Een Nacht JOOST KLEIN

Fem aligned people may read but not f3tishize my work!!

Summary: An unplanned encounter led to a fun adventure.

Reader: Male, Tattoed

Warnings: NSFW, Unprotected sex, swearing, alcohol, cigarettes

Now playing: 'One of the girls' by The Weeknd, Lily-Rose Depp & JENNIE from BLACKPINK

AN: Hello everyone <3 i've been gone for a while and i still dont have much time to write, but i got overcome by my joost klein obsession.. again. I hope y'all enjoy this. I expected to write like 2k words, it ended up being 4,5k. Take care!

#Justice for Joost

...7 Missed Calls from ‘Millie’

Your best friend and roommate had left you hanging for a one-night stand, to put it shortly.

Tonight was Joost Klein’s concert in your area and you had bought these tickets ages ago. Both you and your roomie were huge fans of his music and planned on having the most amazing time ever. That was until she texted you, a few minutes after the time you had planned to meet at.

‘Hey dude, im soooo sorry, but I just met this really amazing dude at the library and I really wanna take him home ymwim?? I hope you still have an amazing time, byeeee!’

Saying you were angry was a brutal understatement. Absolutely fuming fit better. But nevertheless, you had so much fun at the concert. You didn’t need Millie to have a good time, you hope he at least fucked her well if she’s going to miss a Joost Klein concert for that. But this isn’t about Millie, this is about you jumping around all night and screaming your heart out.

All good things must come to an end and so did the concert. Joost thanked the crowd dearly and seemed really happy with the performance. Now that you had gathered your stuff, you pulled out your phone and prepared to walk to the bus station. Should be a 23-minute walk. An interesting insta reel popped up on your phone, your eyes were practically glued to the screen. That was until you inelegantly collided with someone. “Oh, I’m sorry!” You had your phone in a death grip, it had almost dropped to the floor. “My bad, I didn’t look where I was going!” Then you were greeted with the sight of a messy bleach blonde head of hair and two bright, blue eyes. This was Joost Klein himself. +A shy smile crept onto your face; you didn’t know what else to say. “Yeah, I’d be shocked too if I was standing in front of a celebrity.”, his attitude seemed cocky, but in a playful way. He was beaming, his grin as bright as the moon. Without thinking much, you opened your mouth to speak: “haha, exactly.” The sarcasm was dripping from your voice. “You seem happy, the concert went really well.”, you offered him a genuine smile. “Yes! I loved the crowd.”, his eyes lit up, “the numbers could be better though, at least my manager says so. But that’s just how the art industry is.” He kept rambling to you like he already knew you for ages. “Sorry, you probably don’t care. Oh yeah, and I forgot to ask for your name.” Joost lazily smiled at you. “I’m Y/n. I totally get that thing about the numbers. It’s difficult when you’re doing art as a job.” His gaze softened slightly. “It’s hard bringing in new fans when there are new artists every day. There’s always a younger, more talented artist out there.” His smile turned into a rather sad one, maybe he wasn’t so happy after all? “But I think you got something special going. Something different than those soundcloud rappers, you know?”, you chuckled lightly, “I think your music is true art.” For a moment he seemed to taste your words on his tongue. “That’s the nicest thing anyone has said to me in a while. “You seem like you do art too?”, Joost raised an eyebrow in genuine curiosity. “Yeah, I’m not that relevant though.” An awkward feeling crept over you; you scratched the back of your neck. “Ah, I don’t wanna hear it.” He barely let you finish your sentence. “I bet your really talented. I mean just your vibe right now!” Joost was now standing pretty close to you. He tended to close the distance between him and the person he’s talking to. Personal space is not in his vocabulary.

A quick glance to your phone screen revealed that your bus was about to leave in three minutes. Doesn’t matter, you’re striking up a good conversation with one of your favorite singers right now. “That’s so nice of you. People rumor that you’re kinda rude, but I haven’t seen any of that yet.” The left corner of his lips curled up, that was probably not the first time he heard about that rumor. “That’s because a lot of people who meet me say the dumbest things I’ve ever heard and then get mad when I don’t answer nicely.” He then intently looked at your eyes. “But you haven’t said anything bad yet.” Now he was smiling brightly again. “Hmm, so I gotta try harder to get on your bad side huh?”, he chuckled heartily. “You’re chill. I like you, I don’t get that with most people I meet.” He for sure is a big personality. “Oh my god, you should totally get your nose pierced. Would suit your look!” Admittedly, you have been thinking about getting a septum for a while now. But until shortly ago, you were working an excruciating office job, where piercings, colorful hair, gel nails and tattoos were strictly forbidden. That didn’t stop you from getting inked though. You waited to do your arms until you quit your job, but otherwise your whole body was littered with small and relatively big tattoos.

“I already got a few tattoos though; I worked an office job until recently. Getting a new piercing would’ve been difficult to hide.” Joost curiously eyed you, in search of any tattoos that might be exposed at the moment. “What kind of tattoos do you have then?”, he caught a glimpse of some ink under your shirt. “Loads actually. But my first one was a moth under my chest, I really like that one.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “Yeah? Let me see.” You could see right through him but decided to entertain his idea for a minute. Pulling down the hem of your loose button up, whose top few buttons were undone, you revealed a small part of the moth’s wings and head. With a gentle grin you declared that he would have to pay to see more. His smile now turned into a light smirk. “How much would I need to pay to see the rest?” Quickly, you quipped back: “How much does a drink in this town cost?” He now inches slightly away from you, he was all up in your space until now. “A drink, huh?”, he mused, “I’ll buy you the whole damn bottle.”

Joost guided you to one of his favorite bars in the area. His hand was on the small of your back when you two enterer the establishment, which seemed slightly out-of-place for a first meeting. “You know, I’ve never paid so much to see a tattoo before.” He teased while he ordered a bottle of vodka and two glasses. You really hope he wasn’t a creep, cuz this seemed like a red flag. “I must be pretty special then”, you grinned while ogling the clear liquid. The blond was now swirling the vodka in his glass. He chuckled, “Yeah I’d say you’re pretty special.” Then he avoided your gaze. He was wondering how the rest of that tattoo looked like. And maybe it wasn’t the only thing he’d get to see tonight.

The swig you took from your glass made you grimace. Vodka was one of your top alcohols, but you had to be honest with yourself and admit it tastes like hand sanitizer. “Don’t tell me it’s too strong for you.”, he teasingly smiled at you. His blue eyes darted towards your hand, which was resting atop the wooden bar. In a smooth motion, he interlinked his pinky with yours. ‘Drink je moed met alcohol’ or whatever the saying is. Nevertheless, Joost felt more forward now. Maybe it was the vodka, maybe it was the way your eyes sparkled. But the alcohol for sure gave him an extra bravado. He carefully inched closer to you. You could tell he was getting a bit woozy, even if he was lazily smiling at you. “You ok?”, a small chuckle escaped you. He intertwined his hand fully with yours now. The look in his face was soft and affectionate. A bit wobbly, but very sweet. You got a bit closer; the tips of your noses were almost touching. Only a few centimeters apart. Joost kept his eyes fixated on you, his breath hitched. His ice blue eyes seemed to roam you whole face. His heart was pounding loudly in his chest, the proximity was intoxicating to him. Joost’s eyes fluttered shut and you waited for a few seconds, messing with the dutchman in front of you. His eyes opened again and saw you grinning teasingly at him. “Really? We’re doing this now?” A hint of disappointment flashed across his face for a split second, but soon after mischievousness played in his eyes.

The two of you seemed to be getting along well, chatting and laughing with each other which felt like hours on end. Your knee was now touching Joosts and his hand has landed on your thigh. He slightly squeezed it, trying to give you a signal of what he wanted. “What?”, you grinned knowingly. The blond playfully huffed but the smile on his face remained. “You know what.” He tried to play it cool, but the intent look in your dark eyes made his adrenaline levels shoot through the roof. Sneakily, you slid a hand behind Joost’s neck. “I’m usually not into blondes.” With that you caught his lips in a sweet, gentle kiss. The man practically melted into your touch, he held onto your shoulder as if he’d fall off the barstool if he didn’t. Maybe it was the alcohol or the massive interest he had for you, but Joost was kissing you fervently. A desperate noise escaped him. One of your hands rested on his chest, you could feel his heart beating rapidly. As you parted lips, Joost tried to calm his erratic heart. Suddenly feeling a bit shy, you hid your face in the crook of his neck. His cologne smelled amazing, even after messing around on stage the whole evening. The huffs of your hot breath sent shivers down his spine. He gently kissed your neck, you gasped and flushed ever so slightly. The bastard even slid a hand under your shirt, feeling your lower back. You let the hand on his chest wander a bit, earning a content gasp. “I’m loving this, but can we go somewhere more… private?” Joost let out a small laugh. “Yeah of course! My place or yours?”, he grinned at you. “My roommate is probably getting laid right now, so could we go to your place?”, he nodded with a sweet, drunken smile. “I’d love to take you to mine. It’s just a few minutes away from here actually.”

