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licorice-tea · 5 months

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Don’t Fall In Love With Me (Yet)

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x reader

Content: strawhat!reader, gender neutral reader, feelings and fluff (my faves🤞🏽), so much tension, no resolution of that tension… yet😏, lowkey “i hate everyone but you” trope, very brief mention of some canon typical violence, but no actual violence <3

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: lalalalala i love law😇 i actually wrote about twice as much as what’s here to begin with, but i felt like it was too long for one post, so i might upload it as a second part later if anyone wants that! as always ty for the love, and i hope you enjoy! (did i write this instead of finishing part 3 of my Zoro mini series? perchance. (that will be up soon though!))

Part 2

It’s a day like any other on board the Thousand Sunny- calm waters, music, occasional shouting, and just one abnormality. Law, captain of the Heart Pirates, is a guest on board the Strawhat Crew’s ship in the aftermath of Dressrosa. And despite their hospitality, he finds practically everything about life on board their ship to be draining…

Every potentially quiet moment is interrupted by the crew’s shenanigans.

For starters: the cook and swordsman argue over every little thing, and most of their arguments escalate into fights. The navigator is actually a petty thief or a con-artist at best, and her double, the sniper, takes it upon himself to cause dangerous explosions at least once a day. The musician is an incredibly loud pervert, though the shipwright is somehow even louder and more dramatic. The archeologist is alright- she’s quiet, but Law finds her constant observation more eery than comforting. And the captain is still somehow convinced that his doctor could be used as a source of “emergency food.” Then there’s you; the one who brings whatever you’re working on at the time up to the deck so you can work in the sunlight, wears your weapons like they’re accessories, who only takes breaks from working to visit with your nakama, and always offers a charming smile when you catch Law staring… which happens multiple times in the course of the day.

Law is often irritated, rigid, and cold- so different from your own optimistic and nonchalant demeanor. At breakfast, he doesn’t talk much. Just eats his meal and thanks Sanji before excusing himself to go pour over anatomy books from the ship’s library. He does so for hours, not once joining the Strawhat Crew on deck or even taking time to explore the ship on his own. Nami frequents the library, as well, but she’s taken to drawing maps in her room or on deck since their guests arrival. When night begins to settle overhead, he may return to the kitchen for a cup of coffee, before going right back to his work.

At first, one might have been inclined to think Law didn’t like y/n at all. They can often see his gaze trained on them form from the corner of their eye, but chooses to ignore it sometimes and address it with a smile others. He almost never speaks to them if possible, only offering a nod or a mumbled response to whatever they says. But, he goes out of his way to sit by them at mealtimes and to find himself in the same narrow hallways as them, so that their arms brush. Those are the moments he obsesses over in his mind while he dozes off from his textbooks- the feel of their skin against his, and their kind acknowledgements- always void of harsh judgment.

It’s not just the lack of cruelty in essentially eveything they do, to Law; it’s the presence of love. Love for their nakama, their work, people and places they barely know, even him. He doesn’t recall ever having met someone so full of love that goes beyond superficial kindness- because they can be sarcastic and moody at times- besides perhaps Corazon.

And to y/n, there’s just something about Law that peaks their interests. Maybe it’s the feeling of having someone new around, or something even more indescribable and foreign to the pirate.

Zoro is asleep in the men’s cabin tonight, so y/n is keeping watch. It’s the usual arrangement for the 2 night owls of the crew- when Zoro has truly exhausted his body, he sleeps below deck with the others, and y/n has no trouble staying up through the night.

They turn on some quiet music on their speaker, a must have for any music lover. For a while, they just watch the sea and sky. Nights at sea are like a blackout. But, there is no need for light with strong eyesight and the even stronger moon and starlight.

So it’s no surprise that they see, just out of the corner of their peripheral vision, the top of a white and black speckled hat bobbing up and down as it moves toward the kitchen. Y/n’s eyes widen ever so slightly and their breath catches in their throat. The guest makes them feel silly, in a way, for not being able to discern their own feelings toward him, nor his toward them. They get so caught up in their thoughts about him that eventually they give up. Y/n shakes their head, mentally chastising themself for even being embarrassed or flustered in the first place. And with that confidence boost, they decide to go talk to him.

