’s a smirk on his face as he observes your behavior. If it wasn’t obvious before, it’s clear as day now.

“I-I’m fine. What kind of pizza do you want?”

“Whatever kind you want, just get extra cheese. Menus on the table,” he says, before turning back around and walking to the bathroom. You’re almost jaw-dropped as you watch him walk away, and hear the water turn on. You take several deep breaths, reminding yourself to stay calm. After dinner, you could go into Armin’s room and be completely fine. 

You order the pizza and go into Armin’s room to sort your stuff out, looking through your bag and searching for clothes to sleep in. You knew you had packed them, but you suddenly couldn’t find them anywhere. Your shorts and t-shirt were missing, and you quickly realized you left them on your bed while you had gone to grab your toothbrush. Damn it. 

Armin has a collection of perfectly soft and comfortable shirts to sleep in, so you open one of his drawers and pull out a dark green one, with some design on it. There’s no shorts that would fit you among Armin’s clothes, so you’ll have to do without them tonight. It’s fine though, considering the door will be locked and you’ll be safe and sound once you and Eren go to bed. Or so you thought.

Now you’re sitting on the couch, still dressed in your day clothes and feeling hot again. You knew Armin liked to keep the apartment on the warmer side, but you had never felt quite this warm before.

Eren glances at you with a quizzical look, and you realize your shiftiness and breathy pants are more noticeable than you thought. 

“Are you okay? You look like you’re about to pass out and you barely ate a thing,” he comments, keeping his eyes on you which somehow makes you feel even worse. His gaze is piercing, and though you never really cared that Eren always looks like he’s undressing you with his eyes, it’s bothering you now more than ever.

“I-I’m okay,” you get out, before suddenly standing up and taking off the cardigan you had worn all day. “I think I just need to shower, good night Eren,” you say, before walking away much too quickly. Eren’s eyes don’t leave you until you’re inside Armin’s room once more, wondering why you’re so hot and bothered at a simple stare from him. Him, who is not your boyfriend, and barely qualifies as your friend and for some reason has you wet from looking into those green eyes for too long.

Enough. 

Armin was kind and sweet enough to let you sleep at his place when he’s not even there, and you wanted to repay that kindness by having dirty thoughts about his best friend? No, it wasn’t right, in fact, it was inherently wrong. You take a few more moments in Armin’s room, inhaling the familiar scent of his fabric softener and all the old books on his shelves, before taking your towel and going to the bathroom. Eren is still in the living room, eating and watching the movie, you presume, and you wish to God he would leave you alone and go out to party or fuck some other girl, but he’s not. He’s spending a quiet Friday night at home with you.

The hot water and clean soap distract you from your thoughts, but the tension and heat growing in your body is only exacerbated when you run your hands across your body. There’s something very wrong about touching yourself in the shower when Eren is a dozen feet away and could hear you easily—but that’s a risk you’re willing to take if it meant it would get illicit thoughts of him out of your brain for the rest of the night. 

One hand goes to play with your hardened nipple, as the other tenderly begins to rub circles on your clit. Your hands try to imitate Armin’s, and he’s always gentle with you, but as you let out a muffled moan, you realize it’s not Armin’s careful touch you want right now. It’s Eren’s rough fingers, fingers that would move in and out of your wetness harshly, not waiting for you to adjust to their size. Eren wouldn’t start with one, like Armin, he would go for three and keep his thumb on your clit, rubbing so fast and in just the right way, while his mouth would be on your tits—tongue doing the talking for him on your sensitive nipples. He wouldn’t care to stop if it was getting to be too much, and he wouldn’t let you come down from your high before starting again, he would just keep going. Eren would know when you’ve had enough, and just once didn’t meet his requirements for enough. 

If anyone could see you right now, you could die from embarrassment, furiously fucking your fingers and completely unaware of how loud you were being as you tried to imitate what Eren would do to you. But imitating wasn’t quite enough, You were so close, you could almost feel that tight knot in your stomach unwind, just a little more—-

Knock. 

“Hey, you’ve been in there a while. Everything okay?” Eren’s voice is muffled from outside the door, and the waterfall coming from the shower suddenly felt like it was pounding beside you. 

Your hand covers your mouth as you let out a frustrated, stifled sob. 

“Y-yeah! I’m almost done!” you call back out, fingers still inside you. You remove them with a gasp, shaking and face burning at the idea that Eren might have overheard you. You get out of the shower on wobbly legs, wrapping the towel securely around you and heading to Armin’s bedroom to change and put an end to this strange day. You don’t notice that Eren’s door is cracked open a little.

As strange as it sounds, you feel much better once you’re in Armin’s shirt and just a pair of panties, ready for bed. A nagging voice in the back of your head wants you to finish what you started in the shower, nipples hard again as the air seems cooler than earlier, but you push the thoughts aside. Another day.

You grab your water bottle to take your birth-control pill, eight forty-five on the dot, but realize its contents are empty as a result of your earlier hot flash. You tiptoe into the kitchen, extra careful because you don’t want Eren to hear and come out, but as you fill up a glass, your roommate for the night is suddenly leaning against the counter. 

It should be illegal the way he says your name. Sultry and deep and rolling off his tongue without even trying. Eren doesn’t have to change a thing about him to be the very definition of the word erotic, which is coincidentally the only word you can use to describe this encounter. 

He’s forgone the shirt he had on earlier, when you were eating together, and you knew he had put it on just to make sure you didn’t choke on your pizza. Just in those sweatpants again, you could see everything you had tried too hard to avert your gaze from, on display right in front of you. 

“E-Eren,” you stutter out, skin burning again even though it was cold now. “I didn’t see you there.”

“It’s okay. What are you taking, there?” You flushed again at the idea of having to tell Eren it was your birth control, because it felt as if he already knew somehow. He watches you with that damn smirk and a raised eyebrow, waiting for your answer.

“It’s ibuprofen.”

“Oh.. ibuprofen, huh? That’s weird, because every time I asked you if you were okay, you said you were fine. Were you lying to me?” His tone is dangerous, somewhere between amused and angry.

You didn’t even realize he had gotten so close to you, until you tried to take another step backwards to put some distance between you two, but you were met by resistance from a cupboard, signifying the end of the wall.

“I-I wasn’t lying, I just forgot-” You hear him click his tongue. He’s dangerously close to you now, you can feel the heat coming off of his body and one more step from him would make you feel the cold breath of his exhales.

“Forgot what, baby? It seems to me that I just caught you in a lie.” Another click of his tongue. “Now, Armin always says you’re a good girl, but I don’t think a good girl would lie to me like you’ve been doing all night, right?”

Armin. The very mention of his name makes something recoil inside your chest, makes you remember how you don’t want to hurt him like this, and how much pain he would be in if he found out about this little interaction between you and Eren.

You try to push back, but Eren extends his arms up, trapping you between them and the cabinet, leaving no way for you to escape. 

“Don’t you wanna be a good girl for me?” 

The simple sentence is enough to send your brain, skin, heart on fire, as you let out a breath and find your head nodding up and down. Your body seems to have a mind of its own, wetness seeping from between your folds and no doubt creating a darkened patch on your panties.

“Good girl,” he mewls, dragging out each syllable as he speaks. “I thought I might have to punish you if you kept lying to me, but I don’t think that’ll be an issue anymore. Am I right?” He watches you dumbly nod again, eyes very much blank and just focused on one thing: him. He nods too, mocking your movements and smirking again. “Should we play a game? How about I ask a question, and you have to tell the truth? Sound good?”

Everything’s on fire, and you can’t hear anything besides the thumping of your heart in your chest. Long gone are your inhibitions and desperate hope of a quiet night in with your boyfriend’s roommate.

“First question…” Eren trails off quickly, looking down your body slowly. He takes one hand down from its position of blockading you and brings it to the hem of your—Armin’s—shirt. He plays with it there before continuing his sentence. “What were you thinking about in the shower earlier?”

You feel your breath catch in your throat and a quick flame erupts in your chest at the humiliation you feel—so he had heard you after all. And he interrupted you on purpose.

“You-you were listening? I-” Eren laughs, a low rumble from his chest meeting your ears as you begin to quiver from your position against him. 

“I wasn’t listening so much as you were being loud. It seems to me that you wanted me to hear you, isn’t that right? Or else what kind of a filthy slut would be so loud?” 

You tremble at the name he calls you, not used to sort of degradation Eren is putting you through. A small voice in the back of your head tells you that he’s not wrong, and your behavior is akin to some kind of whore. Maybe you’ve been like this all along, and you just needed the right person to bring it out of you. Your head feels utterly empty and devoid of any more thoughts, and you blank at what to say to Eren next. 

“I-I’m s-sorry,” you splutter out, feeling incredibly small near Eren, who towers over you. There’s something sadistic in Eren’s gaze, but you notice him soften up at your apology.

“What are you apologizing for?” he questions, quieter than before. He knows the two of you are alone, but he can’t bring himself to raise his voice at you.

You, the bane of his existence, and a blessing all at once. Since the day Armin introduced you to him, there’s been nothing he’s wanted more than for you to meet his gaze and look at him the way you looked at his best friend, with love and adoration. He got a few lucky weeks where you didn’t immediately shy away from his eyes, when he felt like you were challenging him to do something, anything. But it went as soon as it came, and suddenly he was seeing less and less of you. Until this opportunity from Armin’s departure, that is.

“I… I was being a slut,” you whisper back to him, tears lining up at the waterline of your pretty eyes as he moves a hand to your jaw and forces you to look right at him while you speak. You shudder at the touch of his skin on yours, but you don’t want him to stop all the same. 

“That’s okay, baby,” he says in an incredibly reassuring tone that has you wondering what he’ll do next. “I like my girls a little slutty, but just for me, right?” You nod again, quickly. “Besides, I have to make it up to you, you know. I stopped you right when you were getting real close, didn’t I? I could just tell from those pretty noises you were making.” 

The next few moments pass by in a blur, Eren’s arms move and suddenly you’re over his shoulder, ass up and out as the shirt you’re wearing rides up. He delivers a quick slap, making you cry out, as he brings you into the room and lays you on the bed. He’s standing between your legs, a hand on each thigh keeping you spread open for him as he observes closely the impact of his actions on you. 

“You’re just soaking through your panties, aren’t you? Are you really that eager for me?”

You let out a whine, not wanting to answer his question because your face is burning again at the idea of Eren staring so closely at your clothed pussy—and you let out an even higher-pitched squeal when he uses a finger to push your panties aside, and look at your wetness completely. 

“So wet, and so pretty, all for me, huh?”

“Y-yes. All for you,” you let out with a moan, eager for Eren to do something. Anything at all would set you over the edge, with how you’ve been feeling these last few hours. But you think he knows that, because his actions are all teasing you and leaving you wanting more, blindly clenching around nothing at all as his fingers barely graze your clit. He lets out a laugh at your desperate antics, and you’re about to come from the slightest touch, and suddenly you feel the bed moving as Eren wraps his lips around your clit and pushes his tongue against you.

You didn’t even know you could make the noise that you let out, a scream and a cry and carnal moan all wrapped in one. You know Eren thinks the same because he looks up at you from his position between your legs, laughing against your core. The vibration from his laugh makes your legs shake even harder, as you feel Eren’s tongue attacking your clit at an even faster pace. You’re seeing stars and completely unaware of everything else, like how Eren’s nimble hands slid your panties down and tossed them to the side somewhere, landing near the bookshelf, so close to the edge when you feel his fingers teasing at your opening and plunge in without any warning. 

You were completely right about your earlier predictions, feeling Eren quickly add a third finger inside you as you clasp a hand over your mouth to stop the obscene noises from leaving your mouth. You do have neighbors, after all, despite how much empty your head feels of every thought besides one; Eren. 

He pulls his mouth away from your sensitive nerves for just a second, just to chastise you before continuing his actions.

“Don’t do that,” he says the words against your lips, “I want to hear you.” 

You weren’t sure it was possible to feel even more pleasure than you were now, but Eren’s words made you feel feral as you let out another loud moan, this time not muffled. You think he calls you a good girl, but you’re not sure if it’s your imagination. You whine when you feel Eren pull his fingers out of you, suddenly so empty when you had been so full moments ago. You’re trying to collect the words to tell him to keep going, and how this is the second time he’s ruined your finishing, but you just can’t. The only thing that comes out is a mumble of ‘please’ and ‘Eren’ 

“Don’t worry, baby, I’m not stopping,” he says, pulling himself up and hovering over you. One of his strong arms is by your head, holding himself up as the other hand, the one that had been inside of you, finds its way to your mouth. “Open.”

You do as you’re told, dropping your jaw quickly for him as he shoves the fingers into your hot mouth.

“Suck.” Another command that has you reeling, doing exactly as he wants and swirling your tongue around Eren’s long fingers. They’re coated with your heady wetness, and the taste is unlike anything you’ve experienced before, but you don’t stop. It feels entirely too dirty and filthy, but you’re willing to do anything to get Eren’s approval now. His words are clear now.

“Good girl. Since you’ve been so good, I think you can cum now.”

His fingers leave your mouth quickly, and he’s fiddling with your hands now, that were previously gripping the sheets so tightly you were scared they might tear. He pulls up your shirt even more, exposing your tits to the cold air of the room, and puts your fingers on your hardened nipples. He doesn’t give a command, but you know it instinctively, that he wants you to play with your nipples while he makes you come. You’re not sure how long you’ll be able to follow his orders, but you go ahead anyways. You’re teasing yourself in front of his hungry, wolf-like gaze, as you clench on nothing every time you run your fingers over your sensitive nipples.

Satisfied, he returns back to his position between your legs. You’re crying out before his fingers even reach your wetness, and choke on your moan when he inserts three at once again. You know there’s no way you’ll be able to hold out now, and if he stops again you feel like you might explode into a million pieces. His tongue is rough against your clit, moving in the perfect motion, and one more thrust of his perfect fingers against that spot inside you will have you cumming so hard— Eren speaks against your pussy, a singular word.

“Cum.”

You feel the knot snap in your stomach and your orgasm shakes through you like a bolt of lightning. You hear yourself release a scream before you can stop it, fingers leaving your breasts and grasping onto Eren’s dark strands for dear life, because he hasn’t let up on his actions yet. He keeps going, riding you through it, tongue and mouth continuing on and fingers pumping in and out so quickly that the bedroom is filled with a crude, squelching noise. You’re not sure exactly how loud you were, but your throat is dry and scratchy, and you’re swallowing just to feel some relief. You feel Eren slowly retract his fingers, breathing heavy against the soft skin of your thigh, as you find your way back to reality. You don’t look down at Eren, but you hear him licking his fingers, tasting your wetness in such a sinful manner, you know you can’t look at him do it.

Reality sets in, and you look around your surroundings. Every single one of your senses had been preoccupied with Eren minutes ago, but now that they were free again, you take in the comfortable scent of the sheets and the lingering scent of your slick leaves your thoughts as you take in the familiar scent of old books. Your heartbeat was just returning to normal, when you look around and realize you’re in Armin’s room, on Armin’s bed, as Armin’s best friend gave you the most powerful orgasm of your life. 

You sit up quickly, breathing rapidly as your shirt falls to cover yourself, and you meet Eren’s eyes again.

“Lay back, baby, we’re not done yet.” There’s a haze over your thoughts, and his words, because you want to fight him, and yell and scream at him for bringing you into Armin’s room when you already felt so horrible about what you’ve done, but you can’t summon anything. The only thing you can think about is Eren’s dick, and how it would feel inside you, and how your sensitive walls would take him. So you follow Eren’s orders, and lay back down. Eren hovers over you again, pulling at your shirt, up and over your head, and it lands with a soft thud on the carpet. 

He’s looking at you now, up and down slowly, but different than all the other times. He doesn’t have to rush to take it all in this time, because you’re on display just for him now. So he takes his time, and starts with a soft kiss to the skin right above your heart, wondering if he can hear the hard thuds or if that’s just his imagination. You look at him while he continues his ministrations, wondering why he’s being so slow and careful, because you hadn’t expected this.

His lips work their way up, to your collarbone and then your neck, taking his time to suck on the skin and pepper it with kisses once he hears you hiss in pain. He murmurs an apology against your jaw, before his teeth take your bottom lip between them. He lets go soon after, too eager to feel your lips against his. He’s scared you might pull away, but you don’t. You know you’ve done something terrible, but it’s too late to take it back now. 

He kisses you deeply, tongues finding each other and exchanging that heady taste of yourself. You moan into the kiss, your hands finding the side of Eren’s face and trying to push him onto yourself even harder. You’re not sure if you ever want to pull away from Eren’s lips, but he finally does, trying to catch his breath. You look into his green eyes for a moment, and find your own eyes watering. 

“Don’t cry, baby. I’ll give you what you want.” Eren’s words send you scrambling again, too eager for the fullness you know is inevitable when he finally fucks you.

You feel yourself grabbing for the waistband of his sweats, but Eren’s faster than you. His one hand pins both of yours against your chest, as he clicks his tongue in that obnoxious way again.

“Patience. Only patient girls get daddy’s cock.” You want to scream at him about how patient you’ve been, all this time and all of tonight, but you bite your tongue. You don’t need Eren’s punishment on top of the torture he’s put you through already. 

You let go of your resistance and watch with wide eyes as he removes the only thing that was in your way. His erect dick snaps up against his stomach once it’s freed, and you swallow without thinking, looking at the sheer size of him. He’s just as big as you had imagined, the tip a pretty, dark pink with white beads of pre-cum gathered at the top, and every vein causing you to descend further and further into a wanton state. It’s his thickness that you weren’t prepared for. If three of his fingers were such a tight stretch, you can only imagine what this would do to you. But at the same time, you think you might die if Eren doesn’t fuck you right now. 

He watches with that damn smirk as you stare at his dick with more eagerness than he’s ever seen before. He holds his length in his hand, directing himself to your entrance but not pushing in. He holds himself there, running his dick over your folds and almost succumbing to the inviting wetness of your cunt, but he stops himself. 

“Do you want my cock, baby?” Another surge of heat rushes through your body, feeling almost light-headed at how difficult he’s making this. But you weren’t about to start misbehaving now.

“Y-yes, yes, Eren, please-” You hiccup out, feeling yourself lose the battle against your watery eyes, as the tears roll down your face. “Please, I want it so badly, please, please, please—Oh!” 

Eren pushes in without any warning, watery eyes being his own breaking point. He could have finished on the spot seeing you cry begging for his dick, and he was determined to make you cum again before then. The noises you’re making are incredibly obscene, and he knows you’re being loud enough to notify the entire floor, but he’s not going to stop you. He’s only about half way in, but he wants to be nice and let you adjust to him.

“P-please, Eren, please-” You’re not entirely sure what you’re begging Eren for. A part of you doesn’t think it’s possible to feel more full, and another part of you wants Eren to fuck you so hard you forget everything and everyone. 

He’s about to chastise you again to be patient, and let you know that he’s doing this for you, not him, but he realizes his actions are louder than his words. With another thrust, he pushes his entire length in you. You moan again, this time with a breathy gasp, and he can’t help the smile on his face. You look so pretty crying, trying to take his entire dick and struggling immensely.

He thrusts slowly, wanting to make it last and make you feel every last vein of dick deep inside you, but the way your tight cunt grips him has him speeding up before he can help it. The noises filling Armin’s room are beyond lecherous, as the only sounds are of his tightening balls smacking against your skin with every deep thrust, and the lewd noise of your wetness taking him. 

He’s got you on your back, sitting up between your thighs and one leg hoisted on his shoulder, and thrusting so hard you can feel his hip-bone bruising your skin. There’s only one thought left in your head, and that’s how good Eren feels inside you. The aching burn of his initial assault is long gone, leaving just the feeling of Eren filling you up. Your hands remember his earlier order and find their way to your hardened nipples again, pinching and teasing, putting on a show for Eren as he moans loudly. Every noise he makes goes straight to your core, making you clench around him harder than before.

His lithe fingers find your clit again, and you throw your head back and moan even louder at the feeling. You were so, so sensitive already and this was the last straw. One more of Eren’s thrusts, hitting that special spot inside you, and one more touch of his fingers on your clit sent you screaming to your second orgasm. You were clenching tightly, as Eren worked you through it again and kept his thrusts going. You were seeing black, screaming his name and God knows what else, as you came and waves of pleasure washed over you and heat radiated from your head to your toes.

Eren’s continued thrusts kept going, even after your pussy tightened around him. You were out of breath and sweaty, and you felt Eren’s hips stutter as he leaned forwards and found your hot mouth again. You were kissing again, his lips on yours as you swallowed his moans and grabbed his arms to steady yourself. With another rapid succession of thrusts, Eren moved his lips to your neck and groaned loudly as he came inside you. You felt the hot ropes of his cum deep inside your pussy, as he kept going and going, eventually pulling out of you with a heady moan. You could feel his cum leaking out of you and onto Armin’s sheets, as you laid incredibly still beside Eren, both of you trying to catch your breath. You were ashamed to look Eren in the eyes, avoiding his gaze still as you felt your heart rate return somewhat back to normal. 

“Hey,” was all he said, breathlessly, and with a deep look in his eyes that you had never seen before. “Are you okay?” 

He straightened himself up, leaning against the bed frame and opening his arms in an inviting manner. You wanted nothing more than to avoid his touch, but you felt the exhaustion in your limbs and you convinced yourself there was nothing wrong with being held by him for a few minutes. You leaned against his chest, his strong arms wrapping around you and pulling up the covers to shield you both from the cold air. You were content to fall asleep right here, every sense of yours taken up by Eren, but you couldn’t just yet. 