Either he was very bad at math, drunk or both at the same time. The apartment building was at least a 18-minute walk outside the city center. The breeze messing with your hair was fresh, a shiver ran down your spine. Joost risked a glance over at you from time to time, his stomach was churning with an excited flutter. Even though your gaze was directed straight ahead, you noticed the blond eyeing you. The faintest shade of rose feathered your cheeks, you bit the inside of your lip from nervousness. That didn’t go unnoticed, as Joost laughed brightly while pulling you into a side hug, still keeping up the pace. “You’re so flustered.”, he chuckled. Playfully, you slapped his arm. “Quit it.”, his smile widened and for a moment it seemed as if the sun was shining. “Try and make me.”, now his expression turned devious. “I’ll make you regret being this cocky.”, a pleased smile spread across your face. He wanted to provoke you a tiny bit more. “I’d love to see you try.” He brought you both to a halt in front of a building and opened the door. Joost looked at you and brought a hand to the small of your back. “Let’s get inside.” He intertwined his fingers with yours and pulled you up the staircase to the door of his apartment. His hands were slightly shaky from anticipation and the keys in his hand rattled and clinked.

After a few seconds he had finally unlocked the door and led you in, he didn’t bother to flick the light on. You turned around, faced with Joost’s back, a click indicated that he had closed the door. You slide your arms around his torso and press up against him. His breath hitched as you began trailing sweet kisses down his jaw and neck. Joost, now reddened and smiling lazily, turned around and slid his hands down to hold your hips. His scent was fogging up your mind, and you couldn’t help but be excited. Once again, you pecked his neck, occasionally nipping at the skin. To give you more room, he tilted his head ever so slightly. A content huff escaped him as you bit down harder, now having found his sweet spot. “Not so cocky now, huh?”, you chuckled before continuing your shenanigans. Joost let his head rest against the wall behind him and let out a small needy sound. He placed a hand on your shoulder, to steady himself. His breath was rugged, and his skin felt as if it was on fire. “Fuck, you drive me crazy.”, he whispered before letting his head fall forward, resting it on your shoulder. When releasing your hold on him, you were greeted by two dilated eyes. “Let me be good to you.”, his voice was breathy, and his hair was messed up. “Let me take charge for a bit.”, he pressed the sweetest kiss to your lips. You quietly hummed as he began nipping at your neck, but before you could enjoy it more, he gently pulled you towards, presumably, his bedroom.

He gently pushed you onto his bed, you gladly let yourself fall backwards. “There we go.”, he murmured as he glanced down at you, splayed out. A possessive glint played in his eyes. With a tilt of your head, you invited him. You wouldn’t have to ask him twice, he quickly got on the bed with you. In a swift motion, he straddled you and placed his hand on your chest. You slide your hands up his legs and let them rest on his hips. Joost softly moans into the sweet kiss he embraced you in. He enjoys the heat and friction from his body being pressed down on top of you. His lips taste like cherry bubblegum from the local kiosk, you deepen the kiss as the blond grasps your shoulders. Carefully, you broke the kiss and tugged on his shirt. “Get rid of that. “, you groaned at the hot feeling spreading over your skin. His gaze darkened at the command, and he slowly leaned back. He lifted the hem of his shirt and slowly pulled it over his head, then tossed it away. A cheeky grin was now plastered onto his face, you slid your hands up his body, feeling his abs. “Thank you.”, he laid his hand atop yours, which was still resting on his body. “But you’re pretty hot too.” Now his hands slid under your shirt. “How about you take yours off as well? I need to see more of you.”, a small hum erupted from your throat, and you began peeling your shirt off. “You really wanna see that tattoo, huh?”, he nodded with a small smile. The fabric hiding the big moth was now gone and revealed its true beauty. It was a deaths-head hawkmoth, its wings were detailed and shaded amazingly, he could tell that your tattoo artist was a master of his craft. Joost’s eyes widened for a split second as soon as he saw how many tattoos were littered over your torso. He didn’t expect that many, but oh god they looked good on you. “You have no idea how good you look with all this ink.”, he ran a hand down your arm, feeling its muscles and gently rubbing the skin. “Really?”, you tried smiling innocently, but it came out looking more like a cheeky grin. “Makes me want you so bad.” His voice was barely above a whisper, the weak light of the moon made his blond hair look silvery. You delicately whispered back. “You can have me.”

Now he felt the heat rise inside him. His lips ghosted over yours, meanwhile he was fiddling with the stall of your pants. With a sense of confidence, he bit your lower lip, not enough to hurt you, but enough to show you that he was in charge now.

Once again, he nipped at your neck, but traveled down to your collarbone, your chest, your stomach and finally to the hem of your pants. Your head was tipped back in pleasure and the occasional groan left you. What you couldn’t see was him smiling up at you, enjoying the view. The soft moonlight painted milky stripes along your muscles. Joost planted a kiss on your hip before leaving bites around the waistband of your pants. He had already opened the button and zipper of your garment and now he pulled them off, tossing them aside. With the gentlest hands he caressed your thigh. A gaze to your thigh revealed even more tattoos, an elegant snake was swirled around your leg, entangled with the leaves of an olive tree. The dutch grinned slightly, then began leaving kisses and sweet bites over your thighs, he was burning up now. His hand slid upward on your thigh, though this time he was messing with the fabric of your briefs. He only chuckled lightly, before biting down harder. A soft whine escaped you, while he slowly pulled your boxers off. Then he sat back, waiting for a reaction. “Don’t tease, I’ll make you regret it.”, your threat sounded more playful than anything. He offered you a small, challenging grin as his fingers slid back up to your hips, where he let them rest. “Yeah exactly, what are you gonna do?” You groaned. “Keep going if you wanna find out.”

He leaned down and trailed kisses over your inner thigh, his hands roamed over your body, slowly making their way towards your crotch. Brushing over the tip of your length, he hummed in contentment. Your eyes fluttered shut, you couldn’t help but twitch at the contact. He rubbed his thumb over the slit, licked his lips, then wrapped his fingers around your length. His soft hands felt like heaven to you, his motions steady and gentle. Occasionally +he teased your tip with his thumb, enjoying your expressions. “Bet you rail some guy after all your concerts.”, a teasing smile appeared on your lips. “You’d be correct to think so, yeah.”, he hummed with a sly grin. He stroked you at a slow but firm pace. “Are you trying to rile me up with that?”, he then mused a chuckle. Despite your currently… pathetic state, you mustered to spit out: “I’d never. Just making sure you’ll remember me very time from now on.” He sped up a little. “Oh trust me, I’ won’t be forgetting you anytime soon.” Leaning in, he took the tip into his mouth. “Fu-uck”, you stammered. The warm, wet feeling of his mouth could’ve made you cum right then and there. One of your hands reached down to entangle itself into Joost’s blond strands. The mans breath hitched as he felt your hand in his hair, it sent tingles down his spine. He swirled his tongue around your tip, sucking gently while looking up at you. His hands held your hips firmly in place. “Didn’t know your mouth was good at anything other than singing.” Joost’s eyes crinkled at your comment. With a quiet ‘plop’ sound, he released your member. “I can promise you, it’s good at other things.” He muttered before tending to your length again, this time maintaining eye contact with you. The sight alone almost tipped you over the edge, his icy blue eyes were glossy, and his blond lashes framed them perfectly. Joost’s eyes flickered down, he noticed how you started to twitch lightly. He took you in deeper, focusing on the sensation in his mouth. The way his tongue swirled on the underside of your shaft made your vision go blurry, you felt a feeling tightening and coiling in your stomach. “I’m so close.”, you whispered desperately. Little did you know that he had other plans. Once again, he removed himself from your pulsing member, a string of saliva connecting to his lip. You ran a hand trough your hair, while your chest was sinking and rising with heavy breaths. Joost backed up slightly, removing any remaining clothes, then focusing on your figure again. He gently straddled you, his own length rubbing against yours, not without a sharp hiss from you though. “Hop on, let me treat you right.”, your muscles tensed from anticipation. A low groan escaped the blond, he nodded quickly before sitting up. With utmost care, he positioned himself and slowly sat down as he felt you push inside of him. He gasped at the overwhelming feeling, and you rested your head against the pillows, it was too much and not enough at the same time. Gently, he started slowly rocking his hips against yours, he bit down on your shoulder to muffle his soft moans. Feeling a bit revengeful, you bucked upwards, earning a loud gasp from the other man. A loud moan escaped him, and his body shuddered and tingled, he slightly sped up his rocking. Your warm hands trailed up to his hips, helping him steady his movement. Empty threats were never something you made, so you decided to go all out. In a swift motion you had basically thrown Joost off and positioned yourself over him, prodding at his entrance with your dick. He groaned and gasped at the sudden manhandling; a shiver of excitement ran down his spine. “That’s for teasing me.” He wrapped his legs around your waist, while letting out a breathless moan.  Without much care, you pushed into him, setting a relatively fast pace. The dutch groaned at the rough treatment and you felt him dig his nails into your back and leave long scratches along it. “You’re so g-ood.”, his voice broke slightly, he was panting heavily. “I said I’d make you remember me.” Even in this pathetic state, he chuckled.