Next thing they know, y/n is standing before the kitchen door with no plan in mind for what they’re going to say to their crew’s ally. They open the door, but he doesn’t look up from the coffee brewing on the stove.

Y/n clears their throat to announce their presence, and Law whips his head around to see who it is. They offer a friendly smile and a little wave.

“Hi.” They speak softly, as if afraid to break the peace of the night.

A beat passes with no response from Law. Internally, he wishes they hadn’t walked in on him at this moment. The light from the overhead lamp catches in their eyes, and he feels entirely too seen. Not in the way he feels seen by someone like Robin, though, whose constant observation makes him feel uncomfortable; like one wrong move and he’ll have hell to pay for. No; y/n sees him and he’s scared that he might start spewing nonsense to avoid revealing his feelings. And suddenly his cheeks are on fire, and everything is quiet, and all he can focus on is the stars in their eyes that he tries so desperately to look away from.

They tilt their head, likely in concern, and he pulls himself out of his thoughts to mumble, “Hey.”

“Cant sleep?” y/n questions, their starry eyes (as described by Law) flickering over the coffee pot on the counter and back to him.

Law shrugs, then pulls his hat lower over his eyes to hopefully hide his warm face. “I wasn’t trying to sleep.”

“Hm…” they hum in response, “Want to keep watch with me then? If you aren’t busy.”

He thinks they’re just being friendly, like always. When they first met, Law was confused. It made no sense for someone so mild mannered to have a bounty of well over 500 million (now almost double that amount in the time that’s passed), though he didn’t doubt that looks could be deceiving. But even in the midst of battle, of which the two had been in several together, they refused to take kill shots or anything of the sort. So he was still unsure of how they had earned such an impressive reward for their capture. Still, they clearly had a high regard for life, and he had come to learn that they truly were just that kind hearted, not to mention witty and generous. And judging by the “Sora: Warrior of The Sea” sticker he’d noticed on small a journal they carried, which was one amongst many; a bit of a nerd, too. All of these things and more had made Law secretly impartial to them. Or at least, those were the reasons he has listed in his mind to make sense of these feelings.

So he nodded, much to their surprise, and mumbled again “Sure.”

The curve of their smile opens up into a grin, and y/n leaves while fully expecting Law to follow (whenever his coffee was ready.) Which, he does.

#part 2?#one piece x reader #one piece x you #fanfic #one piece #law x reader #x reader #law fluff #trafalgar law #law x you #straw hats #straw hat pirates #straw hat reader #teehee #i love writing fanfic😇#new hobby😈

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undercoverpena · 7 months

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little cute things to remember (because it’s been a while since we’ve done this):

✨ you’re more that the notes or the followers you get: outside of the obvious, sometimes a fic is a grower (it’ll find people in time) and sometimes it’s because people are storing your work away ready to read when they need comfort. your worth isn’t attached to your numbers, it’s your storytelling, your soul and kindness. plus, if you love it, that’s one super fan—and anyone else is a bonus.

🌙 you don’t have to write X to fit in/be seen: just like we don’t eat the same meal every day, people’s interests change. what is popular changes, but what doesn’t change is what makes you happy. so, write that because that means your heart will be in it.

🌾 it’s okay to be nervous about connecting with people you admire: but I promise it’ll be worth it. work up to it, take the time you need, but I promise (from someone who is a chronic worrier and big ball of anxiety) everyone will be just as thrilled to hear from you, as you are to hear from them.

🪴 your process is your process, own it: I see people worry about not posting enough, and those who worry they post too much. your process, your writing, your blog at the end of the day, is yours. if people don’t like it, they know where the unfollow button is. you’re doing amazing, you’re doing what you want, when you want it, with the time you have. don’t let anyone take your shine.

🔑 I don’t think I can write X or Y or Z: that’s okay. you don’t have too. even if they’re wildly popular or it’s your fave character/trope to read, it’s okay if you find it overwhelming to write. but, try. even in private, even if it never makes it online and stays in a private discord with your bestie. sometimes, it’s scary to take the leap, but sometimes it’s also pretty fucking great.