“What are we going to tell Armin?” you breathed out dejectedly. It was the one thought that was plaguing your mind, the one thought stopping you from being happy and peaceful beside Eren tonight. 

“Oh, baby. You’re acting like this entire thing this wasn’t his idea.”

...

thanks for reading! part two with armin, anyone?

[cafecourage]

VIO CONTENT PEKASE PLEASE DKJNEOIAJEPLENSENEIWN OIYUEB NWPL EHAHAHAHhSNJKNKNKSLMFDLKSFNKLNFEOIFNEOWIFNEWOFNEWOFIWEMV

Thy....... ok here you didn't give me an AU so I just f***ed around and found out.

Vio headcanons (for all Au’s and general)

General HC:

- Vio crochets. People can fight me on this!!! He crochets and knits. He does it to calm his thoughts, just to slowly zone out. Catch him plotting his own story in his brain while doing so.

- Speaking of stories, this man is probably an Author. He most likely had written a fluffed-up version of their adventure. There wasn’t really a point of him doing so but it did get all of his feelings out on paper.

- Out of all the colors I feel like he would get the most night terrors. It will lead to him having bad insomnia.

General Love HC:

- Indifference. That’s the base emotion he is feeling towards a Reader that ended up traveling with the chain. He does like you! Don’t get that wrong. It’s just the situation calls for his attention to be on the goal. The other colors are better at social interactions then him.

- Reader in a normal traveling with the chain au, would be from a more modern timeline. Not fully but like one of that mixed technology and Medieval fantasy-based era.

- It honestly was weird that you just hang out with Four with him in control. You seem like you just gain energy from just talking or interacting with the others and Vio isn’t…really… that social.

- It was a slow bonding experience. It started as you sitting nearby when he was reading or working on a project. Nether talking nor really minding the other's company.

Isekai HC:

- This man is super anxious around you. The sobs when you were also convinced, he killed green, along with your cries from his betrayal still ring in his ears even now. He hates knowing that you might not trust him anymore because of that. The other Colors think he is just overthinking it because you did welcome him back with open arms after.

- Vio is kind of just dancing around you when they finally realize you’re the voice and presence that they felt during their adventures. While the other colors jumped on to the opportunity to get to know you better. He just… can’t?

- You’re his and the other’s anchor. They consider you their (ex. Imaginary) friend. The one person that was always by their side. Cheering them through the toughest of times, and Vio feels like you would leave them if he even tries to get close.

- He really, truly wants to standby you. He wants to not feel guilty enjoying your hugs. He just… wants you to be happy.

Divide and conquer. That’s normally how Four dealt with supply runs. Four was accompanied by you today. Which meant the others were in town. So, Four decided to let the colors stretch their legs. It was nice for each of them to actually speak to you one on one. However, they had limited time and still needed to get the items before sundown.

With five people it should go a lot quicker than normal. So, with the promise of being able to hang out after. Each Color and you went their separate ways. Vio was almost done with his list of items. The last thing he needed was some more personal items.

“Sneak attack!!” A warmth from behind engulfs the purple hero. Picking him up briefly to give a small squeeze. You were smiling brightly down at Vio. “Hi again.”

It was a miracle that his brain didn’t just short circuit just looking up at them. “I- Hello??” One of the many things you’ve said on their journey came out as, Vio was scrambling for a sense of, for the lack of better words, ground to root himself to. “Why are you here?”

“Is it against the law to hug someone I am closed to?”

“No, but…” he didn’t understand why you wanted to shower him, in affection and love. But how can he ask you that? You’re always giving Four hugs and small platonic kisses. He didn’t want you to stop. He and his brothers loved and craved that warmth you brought with your presence.

Vio didn’t know if he was deserving of it. The others were, that’s for sure. Despite how rough blue is, how bossy Green could be or how much Red cried in their adventure. You always had the patience of a saint. It was him that tested that and found how far that patience went. “Viiiioooooo, earth to my favorite grape color hero!” He was finally put back down on his feet. “Are you ok?”

“Define ok.” He was quick to answer, after finally getting some semblance of his ability to think back. He took his chance to back away from your presence.

That wasn’t the right thing to say apparently as your face slowly twisted to a pout. “Are you mad at me?”

“Mad… at you?” He repeated to confirm he heard you correctly. You gave a small nod now doubting your assumption. “Why?”

Your shrug didn’t give him much of an answer. “Well, it just seems when Four is influenced by you he is more distant.” You paused trying to figure out what to say next. Vio on the other hand was mortified that you were able to read his body language so well. Actually, he should have expected it. That’s how you knew that the colors exist in the first place. “If I did anything-“

“No, it’s not you!” It was him. It was all him. Vio knows logically being still hung up about the past was ridiculous. Emotions are annoying. He isn’t built to deal with them. “I just thought.” There was no nice way to explain this to you though. “You were still mad at me.”

“Oh.” Well, this got awkward really fast. Vio kept up his indifferent front hoping that his cheeks weren’t still as red as his brother’s tunic. “But I like you a lot!” You took his hands suddenly. “Don’t get me wrong I was mad. But I know you’re a good person Vio! I like you; I like your brothers and I like Four!”

Ah. There he goes.

- The first of the Colors to realized he loved you in this AU. Which just makes everything even worse for him. Since he knows the other colors feel the same but are in denial because of your connection with Four.

- He could help the others…..Nah…. Vio wants to watch them suffer.

Cafe HC:

- Coffee? If he feels like death. Yes. Tea mostly though. He tends to get the blunt of the headaches. Tea also helps with his ability to sleep.

- He is the type of customer that comes in and stays for hours. In his case just writing and/or reading. You’ve only ever spoken to him a few times before. Mostly to get his order and asking about his day. Small talk!

- Slowly you learn more about him. You learn that he has brothers. Is an author, (you’ve bought his book and teased him about having it signed now.) Had traveled around the world a few times before.

- You’ve met some of his siblings before. They actually come as often as he does. Striking up more of a conversation than him. Sometimes even getting him to talk to you more…

It’s has occurred to you how much time has passed since you last saw a Vio. It was a long time. A few months honestly. It kind of hurt that he and his brothers just up and left without giving you a fair warning but, it’s their personal business and not yours. Yet…

You thought you five were close.

It’s fine. Maybe Link was around! They were his siblings and you could just go to the forge and ask. Though you weren’t too close to Link so maybe it would be a bit awkward to ask him about his brothers.

They are probably fine.

There is no need to worry, they are all seasons’ adventurers!

It seems like this day was just going to be a slow one. Where you couldn’t get your mind off of your friends. It was almost closing time so another day without any word from your favorite color-coded brothers.

You decided to clean the shelves early tonight. Leaving some smaller bits for the Minish that may or may not be inside your small cafe. Lifting the chairs onto the tables to clean the floor. Making sure they get every nook and cranny. To make your life easier the next morning.

As you picked up the finally empty tray off of the counter you were heading into the back. Until the door to your small shop swung open and a group of similar-looking Adventurers comes stumbling in. “(Y/n)!”

“Vio?” You turned around quickly, only to see him helping to keep one of his brothers up. They looked like they ran through ten monster camps just to get to your sleepy little shop. You felt dread came in full force as the empty tray slips from your grasp. You bolt to his side ordering the others to get in the store. “You lot are staying over here.” You didn’t ask it was a demand. No room for argument. “There are potions in the back. You can use what you need.”

“Thank you, Ms.” a larger man with a scar across his eye went in the direction you pointed.

You gather the knocked-out brother to help Vio. “Thank you.” He said sheepishly.

“It’s no problem,” You smiled back at him. “Let’s make sure your brothers are safe. I was about to get dinner ready. How does something hearty sound?”

“That sounds lovely thank you.”

- You might have not known Vio and his brother for long but they really do consider your small little cafe as a safe space. A little heaven that they don’t need to be a Hero.

- Now when he stops by on this adventure you tend to give him packs of supplies and a bunch of treats for the road.

- You also started writing him letters and care packages when you can. Now that you know that he is traveling around. Though you don’t know how the mailman knows where he is… that’s… not something your gonna question really.

[avengerscompound]

Small Gods: Lost Objects - 7

Lost Objects:  A Thor Fanfic

Lost Objects Masterlist | More Small Gods PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Thor x F!Reader

Rating: E

Word Count:  2294

Warnings: Nothing for this chapter

Synopsis: Thor has lost a lot in a very short period of time and he’s worried about losing himself too.  He goes to the one person who understands loss.

Chapter 7

After Thor had told Loki the whole story of everything that had happened since Loki had taken the Tesseract and run, marking the point this Loki diverged from Thor’s life, the trickster god had been quiet and introspective.  He wandered around the large space that made up your cottage on the hill, inspecting the hoards of items that had found their way to you.

He didn’t participate in any further discussion about how Mjolnir might be repaired, and he’d wander off and return at random intervals.  Over the course of the day, Thor found him gathering a strange collection of items together by the couch he’d been sleeping on.  Thor didn’t take a very close look but he did notice a collection of jewelry with large crystals in the settings, some pressed flowers, a collection of mismatched jars, some half-melted decorative candles, and a collection of keys.

Thor was suspicious of his brother.  He’d learned from experience that he should always expect even the least possible outcomes when Loki was around, and this particular version of his brother was the one who still had raw and open wounds from fighting with his family and finding out the truth about his heritage.  Thor left him alone though, most of his attention turned to the repair of his hammer.

There was talk about going to Nidavellir.  There were many reasons that that might not work.  For starters; it was a lot to ask of Eitri now he was alone and without the use of his hands.  Besides, the dwarf had already made one weapon for Thor, and Thor was reluctant to ask for more.  Even if he did, it wouldn’t be quick.  A new mold for Mjolnir would have to be made, and the forge would need to be repaired.  Thor was fine with staying and helping as long as he could, but he couldn’t expect you and Loki to do that.  Not to mention, if he did that, would it even be Mjolnir anymore or just a new hammer made from the old metal?

The other option was to see if it was possible to repair it here using a mixture of each of your abilities.  You seemed to think it might be possible by using Loki’s magic, your powers to gather lost objects, and Thor’s lightning.  The question was if it was possible to hold all the tiny fragments in their correct place and would it be weaker due to the thousands of joins?

“It’s your choice, Thor,” you said.  “She belongs to you.  Only you can decide how to repair her.”

He looked over at his brother, he’d returned to the couch with another assortment of items.  This time he seemed to add a leather-bound notebook, an ancient-looking quill, and some equally ancient coins.

“I suppose repairing it would be best,” Thor said, finally.  “If that fails I can always take the pieces to Nidavellir, but repairing it here will be something we can try sooner, and it would mean that it would be my Mjolnir.  Perhaps not as pristine as it once was - but I am a little worse for wear too.”

You leaned over and kissed him gently.  “I will miss you when you leave.”

“Who said I was leaving?”  Thor asked.

You shrugged.  “You’ll wither if you stay here with me.  You know that as well as I do.”

Thor didn’t say anything for a moment.  He did know it was true, but he wasn’t ready to go yet, and he dreaded leaving you now that he’d found you.  “Well, not today,” he said brightly, breaking the silence.  “Loki!  Brother, come here.”

Loki slunk into the room and looked him over.  “You summoned me,” he deadpanned.

“You know that’s not how I meant it,” Thor argued.  “I just wanted to speak to you about Mjolnir.  Do you have a spell you can use that will help us hold it together?”

“About that,” Loki said, taking a seat.  “I’ve been considering your -” he waved his hand around as he tried to summon the correct word.  “- Circumstance,” he settled on eventually.  “I want to gift you this -” he flicked his wrist and seemed to reach into space itself before pulling out his horned helm.  Or at least one of them.

“What would I do with your crown, Loki?  I have my own helm,” he asked.  “Though I do appreciate the gift.”

“I don’t expect you to wear it, but it is Uru and it was crafted in Asgard.  It contains its own magical properties that might be useful,” he said.  “If we melt it down, you can use it as the glue to hold Mjolnir together.”  He waved his hand again like he was trying to avoid something unpleasant.  “Besides, I have many.”

Thor was genuinely touched by the gesture.  Tears pricked his eyes and he went to pull Loki into a bear hug.  Loki was ready for him though and he pushed his chair back, avoiding the embrace.  “Control yourself, brother,” Loki teased.  “I’m not done.”

Thor looked at him curiously, picking up the helm from the table and turning it over in his hands.  “What else have you been scheming?”

“Scheming, brother?  That makes it sound so base level,” he said.  “But I have been working on something.”  He paused and tapped his fingers on the table like he was considering how best to phrase his plan.  Thor was used to that look, it usually meant there was some trickery to it, and Loki was considering his words carefully so that no one would notice.

“The tale you told me of your life since we diverged,” Loki said.  “It touched me, brother.  It is tragic that you should have to live your life without a version of me in it.  But you and I both know, I cannot stay here.  The TVA will be looking for me as we speak and they are not bound by barriers of time or space.  And the whole reason they arrested me in the first place was due to my universe hopping.  I need to keep moving.  So… I believe that the three of us together may be able to create a device - a key - that if used will bring us back together.  Then you will not have to worry about living in a world without my presence.  Won’t that be nice?”

Thor didn’t respond.  Partly due to the shock of the offer.  It appeared completely selfless.  Loki and Thor had been close as children but that had been a long time ago, and as much as Thor had wanted to maintain his relationship with his brother, it had always been a struggle.  Yet here was Loki - the version of Loki full of the most rage and hurt - and he was offering an olive branch to him.  Was there some kind of plan he was cooking up and Thor would inevitably be burned yet again, or did his brother pity him so much that he’d offer him this one small thing?

“Loki, if this is some trick...”  Thor warned.

“You wound me, brother,” Loki said, putting his hand on his heart.  Something in his face changed and his whole demeanor shifted.  “Not to get sentimental on you or anything, but … I worry about you, brother.  What you’ve been through… If having a way to contact me will give you some relief, then it is a minor inconvenience to me to do so.”

Thor nodded and put his hand on Loki’s shoulder.  “I thank you.”

“And… I can make one for this -” he waved his hand at you dismissively.  “If you would desire.  Then when you decide you’re ready to continue your adventures, you will have an instant portal back to her.”

Thor couldn’t hold back, he grabbed Loki’s arm and pulled him into a tight hug.  Loki sighed as he let his brother hug him and then slowly pushed back.  “Yes, yes, I am wonderful,” he said.  “No need to crush me.”

“How did you propose we do this, Loki?”  You asked.

The three of you moved outside.  While Thor lit a fire and burned it hot enough to smelt the metal of Loki’s helm, Loki set up the things he had gathered together.  He’d created a circle in the clearing using the items he’d been collecting in the house.  He had pulled the gems from their respective pieces of jewelry and set them up around the edge of the circle.  There were three pieces of amethyst spaced evenly apart in the circle’s edge and sitting on each piece was a key.

The circle’s center contained the tray where Mjolnir’s parts lay and beside it a glass jar that already held an ancient coin.

“How fare thee, brother?”  Loki asked.

“Almost ready,” Thor said.  “What would you have me do with it?”

“Just leave it.  When it’s liquid - assuming this works - it will be called during the spell,” Loki said.

Thor watched as the last of Loki’s horned helmet collapsed into the molten pool of metal.

“Now, you -” Loki said, gesturing to you.  “Come by me.  I need you to tap into the power you use when you’re sending things back to their rightful owners.  Only think about returning Mjolnir to Thor as it would look complete.”

You nodded and moved next to Loki.  “Thor - you stand here.  I need you to think about how badly you wish for your hammer to be returned to you, and how much you both believe in and feel for your lover.  When the time comes, you will need to summon forth a lightning bolt.  It needs to be powerful and after it hits Mjolnir, I need for it to split and hit each of the keys.”

Thor moved beside Loki, so you were each standing around Mjolnir in a small circle within the larger one.  Loki closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  He began to read from the notebook he had collected.  He spoke an ancient and primitive tongue that even with the power of Allspeak Thor had difficulty understanding.  It was a language that went back to the beginnings of the universe when his great-grandfather Buri ruled the vast emptiness of space.  He dropped some dried flowers into the jar as he spoke, they sparked as they fell and landed in the jar burning with an emerald green flame.

Thor turned his attention to you and his hammer.  Wishing for its return while also basking in the love he had for you and his faith in your abilities.  Your eyes began to glow, deep gold and wisps of the golden light leaked from the corners.  Loki tore off a sheet of paper and dropped it into the jar with the coin and the flowers and he waved his free hand.  Green light swirled out from his fingers and around Mjolnir and both the handle and the shards began to drift up into the sky.

As Loki continued to read and drop different items into the jar, the feather from the quill, herbs, drops of wine and more sheets from the book the light that emitted both from him and the jar grew brighter.  The gold that you emitted increased too and the two colors mixed in the air around his hammer as it began to form the shape he recognized.

When it looked like his hammer, Loki gestured to the molten metal on the outside of the circle and beckoned to it.  It rose in a long tendril of glowing red liquid and floated to the hammer, seeping into the cracks and sealing them together.  Thor began to summon the weather, his eyes leaking blue plasma adding to the green and gold in the air.  As the last of the molten metal disappeared into the Hammer, Thor called forth a bolt of lightning.  It shattered through the air with an ear-splitting crack of thunder.  When it hit Mjolnir the whole thing glowed red and was swallowed but a flare of gold, blue, and green light.  The lightning forked into three, each bolt passing through a person before hitting the keys on the ground.

Everything turned white, and as the color gradually returned to the world Thor held out his hand, and Mjolnir flew into it.

The hammer had changed, no more was it unblemished.  The silver face was marked with a web of gold that made it more beautiful than ever.  It had been healed and while it carried scars, it now glittered with them.

Thor held it against his chest.  “Thank you, brother,” he whispered.

Loki smiled and touched Thor’s arm softly.  “Don’t get all weepy on me,” he teased.

You went and collected the keys up from the circle.  “Did it work?”  You asked.

Loki took them from you and closed his eyes as he clutched them in his hand.  “I believe so,” he said as he opened his eyes again.  “They have been charged with each of our magic, along with Mjolnir’s.  Our magic connects them, they are ours and ours alone.  But with your ability to call to you what is lost, and Mjolnir’s ability to be called by its rightful owner - when we wish to see one of the others we only need to call to them as we use the key on a door.  It will open that door directly to them.”

Thor pulled both you and Loki into a tight embrace.  He had never been so thankful for something Loki did, and he was glad to have his brother back in his life again.  This felt like a turning point.  A way for him to be truly happy again.  “Come,” he said, as he loosened his grip.  “Let us feast together.  We have much to celebrate.”

// NEXT

[lastxviolet]

Madripoor is for Lovers (Zemo x F!Reader) - Ch. 2

Summary: Y/N is a SWORD agent recruited to help Sam and Bucky track down Karli and the super-soldiers. When Helmut Zemo joins the team, he takes a special interest in her. The friendly union is wrought for disaster, but then things take a turn for the worst when Y/N is taken as collateral. Will Zemo keep her forever? Does she even want to escape? And what happened in Madripoor that made the whole thing so complicated?

Warnings: 18+ / eventual smut / kidnapping

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32878015/chapters/81589774

The plane completed its descent, jolting you awake and away from the dream of what happened next.

His hands inside your dress and the moment in the evening that stopped feeling like an act.

“We are here,” he confirmed, gripping your hand and leading you from the plane.

The air wasn’t cold anymore and smelled like spring. It was May in the states and DC had felt the same so it was possible that you were still in the northern hemisphere. The United States and Canada weren’t options for the criminal, neither was Germany.

Italy?

He spoke to the driver in German and although you recognized the words, you had no clue what they meant. A short drive later and the car stopped. He untied the blindfold and you took in the sight of a lone chateau at the end of a lavish driveway. He opened the door and motioned for you to follow.

“No gun,” you questioned, eyeing his relaxed demeanor.

He smiled. Although you were angry and the sun was too bright, you were glad to finally be able to see something again.

“Not necessary,” he nodded at the rolling hills around them. “Where would you run?”

You glared at him, letting him know that this was still against your will and that any familiarity you’d had, was gone.

“You’re very confident that I prefer your company over death,” you hissed, eyeing the wilderness.

“You’ve come with me this far.”

Your eyes met his. It was impossible to know what he was thinking beneath the stern exterior.

“You could’ve screamed for your comrades,” he shrugged.

“There was a gun aimed at my temple.”

“Or jumped out of the plane.”

Again, you glared at him. If looks could kill.

“This way,” he said, clearing his throat. “Please.”

You followed him, debating if you could make it to the car or even out of the compound before Zemo shot you or caught up.

The terrain was unfamiliar, and now you were in a foreign country, alone and uncounted for.

Zemo slowed and matched your snail’s pace, signaling that it was time to hurry up. You moved slower despite his hand on your back and he clicked his tongue. You made the journey last as long as possible until there was no choice but to cross the threshold.

“Your room is up the stairs and to the right,” he said, eyes on your face.

You stormed up the wooden stairs, making each groan with your anger.

“Dinner will be ready soon,” he called after you.

You slammed your door in response. The wall shook and you half hoped it’d bring the whole house down, taking you and Zemo with it.

An hour later, you entered the small and intimate dining room. A round table sat in a nook surrounded by windows, looking out onto the cliff-like drop below. You didn’t even glance at the food before you. There was only Zemo, and convincing him to let you go.

“Is your room to your liking?”

You scoffed. “My cell is fine, thank you.”