With his arms slung around your shoulder, he cried out in pleasure, small pearly tears forming in the corners of his eyes. “Fuck. I will.”, his eyes were glossy. Once again, he bit down on your neck, leaving yet another dark hickey. Bitten off moans slipped out of him; he was pretty sure both of your hips would be bruised after this night. The room was filled with breathy moans and gasps, along with the constant sound of skin slapping against skin. Joost was completely lost in the moment, he loved how you took control. “See who’s not being so cocky anymore?”, you teased. “Shush.” His head lolled back in pleasure. You snuck a hand around his throat, threatingly gripping it with very little pressure. “You’re not the one giving orders.” A shiver of excitement ran trough Joost’s veins, he ever so slightly arched his back, pressing his body closer to yours. “Now shut up and take it.”, your hips snapped against Joost’s, and his groans became even weaker. The pleasure was building up in his stomach, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could handle it. His vision went blurry, and his body tensed up, his nails dug deep into your skin, leaving bloody scratched all over your back. “Fuuuuuuck”, he moaned against your collarbone. Warm, milky white cum shot out of his length, all over his stomach and chest, you yourself quickly pulled out and dropped the load on top of his. “Messy Boy.”, you whispered.

He laid there for a few minutes, panting heavily and feeling utterly spent. You grabbed a random t shirt on the bed and wiped him clean. With a good wash it’ll be as good as new, you thought. Gentle to not disturb him too much, you laid on top of him, resting your head against his chest. He let out a small huff, then wrapped his arms around you. “I’m going to feel this all day tomorrow…”, he mumbled. “Then I did it right.”, you closed your eyes, enjoying his warm breath trickling down your face and neck. Joost hadn’t seen the tattoo on your back before but was admiring it now. It was another snake, wrapping around a big dagger with various decorations on it. He ran a hand over it, feeling the skin he had scratched open around it. “So, you like it een beetje ruw?”, he whispered. “Ja but I can be sweet too.” Joost chuckled. You looked up again, enveloping him in a genuine, gentle kiss. Brushing a stray hair away, you caressed his cheek. The blond hummed lightly, his heart fluttering at the tender kiss. His lips curled up into a sweet smile. “Just for some people though.”, you grinned cheekily.

After having thrown on your briefs, you had retrieved your pants and began rummaging the pockets. “Can we go out to the balcony? I’d like to have a smoke.” Joost raised an eyebrow while his smile revealed his dimples. “Cigs after a good lay, huh?”, he began to fumble around in his bedside drawer, trying to find his own pack. “They’re on me, owe you after that.”, you giggled. Joost opened the slide door and led you outside. The atmosphere was calm, the two of you sat down on the floor. You held out your pack to the man, before taking a cigarette for yourself. He put it between his lips, waiting for you to light it. His eyes watched your face closely. After having his cigarette lit, Joost leaned against the balcony railing, enjoying the fresh breeze. You looked over the city while the smoke mingled as they both exhaled. Joost reached out and tangled his hand with yours. “You’re so pretty.”, you mumbled absently, watching a few blonde hairs follow the flow of the wind, his hair was all messed up, but he looked perfect. The tips of his hair looked almost white in the moonlight. “I’m usually not into blondes.”, you ruffled up his hair. “Hey!”, he cried out, but he quickly reached for your hair in an attempt at revenge. You gladly lowered your head, letting him do whatever he wants. Instead of messing up your whole hair, like you though he would, he gently combed trough it with his fingers. It felt soothing, you leaned into his touch and ended up flopping your upper body down into his lap. He couldn’t help but chuckle, “Comfy?”

A pleased hum escaped you, moments like these should last forever.

Wendy was practicing for her music show the next day but somehow she can’t hit this one specific note, worried, she asks help from R manager to assist her in trying to put her in a hard situation to make her belt out the note. Determined now, she changes in her outfit for tomorrow’s show for better results, R manager then suggests to her something ridiculous out of the blue: turning her on, so she can hit that note. She agrees interestingly and lets R feel her abs first to get that feeling and then her whole body soon after to heighten her feeling even more, eventually, it works and she finishes R herself on her body as a sign of thanks and gratitude with no strings attached. She then tells R to treat their exchange as a work relationship only or is it? Knowing now what R is capable of doing…😏🫠

P.S: Thank you for answering my request about Irene bro. Hope this somehow absurd idea comes into fruition someday lol. Keep up the good work and take your time as always. Tc and have a nice day.

[I'm a sucker for good plots, especially if they involve members of my favorite group. I swear it was hard to choose which one between all the Red Velvet ones, but today I was craving Wendy solo so here we are lol. Also, I know I have to write about more groups, I swear I'll do It]

"Fuck, I can't do it, what's happening to me?", Wendy groaned, walking nervously in the practice room. Her first live show for her new song "Wish you hell" was the next day, but for some reasons she seemed to not be able the highest note in the song.

You had been there with her for hours, being her manager, and you were starting to get worried too. She needed to ace her performance, but she was experiencing some type of vocal block in that moment. What to do?

"What can I do? Please help me", the vocalist asked you, almost reading your mind. She was desperate and she was ready to accept help from anyone. "Anything is fine, let's just try", she basically begged, biting her lips.

You got up from the bench and walked towards her. "Alright, alright, just let try whatever", you tried to reassure her, patting her shoulder. From there you tempted with the most absurd shits like making her listen to that part over and over and making her wear her show outfit but nothing.

You tried to scare her, you even pinched her arm, but even the pain didn't work to make her reach her note. Honestly you were finishing the options, but you couldn't let her down, not now that she was looking at you with those sad and desperate eyes.

"What if I turned you on?", you blurted you, surprising her. "You know, your hormones can help your reach those notes easily", you were pretty sure that explanation was bullshit, but Wendy somehow got convinced.

"I guess we can try, so...do your stuff?", she nodded, allowing you to touch her body. You didn't want to start off strong, so you just got closer and start to feel and massage her abs, luckily her crop top gave you free access to that area.

"You know where to place those hands, uh?", Wendy joked, but at the same time noticed her vocal chords getting relaxed. "Wait... maybe it's working, can you do more?", she requested, looking at you all serious.

Displaced by that question, you did the only thing your horny brain suggested you: you pulled out your cock and started to grind it against her abs. They were so firm and ripped, but at the same it was so pleasant to use as surface to rub against your shaft.

"Why do I discover just now that you have such a great cock?", she exclaimed surprised, and once again she already felt her voice improved, and actually that situation gave her an excellent idea.

"Oh my gosh, of course, I have to work on my throat", she realized, before going down on her knees, facing your cock. "I hope you don't mind if I use it a bit", she warned you, before making your member disappear in her mouth.

It was incredible the way she took it so deep in her throat with no resistence or gag reflex, SM vocal training was really something else; and Wendy being one of the best in the industry really made you understand that.

She was literally warming up her throat while sucking your cock so eagerly, she always changed her speed and technique to be sure her warm up was done perfectly. But honestly you didn't care, she was making you go crazy, her tongue covering your shaft with her spit and saliva.

"Let me help you, Wendy", you told her, but actually she didn't need help at all, you just wanted to fuck her face. And that's what you did. Slamming repeatedly your dick down her throat, being so rough that her white shirt was now dirty with drops of saliva.

But at least it was not cum, that finished all inside her stomach, when you released your seed in her mouth. "Thank you, manager-nim", she smiled, finally letting your cock go and slowly getting on her feet again.

"Uhm...you can go a second round, right? I feel like I can succeed this time", she asked to you, feeling her throat more tired but also warmed up perfectly for every tone now. "Maybe this time you can use my other hole", she proposed, slowly unzipping her black pants.

If the proposal alone made you hard again, seeing her panty wet made your cock throb. You took her wrist and brought her to the bench, making her lay on that rigid surface with her legs open and her pussy ready to be fucked.

"And now sing for me", you said, smirking, before slamming your shaft inside her at once. She almost hit that note because of the pleasure. "Again, again, manager-nim, fuck that note out of me with your girthy cock", she exclaimed, panting hard.

So you started to pound her, slow but deep movements, and more you went deep, more she was closer to that damn note...until eventually..."Oh yes yes yes...yeaaaaaah", she finally managed to pull the perfect pitch.

"My God, finally, thank you so much", she thanked you, pulling you down for a passionate kiss. "Now use my body as you want, you deserved It", she whispered against your lips, and that really ignited you.

Now that thrusts were not slow anymore, you were fucking her stupid on that bench, pressing her tiny body under your strong body, while your cock was ravaging her tight pussy, making her moan/sing with such a melodious voice.

"Fucking hell, manager-nim, you're stretching me so good", she confessed, rolling her eyes back, her climax reaching her, and you were not far too. You put your hands on her hips, fucking her body as if it was made for your own pleasure, seeking your own pleasure.

And after few minutes you also had your orgasm. It was so strong that you barely had the time to pull it out and shoot all your semen on her glistening abs, making them all sticky, while moving up and down quickly to catch her breath.

"Luckily I don't have to dance tomorrow", she joked, breaking the silence and trying to avoid the embarassment, but still your giggle was kinda forced, realizing what had just happened.

"Listen, don't worry, you don't own me anything, we are just two professionals who helped each other, nothing more", now she was the one reassuring you and patting your shoulder. She couldn't know that secretly you wished for more.