🩷 for my anxious, worrying souls: sometimes, it does feel lonely. it feels like you’re shouting into a void, surrounded by people, but still on the outskirts of the convos, the chats, the places, the fandom. it’s one of two things: perspective—your brain, as wondrous as it is, is also very cruel, and twists good things into bad (like a disney forest that if you go too deep into begins to look eerie) or you just need to find your person. the one you send all your thoughts to, the one who learns all the intricacies of your life, your routine, easily. it can be hard (and intimidating) to find them, but you will. they’re out there, waiting for you as much as you are for them.

☁️ what makes fandom great is not just the works we find along the way, but the souls we find and connect to. fandom is about supporting art, sharing, loving, enjoying, but it’s also about having fun, being in a space you can curate that makes you smile, and doing so with people who get you, who understand why you love that movie (even if it’s not rated that great) and love you for it all the same.

🫂 do what’s best for you: you don’t want to tackle that fic now, that’s okay. you want to change fandoms, that’s okay. you want to take a break and come back. you want to be around, connecting but not writing for a while, that’s super cool. you want to press pause, hide, lurk for a moment, you do you bby. ignore that pressure you feel on your shoulders, it’s not real. those who love your work, your words, your style, your heart will be here. there’s only one you, and if you burn out at both ends, all you’ll be given is a version of you that you’ll look back on and not like to be reminded of.

lots of love,

jo (undercoverpena) 💕

#kind things #jo’s thoughts

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mrsshabana · 9 months

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Patient!Gyutaro x Nurse!Reader - CHAPTER 3

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

✦ CW: 18+ MDNI, female reader. Dead dove: do not eat. Extreme violence, mentions of self harm, mentions of non-con, mental illness, torture, physical and mental harm, abuse, altered mental state.

✦ AN: This chapter is very very disturbing. Please read all of the content warnings and proceed with caution.

✦ WC: 1,983

It took hours for you to get up from the floor.

Hours for your tears to stop flowing from your eyes. And days for the pain to recede enough for you to be able to function properly. Not that you did.

Things were never the same after that.

You couldn’t bear seeing him again. But you do. Even though you haven’t stepped foot in that asylum for a week, you still see him every day. Remnants of him on your body every time you look in the mirror. And his face appears every night in your dreams.

You took a leave of absence for a week after the incident. You had planned to search for a new job in the meantime, but instead you stayed in bed all week and cried. Every time you looked into the mirror it’d trigger a panic attack, ending with you huddled in on yourself on the bathroom floor. Breath staggered, eyes wide, and skin under your nails because you can’t stop scratching. You can feel him inside of you. You tried everything to get him out… but it’s like he’s a part of you now.

Maybe that’s why you came back.

Came back to the asylum… back to him. Even though you hate him, you feel like a part of you is missing when he’s not around. Like you had to get back to him to fill some kind of void. A void that he created, a place in your heart that only he could fit into.

The marks aren’t gone, the ones that he left for you as a symbol of his ownership. You have to wear a scarf now to cover the bruises. So deep that even after a week they haven’t subsided. And the new ones on your wrists. Though not from him, you made them because of him. Hopefully no one will notice.

.・゜゜・　♰　・゜゜・．

Walking into the asylum for the first time in seven days, it feels strangely inviting, like this is where you belong. It’s early in the morning so you figure that Gyutaro will still be asleep.

The fluorescent lights flicker down the hallway as you make your way to his dimly lit room. Your heart pounds in your chest. Approaching his door feels like signing your soul away to the devil, but at the same time it feels like being embraced by an angel.

Peeking inside you see that his room is empty. This isn’t right. Why is his room empty? His room is still filled with his stuff so you know they haven’t moved him.

Going back to the nurses station in this wing, you look through the patient records for today to try and figure out where they took Gyutaro. They always keep track of all of the patient’s information here, like when they are given meals, therapy sessions, family visits, etc. Everything is kept track of.

“Here we go,” you mumble to yourself, finally finding Gyutaro’s file for this week. He was taken to room 44B. You don’t bother reading what for, all that matters is that you get to your patient.

The room isn’t far, just through the door on the left and at the end of the hallway.

Leisurely walking through the hall, enjoying the sunlight warming your skin as it shines through the barred windows.