Unfortunately, your warden was fond of conflict, and difficult people. The words only seemed to intrigue him further. His eyes danced over your face, glancing down towards the exposed skin on your chest and then up to your lips.

“They say a pessimist sees the difficulty in every opportunity,” he mused.

“I’m a pessimist because of intelligence,” you quoted.

His eyes twinkled again, he knew, as you did, that it came from an Italian philosopher. It was applicable but also, a guess.

He raised his glass towards you before finishing the quote. “But an optimist because of will.”

In true Zemo fashion, he neither confirmed nor denied your suspicion. You lifted your glass of red wine towards him with a scowl.

You ate in silence for a while, you, staring out the window, Zemo, eyeing you. You made it half an hour before the weight of his stare became unbearable.

“So what’s your game plan, with all this,” you asked, waving your fork to yourself and then to him and the house.

“Do not ask questions you already know the answer to,” he chided. “It is beneath you.”

“My life for your freedom.”

He sighed then, almost like he didn’t like that answer either. It was the right one, you both knew that but it looked like it pained him. Seeing that flicker of humanity hurt more than you wanted to admit. It'd be easier if the man beneath the mask wasn't real. It'd be easier if he'd been lying and there weren’t two versions of him. You wished that there wasn’t a charming and passionate man beneath the evil Baron facade, but there he was again.

“Prison is not an option for me,” he admitted, laying down his fork. “But I am sorry that it had to be you.”

You nodded and scoffed, rolling your eyes for good measure.

“I do hope to make you comfortable, in the meantime — ”

“Before you kill me,” you interrupted.

He clicked his tongue again and glared. It was the plan he orchestrated and yet, he didn’t seem to like it.

“I may not have to,” he corrected.

You laughed then, with little care for his strained expression. “Have you met the Dora Milage? They’ll go through whoever they need to, to avenge their king. They don’t know me nor do they care about me. You don’t have the winning hand that you think you do.”

“You are forgetting about your colleagues. They've lost one of their own. If not loyalty, then pride will make them come for you,” he corrected.

Again, you smiled at his miscalculation. “I’m a foot soldier, not an avenger; not a super soldier; not one of them.”

"There is no such thing as small people, only small — ”

“Great,” you bellowed. “More wisdom! Your riddles and literature are useless now. You should’ve spent more time studying negotiations while you were incarcerated. Why didn’t you take Bucky? Or Caps little assistant? The US would’ve been at your feet for them back. You could’ve gotten a pardon and a reward!”

“I have no need for a reward,” he spat.

Your chest was heaving, out of anger, out of nerves, but most of all because the man in front of you was once again, impenetrable.

“Or a pardon from the great United States,” he continued, almost in a whisper.

Your eyes snapped to his but he avoided your gaze. He swirled his wine and stared off into space before inspecting you again. Something was missing, something that didn’t make sense.

The glimmer of humanity returned, despite his best efforts to hide it.

He’d been the main orchestrator of his outbreak from jail. He had private homes, apartments, transportation, weapons, cars, everything. He could run forever but he didn’t need you to do it. How was this life any different than what it would be if he was free? He watched you come to the realization and winced as it clicked into place.

“Why am I here,” you whispered, squinting.

He was silent and looked back to the window.

“Zemo,” you whispered. “Look at me.”

Funny enough, he followed the order.

His lips moved in silence but words didn’t escape.

“Why did you choose me?”

He pursed his lips in exasperation. It was no secret that he liked having the upper hand but he’d shown you all his cards a moment ago. You wondered why he hadn’t bothered to lie.

“I chose you because they wouldn’t — they won’t.”

He stood up and leaned against the sill, sipping wine in small swigs and staring out at the greenery.

“You would die for your country, Y/N,” he explained. “I find that admirable — heroic even but the problem, for me, is that they would let you.”

“Let me?” You repeated the phrase slowly, trying to understand the point.

He let out a huff. “If you caught a grenade in the name of bettering America, what would happen?”

You cocked your head in question. “I die? Maybe get a Purple Heart?”

“And then what? Would they bat an eye before rejoicing you — celebrating you and your sacrifice? Encouraging others to do the same in your name?” He paused and stared at you.

“No….no they wouldn’t because your death would mean that their wars are working. Another name in the long list of people that they were willing to gift to the god of war.”

“That sacrifice is what I signed up for — it’s my choice,” you explained, confused about where he was taking this.

He nodded and yet made no amends or clarification. The angry veins in his forehead receded and his gaze flitted away like he couldn’t bear to continue. You suddenly wondered if he'd even sent a ransom note, or whatever kidnappers do. The look in his eyes, told you no. The tone of his voice told you that he might not ever.

“Then you are doing your duty as a prisoner of war here, with me.”

He smiled and your anger dissipated. You lunged to grab onto any remaining frayed piece of it but there was nothing left. All those years of training and fighting, all to succumb to an evil man in a fitted turtleneck. You hardened your expression in an attempt to remain vexed.

“Your circumstance could be worse,” he concluded.

“And what of your circumstance?”

Silence ate up space between you. His gaze was set on you once again and then it seemed like you were the only two in this room, this home…the world.

“Better than it has been in a long time, schatzi,” he sighed.

“How so,” you asked, pushing for information.

He shrugged. “I am free and I am alone….with you.”

You winced and shook your head. “Don’t,” you whispered.

His brows furrowed. “In previous interactions, you did not seem to resent my…affections, Y/N.”

Butterflies ravaged your sternum, bringing memories of the night at Sharon’s with it. If it was different, if he had turned over a new leaf, then it would be easier to admit your feelings.

“Is this your version of affection? Holding me hostage?”

“Yes,” he breathed, coming to sit next to you, so close you thought he might touch you.

“Let’s not…talk about it,” you whispered, trying to push away the longing in your chest.

“I would like to,” he pushed.

All you could do was stare. The memories should've stayed in Madripoor. It should live in your brief collective drunk past. But you could see that it weighed on him as heavy as it did on you.

“That is fine,” he sighed. “I can talk if you will listen.”

You nodded once. The residual affections plagued you and it was impossible to keep your heartbeat at bay. The thought that he might feel the same was exhilarating and terrifying.

“It was you who assisted me with my escape plan. You who tracked Karli. You who guessed that I’d betray you on countless occasions. You who ensured that we evaded Captain America as long as we did. You who played your part so well that everyone in Madripoor thinks I have taken a wife.”

“Your point,” you hissed, deadpan.

“The super soldier solution does not increase intelligence, as you know. Nothing does. Even all the books in the world cannot alter what is already there. Either you are born with the glorious burden, or you live in ignorant bliss,” he explained.

He reached up and brushed his thumb along your forehead. “I know your burden, Y/N, because I share it.”

A stuttering breath left your chest. Compliments were the easiest forms of manipulation. You’d studied it, known it, resisted it in many years of training but this felt different. Everything he did and said, felt different.

“I do my job Zemo, that’s it.”

“You excel,” he corrected. “You make the rest of your colleagues look like newborns and yet they don’t...value you. Not like I do, Liebling.”

“If this is about the incident at Sharon’s,” you said, recognizing the nickname. “It was a mistake.”

He chuckled. “An optimist would call it a happy accident.”

“I’d call it life-ruining,” you said, trying to decipher the feelings of anger and something warm inside your chest. “If it led you to this.”

“I understand if you hate me,” he explained. “But you should know that living here with your hatred will be akin to breathing, for me, if it means you are safe. Natural and life-bringing.”

Your face gave nothing away but he’d stunned you.

“The evil baron is becoming less and less of a character.”

“They say hate itself is a version of love,” he mused, ignoring your words and staring at your lips.

The word knocked thought and common sense back into your head. This wasn’t love. This was ownership and selfishness. A myriad of terrible things that had tangled you both in this mess. It’d spurred from fascination and proximity but for love to grow, there has to be more. There has to be more good than bad. You looked around the home, owned by the man in front of you. Both beautiful, breathtaking even. But not enough to trade your freedom for.

“How convenient for someone with so many enemies,” you hissed.

His eyes squinted then and the Baron who commanded respect in Madripoor returned. There was this side of him too, you reminded yourself. And it seemed to be winning over the side who loved books and witty conversation.

“Are you my enemy, Y/N?”

For the first time, you didn’t know what to say. Before this, it wasn’t safe to call him anything other than an enemy but now? He ruined any chance of normalcy or redemption. The question lingered between you and it struck you how close he’d gotten. It would take almost nothing to start a repeat of the night at Sharon’s. But this was a different man.

“I didn’t have to be,” you breathed before breaking eye contact. You gave him no time to answer before fleeing back to your room.

[kth1]

Piquant [Jungkook x Reader]

Piquant [Jungkook x Reader]

Pi-quant / adjective: having a pleasantly sharp taste or appetizing flavor.

⟶ Credit: @kimtaehyunq​ ⟶ Genre: Smut | 21+ | Vampire AU | One Shot ⟶ Warnings: explicit, sub!jungkook/whiny lil thing, vamp!jk, oral (M&F), fingering, blood/blood play, biting, period blood, noona kink, adult content, bondage(M), unprotected sex, language, semi overstimulation, semi cock-warming, creampie, squirting, roommates to ?, multiple orgasms, etc ⟶ WC: 12k ⟶ Summary: Jungkook is your awesome roommate who also happens to be a vampire. There’s nothing wrong with that of course, even with the playful tactics he does to fluster you. Until you realize those quipping taunts meant more than he led on. ⟶ Teaser: “He savored your flavor; his mouth finally got the taste it has been curious about for a long time now. He wanted more before his taste-testing was over, and he knew exactly how to get it.” ⟶ Author’s note: Hello everyone, this story is a precious gift to @jkeuphoriadreamland​ – as Yoly fully enjoys a bit of a whiny brat version of Jungkook. And NOONA KINKS. I tried my best to write him as a sub, and I truly hope you enjoy this fic. Nervous as all hell because you are a wonderful, glorious writer; and gifting you a fic of my own makes me kasdjhf. Anyways, this is unedited bc reasons - I had fun being your Peach Peep and writing this for you! (I didn’t mean to make it as long as it did… oops. xoxo)

“You smell pretty tasty.”

“Well, I’m not!” You retorted.

“Let me have a quick taste? That’s all I’m asking for.” Jungkook requested.

“Koo, no! You have plenty of bottles of blood in the fridge – just heat some up.”

Jungkook snorted with disgust, “Tch, that blood is synthetic. It’s not as good as straight from the source.” His finger trailed up the inside of your wrist, his body taking a step closer to yours.

You snatched your wrist back to yourself quickly, glaring up at your pest of a roommate. “Oh no no no – Jeon! You stop that!” Jungkook took another step, a grin present on his sculpted face. You respond with a pointed finger, raising your eyebrows in question. He wanted to play this game again.

“But Noona, please!” He whined with a pout. The vowels drawing out with the sentence with a childish tone, but his eyes shared something deep and dark. Thirst.

“I am not your bloodbag Jeon Jungkook!” your accusatory finger now prodding his chest.

“True, you’re not. But you are my friend.” He smiled, cupping your hands in his, “friends help another out.” He let out a little giggle when he saw your flustered face.

You scoffed, laughing as your roommate continued to plea. “You don’t need help! You have blood in the kitchen! B negative to be exact. It’s a fresh stock!” You shooed him, ushering him to turn around and pushing him towards the opening of the kitchen.

“Noona!” he droned again.

Oddly enough, Jungkook adored using this nickname towards you. Even though he is a hundred and something years older than you, his ripened age of vampire is in his early twenties – when he was changed into one, he found it humorous to call you Noona because your human years have surpassed his frozen age. Thus resulting, in his mind, you being ‘older’ than him. That, and the fact you get flustered up over the nickname.

There’s no doubt in your mind that your pesky little vampire friend could overpower you at any second if he really wanted to, but there was a firm alliance between the two of you. He has control over his hunger after all, he’s not a savage. Just because Jungkook is a vampire doesn’t mean he was a monster. For years vampires have lived among the human race, they aren’t out to rule the world or anything. Just trying to survive like every other creature.

Still, he and you were good friends. Actually, when you first met him you developed one of the biggest crushes on the mysterious vampire – but that feeling subsided drastically when you realized more about his lifestyle.

The two of you met through friends of friends. Trustworthy, as you had his back and he had yours. And now, you two shared an apartment in the busy city of Seoul, making ends meet as he works at the local vamp lounge, being a bartender. You wallow yourself forever in an office desk job providing customer service over a phone and through your computer.

“I swear to god if you ask me one more time, I’m going to throw my silver jewelry at you!” you threatened. “And stop calling me Noona!”

He scrunched his nose, annoyed at your rejection. “Ahh, you’re no fun.” He grumbled under his breath, turning away and departing towards the kitchen.

“It’s my blood! My property!” you yelled to the back of his dark ruffled hair, watching it sway with each of his steps before it vanished behind the wall.

“Then stop bleeding around me! Don’t get another paper cut and I wouldn’t ask!” he shouted from the other room.

The shuffling noises from the fridge to the microwave was audible enough to hear. A hint that he’s reheating a bottle of blood. Luckily for him, you were nice enough to stop by the convenience store on your way back home to pick him up a fresh batch of blood. Picking up his favorite flavor for his special acquired taste.

You looked down at the coffee table that was littered with a pile of mail, some ripped open and some still untouched. Your eyes darted at the piece of envelope that was sharp enough to break through your skin and cause a nasty little cut. You mentally scolded the piece for causing a stinging pain in your index finger. The irony of the rent notice cutting into your wallet was the act paper that cut into your flesh.

With your hand still close by, you examined the cracked cut that adorned a leaky line of red with a bead of blood threatening to drip off. “Wouldn’t ask.” You mocked Jungkook, speaking to yourself. “Oh please – you’re such a begger.” You sucked on your finger, attempting to take the small sting away and ridding your blood while you continued to reorganized the mail on the table.

The audible footsteps of Jungkook resonated as he approached back in the living room, bottle attached to his mouth. You glanced over your shoulder to see what was up with his lingering, and he answered your gaze with narrowed cut, stink-eyes. Sipping bitterly hard on his warm thick fluid drink, he rolled his eyes and continued down towards his bedroom.

He heard what you said.

Jungkook was gone, a scheduled vacation to meet up with some old friends for the weekend. You have the whole apartment to yourself for once, and during this time you had an untimely visit from your aunt flow. It tainted your mood, unwanted pains and cramps forcing you out of whack. Your weekend consisted of kissing your lips to Ben & Jerry’s selection of ice cream flavors, watching movies and downing your own dosage of Advil and other pain killers.

The apartment wafted with your heady scent. Something you couldn’t pick up with human smell alone but to a vampire like Jungkook, he could pick it up instantly. Like a shark in a water, he can catch whiff of all kinds of scents with those advanced heightened senses.

You were fast asleep in dreamland, a heating pad atop your stomach that lulled your cramps at an ease. Curse the world that during this period, your cramps were ungodly painful, and you felt like complete and utter shit.

What you didn’t know was that your roommate had decided to cut his group hang out short – coming back home in the middle of the night. Not like he couldn’t come and go as he pleased – it was his house too. But tonight, it was slightly… different.

He stepped up the stairwell in the apartment complex, fidgeting with the ring of keys in hand. A strange smell entered his nose, something foreign yet so similar to him. It forced him to halt his actions, standing still while looking down the corridor. It was coming from this floor – his floor.

Jungkook reached level 3, turning his way down to his apartment with the scent leading him all the way to the front door. A succulent aroma enticing him, ticking his hunger. He soon realized that sweet pungent smell that he zoned into was your scent – your blood was lingering in the airway in a heavy dosage.

“Oh fuck!” he unlocked the apartment door in a rush, speedily running in as fast as the bulk of your musk entered his sinuses. Immediately Jungkook thought the worst, thinking something happened to you; you were hurt and bleeding out. Were you okay? Why are you bleeding?

His feet brought him to your bedroom door, “Y/n! Y/n!?” he’s frantic. The moment Jungkook busted your bedroom door open almost off its hinges, he was relieved to see you intact and unharmed – seeing your body sprawled out across your mattress fast asleep.

But the sudden commotion jolted you up out of your slumber, the booming sound of your door flinging open and Jungkook’s voice calling out your name startled you.

“Kook?” You whipped your head towards him, a groggy voice to match your terrible bedhead you sported.

“Shit, sorry! Fuck, I didn’t mean to wake you! I just – I,” his thoughts were cut off, that rambling of his mouth seized when you shifted yourself on the bed, rolling the comforter around. The blanket that sealed the majority of your scent now accidentally releasing in a wave, the sweet tangy smell hitting Jungkook face first.

His hand latched to his nose, plugging his ability to smell you any further. Internally he was fighting his natural urge to go for it, to have a taste of this juicy aroma that was causing his mouth to water and fangs to sharpen. This impulse was worse than any other time, like when you got papercuts or accidentally nicked yourself with a knife. You always had a peculiar smell, something that made him curious, and now he’s invested.

He knows he needs to leave the area, go get himself a bottle of blood or find a unfortunate prey on the street, quickly. He can’t touch you; he shouldn’t touch you – but god do you smell so good and your scent was incredibly inviting.

His backpack slunk off his shoulder to the floor with a thud, the intoxicating smell was so deadly that it was forcing a haze of thirst run over him. “I thought you were hurt.” He confessed.

You rubbed your eyes to remove any forming crusts, “Hurt? What? I’m not hurt. That’s why you woke me up?”

Jungkook shook his head, staring over at your confused and puzzled face. “N – no Y/n, you’re bleeding. Like a lot.”

It took moments for you to register what he was implying. Widening your eyes when you finally came to realization. “Oh no… shit. Sorry Koo. I’m fine I swear.”

You scurried, flipping the covers over you to witness a decently large stain that had accumulated through your night shorts. You bled through your bottoms, something you haven’t done in years, yet mother nature is always good at being unpredictable. You sighed, face palming yourself to how you practically ruined the fabrics and it will take a miracle to clean them completely.

Jungkook froze, all instincts fighting to break free the moment his sensory eyes laid on the darkened patch that decorated between your legs. His fist tightened; his body completely stiff with blown out eyes. “Run Jungkook, fucking run.” He ordered himself internally.

You carefully moved your body around, attempting not to get any more blood on your sheets. Thankfully you didn’t have any cramps right now. Typically, you were very cautious around your roommate during times like these. Plugging yourself up with tampons from beginning to end of your cycle, refusing to stay around him or the apartment for too long, even he would take time away to give you your space. It was out of respect for another, established as a primary rule before you two signed your contract to the apartment.

As you hobbled closer towards the door in which Jungkook stood, you couldn’t understand why he refused to move out of your way.

“Kook, I have to go to the bathroom.” You seek to brush pass him but Jungkook’s hand snatched your arm – grip strong.

In a slow raspy voice, he breathed, “Noona.”

You blinked up at him, watching a flicker of red flash over his darkened orbs. You felt caught, trapped by his intense stare. His build was larger than yours, almost menacing when his body hardened to block the frame of the doorway.

“Jungkook… relax…” You felt the temperature of your body shift. Should you be worried? Scared? Embarrassed?

“I can’t.” his other hand held onto your free arm, slowly backing you away from the door with trembling steps. His eyes frantically searched your face, pupils wide while the chocolate brown of his eyes shaded to a vibrant red.  

His eyes were demanding, a scare or warning that there was no going back from this. You’ve witnessed this look before when you visited the bar he worked at, when his eyes catch onto a delicious treat in the crowd. It won’t be easy to escape this situation. Jungkook was invested in getting what he wanted, what he was craving…

“This – this would be weird. It’s – Jungkook listen to me for a second.” The back of your legs touched the edge of the bed. “Jungkook!”

He hummed, glossing his eyes over you once more. His tone beckoning you to continue.

“This is period blood!”

He shrugged, rubbing his hands along the expanse of your arms, not allowing you to sit down just yet. He can feel the warmth of your body, how you are much warmer than usual. “It’ll just taste a little off. It’s not like I haven’t had it before.”

“Ew, Kook! No that’s gross! Like, do vampires actually enjoy? This?” You tried wiggling yourself out of his grasp. But he stepped closer – closing whatever distance there was between the two of you. You swallowed thickly, feeling quite intimidated and small under his presence. But you took note, his tight chest now flexed in front of you and hands held firm to your arms as if he was holding onto dear life.

“Y/n.” Jungkook whispers, leaning closer to your head. His phantom breath tickled the shell of your ear, “Please let me have a taste. Can I please…?”

It sounded so sensual coming from him. A shiver running down the base of your spine from the odd request. His hands now ghosted your hips, fingers etching a tingly sensation into your exposed skin. He carefully played with the waist band of your shorts – dipping a finger under it in a teasingly way.

Jungkook was controlling himself to all extremes. He knows he can’t attack you the way his nature wants him to, you’re his friend after all. He shouldn’t be stalking towards you like this. He cannot ruin you the way you’re ruining him right now. But he’s surely thinking about it.

You felt shy, nervous but oddly turned on by your roommate’s intimidation. All his persistence, his pleading whines slowly getting to you. You should feel disgusted – right? The idea of blood, your blood, your period blood, being taste tested by your friendly vampire. Which makes you question yourself even more when you tell Jungkook, “Okay…”

You’re shocked and so was Jungkook. Your confirmation is all he needed to hear, so he didn’t need to stop his action of snaking his hand down your shorts, slowly trailing his fingers towards your core.

A small gasp escaped him the moment the freshly soaked patch on your undies came in contact with the pad of his index finger. The urgency of pushing his finger down onto the cloth to collect whatever residue he could overwhelmed him.