"...but, you know, maybe tomorrow you can home to my house to help me train my vocals again, after all I have to promote for a week...or two", she added, looking at you with lustful eyes and a naughty expression. I guess for the following days you will work as manager and vocal trainer.

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

Meet Cute -2-

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“oh? Little Miss Troubled Home wants me to save her again?”

contents: suggestive language, underage drinking, angst, fluff

Tonight you were glued to your bedroom window, unsure when to call Clyde. usually, the boy has to think about this. maybe that’s why they’d take so long sometimes, you thought, remembering all those times your girlfriends would be sat, waiting by their phones for a boy to call. the more you contemplated the more you muffled out background noise, which included your phones ringing.

when you snapped out of it you answered the call. “party at my house tonight. you comin'?” your friend Myra spoke through the phone, her excitement bubbling. “oh absolutely.” you giggled.

myra was one of your few friends who stayed behind this summer while everyone else was off getting settled in their dorms and student housing or browsing college campuses. myra threw epic ragers every summer which included the occasional drunk girl puking into a vase or fern and some one-night stand taking place in the master bedroom. all the fixings for a night you’d definitely remember.

you quickly dressed up, sprayed your perfume and rushed down the stairs. “hey mom gonna be at Myra’s. don’t wait up for me.” you spoke as quickly as you rushed. “call me if you need anything.” she managed to get out, neglecting to look up from her old erotica, probably dreaming of Fabio inching his hands up her blouse. you cringed at the thought and stumbled out the front door as you got your second shoe on.

as you walked down the street to Myra’s you wondered if you should tell her about Clyde. then you spiralled into a black hole of thought, deciding what you thought of Clyde and if he was worth telling your friends about.

“Hey! Drinks in the kitchen. not everyone’s here yet.” Myra exclaimed as she embraced you at her front door. “been craving a shot for days. took a while for you to throw a party this summer.” you said to Myra as she led you to the kitchen, handed you a beer and began pouring you a shot. “oh yeah parents had stuff to do before they left for the month.” she recounted as you cracked the can open. “anything new for you yet? summer's been in session for a week. something's had to have happened.” she speculated as she poured her own shot. “I swear you only ask me that when something is new.” you giggled as you cheered your shot glasses and downed your liquid courage.

“a mother knows, y/n.” she joked, not even wincing. you decided this year you were going to do better on your grades even though you wouldn’t dare set foot on a post-secondary campus. just to prove to your parents… well you don’t know what you were proving but you do know that the self-discipline you mastered in the last 10 months saved you from alcoholism so you won’t regret it at all. “I was at the skate park the other day and I maybe met a boy.” you smiled, walking away to leave Myra chasing after you. "no fucking way?” she just about screamed. “yup and I slept over at his house.” you giggled as you walked into Myra’s room and sat on her bed.

“you had sex?! Is this about your whole revelation?” she gasped leading you to roll your eyes. “no that’s the best part. he was sweet and I told him I didn’t want to go home so we just talked until we fell asleep.” you explained the night you’d spent at Clyde’s. Myra's expression said it all, absolute joy plastered on her face. “oh I know his dick is big.” she said, nudging your shoulder, both of you almost spilling your drinks. “Myra!!” you scolded. “the point is that it wasn’t sexual. it wasn’t even romantic. we were just there. I don’t know it might be too soon to tell but I think I like him.” you told her as you laid back on her bed. “wow. y/n liking someone. never thought I’d see the day.” she joked.

Throughout high school, you were stuck on the notion that boys were gross. and they were, but you realized at some point, between prom and graduation, that it was just the boys at your school that were gross. you were eager to escape the unhygienic and stinky boy funk that was the male population at your high school and you finally let yourself be open to the idea of dates, flowers, and kisses. but for some reason now that you’ve allowed yourself to become available guys stopped asking you out. there was a drought and you were disappointed.

“sooo tell me more about this mystery boy.” Myra begged and this alone worked you up. “he’s gorgeous. long dark hair, light eyes, typical skater apparel, band manager with his own apartment THE WHOLE NINE, MYRA.” you gushed thinking about Clyde, shaking Myra by her shoulders. “band manager?! where'd you find this guy?” she asked, her eyes wide. “Right!?” you giggled. "what was it like? how’d you end up in his apartment?” she quizzed you, indulging in your excitement about this boy.

you began telling Myra all about Clyde, minding every detail. "I just don't know when to call." you scoffed at your indecisiveness. “I guess when it feels right. when you need him around, you'll know. wait till it feels natural y'know?” she coached you. you’d never gotten serious with a boy, partly because you've never liked a boy but you do like Clyde. watching every '90s romcom growing up made you feel like something was wrong with you because you'd never had feelings for anyone. but boy did you love those movies.

“All right I need another drink.” Myra laughed as she stood off her bed, returning to the kitchen. “oh!! you have Malibu?” you exclaimed as you poured yourself another shot and downed it. before you could put your shot glass down someone bumped into you and spilled their entire drink all over your top. you gasped loudly before they could begin to apologize. “fuck I’m so sorry!” he squealed in embarrassment as he handed you a rag. “it’s okay don’t stress.” you sighed, dabbing your clothes as dry as you could though your shirt had soaked the alcohol up.

“do you want a change of clothes?” Myra asked, sympathetically as you walked off, now with water to drink. you felt defeated and tired like this was karma for some odd reason. “no, I think this is my queue to leave.” you answered, causing worry to spill over Myra’s face. “what? but you always sleep over after my parties.” she cried out. Still, you shrugged. “yeah that was because I didn’t want my mom to give me shit for being drunk.” you began as you continued drying yourself off. “what and she’s not gonna give you shit now?” she asked as you both walked into her bathroom. she sat up on the counter and you looked up at her. “I can stay over another time if that’s what you’re worried about.” you giggled. “my mom is laying off now that I’m 18 so it’s all good there. I’ll sit out in your room for a while so she doesn’t ask why I’m back so soon.” you comprised, hoping she’d calm down.

you both smiled at each other in silence before Myra began laughing. “Fine! Fine!” she rolled her eyes. “but you’re coming back tomorrow.” she begged, getting ahold of both your hands and squeezing them. “okay alright I’ll be here tomorrow afternoon.” you assured her as you began washing your hands and finally walked out to her room.

once Myra went out to host her now full house you pulled out your phone and called Clyde. “hey I’ve been waiting for your call.” he spoke. you could swear his smile was audible. “oh you miss me?” you giggled, now subconsciously playing with your hair. “could be, who knows.” he spoke, vague but obvious. “so what’s up?” he asked, his excitement settling. “well I’m at a party and someone spilled their drink all over me and I’m just kind of bummed out, bored sitting in my friend's room.” you caught him up on the events that just transpired. “that blows.” he laughed. “are you laughing at me?” you jokingly scolded. “what?! no, I could never!” he defended himself as you began laughing along with him. “anyway I kinda don’t want to go home..” you dragged, hoping he would get the hint and come pick you up.

you were now picturing Clyde whisking you away and you giggled to yourself. “oh? little Miss Troubled Home wants me to save her again?” he joked and you let out the loudest laugh you ever have before. “unfortunately yeah.” you ran your hands through your hair. “okay I’ll be there as soon as I can.” he giggled and you both hung up.

and so you sat and waited, excited to see Clyde again. Myra walked in with another drink, stumbling through the door. “I think it might be time for you to lay off the alcohol.” you laughed as she sat down next to you. “yeah this is my last one and I’m going straight to bed.” she giggled, slurring her words. “listen, Clyde is picking me up. I’m gonna go to his house.” you informed the inebriated girl now sprawled across her bedroom floor. “mhm yeah use protection, my love.” she joked. you sighed and walked out to her front lawn to smoke a cigarette while you waited for Clyde to arrive.

"you smell like pink Whitney." Clyde laughed as you climbed into his car. "I tried rinsing off as much as I could." you whined, fastening your seatbelt. "you didn't rinse very well, smells like you bathed in it." he smiled, driving off. "fuck off." you joked.

“I um.. a few of my friends are back at my apartment.” he said, almost hesitantly. “oh I'm meeting your friends already?” you giggled, wondering why he had to tell you as if to warn you. “yeah it’s just that they’re a little intense.. like I can be too but just in case you’re not prepared for it uh they have like no filter.” he rambled. “Clyde it’s not a problem. I’m just your friend meeting your other friends right?” you giggled, still hoping he’d say otherwise. “okay, okay yeah. but you know, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” he smiled.

“I told my friend Myra about you.” you smiled. “oh? what she say? what did you tell her?” he asked. “I mean I told her how we met and about the movie theatre… all that.” you listed off. “so you had fun?” he asked, hopeful. “of course I did,” you whispered, looking over at him. you shared a smile, a warmth growing in his stomach. you had no idea but Clyde had butterflies.

“so tell me about the friends?” you begged as you motioned for Clyde to watch the road. he went on to tell you exactly what you asked for and it excited you, a smile tugging at your lips. you were thrilled to meet his friends, knowing you’d love them.

the both of you got out of the van and walked up to Clyde’s apartment. the smell of weed masked with cologne smuggled its way into your nose as the front door waved open.