“HELP ME!!”

A blood curdling, raspy scream interrupts the pleasant moment. It sends shivers down your spine, and for some reason causes your eyes to well up with tears.

“GET MY NURSE!! PLEASE!!”

The voice screams in desperation from the end of the hall. You know that voice but you refuse to believe it’s him. He’s never sounded so, so helpless. It’s so jarring that you feel frozen.

“NURSE Y/N!! HELP ME!! PLEASE!!”

The voice gets more desperate.

“NO!! NO!! I’M SORRY! PLEASE GET NURSE Y/N!!”

The room rumbles and the lights flicker as your body moves on its own, desperately trying to get to him.

“Mr. Shabana!” You shout, tears rolling down your cheeks as you open the heavy metal doors at the end of the hall.

The sight before you is straight out of a horror film.

Lights flickering violently. A high pitched electric ping ringing through your ears.

Gyutaro lays on his back, wrists and ankles strapped to the bed sitting in the middle of the room. Two nurses stand beside him, one to his left, another to his right. And a doctor stands behind his head, holding some strange device to Gyutaro’s temples.

His eyes stay wide and his body convulses violently as he’s electrocuted.

A disturbing whine rumbling in his chest, muffled by the cloth in his mouth.

The sight is so overwhelming that you feel as though you are being electrocuted in place as well. Seeing him in a position of weakness and pain should bring a smile to your face. He does deserve it for what he’s done to you, doesn’t he? That’s how you should feel.

When the doctor sees you, he removes the device from Gyutaro’s temples.

“Ah nurse Y/N,” he smiles calmly, “You’re back from your leave I see. Would you like to assist me?”

He narrows his red eyes, and motions for you to come forward. His long black hair held neatly behind him in a ponytail. You’ve seen this doctor around before but you’ve never spoken to him, only heard rumors about his short temper.

“Oh um… y-yes sir,” mindlessly agreeing and moving beside him. Looking down at Gyutaro, his body is in a state of shock and it seems as though he is in no state to register what’s going on.

“One more round should be enough to do the trick,” the doctor grins and hands you the metal device, “Just place these pads on his temples and I’ll turn on the switch.” His voice is low as he speaks.

You nod and hesitantly move the device to Gyutaro’s head. Looking down at him, he looks so pathetic and weak. Just like you had. But you’re the one in control now, and he’s at your mercy.

Gyutaro’s eyes slowly roll back to look at you, a single tear rolling down his cheek as he whimpers. As if he’s begging to be shown mercy.

But where was your mercy when he violently assaulted you?

The doctor ups the voltage and flips the switch, sending a powerful electric shock straight through the device and into Gyutaro’s body.

This should bring you pleasure. It should make you happy! He deserves this doesn’t he? After what he’s done! Feeling sympathy for such a monster would only mean you are just as bad as him.

The restraints clack against the metal bed frame as his muscles contract from the second electric shock sent through his body. The shock is so strong that even after the doctor ceases his ministrations and you remove the device, Gyutaro’s body is left trembling in place. Contorted and petrified, eyes wide open, teeth clenched tightly around the gag that muffles the inhuman wail that continues to come from him. It’s eerie how the sound doesn’t falter, continuously leaving him as if his soul is trying to escape the prison of his body.

“There,” the doctor takes the device from you and pats your back, “Well done Miss Y/N! Mr. Shabana will be on his way to recovery with your help.”

Staring down at Gyutaro’s pained body, you can’t take your eyes off of him. “Y-yes… he will,” your voice cracks as tears roll down your cheeks in unison with the ones rolling down Gyutaro’s.

After the electroshock therapy, Gyutaro is left a lifeless husk. Unable to do anything, move his body, or even speak, you and the doctor have to pick up his body after removing his restraints and put him into a wheelchair.

You cry all the way back to his room. The other nurses give you confused glances as you push the most violent patient through the halls. His body sits limp in the chair, barely able to hold himself up as a continual low moan escapes his lips.

Getting back to his room you quickly close the door, not caring that it’s against protocol, and assist Gyutaro onto the bed.

He’s heavier than he looks. Propping him up on your shoulder in an attempt to hold him up, but you’re too weak. He falls back into the chair.