It was an odd feeling – your roommate exploring his wondering hand down your shorts. What you didn’t expect was how it still felt somewhat good. The sudden contact of your lady bits now getting attention not by your own hand, but of someone else’s. Causing your body to jump with a sexual alert and now you’re the one holding onto Jungkook’s arms as if you were going to buck under him.

Jungkook brought his fingers back up to meet his face as he inspected the redden stain that now coated the tips of his digits. A strange manner – something no human in their right mind would do – Jungkook sniffed at your remainder. Naturally this would be so revolting for a human. But Jungkook is a blood-sucking vampire. Any form of human blood wired him up and he lived off of it, literally.

You watched him with your bottom lip between your teeth. You watched as he stuck his fingers in his mouth and exhaled a very audible groan thought his nose.

“Fuuuuck, Noona…” his tongue dragged between his fingers, then lips to savor the flavor. Suddenly his hand disappeared back to the waistband of your shorts, this time less hesitantly now. “You tasted like this all along?” He speculated while advising you to sit down, tugging harshly at your bottoms.

You nervously fumbled trying to catch his hands before he could hoist your bottoms off. He was fast, desperate for more. “Kook! You said a taste!” you squealed.

“I’m not finished tasting!” he growled. A more aggressive side taking over his demeanor. In his swift act of removing your bottoms you heard the ripping of seams. Fabrics pulling apart. Then your used panties and shorts were discarded off to the side – there was no saving them now.

Jungkook held your hands, staring down at your now pinched thighs that hid his juicy treat. He can sense your uncertainty, your nervousness – so he tried to look as apologetically pleading as possible while kneeling down in front of you. “Noona – please!” The pitch of voice didn’t match the way of his eyes that stared you down. “I’ll make it feel good, I promise. Just let me show you!”

He shoved his face between your knees, attempting to pry your legs apart, that strong scent now mere inches away from his mouth. Jungkook couldn’t control his hunger any longer, not when there was free blood just asking to be eaten.

It was almost pathetic at how desperate Jungkook was being, wiggling his head further into you. His eyes glowing pure red as they fixated at the crack between your thighs. He dragged his lips across your skin, planting reckless open mouth kisses. The sight of your roommate on his knees for you sparked a deep desire within your core.

“Kook! Let’s talk about this!” You flushed as you pinched your thighs as tight as possible. Jungkook’s hands firmly held yours still. He grunted at your resounded rebuttal, pleading more with a high pitch – needy whine.

He wasn’t listening, he couldn’t hear you as his hunger took over his senses. His throat felt dry though his mouth watered for your flavor. Heat embedded into your cheeks, rocking a wave down to your bundle of nerves. You squeaked at the shifting movements of Jungkook wedging his face even more. “Kook is this even right?!”

Complete turmoil ran through your mind – you’re sharing yourself with your friend. Someone you had a crush on, and now that attraction crept back up. An act that you two have never experienced before. This wasn’t your average ‘oh here take some blood from my wrist’ situation. Jungkook was aiming for more than just a snack and it didn’t seem like the vampire didn’t mind what-so-ever.

“I’m okay with it Noona – are you?” He nipped your leg lightly, slowly dragging his now sharpened fangs on the soft skin. His lips formed a pout as he looked up at you with reddened puppy-dog eyes. “I won’t bite you.”

Everything about this situation seemed so wrong, but Jungkook was making it sound so right. You never realized how the excitement of the situation was causing your chest to rise erratically, an ache in your core now persistently present and you swore the puddle down below wasn’t just blood now.

You were nervous and body slightly shaking. It’s late, it’s wrong, this whole circumstance entirely dangerous. But that didn’t stop your body acting on its own accord by widening your legs just enough for Jungkook’s head to slip in. A spark lit bright in Jungkook’s eyes when he laid them upon your dirty flower, the sight looking as appetizing as ever.  

“Yeah.” You breathed. “It’s okay with me. Don’t bite me or so help me god –“

“I won’t.” Jungkook didn’t hesitate to slide himself in – licking up the blotches of blood that escaped onto your inner thighs. The sensual feeling of his tongue tracing patterns around your pussy.

Lewd noises came from Jungkook, devouring your juice as if it was the best meal on Earth. Satisfaction releasing through his nose that moment the flat of his wet muscle licked up between your lips, flicking at the tip of your clit.

He released your hands as he felt you ease into him, moving them to your upper thighs to kneed lovely circles into them.

“Oh!” you moaned. Your fingers carded though his hair – head nestled deep between your legs. “Koo-!”

He grinned against your sex. A slight giggle escaped his lips, “Yes, Noona?”

Jungkook looked up at you through his eyelashes and with a cock of his eyebrow, mouth entrapping your cunt. He flicked his tongue up you once more just to see your reaction.

You shuttered – back landing onto your mattress. You openly sighed with a ridged breath. The dangerous mouth of Jungkook eating you up like it was his job. “Fuck, Kook.” You giggled at your shameless moans. The feeling of bashfulness creeping up on you from enjoying the sensation, those disgusting thoughts fading away against the immense pleasure. Stimulation being particularly focused on your small bundle of nerves, especially when Jungkook sucked on it.

The mess that dressed your cunt was most definitely already cleaned up by now. But Jungkook continued to pleasure you in return – after all he did say he’d make it feel good.

He savored your flavor; his mouth finally got the taste it has been curious about for a long time now. He wanted more before his taste-testing was over, and he knew exactly how to get it.

“Let me thank you, Y/n…” he purred.

Snaking his fingers under you, he teased the pads of his digits around your entrance. Prodding slowly along with the rhythm that his tongue set. Your cunt clenched around the insertion of two of his fingers that eased in effortlessly.

You allowed him to have a taste and now he wanted to repay you back by giving you a treat you won’t forget. You gasped for air the moment Jungkook’s fingers curled up into the thicket of your inner walls, pressing long drawled out strokes against it.

Your hips bucked, jerking up into the wild tongue of Jeon Jungkook. It was sinful the way he ate you out, and even at the right angle you felt the sharp of his fangs that threatened to dip into you. His word was true, he wasn’t going to bite you, just clean you up.

With the constant thrusts of his vicious digits, he was also swiping out any hording residue of your unfortunate mishap that got you two in this situation in the first place. Of course, this luscious taste is distinct, but Jungkook can also relish in the flavor of your natural essence that extracted from your cunt. And the mix of these two delectable tangs together soon made their way to the top of Jungkook’s palate.

Your body tightened, the sudden rush of your climax rushing through you as goosebumps rise across your skin. The fist you steadily held in his hair, tightened. Your back arched off the mattress, Jungkook’s hand holding your hips securely down.

Vibrations ran through your body while you moaned Jungkook’s name, creaming all over his face. He groaned in return, lapping up every inch of you.

He leaned back, removing his mouth and fingers. Wiping the back of his hand over his mouth, Jungkook peered up at you with constraint. You remained laying, staring at the ceiling and feeling completely washed out. That just happened? You had one of the best orgasms of your entire life all because Jungkook was thirsty?

“You good, Y/n?” A mousy voice drew your attention out of your thoughts, back down at the man who hesitantly stood up. His hands moved your legs back together, and he assisted you to sitting back up right on the edge of the bed.

You nodded, reserving your thoughts for another time as you looked up to Jungkook. His eyes were no longer blood-lust red but instead his wide doe-eyed nuisance you’re oh-so used to seeing. They wouldn’t be so annoying if they didn’t work on you, but they did. Every. Damn. Time.

“I’m good, Kook! Uh – thank you.” Your expression of gratitude stammered out of your mouth faster than you could think.

Jungkook murmured under his breathe, but it was loud enough to hear the “Yeah, of course.”

Oh boy. You can feel it – the awkwardness setting in.

Before there were any more unsettling silences between the both of you, you spoke up. “I should really get myself cleaned up, if you can excuse me, I should really go to the bathroom.”

With that announcement you scurried, more like dashed yourself to the bathroom that was adjacent to your room. Leaving Jungkook to stand in your bedroom bewildered. He glanced down over at your discarded ripped bottoms that lay lifeless on the floor, still stained with your pungent aroma. He faltered battling with his inner thoughts when his lips quivered ever so slightly.

“Fuck.” He seethed the profanity through his teeth while palming over his groin.

It’s been a week since the misadventure that happened between your roommate and you. Determined, you choose to take the path of act-like-everything-is-fine. Nothing was wrong, no of course not. Right?

You had a full week to dwell on these thoughts, by yourself. No interests in opening your mouth about it to your best friends, or any random stranger at a bar or even the same clerk you run into at the convenience store every now and then.

So what – you let Jungkook have a taste of your blood? You’re an adult, and it was perfectly fine! He needs blood to live anyways – if anything you were doing him a favor! So, you told yourself…

But strangely enough after that night, after the mind-blowing orgasm that left your core fluttering for days even at the thought of that night, Jungkook distanced himself from you. No matter how many times you addressed him to partake in a casual event that the two of you normally participated in like enjoying a movie on the couch, having drinks together, running to the store or even playing one of his blasted videogames – Jungkook declined more than often. It was always.

Jungkook was hardly to be seen, stating he picked up more shifts at the lounge or hanging out with others. Meanwhile his nights remained occupied, and your days were busy with your office job – it caused more of a space between the two of you. When his actions persisted, you couldn’t help but think there was something wrong.

By day four of post orgasm those flooded doubts came running in. What you two did wasn’t right, you fucking knew it. Jungkook must have known it too. “This totally fucked up everything didn’t it?” It’s the only excuse you could devise with the series of events.

Now day seven you sat there in the middle of the couch; legs crossed over another as your foot impatiently tapped in the air. It’s been exactly a week from that treacherous night, and the more you thought about the risky behavior you both endured, the more it couldn’t escape your mind. You’re putting too much effort into something that shouldn’t be minded.

At least, that’s what Jungkook was doing – right? Not minding the incident…

With a glass of wine in hand, you sipped with resent as your flickered through the list of movies to preoccupy yourself with. Something needed to stand out, something to distract you from your irritated mindset. Maybe a comedy, maybe some horror with a bit of action?

You settled for something, clicking play and started up towards the kitchen. Swallowing the remains of your glass in honor of filling it right back up to the brim. In the course of your tipping the wine bottle into your cup, watching the dark liquid pour out of the nozzle so fluidly, you heard the entrance of your apartment open up.

That can only be one person – Jungkook.

Placing the bottle of wine back down on the counter, you turn with a full glass in hand. You walked out of the kitchen to be met with the emptying of the living room once again. Jungkook must have bee-lined it straight to his room.

A sudden rage rose up within you, not particularly enjoying this cold-shoulder act Jungkook insisted on giving. You want to confront him; you’re getting tired of this odd behavior and if there was an elephant in the room that refuses to leave then you will kick it out with all your might.

“Jungkook!” You hollered, feet stepping down the narrow hallway towards his room that was hidden in the very far end. “Kook!” Your voice belted his name a few more octaves higher.

Your knuckles contacted his bedroom door, tapping against the wood. “Can you open up?”

Through the wood you can hear the rummaging of Jungkook throughout the room. He was ransacking his drawers, the sound of his chair wheeling back and forth as his steps moved to and fro. “I’m busy right now.”

A stern huff escaped your lips. To calm yourself you took a long swig of your wine, hoping it cooled you down – or even give you more of a liquid courage to speak up.

“It will only take a minute!” You barked.

He didn’t reply back to you, but instead he continued to rustle around his room for god only knows what. With this indication, you felt peeved and your hand was fast to the doorknob. Twisting the handle fast enough to fling the door open so you can face him.

Jungkook was in the midst of tucking in his black fitted button up shirt, belt still hanging loose through the loops. Matching with his black sleek trousers and set of tuxedo shoes that went along with the monochromatic attire for work. For a brief moment, your mind zoned in on how Jungkook would look… when not just dressing, but undressing. That thought bubble was popped abruptly when he whipped his head in your direction and yelled at you.

“I said I was busy!” he repeated, tone fully capturing the blunt of his attitude.

“Jungkook, come on you’ve been avoiding me all week.” You inclined.

Jungkook ruffled out the last bits of his shirt, tapering it into the band of his pants. He fastened his belt security along his waist with the clinks and clacks. “I’m late Y/n. I don’t have time for this.” Jungkook breezes past you towards the bathroom with his stationary bag lugged over his shoulder. He eyes himself in the mirror, tidying up his hair and quickly rinsing his mouth with mouthwash.

Your feet pattered to the bathroom door, now leaning your body against the frame of the entrance. You can notice the harsh side-eye you receive from Jungkook, but you pay no attention in giving a reaction to it. “Kook, what did I do for you to avoid me? Was it because of what happened?”

There was sadness laced inside your voice, but it was taken over by puzzlement. You were just concerned, what happened to the dynamic between the two of you? Why can’t Jungkook even look you in the eyes half the time and run away to steer clear of you?

He spit his mouthwash into the skin, checking his teeth in the mirror for any imperfections. He shimmied the other string of his bag on to his other shoulder and turned to leave the bathroom, seeing that you now stood in his way he gave you an uneasy glare. “Move.”

“What the? No! –“ you protested. Your finger jotted out towards him, “Stop avoiding me!”

He can tell by the flare of your nostrils that you were fuming, and your tone of voice rising with each word you spoke only added to the obvious fact that you were indeed pissed. If it wasn’t for the clear sight that you’re holding up a cup full of alcohol, he’d most definitely would have smelt it lingering off of your breath. Jungkook attempted to grab the glass of wine out of your hand, assuring you that “you probably drank too much already.”

“Hey! – No, give me that!” You argued, holding tight with your fingers circling around the base. He’s shuffling around, pulling at your wrist to let go of the damn thing, but it was when his hand latched over yours that covered the base an unexpected shatter echoed in the apartment.

Wine spilled between the two of you, decorating the bathroom floor and your feet with the murky dark liquid. Pieces of bladed glass scattered around, and you winced when you felt the sudden jab of a shard that dug itself into your palm.

You yelped, jumping back in surprise and pain. You held your hand out, outstretching your fingers to see the blossoming of red liquid leaking from the shard. “Fuckin’ hell!”

“Shit! Y/n, I’m sor –“ Jungkook cut himself mid-sentence after reaching out towards you. The blood oozing out from that blade of glass was spilling out your sweet tasteful scent, and it wired Jungkook. His inner thirst now aroused.

Pain was plastered over your face as you ripped the piece out from your palm. You pressed firmly against the open wound, looking at the mess that is now below you. Glass everywhere and wine seeping into the cracks of the tiles.

Your eyes met up with Jungkook’s just as he was pushing pass you, down the hall and out the front door. Astonished at Jungkook’s utter rude mannerisms, you held your mouth wide open. He just up and left you in the middle of a mess that was caused by him. That you now have to clean up after taking care of this fresh cut inside the palm of your hand.

And he still didn’t answer your questions.

Another week went by with your poor attempts of consulting Jungkook and him avoiding you like the plague. And with the last ‘real’ incidence where the two of you spoke more than a few syllables, you ended up with a fresh cut to your hand and having to mop and sweep up glass shards and your favorite flavored wine off of the floor. And at this point, you felt like you were avoiding him just as much.

The animosity in the air between the two of you went down a gruesome hill. Tumbling down into smithereens where neither one of you can easily look at another. Jungkook still remained busy as ever, staying out of the house only until you leave for work. The only things that made you know he was still alive was the empty blood bottles left in the sink, the shower curtain being tossed every-which-way, and the half-hazard filing through your piled up mail when he picked out his belongings and left yours disorganized.

Needlessly to say, Jungkook stressed you the fuck out. You were bending to his routines, you were seeking shelter away from him, and all casual activity between the two of you completely vanished. Your confusion turned into spiteful hatred, wanting to smack your roommate upside the head.

Now you’re on week three of roommate-distancing. Your room became your safe haven. The living room was a crossfire full of casualties. The kitchen is a death wish. And the bathroom became your secret chamber when you needed to relax with a steamy relaxing shower and your bubbly loofah.

All this time, your mind already grew curious about Jungkook. There was no way you can repress your emotions when it came to him completely shutting you out. But you did stop remembering that night that turned the sequence of things between the two of you. You wanted to forget; you don’t want to think about it – ever.

You spent weeks dwelling over this roommate dilemma, and it tainted your mood entirely. Your job lacked enthusiasm, your tv didn’t please you enough after watching the same junk over and over. Tonight, you felt appropriate to go out for the night, treat yourself. Because you out of all people know you deserve some fun after the bullshit you are handling.

Fuck it – you’re going to the bar.

Pleather jeans hugged your legs, a blouse that you had tucked in lays low on the neckline flaunting your clavicles and upper chest. You jeweled yourself with a silver body chain that connected at your neck and dipped down between your breasts underneath your shirt. To top of your rocking outfit, you selected your best pair of open-toed red high heels lacing up the front and pinning up half of your now curled hair.

After finishing off the last touches of your make-up you gave yourself a quick look over in your standing mirror. Amused with your selection of attire you gave yourself one last twirl before grabbing your purse and heading out your front door.

You just needed time out, grab yourself a few drinks. There’s no shame of going to the bar alone, plus you enjoyed becoming acquainted with the bartenders here and there. It always gave you a sense of comfort knowing, even though it’s apart of their job, you can vent to them about your worries.

The Snake Pit, a clever yet sinister name for a bar tended to be one of your favorite hot spots to visit. Not only it had a dancefloor and an elongated bar that stretched to the full extent of a wall, electro pop music, and it had its own special feng shui to it.

Heel’s clacking against the hard-wooden floor beneath you, you strutted yourself over to an available seat by the bar. You smiled sweetly at the oncoming bartender who was headed your way, “Hey there! It’s been a while hasn’t it, Y/n?”

You handed over your card to the young chipper male who gleamed down at you, “Open a tab for me please. I’ll start with a mojito, Jin.”

“One Mo-Jin-To coming right up!” he smiled, whipping around to grab the appropriate glasses and mixtures. You bobbed your head to the music waves as you checked out the crowds around you. It was packed here tonight, and you’re happy to see people enjoying a great time.

“How’s it been?” Jin questioned after placing the glass on a coaster in front of you. He leaned in resting his elbow against the bar. Jin was a notorious little flirt, but with good intentions. He just wanted to make his customers as happy as possible – or maybe just enjoyed swooning the ladies to give him better tips.

“It’s… alright. Been better. Just needed to blow off some steam. And of course, I came to visit my favorite bartender. Can’t ever forget a face like yours.” You laughed along with Jin, taking a quick sip of your drink. “Oh? You made it a strong one.” You gave him a thumbs up, “yup, definitely my favorite bartender.”

Jin responded with a playful wink before leaning back up to assist other customers who beckoned for his attention. “Let me know when you need round two!”

And round two came sooner than later. Possibly drink three being concocted as you continued to sip down your mojitos like they were juice. When you grabbed your freshly made glass, you made your way to the dance floor to find some fun.

Within the course of an hour the beat of the music picked up drastically. Bodies swayed left and right in formations, lights flickering and buzzing around your sights. You were so into the rhythm that your hips moved naturally to the tunes.

Until a hand grabbed at your waist, turning you slightly towards them. A man slightly taller than you and maybe just as tipsy as you decided to take his chance on dancing with a pretty lady. “Hey!” he slurred over the loud music. “Let’s dance?”

His invitation wasn’t much of an invite, considering that he was already dancing along with you. But you accepted with a wide smile, urging him to come closed so you could relax your arm around his shoulder as you continued to drink. “Might as well, it is a dancefloor.” You giggled.

The bar felt like you were playing musical chairs with suitor on suitor. Eventually your drink vanished completely, and you were on your third dance with another random, but handsome, stranger.

“You smell just as pretty as you look.” He whispered into the shell of your ear, rocking his pelvis into your backside. His hands found a home on the curve of your hips, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his confession.

“That’s got to be one of the better pickup lines.” You hummed. “I’ve heard worse” you teased as you whipped yourself around in place, now placing your hands through the man’s hair. It was thick and hardened with some sort of product. You glanced around at the bar, noticing your favorite bartender flirting along with an innocent girl that sat right in front of him. A couple having a heavy make-out session just a few feet away from their interaction.

But you found a spare seat that was left empty, a motivation for you to go back for another drink? Or just relax from dancing since you felt like you needed a break.

“That’s not very nice,” the man prodded. Nudging your head aside so he could place a tender kiss against your neck.

With reflex you jerked your body away, avoiding the man and pushing him away. “No thank you.”

As you were turning on your heel, the male stepped close to you once more. Arm linking around your body, “Where do you think you’re going? Thought we were dancing?” He grinned eerily, an odd ominous vibe now shining from him.

Your hands came up to shove him away, but there was a movement in a blink of an eye that you didn’t catch. Maybe your vision was impaired, but you could have sworn you were just in the clutches of this man, and now he stands five feet away from you with a bewildered look.

“Back off.” A low grumble resounded next to you, a face popping into your perception. Jungkook?!

Jungkook’s jaw was clenched, grinding his teeth against another as the muscles flexed on the sides of his jaws. His arm was now linked around your waist, holding you close to him.

“What the fuck man?”

“She said ‘no’, didn’t she?” Jungkook challenged the man, stepping in front of you now to face the male. From here you can see his back tensed up under his dark t-shirt. You couldn’t comprehend the duel going on between the two, or maybe you couldn’t hear over the voluminous blaring of techno beats.

When the male fled the dancefloor, Jungkook turned to look at you. “What the fuck Kook!” You blurted. He was taken aback for a second, confused why you’re all of a sudden yelling at him. “Excuse me? Shouldn’t you be thanking me!?”