“oh my god is this her?” A pretty, bleached blond exclaimed as she handed a joint over to who looked exactly like Johnny from the way Clyde described. “the one and only!” you joked. “please don’t embarrass me,” Clyde begged as he closed the door behind him. “Clyde talks about you all the time. thought you were ghosting him before you called earlier.” snow spoke, bubbly as she put the roach out, coughing as she exhaled. “oh so he missed me.” you said as you turned to look at Clyde whose face was flushed in pure embarrassment. he rolled his eyes and walked over to his room.

you followed Clyde into his room and closed the door. “I’m so gonna love them.” you cheered quietly and reached for the hem of your shirt to take it off. “Woah woah hold on let me get out.” Clyde tried to stop you, earning a face of confusion. “Clyde... please just give me some clothes, i stink like Heineken.” you joked as you continued to pull your shirt off. clyde swallowed hard, flustered as ever and tossed you a shirt. “oh here, a pair of jeans. I think you could pull these off.” he smiled. clyde was not being serious, he definitely thought he was making a clever joke when he gave you his jeans.

“wow my ass looks amazing in these.” you gushed as you looked back at yourself through Clyde’s mirror. “you are not wrong,” Clyde spoke thinking out loud. you laughed at him as you tied the shirt around your waist and tightened the belt on Clyde’s jeans.

the both of you walked out of his room, Clyde’s eyes never leaving your ass. “Fancy a smoke?” Johnny asked, his voice groggy as yours in the morning. clyde sat down next to Johnny. “not tonight. not that kind of smoke anyway.” you smiled as you followed suit and sat next to the quiet girl. “oh don’t tell me you don’t smoke weed?” he asked, defeat fighting its way out. “I mean I have but it’s not really my thing.” you were definitely lying. you just happened to admit private thoughts when you’re stoned. “I stick to nicotine.” you waved around your pack. "lame!" Johnny groaned out causing you all to laugh. "I'll smoke with you eventually." you smiled. "that'll do." Johnny nodded.

the five of you began your small talk before you dove into substantial conversation, cracking jokes here and there, vaguely teasing Clyde and enjoying yourself completely. “where were you tonight? we heard your call with Clyde earlier.” snow asked, making you blush, knowing they'd tease you.

soon snow and Lola fell asleep and only you and the boys stayed awake, unable to fall asleep on the uncomfortable mattress in the middle of Clyde's living room... “I’m gonna head to bed.” Johnny picking up on the tension between you and Clyde treaded into his room. “they were great. not a moment of awkward silence.” you smiled as you giggled at Johnny's exit. “I’m glad you both liked each other.” he smiled.

“I’m so beat.” you yawned, undoing your belt and slumping over on Clyde’s shoulder. “sleep then?” he asked, looking down at you. you nodded and both retreated into his room. "it's okay that I do this right? it's okay that I come over when I don't want to be home?" you asked, a sudden feeling of being a burden creeping up on you. "if it wasn't okay I would have told you I was busy tonight or something... or I don't know, I wouldn't have offered you clothes." he giggled, wrapping an arm around your shoulder for a side hug.

you and Clyde both changed into sweats and crawled into his bed. "you are too by the way." Clyde spoke, lying adjacent to you. "huh?" you muttered. "you're pretty too." he smiled.

“how was that party?” he asked you. “I was really excited to go, i wanted to occupy myself but, I don’t know, I don’t think I was really in the mood for a party.” you admit to him. “that’s okay you can always call me when you’re in a jam.” he smiled, speaking softly. you held his hand. "Could have been worse, could have been puke instead of pink Whitney." he giggled.

“I think I’m due for an existential panic.” you giggled as your eyes watered. “what do you mean what’s wrong?!” he subconsciously rubbed his thumb over your hand with concern,

“I’m 18 and I have no idea what I want to do with my life.” you continued giggling as your tears rolled down your face. “I just... I think the party reminded me of that. Myra likes staying back and throwing parties and, you know, living her life that way but I don’t have my thing. that’s her thing, parties, edge… she’ll be happy to live in a studio and throw her parties out of her own home while working at a magazine.” you spoke, wiping the tears from your puffy face. “you know it’s okay to feel lost sometimes. everyone moves at their own pace. you can travel or start your own business or something.” he laughed, pulling you closer and pressing your head into his chest. “I guess but I just like knowing. I like being sure of myself.” your breath slowing down. “sometimes you can’t know.”

Meet Cute Masterlist

Wasteland heat (Redone) PT 4

Cooper Howard(The Ghoul) x reader 

Warnings: Violence, blood, gore, AOB dynamics, heat, oral F receiving, smut, swearing, fallout stuff, implied cousin incest, virgin reader, drug usage, needles, plus size reader, sexual assault

Previous part <-

It feels like days of walking, what you tried to share in your pack with Lucy is now gone, water scarce, and food also scarce. Lucy's missing a boot and you're missing your bed. You feel so tired, your body like jelly, your legs numb and painful at the same time, like pins and needles hitting every inch of your skin. You've hit what looks like an old town maybe, you're not sure which one but as the alpha stops and your pip boy fuzzes at the small water gathering in an old broken metal thing you falter, smacking your lips together softly. You haven't told Lucy that you've been avoiding your meds, you couldn't chew them, couldn't swallow them without water, and you would always gag and cough them out. 

"Hm," The man says filling his canteen and drinking from it with a loud sigh, you glance to Lucy seeing her staring at him intently, or maybe the water he's drinking. She falls to her knees and you go to stop her but she cups her hands and drinks from the radiation-filled water with coughs and gags. 

"Now you're getting it" The alpha hums and you make a small noise in your throat. You can't reach your backpack with your hands tied, can't reach the medication you need to stop you from having a heat. You wonder if it will still work with this type of water. You don't have much time to think because the alpha starts coughing and wheezing and before you know it Lucy has grabbed you and ran. 

You don't find her sudden adrenaline burst the same as you run around the cars and to a dead end. You see the giant hole in the ground and the city beyond, it makes you stop and stare before Lucy's got rope around her waist and is tugged back. You turn to the man holding a lasso and tugging her closer, you charge at him with little force, but you manage to tumble to the ground. You can't do much with bound hands and the sudden position makes you so much warmer. He snarls at you as you struggle with fighting his free hand, his other under your knee. You manage to someone hug his hand to your chest and hold it there, hoping Lucy will hurry up and get free and grab his gun. The other wishes she didn't, the other wishes he'd reverse the roles and had you pinned down and tied up. Your mind's in a haze and your grip loosens significantly and he gets his hand free and quickly aims his gun and your sister. You feel like you're struggling to breathe, feeling like the sun got a meter closer and someone poured a bucket of sweat over you. Lucy yells your name but it sounds distant, like she isn't actually right there only a few meters away. Your whole body feels like it cramps up as you're thrown off left on the dirt. You whimper and curl your knees to your chest as you hear scurrying uneven steps and Lucy is at your side. 

"I couldn't take the meds" You feel like there's sand pouring from your eyes as you see her shocked face. 

"It's ok, It's ok, we can figure this out" She whispers gently lifting your top half to lean against her. 

"Fuck sake, get her up and Vaultie and move!" The end of his words break off into an inhuman snarl and coughs rack his body again. 

"Come on, there might be help inside" Lucy whispers. 

It's a struggle to get you on your feet, an even more struggle to get you to whatever place the alpha was going to. He hits the terminal a buzzing sound coming from it before he speaks. 

"Transaction" He says. 

"How can I help?" A male voice answers, a little too happy for the wastelands. 

"Sixty vials in exchange for two females mint condition" The alpha replies. 

"Physical condition must be examined in person, send them in!" Answers the voice. You're too out of it to know what's really going on, you desperately miss your bed even if it was a hospital one, and you need pillows, blankets anything. You whine and Lucy mutters something to you before you move inside. Once in, it feels cooler, and fresher even, on your body before Lucy gasps and jolts. 

"What the fudge"

"Fudge? There's no fudge here, just your friendly robot Snip-Snip mark 4" You frown looking at the robot in front of you.

"And you appear to be women, come through" The robot doesn't give you a chance to speak as you're led through the building and into a room.

"Have a seat on that gurney there" The robot points and Lucy helps you onto the gurney.

"Now it appears you are distressed somehow, how can I help?" he asks. 

"My sister, she's in heat, she hasn't been able to take her medication, do you have any repellents?" Lucy speaks for you as you sag against her. You want to move though, want to be back outside with the alpha, you want to take his shirt off and feel his skin against yours.

"I say what a predicament, let's see here" He turns and fumbles through drawers. 

"I was worried this was a sex slave place" Lucy chuckles lightly and the robot snaps around. 

"What a disgusting thought! No!, I'm simply going to harvest your organs" His words make you both freeze before something is injected into your stomach. 

You awake groggily and to someone shaking you, you open your eyes slowly and focus on Lucy. 