“Mr. Shabana? Can you hear me?” kneeling down in front of him, you hold his cheek in your palm.

He doesn’t even move his eyes to look at you, his head moves heavily in your hand. Able to maneuver him as if he’s a life sized doll.

“Please Mr. Shabana,” you whimper as you start to break down, “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.”

Leaning forward and wrapping your arms around him, you bring him forward in a warm embrace. You sob on your knees, resting your forehead on his chest. He doesn’t react at all, just sits there and lets you use his body for comfort.

You lose track of time as you cry into his shirt and spew incoherent apologies he doesn’t deserve.

“Gyutaro,” you look up at him and wipe your eyes. This time his irises move slowly in your direction.

“Y…Y/N,” he groans. You can barely make out the word as drool slips from his mouth and down his chin.

“Yes! That’s it Gyutaro, it’s me,” you smile through your tears, “I’m here, don’t worry.”

Pulling a tissue out of your pocket and using it to wipe his face. You caress his cheek and move his face to look at you, “How are you feeling?”

He stares at you with an unchanging, lifeless expression. It’s terrifying seeing him this way, you rather he be his usual cruel self than be a hollow shell.

You don’t know what to do. His brain is so fried that he can’t even manage to speak, let alone comprehend the words coming out of your mouth. Occasional spasms tremor through his body, causing his limbs to twitch.

Deciding that the best thing for him right now would be rest, you put your arms under his armpits and attempt to move him onto the bed again.

“I’m going to move you to the bed, ok? Can you stand for me, sweetie?”

You do most of the work, but he barely holds himself up with trembling legs. This time you’re able to get him onto the bed. Gently laying down his body and sitting beside him.

“I’m going to let you rest now, I’ll come back to check on you in an hour,” you say as you move his hair away from his eyes.

As soon as you look away and start getting up to leave, you hear a faint whimper. A shaky hand weakly trying to grab your arm.

“D-don’t… leave me…” he croaks, watery eyes spilling tears onto his cheeks, “Please.”

Seeing this man crumble before you should feel good. It was only last week that he had assaulted you, mercilessly taking advantage of your body, showing no mercy. He was so strong back then, and look at him now.

But seeing him in this state doesn’t feel good. The pain you feel is excruciating, almost worse than what he had put you through that day.

“Oh Gyutaro,” you can’t stop your tears from flowing, “I’ll never leave you.” Sobbing as you crawl into the bed beside him. He latches onto you like a child holding onto its mother.

Gyutaro wraps his arms and legs around you, clutching onto you like if you left it’d mean he’d die. His only comfort would be gone and he’d lose it. Nuzzling his head into your chest, he soaks in your warmth as he rides out the painful spasms that shake through his body.

“You’re safe with me,” you whisper to him, stroking his hair to comfort him, “I will never abandon you.”

Taglist: @gyusimp @sterzin @sassysaxsolo @cry-baby-stuff @hutchilli @rasshu-benaio @pastelbluecloudy3 @idekwhyihavethisl @migueloharaslovingwife

#gyutaro #gyutaro shabana #gyutaro x reader #gyutaro x y/n #gyuutarou x reader #gyuutarou #nurse au #nurse reader #dead dove do not eat

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jo-harrington · 6 months

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Magnificum et Horribillis (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Pairings/Relationships: Older!Eddie Munson/Reader

Warnings/Themes: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Philosophical Themes, Allusion to Chronic Pain and Depression, Vague Smut, Life and Death as Abstract Themes, Suicidal Ideation, Big Feelings Ahead BEWARE

Note: This started as a poem for @somnambulic-thing but it evolved into fic. Because I kept writing more and of course it did. Will also give a little shout to @deathbecomesthem because they’re always here for my little sad girl writing.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

---

There are more bad days than good.

You are more bad than good.

A nidus of wicked thoughts and words and feelings that wrack through you, body and soul.

Pain.

Some ancient angel or large primordial bird put you together one brittle, misshapen twig at a time until, from the abstract, came you. And since then, you were a bitter pill that seemed to poison and infect those around you. It could have been the end for you time and again but the void spat you out, unable to stomach you.

Even Satan rejected you.

Or so it seemed.