“Not that. I don’t care. But what the actual fuck?!”

All your pent up and inner rage towards your roommate from the past few weeks was making you hostile. Even seeing his face stirred you up to the point you wanted to hit him for being so idiotic.

“Y/n, seriously. Not right now. I just need to get you out of here. Please.” He grabbed your elbow, leading you a few feet before you tugged back on your arm.

“No!” Your hand gripped around his wrist, trying your damn near hardest to pull him off of you. “You need to explain right the fuck now!” You stomped your feet, throwing a small tantrum.

Jungkook’s patience was very thin, especially when it came to drunk you. He stepped closer, tugging your body next to his. “Fucking listen to me for a second, dammit. I need to get you out of here. I’ll talk to you when we’re outside.” He spat back at you.

“Why?” You rebutted, glaring up at his face.

“Cause you’re fucking bleeding, Y/n! And if it wasn’t for me that sleazy vampire would have had you for dinner!” He bit back. Both him and you were bickering back and forth, drawing attention from surrounding bystanders.

“What’ do you mean I’m ‘bleeding’” you air quoted with your fingers. You belted out an obnoxious laugh. Your unpleasant emotions were getting the better of you – resulting in making an ass out of yourself when all your roommate was trying to do was help you out. “Next thing you’re gonna say is that we’re friends too, right?”

Jungkook’s nostrils flared, his brows raised as high as they can reach. You were acting quite absurd and he didn’t understand what had gotten into you. “Y/n, I can fucking smell you.” He seethed out the words through his teeth. That’s when you noticed his fangs were now elongated and sharp. Jungkook wasn’t joking around.

A moment of realization kicked in and your eyes widened. “Wait, really?” You trembled.

“Yes. Now let’s get you out of here.” Jungkook escorted you through the crowd, hand now holding yours. The two of you quickly grabbed your tab from your helpful bartender while Jungkook looked out for any wondering eyes. If both he and that strange vampire could smell you, he was sure others can too.

Jungkook followed close behind you, being extra protective while scanning the areas outside on the way back to your apartment. When the two of you made it about four blocks down in complete silence, besides the sound of your heels hitting the concrete below, you decided to chirp up. “You said we’ll talk outside. So, talk.”

“Alright. What do you want to talk about?”

Your feet came to a halt, twisting your neck to look at Jungkook who walked a few paces behind you. “Seriously? You can’t imagine anything, not one thing, as to what I want to talk about?”

Jungkook ignored your stare, dismissing the obvious topic of interest by responding with. “Well, it’s easy for a vampire to tell another vampire apart. For one, they don’t have a heartbeat. So, when I saw him up on you, I grew curious.” A smug little grin pulled up on Jungkook’s face.

You balled your hands into fists, frustration pulling on every nerve in your body. “Don’t play coy with me! Stop. Fucking. Ignoring. Me. Jungkook.” You marched yourself right up to where he stood, invading his personal space. “I’m tired of it. Just talk to me. What did I do?”

“Nothing.” He mumbled. “It was me, not you.”

You snorted; the classic phrase used in so many cliché break up scenes. But this time, it’s not a break up. It’s literally two friends who have a weird misunderstanding with another. “Oh? So that’s it? It’s you and so you avoid me?”

“Keep walking, we’re only a few blocks away.”

You shook your head in defeat, crossing your arms and held tight to your body. The faster you get home, the faster you get to clean yourself up and the faster you can close off Jungkook. Little did you know that your furious speedy walk gave your butt just enough jiggle in those pleather jeans you decided to wear. Giving Jungkook something to admire from a far as his senses were being laced with your aroma.

“I’m sorry Y/n…”

“No, I’m sorry I have a shitty friend like you.”

Jungkook kept up with your pace, walking step by step along with your strides. He knows you don’t truly mean the words coming out of your mouth. It was his fault, and he was trying to admit blame for it all.

As the two of you made it up the stairwell in your apartment complex, Jungkook tried speaking up to you once more. “Y/n, look I know what I was doing wasn’t –“

“I don’t want to hear it.”

You slotted the key into your door, twisting it open and walked yourself into the darkness of your living room. Your night out became a terrible mess, rounding back to the initial problem that you’ve been trying to avoid. Once you kicked off your heels, tossing them aimlessly across the floor mat, you did the same to your purse and keys.

“Y/n.” Jungkook’s voice broke through. He reached for your arm, tugging you to face him. “Look I’ll talk all right?”

“Oh? So, I go weeks with being ignored by you, but you can’t last a night when the tables are turned?” You mocked Jungkook, looking at your roommate straight into the eyes.

“I had to, Y/n!” Jungkook pleaded for reason. “Please, I needed time okay?”

By now you were sobering up, any remains of your alcohol intake must have been sweated out during dancing and on your walk home. Jungkook was sporting his infamous doe-eyes while he looked desperately back into yours.

“Time? Time?!” you rose your voice. “Time to be an asshole? Needed time to ignore me when we could have discussed the problem? You literally circumvented yourself away from me for weeks? Was eating me out that terrible?!” Your fingers found their way to pinch the bridge of your nose.

“Whoah! Y/n, Y/n whoah whoah. No!” Jungkook grabbed at your shoulders and leveled his head with yours. Surprise took over his body, clearly the both of you were having polar opposite battles going on with your minds. “No that’s not the – that isn’t. Gah… Fuckin’ hell. Eating you out was great! I enjoyed it.” Jungkook eased his hands over your shoulders, “Wholeheartedly, even when I don’t have much of a heart to comment by, I promise you. I think… it was too good actually. But, that wasn’t the problem at all!”

Your face froze in place with your mouth forming an ‘O’ shape. Only a few times you closed it, just to open it up and speak. “Wait… I’m confused. What’s the problem then?”

Jungkook exhaled a long, exasperated sigh, rolling his eyes at you. “Y/n. Your – uh your blood is a problem for me.”

“Well now I’m slightly offended, Jeon! You said I smelt good!” You wacked his chest with your palm. During which, a brief flicker of red cut through his irises and it made you pull your hand right back from him. It was at that moment, even when Jungkook’s gazed turned to a scowl, you knew he meant something else.

“You should really get yourself cleaned up.” His voice didn’t sound like a sincere worry, but more of a threat.

You snapped back at him, “You should really learn how to control your hunger.”

Jungkook squinted his eyes at you, licking his lips with a fixed gaze. He leaned forward suppressing the enigmatic smile he wanted to show you. “May I remind you, Noona, you’re bleeding right now.”

There it is again, that pet name that he enjoys cooing you with. The name that slightly makes you shy because you yourself don’t know how to react. Or maybe it riled you up, it was his way to flirt around with you shamelessly.

Your heady scent wasn’t as strong as the last time, no not at all. It was as dull as usual when you covered it up with tampons, only a faint aroma wafting from you. Not a pile of blood decorating your skimpy nighties in the middle of the night.

But it was the fact that Jungkook has already had a taste of your blood, he knows what it tastes like. He knows how good that succulent flavor drips so freely from you. Jungkook refuses to let any other vampire pry on you, like that bastard back at the bar. This blood was favorable, and god dammit he’ll protect it at all costs.

You crossed your arms over your body, staring down Jungkook who was quickly turning into the Jungkook from a few weeks ago. “And if I am bleeding, you sir, aren’t getting any of it.”

Jungkook held back his tongue, prodding it against the inside of his cheek instead. Your scent secretly became a dangerous drug for Jungkook. Almost addictive in a sense. He was lucky to have been walking the streets near The Snake Pit, smelling your custom flavor in the air. But he was so completely unlucky when he skipped out searching for a quick drink that he was left thirsty.

And the agonizing walk from the bar back home to make sure you remained safe, getting a nice view of your ass swaying with each step in those tight pants, only tantalized him further because all he could do was sniff you out. You invading his vicinity only teased him worse.

He let out a breathy sigh again, “What can I do?”

“I’m sorry?” You blinked at him.

“I haven’t eaten tonight, and I know there isn’t any more bottles because you stopped buying them… what can I do to get some of your blood right now?”

You quizzed Jungkook, “I don’t know, what can you do?”

Jungkook reached for your hand, unfolding your arms from your front. He raised it to his face, where he placed your palm flat across his cheek. His hunger was forming an empty pit in his stomach, he physically could feel his abdomen churn inwards at the thought of your blood touching his tongue. His voice came out as a soft whisper, “I’m so sorry for mistreating you recently.”

Jungkook’s thumb rubbed along your inner wrist, stepping closer to your body. He can feel your heartbeat pick up pace, the warmth of your hand against his face grew clammier the longer he stared at you. “I – I would really love some, if you let me. I was good to you last time, right Noona?”

His words were sweet, his eyes were sweeter with the pleading look he emitted even when the color of his orbs turned to that deadly crimson. Fuck. You don’t know what it was about Jungkook that triggered you in the most sinful of ways.

Was it the way his smile looked so dashingly sexy even when he’s being a childish punk. The effortless good looks no matter what style of clothes he was wearing? His entire aspect, the living (well actually dead) embodiment of Jeon Jungkook was everything you actually craved.

You breathed, “Yeah… You were very good to me.” All of those memories of that night flooded back. The feelings. The satisfactions. How hot and heavy Jungkook’s tongue felt against your swollen sex.

“Let me be good to you again.” Jungkook advised, kissing your inner wrist now.

“Only on one condition.” You stated as your grab both of Jungkook’s wrists in your hands. You guided Jungkook down the apartment hallway, ignoring the poorly lit areas and towards his room. After pushing open his door with a foot, you pointed to his bed.

“My bed is the condition?” He grinned amused at the option in front of him. Thinking that this condition was nothing serious, but easier for him. He complied to sit down facing you with a questionable look. “What now, Noona? You have me.”

Your hands reached behind your neck, unclasping the body chain you decided to wear out tonight. “This. This is my condition.” You held the long piece of jewelry up. “It’s pure silver. I’m sure you understand.”

Now you drew Jungkook’s curiosity even further, what did you have in mind with that chain? He never knew his roommate was so kinky before. You peaked his interests with entertainment.

“Wrists. Now.”

“But how am I going to be good for you if you cuff me?”

“Do you want my blood or no? Because I’m certain just about a minute ago you said –“

“Okay. Okay. Fine.” He shook his head while displaying his wrists out to you.

The burn of the chain sizzled against his skin as you twisted it around another, tying his wrists together. It was painful for a vampire, not only does it burn but it also paralyzes the affected, so they cannot pull the material off of the area so easily.

Jungkook’s face had irritation written all over it. The pain biting him with annoyance. The only thing keeping him going is the fact that whatever he may do will give him the blood he desired.

“This is for you ignoring me for weeks.” You raised his arms above him, pushing him back onto his bed and securing his wrists to one of the posts with the assistance of a sturdy belt.

Jungkook groaned out, “Hey, I said I was sorry!”

“Apology is not accepted.” You smiled.

He watched you carefully, eyeing your bar outfit, your face, the excitement behind your eyes sparking at the actions you chose to partake in. “So, this is my punishment?” He winked.

You shrugged, making your way over to the other side of his bed to sit down next to him. “I’m pretty sure this is a reward for you, since you want my blood.” You reminded him waving your wrist in front of his face.

There was struggle, Jungkook’s eager bloodshot eyes now zoning in on the span of your wrist. You watched as his adam’s apple bobbed with a swallow. He was thirsty.

When his eyes glanced back over to yours, he had desperation screaming from them. His breath turned jagged, inhaling your lingering scent some more. “Noona – please. What do you want?”

You leaned back laying down and used Jungkook’s abdomen as your pillow, staring up at the ceiling. His innocent pleas sounded mesmerizing to you. You wanted to hear him talk, to confess.

“Besides my blood what do you want, Jungkook?”

Jungkook leered down at you. With this angle he can see the expanse of your neck on show, stretched long and elevated on his waist. He can only dream about sinking his fangs into that supple skin, slurping up whatever poured out of you.

“I want to put my mouth on you.” He declared.

You rolled your eyes, turning to face him. “I said besides my blood.” Indicating that he would want to repeat the same process as last time.

“Not down there. Not right now at least.” His eyes conveyed a secret promise.

A blush snuck up to your cheeks, raising the color of your skin to a warmer shade.

“Would you like that, Noona? Will you let me put my mouth on you?” He said with excitement. The strain of his wrists tugged at the post, Jungkook eyeing you through heavy lids. “Please, let me do something. I’ve been smelling you all night.”

On a whim you perched yourself up over Jungkook, straddling above his waist. “No.” You smiled wryly once you grabbed at the hem of his shirt.

Jungkook parted his lips, licking over his set of teeth. The two of you exchanged a brief heated look, a challenging gaze. Then the sudden tear of his shirt ripped in two as you tore the seam apart with all your might. You exposed his flexed stomach all the way to the top of his chest. “And that’s for my shorts and underwear.”

Jungkook whined, not at the lose of his shirt, but at the bold movement of your actions. It was hot. Your initiative was something he’s never seen before coming from you. And the image of you hovering your dirty flower right above his pelvis is forever going to be ingrained into his memory.

His chiseled upper body was on full display for your eyes now, disregarding the shreds of his shirt still linked around his arms. Fuck, Jungkook was sexy. The entire idea of this sculpted creature under your demand was turning you on second by second and you decided to take advantage of your leverage.

“Noona, just a taste please?” Jungkook begged with a reedy voice. He thrusted his hips up into you, wiggling his eyebrows. He was under your control, completely wrapped around your finger and it didn’t stop him from begging.

You fingered at his nipples, running your thumbs around the softened skin to cause them to perk up. You traced patterns with the tips, running up and down along his abs. “Where do you want to put your mouth?” You inquired. Tapping your digits around his cool skin. “Here?” you prodded, pointing at his upper chest right under his clavicle. “Hm, what about here?” you ran your finger over the prominent vein that bulged out of the side of his neck from constraint.

You watched the way Jungkook’s eager looks turned into anguish, the agony of not having what he craved was tormenting. Your teasing wasn’t helping, you were testing him.

“Anywhere.” He stuttered. “Everywhere.”

Jungkook gasped when you pushed down your weight onto his hips, his growing bulge now receiving attention instead. You smirked; you knew Jungkook was turned on by this. “Jeon? What do we have here?”

He swallowed thickly. Trying to straighten out his mind to respond to you properly but nothing but natural instincts were getting in the way. “I’m hard. I’m horny. And you’re extremely hot right now. As much as I am hungry, I’m thinking many other things about you right now.”

“Enlighten me, Koo.”

Jungkook dropped his head back onto the pillow under him with a whimper. He was parched, he was sexually aroused, and infuriated that he couldn’t do anything about either of them.

“Noona please!” He cried. “Do whatever you want, please. Just help me out.” Jungkook drawled on and on. His wrists continued to strain against the custom-made handcuffs that burned into his skin, rendering him from movements.

Jungkook pointed with his chin towards the junction of your bodies, “Help me.”

It dawned on you, how sleeping with your roommate right now probably wouldn’t be the wises of ideas. And those uncertainties were calculating on your face. Jungkook notices this, jumping at his opportunity to speak. “Y/n. Hey – Look at me. I’m okay with this.” His voice came out soft, still whimpering under you.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Fuck yes! You have no idea how much I need you to touch me right now.”

You hesitantly unbuckled his belt and unlooped the button to his jeans. His dick was prominently swollen, being constricted against the layers of materials. With a swift tug at his bottoms just below the curve of his ass, you released the beauty of his hardened thick cock, red at the tip with a spruce of precum glossing over the head.

Jungkook exhaled a shuttered breath, his cock aching to be touched. His member twitches cutely at the ghost of your hand hovering above it, and another whine resonated through his nose. You couldn’t help but admire the curve of his dick, the vein that ran over the underside of it. How soft his frenulum looked to the touch.

“Is this what you want Kook?” you firmly grasped at the base of his dick, right above the well-groomed hairs. His hips jolted up at your touch, flexing his muscles and pulling his arms from the restraints.

“Y – Yes!” he choked out. “Help me Noona. I promise I’ll be good for you.”

You didn’t doubt his promised plea. Last time he promised you something he surely delivered it.

You smothered his leaky precum over the head and through the slit. Fisting his shaft nicely just to watch Jungkook thrust his head back further into the bed. The angel of his jaw tilted back that showed up his thick neck was a delicious sight to witness.

To surprise him, you dipped your head down. Kissing your lips to the tip of his dick and running your tongue along the area. You hummed in satisfaction when Jungkook’s thighs started to shake underneath you. Who knew you’d have this power and demand over your friend.

Your mouth sank down, taking him in an inch and he choked out vowels. He tasted of a sweet salt, miraculously this part of his vampire body remained animated. “Noona!” His teeth remained clenched together, fangs threatening to bite into his bottom lip. “Don’t stop.”

The wetness of your mouth coated along the rest of his cock, submerging him as far as you can go and wrapping your hand around whatever portion you couldn’t reach. His tip touched the back of your throat when you took him in. Subconsciously you made sure to suck hard as you pulled away.

A string of saliva linked between your mouth and his dick, thinning out right before it snapped. Jungkook groaned out at the sight. He was painfully hard, and his stomach constantly reminded him he needed to drink before he depleted himself.

He whimpered as you abandoned his member, letting it relax against his stomach. He huffed out with a buck of his hips, “I was good to you last time!” he reminded.

“That you were.” You sat at the edge of the bed, untucking your blouse from the band of your pants. “So good.” You blushed.

“What are you doing?” His kicked you softly with the side of his foot. Your fingers found their way to the zipper of your bottoms, undoing them and shimmying them off. The blouse and bra you wore was soon tossed to the side. “I’m going to ride you if you let me.” You peered over your shoulder, baring your backside to him.

Jungkook’s eyes lit up, beaming the red hues that decorated them. “Yes, please. My god – please ride me.”

You straddled yourself over Jungkook’s waist, making sure not to fully sit down on top of him just yet. You wanted to tease him of the sight from a few weeks ago. Your lovely lady-bits wafting his favorite flavors together. “I guess I was bleeding a little bit huh?” You laughed to yourself.

His mouth watered; lips parted. Your smell lingers into his nose and filled his lungs. Jungkook was thankful you tied him up otherwise he was sure to have attacked you to get this treat.

“Rub yourself on me, please. I want you to coat my dick.”

He caught you by surprise, this lewd sentence spilling out of his mouth. But you conceded, sitting yourself back on his throbbing member, just to run yourself up and down on it. Your wetness caused an embarrassing and loud squelching noise, your taint painted on Jungkook’s cock like a canvas.

He met the swing of your hips with his own, grinding up into your slick sex. His pressure was forceful up into your folds as if his dick was asking for permission to enter you. “Is this what you want?” you teased again.

He nods vigorously, controlling his impulse to thrust up into you. His hunger remained dominant, but the lust for you became top priority.  

You locked eyes with him the second the tip of his dick threatened to push past your hole. He was yearning to break through and glide his dick against your velvety sleek walls. His lips are pink and bitten while he continued to let out those cute pleading noises you enjoy hearing so much. Jungkook’s eyes fluttered closed in a tormented bliss.

He was ultimately at your mercy, within your clutches and you could break him at any moment. Leave him hot and heavy to get back at him if you really wanted to. You didn’t speak, just waiting for a sign that he was close to his breaking point.

Jungkook whines again brokenly, “Please, please Noona. I want to be inside you. Can I please?”

So needy. So deprived of his wants and wishes. You feel for him, you really do. Feeling him shake like a leaf from the anticipation of plunging his cock so far up into you. And you allow it.

You leaned down further, allowing just the head to sink in. He groans out your name the moment you slipped him back out, just to repeat the process once again now easing yourself all the way down on him. You stiffed a moan yourself, humming along with the series of loud whiny noises escaping his mouth.

“No more ignoring me, Koo.” You rolled your hips up. “If we have a problem, we should address it. Right?” You circled, bobbing yourself on his cock. “Right?” Your hands found perch on his chest, pinching his nipples enough to harden them and forcing an animalistic growl out from Jungkook.

He gasps, choking out breaths, “Right!” his eyes skewed shut. Jungkook’s wrists were bleeding, pinned together tightly. His lust fogged mind wished to get his hands on you, to guide the movements of your hips or even flip you over just to pound himself inside your cunt.

His eyes opened just enough to stare at the way your body moved on top of him, a small raspy groan leaving him. God you look like a delicious treat – he’s even questioning himself how he lasted this long without taking you before.

The pants that hugged his thighs were preventing him from widening his legs. The fabric softening the blow of your ass landing down on him. The stinging burn of pain mixed with the immense pleasure of your pussy clenching around his smooth cock has got him spinning down in spirals.

“I – I’m, Noona. So close.”

“No.” You asserted, slowing down your pace to a halt. “Not yet.”

Jungkook kicked his feet out, eyes blown wide. “What, Why!?” His cock twitched inside of you the same way his hips jerked up.

“Bite me first.” Your wrist made its way in front of Jungkook’s mouth. His tongue swiped out licking your delicate skin. His mouth latches onto you with no hesitation, the sharpness of his fangs burying themselves inside forcing you to hiss at the sudden infliction.

It was like biting into a peach, liquid spilling all over her mouth. Jungkook sucked with fervor, drinking down your delectable juicy liquid while his hips jutted up into you. He wanted you to continue, keep moving before his orgasm gets denied. He muffled a cry against your bleeding wrist when you swivel your hips at a certain angle.