"Thank goodness, you just stay here ok, I'm going to deal with this and I'll be back ok?" She smiles softly and you frown going to speak but she rushes off making you groan. You glance around the room, an old storage room by the looks of it, now with surgical supplies instead. Your memory buzzes back to what happened with the robot and you sit up slowly. You look at the other gurney next to you and sigh a bit. Your body still feels hot and heavy and a nagging keeps scratching your brain as you slowly stand up. You ignore the shots outside, ignore everything, you snatch the two foam tops from the gurneys and lay them in the cleanest corner, you find some old sheets for the gurneys in one of the cupboards and lay them down, folding one as a makeshift pillow. You don't know where your backpack is so you can't use that blanket either. With what you have, which is very little you manage to make a bed well in this case a nest as the teacher called it. She was very brief in explaining what happened if you ever had a heat, there were always medical supplies to avoid all this. You sit on the foam before falling onto your side and sighing, you struggle with your jumpsuit, pushing it off so you only have your white singlet on. The door opens and you jolt sitting up, but relaxing as you see Lucy, she has a grim look on her face, blood on her face and chest, gun in her hand. 

"We need to go," She says simply, too simply too emotionless. 

"Lucy?" You question and her face falters and breaks as she forces a smile. 

"We can find Dad, we can go home soon" She coos and you're not sure if she's telling you or herself. 

"Lucy I can't" You mumble and she freezes.

"I'm going into heat I will slow you down and attract unwanted attention, we can connect our pip boy trackers-" You gulp a bit trying to control the emotions that bubble up. 

"I just need some food, water maybe, maybe if I take my meds now it won't be so bad" The truth is you don't want to go on, you're tired and need a break, and your body won't move from this spot you've claimed.

"Ok, I'll get you supplies" She whispers tears in her eyes as she walks out the door. 

She gathers supplies, she gets you food and water, alcohol too, she fills up a bag for herself also before sitting with you for a little bit before she says goodbye and she's gone, you watch her move on your pip boy before you lay back with a sigh. You barricade the door on shaky legs and make sure there is no other way anyone can get in. It's a stupid idea really, staying here and waiting out your heat, who knows if you'll even join up with her again? 

You're in and out of sleep, the heat becomes worse, your body sweats, slick coats between your thighs and your breathing is heavy. Caught between fevered dreams and reality till you hear footsteps. You tense up, hoping they can't get it, you made a pretty firm blockade.

"Omega?" You shudder and sag at the sound of the alpha you were travelling with, well forced to travel with. He'd been cruel though, more than once and you feel tears in your eyes like sand again. 

"Your sister left you?" He asks and he sounds pissed and you scoff quietly. 

"I made her leave" You call out trying not to sound like you're crying or showing any emotion. You haven't spoken much with the stranger, hell you don't know if he even has a name besides what the knight called him 'ghoul'. 

"I'll slow her down, she can find Dad and come back and we'll go home" A small sob leaves your lips, for some reason it isn't the truth. You hear him hum outside the door before he shuffles a bit before he lets out a big sigh. "I'd invite you to the party" He takes a sharp a breath before sighing. 

"Don't think that's your forte though darlin" he finishes and you're frowning, what party? There's no cake, no people out there as far as you know. 

"Don't overthink it" He chuckles and you feel yourself grow warmer that he knew you were. It's quiet for some time and you feel yourself drifting in and out of sleep, you've thrown your vault suit on the other side of the room and ate whatever dried fruit Lucy had found. 

"You awake in there omega?" You hear quietly. 

"It's dark out now, best be getting some sleep" He mutters, almost too soft for you to hear. 

"Why're you being nice?" You ask before you can think and you hear him chuckle. He doesn't answer though and it makes you frown harder before you give up on anticipation and fall asleep once more.

Next part ->

GHRHRHRHRRRR I HATE RAINY I HATE RAINY SO MUCH HOLY SHIT !!

{i may even be a hypocrite to him}

Wip, lol.

I didn't know how to draw his snout in this angle so I just covered it up with a book. I wanted to draw his leg prosthetic because it looked so cool but its covered up by his other leg... Realistically though, I think it would have killed me if I tried to draw something that detailed.

Anyways. Putting my reference down below.

(TW: Nudity)

"Le corps d'Hector" by Jacques-Louis David

(Oh yeah btw. Inspo from @viejonardo, my favorite gilf <3. Future Donnie Design belongs to @solreeds though.)

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On Ivan and bipolar disorder (part four)

Since this is (finally) the last part of this essay and I've already previously mentioned what it will be about, I don't have an introduction to make, but I do think I need to give a couple disclaimers before getting right into this mess. First one: I have a lot of explaining to do because this gets medical again and I can't just assume you all know exactly what I'm talking about and/or to what extent; I hope I won't overexplain or sound condescending. On this same note, I forgot to open part one by explaining that bipolar disorder is a chronic mental illness that is treatable through lifelong medication and not necessarily lifelong therapy but not curable because to me that's a given, so sorry if you didn't have much knowledge on the topic and had to read my yapping with little or even no context. Second one: I will be using some words (such as "delusional") that are to be taken literally, in the medical sense. I'm not saying this because I think you are all stupid of course, but to highlight the seriousness of what I've been talking about these past months; it seems to me that lately medical terminology regarding mental health has been watered down a lot by Internet culture to the point of it losing its meaning, with memes about being "delulu 🤪" or reducing mania to dyeing your hair by yourself at 2 AM leading people to not take these things seriously. I don't mean to be a spoilsport or anything, I like and share those memes too but I've actually been (hypo)manic and delusional in the past so I guess I have the right to joke about it at least. Maybe it's not that serious but I want it to be serious at least here, which is also why I've never referred to episodes as "mood swings". I don't do that in real life either, even when talking to people who don't know much about bipolar disorder, because I've always found the term reductive and misleading: everyone has mood swings, it came free with being a human being. In my opinion it contributes to the misunderstanding of this disorder and the people who have it; no, we are not moody by default and no, we don't change our minds every five minutes or are happy one moment and then suddenly sad the next (seriously, who came up with these stereotypes and how?), but I digress.

This said, let's get down to business. I want to start with one detail that is either one of the most absurd coincidences in the entire history of literature or proof that Dostoevsky was somewhat somehow familiar with bipolar disorder and decided to integrate some things he witnessed in Ivan's character (I guess without knowing, as at the time there was very little understanding of it to the point it wasn't really considered an illness and was referred to as circular insanity and later as manic-depression, which are both cooler names than bipolar disorder but again I digress) because I swear I can't find any other explanation for it: the timeline of The Brothers Karamazov. It might seem like a very small detail, but as soon as I figured out the timeline I thought of fucking course. Now, we all know the timeline of this novel is a little confusing at first as there are almost no indicators of how much time has passed between Alyosha running from one house to another first and shit going down second, but in the first half of the novel we know it all starts in late August and honestly I didn't make anything of it, but then the timeline becomes clearer after Dmitri's arrest and we end up in early November for the trial and I mean, nothing particularly interesting or peculiar about a book covering the events of a (little over) two-month timespan, right? Technically yes, because it's not the amount of time that has passed that matters, but the time of the year: if it all had, for example, taken place from late June to early August or from late December to early February I wouldn't even be talking about it, because there's no seasonal change taking place in those months. August to November, however, is another story. I also find it interesting that it's the change from warm to cold weather, as it's the one that's the hardest for most people (for me personally it's the opposite, the shift from Winter to Spring is a nightmare, but I'm a rare case when it comes to that); I don't really know why, but the seasonal changes are always delicate periods for people with bipolar disorder as they can trigger episodes, I guess it's pretty much the same mechanism that occurs in seasonal depression. So, let me lay the timeline out for you: the Karamazovs reunite in late August, Ivan leaves a few days after, Fyodor is murdered shortly after, so probably in early September and Dmitri is arrested the same night, then Ivan comes back five days later, the trial takes place in early November the day after Pavel hangs himself, and Dmitri is sentenced five days before the story ends with Ilyusha's funeral. This timeline detail seriously drives me insane because all the other puzzle pieces I've been putting together for a while could be related to other disorders/conditions as well, such as schizophrenia (schizoaffective bipolar disorder is a thing too but I don't have it so I can't really say anything about it) and autism (autism and bipolar disorder have a lot in common), or even to just personality, but this? It's a little too oddly specific in my opinion, but I'll just keep assuming it's a coincidence for the sake of my own mental health.

Anyway, this means the story starts when a seasonal change is approaching, which is already a delicate time on its own, and Ivan has to put himself in an unpleasant situation that has a high chance of turning into a shitshow (and it does): going somewhere he wants to leave as soon as possible to discuss things he doesn't want to discuss surrounded by people he doesn't want to deal with. That's not a good start at all and it would be enough to put me, someone who has been medicated for seven years, on edge (and it has in the past); no wonder he's pissed off all the time. And it's only the start since, as we all know, the worst is yet to come. I love that the reader only gets bits and pieces of the build-up of Ivan's episode through the other characters' points of view and I particularly love how said build-up reaches its climax; it doesn't happen when Ivan hallucinates the devil (as it's mentioned he's seen him before and has also had other similar experiences in the past, I'll get into that later), but exactly a moment before that. But first, let's focus on the main build-up moments we see bits and pieces of before that. I was impressed by how realistically the whole thing was portrayed, especially considering that at the time almost everyting about this disorder was unknown; still to this day, in 2024, many people think bipolar disorder is a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde situation, with the person being "normal" one day and waking up "crazy" the next like some sort of magic happening overnight, but that's straight up not true, it doesn't happen. Bipolar disorder is way more rational than one would think (very fitting for Ivan, isn't it?) and at times you do have an awful amount of self-awareness but can do nothing with it, it's kind of like being stuck in the passenger seat of a car with a broken steering wheel and broken breaks that's speeding straight against a wall; you know what's happening but can do nothing but watch and hope the crash won't be that painful. And that's how I felt reading too, every time I saw those bits and pieces of Ivan's story I thought oh no it's happening. And Ivan knows it's happening too, as we see in Book Eleven.