You were panting in the open air, picking up your speed to meet his urgency. Face gorgeously flustered, unshed tears sparkling from Jungkook’s eyes. Your blood pushed Jungkook over the edge, freefalling down into a pit of pure bliss. He chases his orgasm, using a sharp uncoordinated sloppy thrust to bury his cock deep inside your cunt as he came. Cum jetting out of him in streams like a fountain.

His fangs retracted from your wrist, being replaced with light butterfly kisses over the wounded area. Jungkook flops back to the pillow, short of breath. Portions of your blood smeared around his lips and also his dick.

“Holy shit – “ his words faltered.

You gave him his moment, allowing him to take it all in before you moved off of him. Lifting your body off of Jungkook he cuts your action with a sharp tone, “Where are you going?” His eyes dawdled on your exposed body, forcing you to freeze mid pull-out.

“I? I was going to clean up?”

He shook his head frantically, “Don’t get off me just yet. Ah. You didn’t cum – I want to make you cum.” Jungkook edged his hips up with a spasm of overstimulation, his member hiding back inside of you. “Sit back down on me please.”

He was softening inside of you; you can feel it slowly shrink and the idea of cock-warming to get you off wasn’t something that sounded promising.

“Kook, it’s really okay. I don’t need to.”

“I want you to. Get me out of these chains.”

You sighed, leaning forward enough to hold Jungkook’s cock inside of your super slippery walls. Giving Jungkook the opportunity to place hot open-mouth kisses to your breasts that dangled down in front of him. The make-shift bondage was released, pulling the chains off of his ruined wrists. They’ll heal back shortly anyways.

His hands latched to your waist in a blink of an eye, digging his nails into your skin. There was a pool of mixed liquids between the two of you, glistening in the light. He didn’t bother to yank his pants off, he wanted to focus on you instead. He guided you to run your hips a certain way, tilting them down so your clit can run against his pelvis.

“Hold me inside you, can you do that for me Noona? I’ll get hard again just by watching you use me.”

His voice was filthy whispering those sentences in the air. Involuntarily causing you to clutch around his dick.

“Ah – just like that,’ he cooed. “Play with me, do what you want.”

He continued to pilot your lower half on him, running your drenched pussy into him. Your breath turned labored; clit throbbing with sensitivity from the build up of stimulation. Your hands ran the expanse of his chest, his biceps, around his collarbones and up. Finger’s interlacing with the tendrils of his hair at the nape of his neck.

He was bringing you close to your release just as his cock started stiffening back up. Your breath caught in your throat, a brief squirm of your body reacting to his dick prodding into your sweet spot.

Your mouth dropped open, pleasure taking over your face. “Right there?” Jungkook taunted. “You like my dick against that spot?” You nodded like a bobble-head. He moved you again, repeating the action.

You never noticed how your hips were moving on their own accord now, how greedy you were being as you used your roommate as a pleasure toy. A very hot, sexy, vampiric sex toy indeed.

The moans escaping you were coming out as a song, heighten with each second your lower stomach started tingling. It was happening. You were at the brink of your orgasm, railing your clit into Jungkook. “Fu – fuck. Kook!” Your eyes clamped shut and your bottom lip was bruising from your demanding teeth. “I’m so – gasps – im so close.”

You practically hiccuped the moment his fingers pinched your bundle of nerves, tweaking it between the two digits. Forcing your body to thrust forward with a maddened cry. Orgasm after orgasm erupted through you, vibrations shooting through your body the same way you squirted all around Jungkook.

Jungkook caught you before you could collapse on top of him, sitting his body up so he could hold you in his arms. He petted your hair as you rested your head in the crook of his neck trying to calm down from the aftershocks of your numbing body.

“Hey, it’s alright, I gotcha.”

The warmth of your body captivated him. Your smell of arousal and blood dampening his body and sheets are sure to stir some problems in the future if he didn’t get it cleaned up quickly.

“Thanks…” you murmured under your breath, inhaling his manly scent.

“Clean I get you cleaned up?”

You nodded, circling your arms a and latching your legs around him. Exhaustion was whipping over you and you swore you started to see stars in your peripherals. What was it about Jungkook that caused the best orgasms you’ve ever received?

He chuckled, “Noona, I’m still inside you right now. If I’m gonna clean you up, I need to be able to move. You’ve made a mess everywhere.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, trying to get a better view of your blush fucked-out face.

“I feel a little weak.” You embarrassingly whispered.

“Of course you do – I fed on your blood. And you came about 3 times in a row.” He held you tighter, shifting himself to swing his legs to the edge of the bed. Everywhere was soaked. Leaking fluids colliding with anything it touched. It was then he decided sleeping in your clean bed will be easier for the both of you. “I’ll get you something filled with vitamins to help you replenish.” He gave a quick peck to your temple, examining the way you dozed off.

© All rights reserved under @kimtaehyunq​ - do not copy, repost, modify, edit, or translate any of my work without my direct consent. This tumblr is the ONLY place my fics are posted.

[ordinaryschmuck]

An Issue Worth Discussing: Porn Popularity in The Owl House fandom (Yup, we’re going there)

Salutations, random people on the internet who probably won't read this. I am an Ordinary Schmuck. I write stories and reviews and draw comics and cartoons. And today...I'm gonna get a little angry. You see, every now and again, I check the kudos page of The Owl House fanfics on AO3. When doing so, I can't help but notice that the twenty-seventh most kudo’d story in this fandom belongs to a story called In the Span of a Week. And do not read it because it is just Beta Lumity porn with a plot written by some sick freak who thinks doing that s**t is ok. Yet, currently, it is sitting at a total of one thousand five hundred and fifty-one kudos. Meaning that In a Span of a Week is better than stories like 12 ways to say I love you, I Only Want To Be With You, and Brave in Bronze. Fanfics that are charming, well written, and fit well with the tone of The Owl House. All of that doesn't mean squat, as they are currently doing worse than porn...I should not have to explain why that's an issue. And yet, I have to. So SHUT UP and STRAP IN as I explain why someone writing a story about characters who are minors in canon having sex with each other is not ok.

First, let's discuss why something like porn is so popular in the first place. That answer is easy: Humans, who are not asexual, are horny as all forms of hell. Some of us can get our act together better than others, but most of us still find ourselves reaching down to our undercarriages more time than what's probably necessary. Especially when you're a teenager, a point of time when your horniness levels just skyrocket into you consistently thinking about sex. Again, unless you're asexual. Now, I have no statistical way to prove this, but I'm willing to bet that a good chunk of the people in the fandom is teenagers, and that is why a story like In the Span of a Week is doing so well. It’s because these horny little monsters wanted to get their rocks off and then move on to the wholesome stuff to calm themselves. If that was purely the case, that would be perfectly fine and healthy...but what about the readers, who are probably adults. Well, if that's the case, this becomes less fine and more disturbing. Look back at the number of kudos that In the Span of a Week receives. It's halfway to two thousand, and I highly doubt that all of them are teenagers. It's especially nauseating considering that the story focuses on characters who are canonically minors.

Now I know what you might be thinking: "Schmuck, you handsome Homosapien, In the Span of a Week focuses on the beta versions of Luz and Amity. Not the final ones." And you would be right to bring up that defense, if not for the fact that AO3 has yet to make a relationship tag to differentiate the beta designs from the final ones. Meaning that anybody, more specifically a new person in the fandom, can stumble upon the story thinking it's about the Luz and Amity we know and love. Even if the person is well aware of the beta designs and all the interpretations the fandom makes up, a person can still walk into a story, not thinking it'd be about the Betas. I can confirm this as I got a comment from my fanfic called It All Started with a Jacket, where a person clearly didn't understand that it was about Beta Lumity. Besides, while we associate these two (Or four, I guess) as different characters, they are still the same, but we as a fanbase just use the Betas as an excuse to write stories featuring violence, drugs, and sex. Especially since Dana Terrace confirms that the beta version was going to be more PG-13.

"Exactly! The Betas were meant for older audiences. So what's the big deal?" The big deal is explained through two reasons: Reason #1, nothing rated PG-13 has ever had explicit descriptions of sex. Sex can be implied but never shown. Reason #2, because AO3 recognizes everything that is The Owl House related as part of the same thing, any and every story about the Betas is always going to be under The Owl House page. Meaning that the original intended audience will read Beta stories that weren't written for them. I'm, of course, talking about the kids.

"But the story is rated E for Explicit! Kids are smart enough to filter that s**t out." You're right. Kids are smarter than we give them credit for. They understand themes and elements going beyond their age limit and comprehend that something is wrong in the world...but they're idiots when figuring out how things function. You have to physically teach kids how to do something, or else they will be lost and scared as they figure things out by themselves. Especially when it comes to something like filtering out explicit stories from the rest!

"But AO3 has a countermeasure that warns kids that a fanfic has adult content." Sure, but you are aware of the fundamental flaw in the countermeasure, right? Such as the fact that the only thing stopping a kid from continuing to read is by clicking on a button that says proceed...which should not be that easy. There should be a function that prevents readers from reading an explicit story other than pressing a button. A person should have to sign in and confirm their age, much like YouTube does with its age-restricted content. And I know people have issues with that function, but trust me, it's for the best if a kid doesn't see something they shouldn't.

"But the freedom of speech entails--" FREEDOM OF SPEECH IS A BULLS**T EXCUSE, AND YOU KNOW IT! Case in point, when people say s**t like "Kill all the Jews," "Build a wall!" or "Dab at the haters," you're probably inclined to tell them to shut the f**k up. That's because even though they have a right to speak, what they're saying is still wrong on every point of logic and morality. I don't care if a person has a right to write porn based on a children's show. They still shouldn't have acted on that right in the first place.

Besides, there is one last, damning piece of evidence that disproves any bit of argument that you can muster. The person who wrote In the Span of a Week made a story based on a kids' show. Why? Why not a series aimed at teens and adults? Why did it have to be a children's show specifically? And the very fact that there is no right answer to that question that doesn't peg you as a sick freak who just wanted to make kids bang proves that there is no reason why In the Span of a Week had to be based on The Owl House. I don't give a s**t if it was a gift to some other sick freak. The writer could have easily said no and wrote something else for some other show.

Instead, this person decided to write a story about minors (doesn’t matter if they were aged up) that kids can have access to. And reaps all the benefits of this action as it one of the most popular stories in the fandom. 

And I shouldn't have had to explain why that's an issue.

(And if I see one mother f**ker saying it's a jealousy thing...there's nothing that I can do them physically as that's impossible at the moment. But I can delete their comment!)

(...)

(That should show them.)

[chat-noir-always-here]

I rewatch Miraculous—The Evillustrator

Titled “The Artist” in it’s original French cuz Evillustrator sounds ridiculous.

Once again--this post uses screenshots from the French Dub version of Miraculous, translated by the good people at MiraculousSubs on tumblr. Yeah, I like the French version. FIGHT ME!!!!

“You march yourself down to the principals office! And show him that chicken scratch!”

... Bitch😒😒😒 What a tasteless, insensitive thing to say, Mrs. Crocker.  You’re setting a fine example for someone like, say, Chloe who bullies just about everyone but Adrien on a daily basis. Luka, Nathaniel, Nino and eventually Adrien—Marinette is popular with the boys.

“Artists can be so emotional.”

...Riiiiight, like you’re never not emotional.

“This is a group presentation, not pairs. Deal with it!!!”

Well at least Mrs. Crocker isn’t intimidated by Chloe’s status... like a certain principle i could mention.

...Marinette brings something important to light tho. Sabrina has no concept of what a healthy friendship is like since she’s never really experienced one. As far as she knew Chloe’s form of friendship was ideal. Which isn’t hard to understand. Sometimes it’s hard to see how bad a situation is when you’re too close to it. Sometimes you need to get some distance and take time to grow into yourself to really understand just how awful a toxic relationship is. 

me: slowly looks in the direction of Adrien.

Well as far as graffiti goes, it could be worse. One of the thing’s i love about Ladybug and Chat Noir’s partnership is how Chat Noir isn’t afraid to politely say something when he disagrees with Ladybug’s actions. Queen is usually a very responsible superheroine, but every once in a while she gets worked up and can act irrationally. Like with this episode: leaving Chloe unprotected in a fit of rage wasn’t cool. Or the whole Lila situation in Volpina.  It’s fair to note she usually owns up to it herself and apologizes at some point before the episode ends. This whole thing deserves a post of its own tho so more on that later

Ladybug: “Her name is Marinette. Really cute isn’t she?”

Marinette isn’t just cute, she’s BEAUTIFUL! Now if only she’d wear her hair down more often... Ladybug trusts Chat Noir to handle missions by himself <3<3<3

Chat Noir: “You’re out of danger. So see ya! Later.” Chloe: “Later? What about my presentation?!”

.......Do it yourself.

He’s so fucking cute I CANNOT. I LOVE HIM TOO MUCH HALP!!!

Explodes with laughter at Marinette’s f***ing face in this screenshot. 

Ah yes, the famous “princess” moment which never made it into the English Dub. How many marichat fics have I read where they have Kitty calling her NOTHING but that? Too many, unfortunately.

 I’m not saying I hate his use of “princess” here. I just don’t like how it’s overused in fics, is all. 

I love this moment--and all the little details.

Chat Noir casually pulling Marinette close to him in a way that clearly shows he is comfortable doing so. 

Marinette leaning away as he leans towards her whereas she’d be a puddle of petrified goo if this were Adrien. Here’s proof: 

Her pulling his hand off her waist with one hand and pushing his chin away with the other.

Him letting his arm drop and allowing her to put her arms around his neck before he lifts them away to safety.

Really, we can’t blame Marinette for not understanding Chat Noir loves Ladybug after this episode. He’s quick to show off to Marinette, not Ladybug, even tho he doesn’t know that’s her. Between that and the way he flirts with Ladybug, he’s kind of given her the impression that this is how he behaves around every pretty girl. Even though that couldn’t be further from the truth.

he immediately backs off when she shows she isn’t okay with this, because he’s a good boy and he’s not going to leave his hand there when she clearly doesn’t want it there.

To quote one of my favorite proposals ever, perhaps his “soul” understands what his “heart and mind” don’t yet know. That he’s held this one girl before. That he was meant to hold her. That they are meant to hold each other.

Hawk Moth: “Once I have them all in my grasp... I shall rule the world!”

That’s not even what Hawk Moth wants. To be fair I can see how the English Dub Team would make that mistake. Here’s what Hawk Moth said in the original French:

It’s not an unreasonable conclusion to assume Hawk Moth means “world domination” when he says “absolute power.” We don’t learn until season two that his true goal doesn’t so much have to do with the world as it does with changing history.

 I kinda am hoping he’ll succeed, at least partially. I can see an “alternate timeline” episode being the result of Hawk Moth actually managing to make his wish--and Marinette and Adrien working together to fix the timeline. Kinda like the scenario we got in “Shera” when Catra managed to pull the switch. Hopefully no one gets “trapped between dimensions” though...

Sabrina: “Chloe lent [this beret] to me! She really is my BFF!”

I feel sorry for Sabrina...

Okay Adrien...

Where the heck did you come from?

 Were you hiding inside a locker? 

Did you bunny-hop over the top of the lockers?

 Did you phase through a wall?!?!?!

Adrien: Hey! Marinette: INTENSE AND SUDDEN SCREAMING Adrien: is unfazed and carries on with the conversation

Me:

Adrien: “So what did you think of Chat Noir? Did you think he’s awesome?”

He wanted to know what she thought of him. My heart....!

In conclusion...! Adrien clearly has some sort of ninja skills, Marichat is a wonderful ship, and some of the mistakes made by the English translation team are understandable.

Sometimes.

[lawgrain]

This is a reckless, bad idea. And I know someone will love it... Like I can’t describe quite why I don’t think I should post this now and should wait till the story is done but at the same time, f*ck it I love the chaos.

This is from a doc called “kill me spite doc of doom” and it is three chapters of scrapped material starting at a different version of 26. The only editing done is matching bold and italics. It’s basically an au of spiteful, enjoy!

Chapter 26: Fucking Kirishima

Kaminari was not having a good time and he hadn’t been for a while. And he would love to blame that fact on Bakugou, he really would. But that wouldn’t be the truth. Or at least not all of it.

Fucking Kirishima.

Everything had felt wrong for a while. Kaminari knew it all stemmed from Bakugou but it was really Kirishima that got to Kaminari. His whole friend group had been… off since the thing about Bakugou. Everything was shifted. Like they couldn’t really enjoy being around each other without remembering the “Baku” part of the squad. It hit Kirishima the worst.

He could tell his friend felt bad most of the time about the whole Bakugou thing. Kaminari did too. They all felt like they had accidentally made Midoriya feel like Bakugou was right to do that in middle school. Midoriya would never say that though. Kaminari almost felt sick when he listened to Midoriya defend Bakugou. Like Midoriya didn’t know what was done to him was wrong.

And had he helped that mentality?

That question just kept circling around his head. Over and over again. Did Kaminari make Midoriya think what Bakugou did was okay? It wasn’t okay. Kaminari didn’t know Bakugou had done that and it wasn’t okay.

So Kaminari made it obvious that he was against Bakugou; that he didn’t think it was okay. Sometimes he was worried that he took things a bit too far. But then, someone would’ve told him if he did right? They would’ve let him know for sure. It wasn’t as if he was doing things that his classmates weren’t. And besides, the Baku-squad messed with Bakugou far worse when they were friends.

The only thing that made him seriously doubt himself was Kirishima. Kirishima was constantly drowning in guilt and Kaminari didn’t know how to help him. He didn’t even understand why he felt so guilty. Sure Kaminari understood feeling guilty about Midoriya— they all felt guilty about that. But it was so much more than that. Kirishima seemed guilty no matter what he did. Whether it be defending Midoriya or not joining in when the rest of the class talked bad about Bakugou, Kirishima was in a constant state of distress. And it only kept getting worse.

They had already had small conversations where Kaminari had to reassure Kirishima that they weren’t doing anything wrong by defending Midoriya. But anytime Bakugou came up it was like they were having the same conversation over and over.

“I don’t know dude. I just feel wrong about all of this,” Kirishima stated on one such occasion.

Kaminari understood. Parts felt off. Part of what he did felt off too. But at the same time...

“Look man, I get where you're coming from but just listen to Bakugou sometimes. All you’ve tried to do is to stick up for Midoriya. You haven’t insulted him, you haven’t hurt him, or done anything wrong. And he still treats Midoriya like crap.” Kaminari wouldn’t let Kirishima act guilty over having done nothing wrong. “Are you supposed to feel bad about not wanting to be around someone who acts like a dick?”

“I know but it still feels wrong. So what if he’s not besties with Midoriya? Is it really okay for us to constantly be at him for that?”

“He doesn’t even care, Kirishima! He doesn’t care that he did all that shit. He doesn’t care that it was wrong. And he- he doesn’t care about us!” Kaminari broke off.

It was true. Bakugou didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything they were saying to him. He just threw back their words with even more venom. They didn’t want him to be who he was in middle school. They didn’t want him to be someone they wouldn’t want to be around. But ever since they found out about it, Bakugou had turned mean. He never tried to explain what had happened to them. And Kaminari… he had thought it would be different. As for Kirishima?

He was holding on to someone who didn’t exist anymore.

After that, Kirishima grew more quiet around Kaminari. He didn’t bring up Bakugou anymore and he didn’t come to Kaminari for much of anything else anymore either. Kaminari couldn’t help but feel guilty at that. He hadn’t said anything he thought to be untrue, but he felt like he may have lost another friend all the same.

And that was the way it was; a fractured friend group with no real direction anymore. It was as if they’d all lost a fighting spirit and yet still had to put on the front of one. Kirishima stayed in a sort of mild gloom state until something broke. Something had happened one day and Kirishima looked devastated, shattered.

Kaminari had no idea what happened to Kirishima on Parents Day but it had messed Kirishima up. In fact, Kirishima wasn’t the only one looking perturbed that day. That was supposed to be a good day and as far as Kaminari knew, it was. And yet, Tokoyami and Shoji looked pale and almost sickly and Kirishima looked shaken to his core. He tried asking Kirishima about it later on.

He… felt worse after the talk.

“We messed up. I knew we were messing up but everybody was so sure and I- You said- We screwed up man.”

Kaminari could hardly follow along with Kirishima’s frantic rambles. He had no idea where this was all coming from.

“Slow down man,” Kaminari interrupted. The red head was pacing his room in an aura of anxiety. “What happened?”

“I can’t- I’m not- We screwed up okay? With Bakugou.” Kirishima put his head in his hands, defeated.

“We didn-”

“We did,” he interrupted softly. “We messed up. We all messed up.”

He said it with a finality that Kaminari just couldn’t argue.

Did they go too far?

He thought someone would’ve known if they’d gone too far. Someone would’ve realized. They would’ve stopped them.

But hadn’t Kirishima just said they’d messed up? He had to be wrong. He had to be wrong. They hadn’t done anything. Not really. Maybe they annoyed Bakugou, maybe they were a bit meaner, but they hadn’t done anything. They weren’t cruel. They were just- They were just trying to-

Bakugou didn’t care. They weren’t trying to do anything wrong, they just didn’t get how he could not care. And maybe that made them a bit spiteful in their actions but were they wrong?

Kaminari didn’t know but he was seriously doubting things now. It didn’t help that Bakugou seemed resolutely quiet the next day. And Kirishima kept giving him these looks. Like he’d give anything to be able to talk to Bakugou again. And whatever had happened to Kirishima, Shoji and Tokoyami, also seemed to spread to the teachers. Most of them looked like they didn’t want to look at Bakugou and Aizawa was acting plain weird. The only one who seemed to resemble normal was Present Mic who maintained that they shouldn’t mess with each other far before Parents Day.  

Everything just started piling up. He thought back to his classes and was any of it really fair? Even classes themselves seemed like they were against Bakugou. Ectoplasm was doing some sort of weird assignment thing and Midnight was, well she was Midnight. He didn’t know about the other teachers but could Kirishima be right? Things really did seem off at times but those were Pro Heroes he was thinking of. It wouldn’t make sense for them to treat a student like that.

And then there was Hatsume.

Fucking Kirishima and Hatsume.

He hadn’t exactly seen that one coming. He hadn’t really known that she was Bakugou’s friend. Though he hadn’t really been surprised at the fact that he was friends at some point with the pink haired girl. Not because he thought Bakugou would get along with someone like Hatsume— though he really wouldn’t expect that— but he had thought they stopped being friends.

The thing was, the class did take notice of the eccentric goggled inventor when she started coming by the dorms for no apparent reason. They figured that the only reason for her to be there was their excommunicated classmate. As such, whenever she entered the building, she was heavily regarded with apprehension. Eventually she stopped passing by. Now Kaminari wondered if they just started hanging out somewhere else…

Regardless, the conversation with Hatsume was anything but pleasant. Not just because he got kicked out but also because it brought back Kirishima’s words to mind. Had they messed up? Kaminari thought that Bakugou didn’t care, that he had no regrets or feelings towards the class anymore but...

I’m more focussed on the people who are shitty in high school.

She really was ruthless.

But Kaminari hated the implications of that statement. That meant that Bakugou did care. That meant they were hurting him. That meant Bakugou had to have turned to Hatsume for help. And that the class was the reason he needed help…

And even as the small part of him held on to the idea that Bakugou hadn’t changed, it was rapidly getting refuted all at once. First by Kirishima and now by Hatsume. And it felt so wrong.

He didn’t know what to do if they were wrong though. And how were they supposed to know for sure? It wasn’t like Bakugou had apologized for anything to Midoriya. It wasn’t like Bakugou was innocent. It wasn’t like the things he had done in the past had suddenly disappeared, no matter how far in the past they were. And weren’t those same nasty attributes from the past still there? Didn’t Bakugou still hate Midoriya? Wasn’t he still the same?

Was he still the same...

Hatsume had seemed so confident with her answer to that question. From her, it seemed simple; he’s not.

Why was she so sure of that? Why was Kirishima coming to the same conclusion? He couldn’t have gotten something so wrong could he have? And was Bakugou the same person as he was back then?

He thought about it. He only technically knew what Midoriya had said but Bakugou didn’t deny any of it. But Bakugou also didn’t add anything to it. He thought that meant Bakugou stood by those actions but maybe that wasn’t quite it. Maybe he didn’t stand by them. They never really asked. They didn’t think to ask because Bakugou never gave them a reason to.

But Hatsume must have asked.

And Kirishima must have found out something else.

Kaminari wasn’t an idiot. No matter what they said, he wasn’t an idiot. There had to have been something that made Kirishima change his mind. That made him stop doubting. And whatever that was, Shoji and Tokoyami had been there too. But Kirishima would not tell Kaminari and neither would the other two when he asked..

The curiosity was killing Kaminari.

He needed to know if he really had messed up. He needed to know if Kirishima was right and none of them would say anything when he asked. And if they didn’t say anything, there was only one other person he could ask…

Bakugou.

If that wasn’t a shit deal, Kaminari didn’t know what was. Bakugou had no reason to want to tell Kaminari anything. At the same time, Bakugou was the only person left to ask and despite it all, he thinks Bakugou might even tell him what happened. No, Bakugou wouldn’t have any reason to tell Kaminari anything, but he has a talent of telling things as it was.

So, he was gonna do it. He was going to ask the guy who he had maybe or maybe not harassed unrightfully if it was unrightful and what happened on parents day.

What could possibly go wrong?

He had to do it though. He decided that he’d ask during lunch, one of the few places Bakugou regularly frequented. He thought he could do it. And just when he gathered the courage to do so, it was immediately dashed.

Bakugou wasn’t sitting alone.

No, instead he was sitting with two people decidedly not part of 1-A.

What-

What the everlasting hell was happening?

Chapter 27: The Spotlight

Shinsou didn’t like to involve himself with other people. Maybe that was callous of him, but people tended to come with drama and, most of the time, he’d rather just not. That didn’t mean that class 1-A didn’t make Bakugou into a spectacle that even Shinsou had to notice.

He, like everyone else at U.A., decided to ignore the class. He wasn’t about to step into some drama shit show and, to be fair, none of it was any of his business. So what if Bakugou sat alone? Shinsou did too most days. And possibly there were other things going on with the class and Bakugou. Shinsou didn’t know and he didn’t want to know.

And Shinsou did a fantastic job at avoiding the problem. There was never a reason for him to talk to Bakugou just as there was never a reason before. It wasn’t as if they were friends and Shinsou felt no guilt at keeping things that way. However, despite his efforts, Shinsou did pick up on an insult or two being thrown Bakugou’s way. And if there was one thing that Shinsou understood, it was being called a villain.

And that insult fucking sucked.

It was something he never wanted to be called again. So he avoided Bakugou’s spotlight. And he didn’t feel guilty about it. He and Bakugou weren’t even friends so he didn’t see how his getting involved would do anything. Despite that though, it’d be a lie to say that insult didn’t draw Shinsou in. He understood what Bakugou must be feeling but even as the insult drew his empathy towards the combustible boy, it also made him that much more determined to stay away.

And that’s exactly what he did until he couldn’t anymore.

For the record, he blamed that on Aizawa. Perhaps Shinsou shouldn’t have been snooping around his mentor's office but it wasn’t the first time he had done so and it wouldn’t be the last. It was however, the first time he found something. That something being a shitload of paperwork with Bakugou’s name on it. And as luck would have it, a bubblegum pink capture weapon snatched it out of sight before he could read more.

“You’re not allowed to read confidential files in my office.” Aizawa’s tone sounded bored, but Shinsou knew better than to believe what his demeanor projected. The teacher’s default was bored and tired.

“Did Bakugou do something?” Shinsou asked, ignoring the man.

Aizawa sighed, “Shinsou.”

“What? Is he getting expelled? He couldn’t have managed to do something that bad.” And as far as he was concerned, Bakugou really wouldn’t have done something that bad. The guy was a lot of bark but smart enough to know the limits.

“He’s not being expelled, but I can’t talk about other students to you and you know that.” Aizawa said with more finality.

Shisou knew that but he also knew that Aizawa had been stressed lately. And that was an impressive feat that someone could make an already tired ragged man look worse. That’s also why Shinsou pressed a little bit further. He was worried about his teacher.

“Well then is Bakugou transferring out of U.A.? Because that’s a hell of a lot of paperwork for just one student.” He looked at Aizawa challengingly, hoping to provoke him into an answer.

“Leave this alone.” The teacher’s voice left no room for a response.

The two stared at each other for a tense moment, Shinsou hoping he still might add more to his statement. It was probably for the best that they both broke their attention when some random noise from who knows where broke the stare off.

“Fine, stay stressed out old man.” Shinsou spoke up, sounding like a petulant teen. He didn’t care though, not when his mentor wasn’t telling him what was wrong.

Aizawa looked unimpressed. “I mean it kid,” he reaffirmed himself. “Leave this alone. Bakugou didn’t do anything wrong and I don’t want you treating him like he did.”

It took Shinsou a moment to process what Aizawa’s words meant. It was almost like he was telling Shinsou to be nice to Bakugou. Oh shit. That’s when it clicked for Shinsou. Which in turn, only made things much more complicated. Bakugou hadn’t done something wrong, something was wrong with Bakugou and Aizawa was worried.

Shit.  

That was almost a worst case scenario for Shinsou. Before he could just not get involved. He could pretend Bakugou was fine. That he didn’t care, even when Shinsou knew he had to. He just… He was terrified of Bakugou’s spotlight. But if there was actually something wrong with Bakugou, something that had his mentor so visibly upset, Shinsou couldn’t ignore his problems anymore. That’s not what someone trying to get in the Hero Program would do at least.

All of the sudden Shinsou started to doubt his desire to get into the Hero Program. Not really, but he’d admit, he felt like he was about to enter a snake pit the moment he decided to talk to Bakugou.

“I wasn’t going to do anything.” Shinsou defended himself. And it was true. He wasn’t about to enter whatever it was that class was up to. Now though, he was pretty sure Aizawa wouldn’t mind if Bakugou had someone to talk to outside that class.

Aizawa analyzed him for a second before responding. “Good. Was there a reason you stopped by?”

Shinsou smirked, “I just came by to compliment the new weapon’s color.”

The glare Shinsou got in return was a thousand percent worth it. He had no idea who had managed to do that to Aizawa’s capture weapons but…

“Bright pink is really your color, sir.” Shinsou tacked on as a final compliment towards the garment.

“Get out.”

Shinsou left snickering, fully aware that the man would have threatened detention if he were someone else.

That didn’t mean Shinsou didn’t have a lot to think about after that. He… he knew what he had to do technically. That didn’t make the idea of approaching Bakugou any less intimidating. It was almost gross how he wasn’t even intimidated by bakugou himself but rather just the attention that came with him. One thing was for sure, he was not approaching him in the cafeteria.

Call Shinsou a coward but he did not want any first encounters to happen in that hellscape. Not after watching Uraraka practically leap over the tables to kill him. Really, if he were a better person, he might’ve felt the need to try and talk to Bakugou before. But he wasn’t a better person and he didn’t see a point in feeling guilty about that. He didn’t owe Bakugou anything. Long story short, the cafeteria was not a safe space. But Shinsou didn’t know what was a place they could talk. To his surprise, he wasn’t the one who had to answer that question.

“You see it too?” A voice sounded next to Shinsou.

He had been standing towards the side of the cafeteria, staring at Bakugou’s currently empty table. He was contemplating on where exactly Bakugou could be disappearing to on the days he didn’t show up to lunch. And apparently this stranger took it upon himself to comment on Shinsou’s contemplation.

“See what?” Shinsou humored the boy but kept his eyes trained on the empty table.

“That there’s something wrong with that class.” He gestured towards 1-A before continuing, “And maybe it shouldn’t be happening.”

Shinsou felt his defenses rise. He didn’t know where this guy was going with this conversation. As such, he gave a vague answer.

“What of it? It’s not our problem.”

“Hmm,” the stranger sounded airy. “Maybe not, but I have an idea where he might be when he’s not here. I was thinking of heading there if you want to come with”

At this Shinsou’s full attention snapped towards the other boy, analyzing him. He vaguely recognized him as someone from 1-B but couldn’t place a name. Rather than furthering the conversation, Shinsou just shrugged and the other took the hint to start leading the way.

Shinsou grew suspicious when they started going into the Development Studio. Luckily before he could call out the student on it, he led them to a workshop that occupied his target. He just didn’t get why he was eating jalapenos like chips while watching a pink haired girl torch some kind of electronic. He was vaguely worried though. Upon their entrance the girl stopped the flamethrower and looked towards the newcomers.

She quirked her head to the side. “Did you two need something?”

He didn’t really know how to answer that but luckily, he didn’t need to as his current companion seemed ready to talk.

“Hatsume Mei! I heard you rejected taking any 1-A projects and can I just say, what a marvelous decision!”

Suddenly, Shinsou was able to place where he knew the boy from. He was the 1-A hating fanatic that Shinsou had very purposefully blocked out of his memory. He sighed at this realization and instead of trying to socialize, he just got out his phone and sat at a bench near Bakugou and started to scroll through his phone. He figured that the other blond would garner enough attention so that he wouldn’t have to do much.

“Sadly I don’t approve of their actions towards my friend,” the girl, Hatsume, replied tightly. It was like she was vetting the boy. He still couldn’t remember his name yet.

“Ah yes, Bakugou! He’s the reason we’re here,” he trampled on brightly before turning his attention to the aforementioned teen. “I knew 1-A could reach some lows but I didn’t know they’d reach the absolute bottom. And when I heard why they were treating you like that, well I guess it isn’t that surprising your class has their noses too stuck up in the air to have some sense.”

Bakugou and Hatsume shot each other alarmed glances, seeming to have a silent conversation between themselves. Whatever they communicated to each other, it was decided that Hatsume would take the lead.

“Heard why? What did the class say about Bakugou?” She asked. And yeah, Shinsou wanted to know that too.

“Oh, just that he’s a bully or something.” He replied, completely brushing off the importance of what his answer could imply for Bakugou. “I didn’t pay it much mind when I realized it was stupid. Only 1-A could be so delusional as to think Bakugou would be a bully without reason.”

The other three occupants looked at each other in varying states of confusion. He couldn't tell what the others were thinking but they were all startled with how the blonde was speaking. He was right. Shinsou couldn’t see Bakugou doing things just for the hell of it but the stranger was being entirely too blasé about it.

“What the fuck are you on about Copycat?” Bakugou voiced their confusion.

‘Copycat’ rolled his eyes. “You’re an asshole but you're an asshole to everyone equally. And that’s more than I can say about the rest of your class.” He paused to shrug, “Anyway, I figured that meant what they said was pretty bullshit. You aren’t treating them any different than what they earn.”

“And if I did fuck up? What then? You still all gung-ho if he didn’t earn it?” Bakugou challenged, staring the other boy down with a sharp gaze.

Both Shinsou and Hatsume made no movement, both staring at the blonde stranger to respond. The problem was, Shinsou didn’t think that was okay. He didn’t like what Bakugou had just said and was again questioning why he had come here in the first place. Yet apparently ‘Copycat’ was about to dash this worry as quickly as it was created.

“Hmmm. You must underestimate me. Luckily for you, I can recognize the answer is within the question unlike some of your lesser classmates.” A serious glint overtook ‘Copycat’s’ eyes as he met Bakugou’s sharp eyes. “If that were truly the case, then it sounds like you already hate yourself enough for it.”

Shit. That… Well, that actually sounded accurate now that Shinsou thought about how Bakugou phrased things. And Bakugou?

Bakugou looked pissed.

“Listen here you pompous prick-” Bakugou started angrily before Hatsume interrupted him with a hand on Bakugou’s shoulder. He looked to the pink haired girl, just for her to grin brightly.

“I approve of him,” she beamed.

Bakugou scoffed, “Fuck off. You can’t just go around choosing who you do and don’t want around me.”

“You say that, but I haven’t been wrong so far. Besides, he’s kind of right,” she teased lightly, ignoring the snarl still on Bakugou’s face. Then she turned her eyes to Shinsou. “What about you? What are you doing here.”

Again, Shinsou didn’t quite know how to answer that. He couldn’t exactly say that Aizawa made him worried about Bakugou. That he was worried that Bakugou was going through some of the exact same shit that he had been through before and his chat with Aizawa kicked his ass in gear.

Instead he just shrugged, “I didn’t know he was crazy and I followed him.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie. And somehow the others all just accepted that as if it were a viable explanation.

“Fine whatever. If you don’t need anything then get the fuck out,” Bakugou grumbled before something else occurred to him. “Wait, how the fuck did you know I’d be here?”

Good question. Shinsou went back to scrolling through his phone. Let the ‘Copycat’ boy deal with this.

“I saw Kaminari leave here the other day looking like a dejected puppy. I caught him muttering something about you and I tried my luck today.”

Wait-

“You brought me here on a whim?” Shinsou was offended by that. Hatsume interrupted any reply he might’ve gotten with a giggle.

“I approve of both of them.”

“That’s not how that fucking works, you she-demon,” Bakugou said in exasperation.

“Doesn’t matter, I’m letting them stay.”

And that was their lunch. If Shinsou were honest, it was one of the most entertaining lunch periods he had had in a long time. Not that he’d ever admit that though. He doubted an outsider would be able to tell either because he spent most of the time with his face fixed in a blank mask as he scrolled through his phone. That didn’t mean he wasn’t listening in on the two chatterboxes Hatsume, and, as he eventually learned, Monoma talked about random shit. It also didn’t mean that he wasn’t enjoying Bakugou’s occasional snarky comments towards the two. And maybe Shinsou threw in a few comments of his own to stir up chaos before going back to his phone as if he had done nothing at all.

Shinsou hadn’t actually expected to enjoy his time. Somehow he expected everything around Bakugou to be doom and gloom considering how everything else seemed to be going for him. But then, Shinsou didn’t consider that he might have a friend outside of 1-A.

Briefly Shinsou wondered if that meant he didn’t have to engage with the others. If he could go back to the situation not being his business. He actually thought it’d be okay if he did but now he wasn’t certain if he wanted to. He knew Bakugou wasn’t whatever the class was making him out to be, but seeing it up close was different. Seeing Bakugou away from the class reminded him just how wrong the class was to be treating Bakugou the way they were. Bakugou wasn’t nearly as tense and defensive when he was away from them and it only served as a reminder to Shinsou how similar he was to Bakugou. And with that, he knew he wasn’t just going back to how it was before.

So the next day, Monoma and Shinsou both sat at Bakugou’s table. They were met with only minimal protest from Bakugou but both were there to stay. And Shinsou knew it’d happen but he could feel it. He could feel the stares from all around the cafeteria and could’ve sworn that Kaminari even dropped his lunch.

With this one decision, Shinsou was back in the spotlight.

So be it.

Chapter 28

Bakugou had a feeling that he was cursed to always be surrounded by idiots. Obviously it started with the pink menace and now extended to the copycat shithead.

Bakugou asked Hatsume why she was suddenly so welcoming to others hanging out in the workshop. He wasn’t really satisfied with the response.

“I’ve never not been okay with it. No one besides you wants to be here and they’re not really part of everything like the rest of your class.” She shrugged as if it were that simple. It wasn’t and they both knew it.

“And the moment that changes? We both don’t know them or why they all of the sudden want to talk to us.” Bakugou stated it as a truth because that’s exactly what it was. It was all odd.

“You’re so grumpy, Kat.” Hatsume pouted and Bakugou rolled his eyes at her play on words. “It is strange. I guess I just want to give them a chance before we’re the ones making ourselves alone instead of others.”

Bakugou sighed. He couldn’t blame her for that. But that didn’t make the two’s sudden appearance any less suspicious. It made Bakugou feel a little better that the moody purple boy and the quirk thief didn’t seem to actually know each other.

“Fine, I guess it doesn’t matter if we humour the dumbasses,” Bakugou grumbled and Hatsume beamed.

He said that but he hadn’t really expected to have to do it. The next day at lunch both boys sat at the table with Bakugou and Bakugou was annoyed. And yet they wouldn’t leave. Bakugou himself had said that he wasn’t stopping anyone from sitting at the table but it was a little different to actually have that happen. That’s essentially how Shinsou and Monoma became new fixtures in Bakugou’s life: they were pests who wouldn’t leave him alone.

Despite his initial reaction, he eventually became used to the two. The Copycat bitch got along a little too well with Hatsume when the four were together, but Dead Eyes seemed to balance the idiot out. That by no means stopped the overdramatic boy from creating over the top narratives of which Hatsume loved. Bakugou suspected she liked the dramatics so much because they could easily get on Bakugou’s nerves. Both of them were brats.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you fair maiden,” Monoma started one day. A mischievous glint immediately entered Hatsume’s eyes. “Why have you been trapped in this tower during lunch instead of gracing us with your presence? I know the handsome beastly dragon over there didn’t exile you.”

Bakugou grinned as Hatsume’s face fell. It was true, he wasn’t stopping Hatsume from doing anything, just like he wasn’t stopping the other two from sitting with him. That being said, he knew exactly why she didn’t sit with him at lunch.

“Yeah, princess,” Bakugou teased. “Why don’t you sit with me at lunch?”

Hatsume pouted. “Shut up, you already know.”

The two other occupants of the room looked at Bakugou curiously and Bakugou had no issue with filling them in.

“Dreadlocks got herself banned from the cafeteria. They’ll let her buy food and stuff but she’s not allowed to stay in there for too long.”

“Wh- How?” Monoma voiced the question and even Shinsou looked up from his phone to hear the answer.

“I may have blown up the kitchen once.” Hatsume still had a pout on her face. And oh no, Bakugou was not letting that go. Not after the amount of dramatics she and Monoma put him through.

“That’s not the reason you’re not allowed back and you know it.” Bakugou smirked.

“Fine. So mean!” She made a face at Bakugou. “The second time I ended up breaking into the cafeteria, and an experiment may have gone a tiny bit wrong. And I may have given half the staff food poisoning when the school did a catering thing for them that weekend.”

There was a long pause before Dry Eyes interrupted it.

“Did that include Aizawa?”

Hatsume smirked. “It did.”

Shinsou nodded, “Good.”

And with that, he went back to his phone. Maybe he wasn’t so bad.

Monoma was that bad. He hated the cocky copycat fucker. Half the time the bastard opened his mouth it was to insult him. The other half, the blonde took to trying to relentlessly badmouth the rest of Bakugou’s class. It wasn’t that Bakugou disagreed but he didn’t understand the idiot at all. He didn’t really understand Shinsou either but Bakugou could get on board with his humor. Especially when it was directed at Monoma.

As it was, Bakugou decided to just let it go.