I've focused on The brothers get acquainted, Rebellion and The Grand Inquisitor already, but I have to mention them again because as I've already explained they're such a pivotal point; before that we don't really know what Ivan's deal is, but as soon as we get acquainted (sorry, I had to) with him we start to notice that something's definitely up, and there is one seemingly small detail that I just can't get out of my head: when Ivan gets up and starts walking after his talk with his brother, Aleksej points out to himself that he's swaying a little. Considering it's implied that Ivan has a problem with alcohol (it runs in the family after all) in other occasions too, that's probably an indicator that Ivan had been drinking during his stay. Not only is there a strong link between bipolar disorder and substance abuse (how could there not be? Shit's tough and sometimes you have to self medicate, especially in the 1800s), but alcohol and drugs can trigger episodes or make them worse; Ivan is also once again dealing with everything alone and trust me, that's recipe for disaster. And of course after that the aforementioned metaphorical car does nothing but gain speed and Ivan increasingly becomes angrier, restless and frantic: he has trouble sleeping, he starts isolating himself even more, he talks faster, his thoughts start racing, his speech pattern becomes more and more incoherent and he can't stay still as he's mentioned walking back and forth for seemingly no reason in different occasions; all textbook symptoms. He visibly looks sick too and bipolar episodes are known to take a toll on your physical appearance (I looked like a walking corpse for years) as well as having physical symptoms manifest along the psychological/psychiatric ones, such as headaches caused by stress, which Ivan frequently has, because stress is a major trigger for bipolar disorder (and Ivan is undeniably quite stressed). Sleep also plays a huge role when it comes to bipolar disorder as it can quite literally determine your faith: the the very first sign to watch out for if you feel something might be wrong is a change in sleeping habits; if they start changing significantly it means something's definitely up and you need to intervene as soon as possible (I have prevented episodes from either spiraling or happening at all like that but it takes years of practice). Ivan's sleep schedule, if we can even call it that, during his episode reminds me of my own during an insane (no pun intended?) mixed episode I've had and it makes sense since after every manic episode comes a "crash", and during mixed episodes you can crash back and forth for days; it happened to me. But what is a manic crash? It can be summed up with a simple phrase: what comes up must come down. It's like throwing a ball in the air, it reaches its peak up there and after that it's all downhill until it crashes down on the ground and the higher it goes, harder the crash: if you stay up all night while manic, you'll sleep all day while depressed, the more euphoric you are, the more dysphoric you'll be; so it makes sense for Ivan to sleep more and more as he "comes down". As for the fever, stress can do that. Brain fever is nothing but a 19th century literature thing because it's not a real diagnosis and at the time severe emotional and psychological upset was classified as either that or hysteria, which isn't a real diagnosis either.

Another puzzle piece that fits way too well is that little mention of him tidying his room himself despite having someone to do it for him; I know it's probably thrown in there to highlight his self-isolating independence, but cleaning and tidying are very common (to the point it's almost a cliché) activities to do when you're having a (hypo)manic or mixed episode because they help getting rid of all the extra energy and give you a sense of control over your life; for me it's almost compulsive (compulsions and obsessive thoughts are common in bipolar disorder because bipolar disorder is like three different conditions in a trenchcoat), I've found myself obsessively cleaning my bathroom every day for months and fighting the compulsion to do the dishes even when it wasn't necessary. It's mentioned that Ivan feels the increasing loss of control and is ashamed of it, which brings us to the very important topics, when it comes to him, of self-awareness and control.

I already mentioned it in part one but I want to say it again: control is crucial when it comes to bipolar disorder; something out of your control happening in your life or not having enough control over your symptoms and emotions is enough to send you down (or up) a dangerous path (sounds familiar?). It takes years of treatment to be able to deal with the unexpected and to let go of this control freak attitude, but Ivan is riding this rollercoaster with no seat belt so here we are. I think this reflects best in his attitude when visiting Pavel in the hospital after Dmitri's arrest, when Ivan says he came back from Moscow as soon as possible to fix the mess they all made in his absence. He's particularly keen on letting Pavel know he has no intention of playing games and it's clear he has a no bullshit allowed policy when it comes to his family, which checks out with what I went over in part three: Ivan's presence in the Karamazov household means quiet and order. Ivan definitely has a strong personality and to me it feels like that kind of strong personality one has to develop to stay afloat, and considering Ivan is not comfortable with showing "weakness"...well; I'll get to that later. I don't know if it's a middle child thing because I'm not a middle child but I'm the only diagnosed and medicated person in a family that feels more like an emotional minefield and let me tell you, I've been running that shit like it's the Navy for years and I'm pretty sure I'm the only case of a youngest son with eldest daughter syndrome in human history and yes, it's a bipolar thing. The need for control is so strong that it extends to your surroundings and therefore the people around you; I don't know how to explain it because it's not a manipulation thing, it's an I can't deal with my own emotions so having someone express theirs in an extreme way makes me uncomfortable and I also need a stable environment to not lose my mind so I need to de-escalate any situation that might trigger me thing; it's cleaning up after other people's mess for your own sake. And maybe a little savior complex, at least in my case. Anyway, if Ivan keeps his family stable he keeps himself stable as well, so he has to take matters into his own hands even when it's too late. Damage control is a very important skill if you have bipolar disorder.

I've already been over Ivan's visceral anger so I won't go over it again, but I want to spend a few words for that one part where he punches Pavel: been there done that, and normally I'm not even a violent person. It was a pretty similar situation too: someone had been tormenting me for months while I already wasn't doing good at all, took it too far one day and I just snapped; I didn't even mean to hit that person but it's not something you can gain control over when it gets to that point, so I get where Ivan was coming from and I'll defend him until the day I die.

Since I'm going in chronological order, as you might have already noticed, this means I've finally reached the fun part. Brace yourselves, this is going to be long. I don't have much to say about the whole devil ordeal that hasn't already been said, after all it's the most blatant manifestation of Ivan's mental health status, and I think it's more important to focus on what's around the hallucination rather than the hallucination itself. The first and most important thing I noticed is that Ivan is not scared, and it makes sense for him to not be because the narrator says that situation feels familiar to Ivan, making this the second time it's mentioned by the narrator that Ivan has a past history of both depressive and dysphoric manic (usually referred to as mixed) episodes, which alone qualifies for a formal bipolar disorder diagnosis; now that I think about it I could have just said this instead of making four posts about it, but where's the fun in that? Also I don't have enough information to armchair diagnose this 19th century fictional character with a specific type of bipolar disorder, so I laid out all the relevant information for you to interpet it however you want, if you're familiar with this stuff. I think he could be either bipolar I or bipolar II as there aren't many differences between those two types. For reference, I'm bipolar II (electric boogalo), which is usually mainly depressive and has less intense "ups" (mania when it's bipolar I and hypomania when it's bipolar II, but mania and manic are often used as umbrella terms and I've used them as such in this). Ivan's episode seems more mixed (having both manic and depressive symptoms at the same time, I should've explained it earlier, sorry) than purely manic and mixed episodes are more likely to happen in bipolar II and/or to those who start having symptoms in adolescence regardless of type and I think that checks out (go to part two for that). However, hallucinating a whole person and having conversations with them is a pretty big deal and my own hallucinations are nothing like that, usually hearing noises such as knocks on my door or seeing shadows or bugs at the corner of my eye and things looking slightly off and changing in shape and size; nothing big that I can interact with and I can easily ignore that the rare times it happens. Wikipedia says that any kind of hallucination classifies as mania, but my psychiatrists obviously know I've hallucinated in the past and still haven't changed my diagnosis so don't trust Wikipedia I guess, probably because my hypomanic episodes have never significantly impaired my ability to function (like they haven't significantly impaired Ivan's; trust me, he could be doing much worse). There is a lot of nuance that Internet articles lack in my opinion.