The other shoe finally dropped when Bakugou and Shinsou were walking to the library after class one day. Bakugou needed a book for an assignment from Cementoss and Eyebags Boy had picked up a weird habit of tagging along with Bakugou to random places.

~~~~

I did actually have a couple other approaches to 26 using this narrative. It’s a tad confusing to post them all but I am including this additional approach from Monoma’s pov too!

Chapter 26: An Ally

Monoma admittedly hated 1-A. He wasn’t ashamed of his dislike for the class despite how his own class wishes he was. The thing was, he didn’t hate him because of who they were. They seemed to be fine as people. No, he hated them because they didn’t have a care in the world of what their existence did to the rest of the school.

At every turn, all 1-B seemed to amount to was being less than 1-A. They were not quite enough, not as good, basically the off-brand 1-A. It was a constant berate of being told they weren’t good because someone else happened to be better. And that just wasn’t true. His class still had amazing students and every one of them had tried their hardest for their spots. But no one seemed to care about that.

And it wasn’t that Monoma thought that 1-B was actually better than 1-A. It was just that Monoma didn’t think that 1-A should be treated as if they were better than 1-B. Because why should they be treated better? Why should 1-A be treated as if they were so much more special than everybody else? Why couldn’t 1-A and 1-B just be equals for once? One class shouldn’t have to be demeaned at every corner just because they weren’t the top class. Sure 1-A technically did better than 1-B, but that didn’t mean that 1-B was any less.

So Monoma might take every chance to point this out.

Every. Single. Chance. He. Gets.

So what? No one else was going to do it. And none of them seemed to care in the least. Not a single student in 1-A ever acknowledged how they got special treatment from everyone. In fact, Monoma was pretty sure 1-A didn’t notice any of the other classes until the Sports Festival.

And wasn’t that a whole shit show and a half.

Monoma… he reluctantly understood why Bakugou was considered one of the best. He’d also admit that he shouldn’t have provoked the beast during the cavalry battle, though he’d never admit that out loud. But the Sports Festival ended so wrong. It was the first time Monoma saw that maybe 1-A didn’t get special treatment all the time.

No, actually they still got special treatment. That rule just happened to have one exception and it was named Bakugou Katsuki.

For that reason, Monoma was a little hesitant on how he felt about Bakugou. He liked what Bakugou had caused. He liked the fact that 1-A’s true colors came out from their treatment of him. It seemed like his words had finally been vindicated; 1-A was not the class of greats that they claimed to be. No one could call him crazy anymore because their treatment towards Bakugou proved he was right.

But it was so wrong.

Monoma wasn’t a huge fan of Bakugou. It wasn’t a huge mystery how Bakugou could be disliked. He disregarded everyone, was rude and arrogant. But then Bakugou did that to everyone didn’t he? He, in a weird way, treated everyone like equals. Everyone was an “extra” until they proved otherwise and once Monoma realized that, he respected it. Bakugou might act like he was better than 1-B, but he didn’t do that because they were 1-B. He did it because he was an asshole who believed that he was the best. In short, he was the only one who acted better because of their own reputation rather than a predestined class reputation.

But Bakugou also seemed to be always alone.

That was the other reason Monoma was hesitant about Bakugou. He hadn’t seen it at first but Bakugou was alone in his class. Class 1-A seemed embarrassed by his bold words and declarations that he’d win the Sports Festival and it showed. Surprisingly that had changed later. For some time, Bakugou had some friends and was no longer alone. Bakugou became more surrounded by people and Monoma figured he was probably right in his initial dislike of Bakugou.

Then the lunch incident happened.

For class 1-B, that was a bizarre day. They had come into the cafeteria with precisely one table being treated like a hazard area by all except for Bakugou. Part of Monoma was curious what caused everyone to leave that table. Part of him didn’t care. But soon, everyone realized that this was not a one-time occurrence.

Something was up about Bakugou.

The friends Bakugou had made no longer surrounded him. The oh-so-perfect class, began treating him like shit. And nobody knew what had happened to cause it all.

Inside classroom 1-B they began a run-on joke theorizing what had happened to have caused that. Naturally, the theories surrounded Bakugou and everyone enjoyed outdoing each other’s theories. Some were mean spirited, talking about their dislike of Bakugou. Other, more fun theories, were just silly. One notable idea was that everyone was avoiding Bakugou because Bakugou had been replaced by a space robot and the class feared him taking over. That theory was later overtaken by the theory that Bakugou was actually bigfoot and needed room to eat. Truthfully though, everyone knew that class 1-A now hated Bakugou. And class 1-B?

They did not need that drama.

That didn’t mean that Monoma wouldn’t take his chance to belittle 1-A for their behaviors. Oh no, he went heavy on his snide comments. He may not know everything happening in that class but that wouldn’t stop him from dropping a “Guess your class isn’t so mature is it?” or a customary “You know 1-B wouldn’t create a scene like this.”

And man, could 1-A make a scene. Bakugou’s table, and it was solely known as Bakugou’s table now as no one else would sit there, was a spectacle. So when Uraraka decided to go there and create MORE of a scene…. Well it was noted by all.

Monoma began to wonder how bad things really were in 1-A after that. If they were willing to make such a spectacle in public, then how in the world would they act in private? The more Monoma thought about it, the worse the implications became. Bakugou must have done something. But did that something really deserve that kind of reaction?

From what Monoma knew of Bakugou’s personality, he wasn’t the most enjoyable to be around. And as much as Monoma wanted that fact to be a reason to trash on 1-A, wasn’t Monoma the same? His class didn’t really like his personality much either. They just respected his willingness to stand up for the class as a whole, but when it got down to it, no one ever protested when Kendo smacked him to shut him up. And ouch 1-B, could just one of them pretend to not support that?

Regardless, Monoma understood what it meant to be disliked by the class. It wasn’t fun, but at least he was still respected for his good qualities. Bakugou, however, seemed to be completely at odds with the class. And that hit a bit close to Monoma. He could only wonder if 1-B would really never turn on him like that, despite his claims that they would never stoop to the things 1-A were. He kept up his confidence that they wouldn’t do something like that though. He had to.

Seeing that happen to Bakugou though? Normally, Monoma would immediately say that the arrogant 1-A boy deserved it. Normally, he’d jump on the hate Bakugou train and wave goodbye to the peasants as he passed them by. But instead he was reminded of why he hated 1-A all the more. They had their noses so far up in the air that they couldn’t smell their own shit. And there was no doubt that whatever was happening was shit. Anyone who listened to Uraraka during that one lunch period could have told you that. She literally just tried to force Bakugou to leave the cafeteria and then acted as if Bakugou was in the wrong. He didn’t care what Bakugou had done, that was just dumb.

Monoma knew some outside of class 1-A who thought Bakugou deserved anything coming towards him. That Bakugou was a terrible beast and anything done to him was karma. At some point this started to also sound stupid. Karma seems to have been made already. With that in mind, Monoma secretly cheered Bakugou on when he heard Bakugou call out his classmates to get off their high horses. In a weird way, it made Monoma feel as though he had an ally in his dislike of 1-A. Sure that ally came from the enemy, but he’d take it.

He didn’t exactly know how to approach Bakugou about this though. They weren’t really friends to begin with and he doubted Bakugou wanted anything to do with him because, yes, fine, okay, he gets it. He sometimes goes a little over the top with his vendetta against the entirety of 1-A which included Bakugou. He refused to feel bad about it but, he’d admit, that made it fairly hard to go about making friends from that class. He’d just have to take the opportunity if it ever showed up.

He didn’t expect that opportunity to arise from a trip to the Development Studio. Kaminari had just left that area looking… upset. Monoma couldn’t tell what exactly the emotions were that had littered themselves upon the boy’s face, but they weren’t happy ones. Monoma could only guess that it was something to do with the support classes and that in itself was unusual. Just like with everything else at the school, 1-A seemed to get the most attention from the Support Class. The inventors wanted the best to advertise their gear so naturally class 1-A was the more favorable class yet again. So the fact that Kaminari, who had a flashy quirk that could showcase tech fairly well, seemed unhappy with the service provided…. Monoma was curious.

He walked into the workshop area only to find a very puffed up Hatsume and an amused Bakugou. Perfect. Monoma took his chance to engage in a conversation.

“Oh, what’s this? Did you deny someone from precious 1-A or was the sad spark plug in the halls just my imagination?” Monoma eyed Bakugou while saying this. He was heavily testing the waters here. He had no idea what the situation actually was but that statement would surely open up the conversation.

“Hmm? Am I not allowed to deny people who I think acts less than heroic?” Hatsume responded in kind.

Monoma’s eyes lit up. Another ally! “You see it too! Such a pity that no one else in this school sees the truth of 1-A. 

Anddd that’s alll folks!!!! I know it kind of just cuts off, sorry ><! I’d been wanting to wait to post this because I didn’t want it to confuse anyone when I’m not going this direction. So why did I? I’ve mentioned these chapters to a few different people before when discussing ideas and theories, so on an so forth, and it just felt a little unfair to bring up something unposted w/o a better reason for it not being posted. Plus I genuinely do want to post it and I’m impatient as hell. Anyway, I hope y’all found some enjoyment here!

[uncurlinglikeflowers]

Queer Trauma, Coming Out, & the Long Road to Self-Love and Healing

As I’ve reflected on my past, I’ve discovered that my adolescence may be one of, if not THE most traumatic time of my life thus far as a queer person. The last few months with my incredible therapist have made me realize that the years of anxiety, panic, fear, self-loathing, confusion, and depression have scarred me deeper than I had previously thought. She also made me realize that this is at least partially because I have never really talked about it openly and in depth in a healthy and productive way before, which is what inspired me to start this blog to share my experiences with others that are currently struggling with their identity, or to allow those that are also currently healing from the trauma of their previously closeted life feel a little more seen.

I knew from a VERY young age that I was different, but didn’t know how or what it meant. I was a lonely kid for a lot of my childhood without many friends. I didn’t want to play football with the boys during recess. I sought companionship at lunch with a table full of girls more often than not, which in itself also made me feel incredibly self conscious at the time as well. 

I asked, (with incredible shame) for the “girl’s toy” from the backseat in the McDonald’s drive-thru because I loved to play with the mini-Barbies and craft entire storylines for them. They were easier to hide in my room than regular sized Barbies. I spent most summers off school alone playing video games and reading book and book after book. I didn’t really click with the boys down the street. I was obsessed with Britney Spears and the color purple. I was lonely without really knowing what it meant.

I feel as though that fear I felt in my childhood and adolescence held me back from SO much. Middle school in particular was absolute hell. I hated it. I always felt constantly insecure and uncomfortable. I had absolutely zero confidence or self love. I hated my body and how I looked. 

While other kids experienced their first relationships and first feelings of romantic love, I was convinced that it was just not a possibility for me. On top of being deeply closeted, scared, confused, lonely, and in deep denial, girls didn’t go for me anyway. I was the awkward chunky guy struggling with his identity feeling like he had to make up for it by working extra hard to get perfect grades and give himself 100% to other people. I tried not to think about it too much, but hearing about relationships, seeing people kiss in the hallways between classes, and girls talking about what they liked in boys which was the complete opposite of me... it was hell.

To make my self consciousness worse, I felt supremely uncomfortable in gym class and the boys’ locker room in particular. I was ashamed of my body and also self conscious for wanting to look at the other boys; terrified that they would catch on and beat me senseless. Hearing them consistently call each other f*g in a very VERY negative context drove me deep into the closet as the identity I already felt shame for was directly correlated with being a ridiculed outcast, and something that was inherently, disgustingly wrong and unacceptable. The worst insult teenage boys could deliver to each other in the safety of an unchaperoned locker room in a hick town often not kind to queer people or those that were different. I SO desperately wanted to fit in with the other boys instead of being any version of who I actually was.

Part of that façade of blending in with my hetero peers involved having a girlfriend for two months in 8th grade. We didn’t even kiss, let alone approach any sexual situations. I’m sure she had her suspicions. I was utterly obsessed with the concept of blending in by having a girlfriend like the other boys and just having someone special in my life, even if we really didn’t even do any couple things. 

Upon reflection, I don’t think the concept of ever being sexual with her ever crossed my mind in the slightest. Even the idea of kissing her scared the hell out of me, and not just from first kiss nerves. Deep down I knew it wasn’t right for me. Don’t EVER tell a kid they’re too young to know. Fast forward to modern times, my first kiss with a girl was with a close friend YEARS after I came out. Go figure. 

The idea of caring about and loving myself was non-existent at that time. It’s a very VERY new and ongoing journey for me. I didn’t really care about myself at all. I hadn’t learned how to. Mom was in and out of cancer treatments, and would later pass during my senior year of college and kick off my coming out process, but that’s a whole other post for another day. Spending pretty much my entire childhood watching mom deal with being sick, I didn’t want to cause my family any more discomfort. I was full of self loathing, fear, and confusion, but it seemed irrelevant and unimportant because I didn’t want to be a hindrance. 

Instead, I tried so desperately to be the perfect kid and son by befriending my teachers, being a model student, and joining band and a bunch of organizations to stay as busy as possible to stay distracted and impress everyone else.I didn’t love myself because I didn’t think I was allowed to or deserved to in my own head. While I did finally make more meaningful friends in high school, I continued to go through the motions to make my family proud to make up for the scared closeted kid who thought he had to make up for his queerness as though it were a shameful weakness, and it seemed to be the only thing that could possibly matter at the time.

Non-surprisingly, I never really knew any openly queer boys in grade school. It probably legitimately wasn’t all that safe to come out in that environment. I’ll never forget the two boys I saw holding hands in a Wal-Mart that absolutely shook up my entirely reality, because I had never seen romantic same-sex affection in person before. 

There was a lesbian couple at my school, but people said awful, degrading things about them behind their backs constantly and acted like they were the biggest freaks. Another boy in my grade in high school hadn’t come out yet officially but was very flamboyant, and thus was treated just as awful as the lesbian couple, if not worse. Other kids just regularly said despicable things about him without even knowing him at all. I even heard parents make blatantly homophobic jokes about him. 

His life had to have been hell, and as a fully out queer adult, I still regret not being able to stand up for him more. That definitely forced me deeper into the closet. He wasn’t even out but got talked about like he was some disgusting abomination. How could I ever assume that I could ever come out, let alone kiss, date, and love another boy? I HATED the idea of any attention being placed on me, so I just wanted to survive school at that point.

I had multiple people throughout high school ask me if I were gay just as though it were the most casual question rather than a triggering inquiry that sent me into a mental frenzy every damn time it was presented. Having one of the jock boys ask me such a deeply personal question in passing on the way to my seat in Algebra class was traumatizing. I of course always said no, as at the time I was still convinced it was a passing phase and that I couldn’t actually be gay. 

At home, in the days of Myspace, I got anonymous messages telling me they were pretty sure I was gay. The anonymity was arguably worse in some ways. 

At a young age, I became hyper aware of how I carried myself, talked, and acted. I loathed hearing my voice or seeing myself in pictures, for fear of sounding too feminine or standing or emoting too gay. I obsessed over the concept that boys and girls carried their books a certain way, or the boys would be labelled as queer. I was paranoid about where I shopped for clothes, the colors I wore, and the length and fit of my shorts. 

In middle school, I got a lilac colored trapper keeper for school that I ultimately had my parents take back to the store for a different one because I felt so self conscious about it all day. At home I played with my little Barbies, but didn’t dare tell the kids at school for fear of rejection and isolation. Overall, I felt grossly incompetent, irrelevant, and unimportant in my own mind. Unworthy of love and of course, deeply ashamed for my attraction to the other boys.

I never had anyone whatsoever to help guide me through the coming out process, because I didn’t know a single queer person who could. I’ve now dedicated a good amount of my energy trying to be that person I desperately could have used then for anyone else that needs that role to be filled, and for someone to tell them that someone is incredibly proud of them. An obscene amount of queer people don’t ever hear “I’m so proud of you!” when they really need it the most. 

I also didn’t have any good queer representation on TV or in movies, so I really did feel completely alone at times. Most queer characters in media existedly solely to be made fun of and mocked, ratcher than celebrated, properly represented, or God forbid, given a legitimate love story, and the public’s reaction was so frequently one of such repugnance and disapproval. 

This was also probably about the time that a close family member told me that he had punched a gay guy for hitting on him when he was younger, a story he again felt the need to share with a now ex-boyfriend and I when we were dating, as though that’s not a horrifying thing for an already scared and closeted queer to hear from their own family. 

I think during middle school in particular is when my anxiety and depression issues started, but I assumed either that I was being a baby and that my feelings were invalid, or that it was just teenage angst. The idea that boys and men should mask their emotions and feelings and feel shame rather than expressing them was, (and seemingly appears to continue to be) a very real thing in small towns and society in general. 

It didn’t occur to me at the time that I was experiencing varying levels of almost daily trauma that would fuck me up well into adulthood. If you take anything at all from this post, let it be that the conversation around mental health, (and men in particular in this instance) NEEDS to change.

Another particularly noteworthy event in my queer adolescence was when two of my friends, (both girls, shocker) discovered gay porn on my computer. While they pestered me about if it were mine while they laughed, I of course lied. I felt a deep shame and utter humiliation. On reflection, fucking IMAGINE if they had been able to be gentle and understanding with me and told me they loved me and still would even if I were gay. From then on I was terrified that they would bring that day up to our other friends as a joke. Perhaps they did a time or two, I don’t recall. These same friends made jokes about the queer kid I mentioned earlier, and both parents of one of the girls regularly gossiped and made homophobic jokes about him when I was at their house 

By the time school dances rolled around, I knew I would never be able to go with anyone but friends. Even if I weren’t still deeply closeted, I’m pretty sure my school still had pretty strict rules against bringing same-sex dates to Prom. While I definitely had fun with my friends at the dances we went to, I so desperately longed for a world where I could dance with a boy who loved me like everyone else was able to.

The loneliness and isolation I felt at the end of those nights could be unbearable because it didn’t seem possible for me, even as I looked into the future. I was fully convinced I would live a very lonely life without anyone to love me the way I craved. I didn’t belong in that world, and wouldn’t ever be set up for that kind of happiness, joy, and feeling of content. I would live for everyone else but myself because that’s just the way the world worked for us queers.

I wish I had had just one single person then who gave me full permission to be my authentic queer self on any level. Someone who could hug me and tell me life after high school and college could and would be vastly different. Someone to tell me I wasn’t an unlovable disgusting freak, but rather a kind-hearted boy who deserved a deep love someday because I was a valid and gentle soul who deserved the world. I certainly deserved more than the shame and pain that constantly haunted me. 

Maybe then I wouldn’t have thought about death before 30 so much and obsessed over it well into my college career. I might have realized that I needed to learn to be gentle with myself and take care of and prioritize me and my own happiness. So many people let me down and convinced me that I was a filthy sinner and an over-emotional kid with invalid perspectives and feelings. As most of my closest friends, (that I cannot stress enough have been the ones to save my life and encourage the authenticity that I present so proudly today) came into my life after I had already come out fully, they weren’t around during those dark early struggles. 

Sometimes as an adult I still wonder what it would have felt like and how profoundly different my life could be if someone had held me close and sincerely told me they’re proud of me for what I survived and overcame, and told me that they can’t wait to see my eyes light up with the love I’ve always dreamed of in a boy, and that I still continue to seek. 

Young, baby gay Travis would be in absolute awe if he knew what life had in store for him back then. To see a future version of himself painting his nails, wearing whatever he wanted, dancing with strangers at pride festivals, having the time of his life at drag shows with his queer family and falling in love with boys? Proudly holding a boyfriend’s hand walking downtown in a busy city? Openly telling his dad about the cute boy he’s going on a date with? Going Facebook official with a boy? Being a super vocal advocate and inspiration and mentor to not only queer family, but to people he hardly talks to but manages to influence and inspire just by unashamedly being himself? Genuinely looking forward to kissing his new husband in front of family and friends on his wedding day, knowing it’ll be one of the happiest days of his entire life? 

Holy. Actual. Fuck.

Travis of six or seven years ago wouldn’t have even dared to dream this big, let alone baby gay Travis. He probably would have been utterly mortified but SO comforted to see that future life when he didn’t believe it to be any level of possible.

I’m so fucking proud of myself for this journey, and no one will ever take that away from me or water down my trauma or the grueling work I’ve put in. Genuinely, this is the one thing in my life that makes me absolutely burst with pride. 

I think I want to learn how to keep baby Travis in mind with this pride without having to revisit the trauma in the process. Look back at him with open arms, excited to see him learn and blossom into his actual self someday. Even if he could have desperately used someone like the me I am today, he survived then, and continues to persevere today. 

He’s queer as fuck, and proud to shout it from the rooftops. He’s a voice and an advocate for the voiceless. A shining light and beacon of hope for those still navigating their terrifying escape from their closeted life. He’s going to meet a man someday and love him so deeply in the way baby Travis always dreamed of. Above all, he’s going to continue to make that little guy so incredibly proud because he knows now the importance of loving himself in the process. 

I’m so proud of that scared little boy. I just wish he could have known then how proud he would make himself one day.   

As you talk with the queer people in your life, please keep in mind that just about all of us have incredible trauma directly tied to our identities. Talk to them with love, compassion, and understanding. Tell them how proud of them you are for pursuing their own happiness in the face of oppression and rejection. 

Demand better from elected officials. Advocate for us. Shut down homophobic ideals, even if you think it’ll make your family and friends uncomfortable to hear. Support queer content, artists and creators. Be a proud ally, but don’t ever allow yourself to take the spotlight away from actual queer people or our queer spaces. Mourn, love, and celebrate with us. 

Understand why pride is SO fucking important to us, and why you never have to worry about needing your own pride events. Listen to us and love us for exactly who we are, and were always meant to be. Love is the most incredible, beautiful, and often rare human experience we’re able to experience during our short time on this planet, and it should always be celebrated.

Happy Pride!