Anyway, let's go back to focusing on how Ivan feels: he's not scared, but he is exhausted and desperate. And it's heartbreaking. Not the hardest part of The Brothers Karamazov for me to read, not at all actually, but way too familiar. Ivan, who has a strong personality and a no bullshit allowed policy, who usually speaks in a firm voice and who refused to get help even if he knew his mental state was getting worse, breaks down (in private, of course) and begs and pleads; please leave me alone, shut up. He goes back and forth between desperation and rage (very mixed episode of him) and what struck me the most is how harsh his words are: almost every time the devil says something, Ivan replies with an insult or even more in a row. Yes, it's not that atypical of him considering how he talks and refers to Pavel or Dmitri, but it's, again, heartbreaking because he's never acted like that with them (or even with his father) and he knows the devil is actually himself. He's reserving his worst words, his worst attitude, his most burning and consuming rage and hatred, for himself. And he knows that. Worst thing of all to me is that at some point he covers his ears to not hear the devil, his own thoughts, and I've done that. Sometimes those thoughts are so loud that they seem to come from an outside source and covering your ears comes naturally. It obviously doesn't work. I have many other thoughts about Ivan's devil but they don't have much to do with bipolar disorder so maybe I'll write another post in the future if I feel like it. Also honorable mention to the thrown glass because apparently I've done something similar once even if I genuinely don't remember it at all (bipolar disorder also causes memory loss so you barely rememeber your episodes, it's kind of like trying to recall the events of a party you got drunk at, we're not getting into that though).

Maybe I see Ivan's story and character as less dark and tragic than the average reader does, because to most people constantly walking up and down restless with racing, out of control, incoherent thoughts and experiencing delusions and hallucinations is understandably a terrifying experience, but for me up until a couple years ago that was just a random Tuesday. I mean it is terrifying but you get used to it, after a while you understand the twisted logic bipolar disorder operates under and it becomes less scary (still is at times) and more annoying, you try to keep up with your meds and manage your symptoms as best as you can and just go on with your life while still trying to fight it when/if you can (it's less depressing than how I'm describing it I swear, I really don't know how to convey that feeling). I don't see myself as a walking tragedy or as doomed (anymore), mental illness is just mundane to me and so is to Ivan; I think Dostoevsky did a marvelous job at portraying just how uneventful it can feel from the inside and we see it the contrast between what's happening to Ivan and his reaction to it and also between the other characters' perception of him and his own perception of himself. There is nothing other than concern coming from his loved ones, no judgment, they acknowledge that he's unwell and they usually refer to him as such; Ivan on the other hand refuses to and therefore refuses to take care of himself or, God forbid, let others take care of him. He knew an episode was approaching, but as long as he was physically okay his mental state didn't matter to him. Ivan's biggest flaw is that he's independent and self-absorbed (for lack of a better word) in an unhealthy, negative, bipolar way and it only fuels his anger: the only valid judgment and opinion of himself is his own and he doesn't have a positive view of himself. The devil tells him the people at the trial will pity him and Ivan snaps; he doesn't want to be pitied, he doesn't want to be seen as "weak" because he has internalized refusal for "weakness" and "cowardice" (he asks himself if he's a coward in different occasions, sometimes straight up calling himself that). How could he not have internalized it? He was neglected growing up and as an adult he always seems to be held at an impossible standard due to the way his personality was forced to develop, from being expected to keep the peace between the Karamazovs to even after his father is brutally murdered; at the trial Ippolit Kirillovič says that if Ivan was so sure of his brother's innocence, why didn't go to the police after Smerdyakov's confession? To them that must mean said confession never happened and that Dmitri is the murderer, but in reality Ivan (poor thing) didn't go because he was delusional and thought the two of them were going to confess together the following day. People expect him to be able to think straight and fix his family's mess even when he can't. And still, he doesn't break down even at the trial: he's firm even in his delirium, he never falters, his voice never breaks, he's determined and strong like he's expected to be, even if the others can't see it. He does the right thing for himself, not caring about anyone else's opinion, and in a sense he's some sort of modern Cassandra, cursed to tell the truth without being believed by those who can save his family (and in some versions of Cassandra's myth she goes mad due to witnessing the fall of Troy). He never cries; there's only one mention of him crying in the whole novel and contrary to other characters crying, it's not something we are told by the narrator himself but it's thrown in a conversation between Katya and Alyosha by Katya. Ivan only cried in private, in front of the person who insisted to take care of him. This talk about his relationship with "weakness" and the (partial) act he puts up definitely makes more sense in relation to part three and I hope you get what I'm trying to say.

Speaking of the trial, I was struck by the attention brought to the Karamazovs', as a whole, ability to see and navigate through two opposite abysses. Dostoevsky, what the hell? Does it mean what I think it means? I don't know, but it sure is a familiar image to me and Dmitri does seem to walk the fine line between regular human behaviour and diagnostic criteria, but I don't have many thoughts about that, it could be anything really, mostly because none of them are actual real people. My own interpretation of those characters is more "literal" even if I know they're just tools to convey certain topics and messages and if you want to get more symbolic with them please do, I'd love to read it. Honestly I like the idea of a character with a heavily emotion-driven arc such as Ivan having a disorder that fucks with one's emotions so much; also seeing someone behaving like me being treated with tact and a particular kind of sensitivity by the other characters and the author himself is so special to me (at least considering the historical context, I mean they could've just thrown him in a madhouse and called it a day but nobody even thought about doing that) because uhm...I didn't receive such kindness growing up.

There are many characters from other books, movies, and shows that I love and relate to but have never seen as bipolar coded in any way, they were just relatable, but Ivan hits different as he's the first character I've seen that is so unapologetically bipolar. I've watched shows and movies with characters that canonically have bipolar disorder and even they can't hold a candle to him (let bipolar people or at least people who are familiar with them write bipolar characters I'm begging you). There isn't a single character from The Brothers Karamazov that I hate or even dislike (yes, not even Fyodor, he's not a good person but he's a good character) and all the brothers are special to me, but I just can't help having this soft spot for Ivan, I want to give him a hug and my meds.

I'm not really going to talk about Ivan's ending because while I do obviously have things to say, they don't belong here. I just want to say that him having an open and uncertain ending (I love open and uncertain endings) even more than the other characters do is very fitting.

And that's a wrap! Thanks for sticking with me and I hope this was an interesting and maybe even educational (there's a lot of ignorance regarding bipolar disorder and I try to raise awareness every time I can) read, but most of all I hope I managed to make sense. I like this part more than part three because I wrote it after surviving the seasonal change while during part three I was in the trenches but oh well, the past is past. No notes on part one and two, those are good I guess. Also I've said variations of been there done that a ridiculous amount of times in this whole thing but my Twitter display name is Ivan Karamazov kinnie for a reason. And I won't apologize for the shitty jokes by the way.

See you soon* with other literary analysis!

*= don't rely on my words too much, it could be tomorrow like it could be in ten years

a word to the wise sometimes the only true rest is looking beyond what you thought was success

so true! adamandi is full of wise advice such as this, including: "and you'll never feel better if you - fucking die- you stupid ass!"

once again posting a reminder (very gently, when you consider how fucking frustrated i am) that i am anti-kff! there are otherkin terms that people can use and, instead of educating themselves on this, they actively CHOOSE to belittle and bully otherkin folks, all while being a teensy tiny little bit ableist in how they go about it. its not a "erm these people are just minding their business and they're ALSO kin anyway" NO they are NOT. they are, by very fucking definition, either 'hearted or 'link (IF their connection is genuine ANYWAYS). that is NOT. KIN. and its kinda fucking telling if you think a community whose entire existence hinges on deliberate ignorance and harassment of a group is equal to the group theyre harassing and bastardising the terms and experiences of

normally we'd be moving into menkisser hours rn but im actually just really fucking tired so maybe not

The difference in energy between joshneku and beatneku is staggering lmao, like SUCH a vibe change. Beat & Neku r like that couple that's fucking sickening to be around bc they're yearning at the same time that they're literally all over each other, like stealing each other's drinks and buying each other flowers and holding hands even when it's severely inconveniencing. meanwhile I literally can't imagine joshneku as anything but hand in unlovable hand, I can make him worse also they divorce and get back together and divorce again like six times and each time Neku's like eating ice cream and sobbing on Shiki's well-adjusted lesbian lap while she's fucking sweating trying not to tell him she got engaged to Eri last month and Beat's just eating drywall from the pain of not killing Joshua with his bare hands  

@dustednight thanks sm for the tag!! ik this is really late (exams and the coming back of dapg have consumed me i fear) but here are my favourite books ever:

tagging @polar-bears-making-pancakes @neonvqmpire @elissaflowers @sinninghowlter @rosblad @obv10usly and @really-quite-exhausted only if you want to and also really anyone who sees this dont be shy!!

crying bc the final line of astarions dialogue the morning after killing cazador is "this is a gift you know. thank you - i wont forget it" which is like what he said after you first let him drink your blood

UR GINGER???

im sorry ophelia, but idk if we can be friends anymore </3 im gingerphobic

/J /J

Oh boy /lh/nm

fascinating message from my mother vis a vis the camera in the living room that i unplug any time she leaves. her reasoning is that shes been cheated on in the past, so shes paranoid and needs to keep track of who's coming into the house. my reasoning, i feel, is that reason makes 0 sense because i am her Son, and if i bring someone into the house thats not... even close to the same thing??? what the fuck kind of logic line is that??? i might be doing secret illicit relationship stuff with... my own boyfriend? in my house where i live? what kind of an example for needing the cameras is that????? shes not in a relationship anymore, my """"dad"""" moved out already. what is the fucking issue here.

Can’t tell if I’m so anxious because of drug withdrawal or it’s just because I have a bad brain 😓