The thoughts always weighed heavily on your mind, inescapable. But that's why you were where you were, staring somewhat unseeingly at the person across from you.

A stranger in a waiting room, fiddling with new patient paperwork.

“Edward?” The receptionist called.

“Eddie,” he insisted as he turned toward the little window. “It’s Eddie.”

"I forgot to give you Dr. Bishop's questionnaire."

He’d shot you a tight-lipped smile as he’d stood and you let it bounce off of you, not out of disinterest but from too-slow reflexes. Everything about you was too slow, layered in sludge, and corrupt. You blinked and watched him then, from your perch, waiting for your own name to be called. Watched the heavy way he carried himself. Legs slightly weak, whether his muscles couldn’t support his body or his troubles...you couldn’t be sure.

Possibly both.

Beautiful and broken.

You recognized that in him.

Beautiful because he was broken.

Just like you.

Dr. Crane opened the door and called your name now. You offered Eddie a similar smile as you walked past him.

Offer him a silent kindness.

You didn't know it yet, but this was the reason you were turned away from the gates of hell.

A second chance. For both of you.

It would be alright.

---

You held your hands out over the sticky table beside his. Comparing them. Size, shape, rings, and shakiness.

Yours worse because of your nerves, his because of his pills. Somehow he still can keep his still enough for his job at the sign shop. And you when you’re typing reports or writing up notes during meetings.

“It’s because they have a purpose,” he said sagely. “When we’re doing things they have a purpose so they know they can’t shake.”

“When did you get to be so smart?” You tease.

“Shut up.”

The waitress comes with your lunches and your hands try to retreat to your side of the booth but Eddie grabs one of them and runs his thumb over your knuckles as the plates get dropped and drinks refilled.

She comes with one more dish and begins the pomp and circumstance. You shoot a glare across the table at him; he always had to have some kind of spectacle about him, even now that he was, as he proclaimed, older and “mellowed out.”

You could only imagine how he was as a kid or in high school.

“I ordered flaming saganaki while you were in the bathroom,” he explained.

“I hate you.”

“You know you’ll have some.”

And you did.

These were special times. Cherished times between the two of you, where the dread of the world couldn’t reach you through the buffer of forks clacking on plates and ambient noise of people talking around you at other tables.

Late nights with Eddie at the Greek diner; holier than church.

“You know,” he said tentatively between mouthfuls of food. “You don’t have to have a purpose.”

“No?”

“I thought so for a while after…” he trailed off and you shifted in your seat.

“You don’t need to talk about it.” You told him. “We agreed that we were starting fresh. Together.”

“Yeah but I know how you are in there,” he grinned and tapped the side of his head. “Thinking of how you can be more purposeful, so maybe you’ll forget everything going on. I thought that way too, after everything. Keep busy. Play the guitar. Make the effort to see my friends. Otherwise they’d forget me. And all it did was…make me tired. Did too much, burned myself out.

“To rest is sometimes the greatest purpose you can have.”

Eddie shot a pointed look across the table.

“Ok,” you nodded. He was right. You had been thinking that. Fleetingly.

His brow got tighter.

“What? I said ok?!” You held your hands out. It was more than a fleeting thought. He grabbed fries off your plate and shoveled them into his mouth to distract from the awkward moment.

But he got his point across.

He knew you too well. Even after a few weeks. Two sides of the same coin.

Was it too early to say you loved him?

---

You’re so strong.

It echoes in your head as you lay there, too tired to scream and cry anymore, too much feeling, too much emotion.

You are simply too much for your body.

It was a bad day.

You told that to your mom on the phone and she came over anyway. "You're stronger than anyone realizes, even you." What a slap in the face. You didn’t need to be strong. You needed to be left alone to rot here for a little while. Broken body, broken mind, broken soul.

She didn't understand that, she never did.

And so you screamed it at her.

The culmination of how she could fix your life, you just needed to listen to her, when she refused to listen to you. You had always been this abstract concept. A doll for her to dress up and play pretend with, not a human.

Years of pain you didn't mean to reflect back at her, but you did anyway.

Because you were weak.

Because it was a bad day.

"Something's gotta change," she shook her head as she stormed out. "There's something seriously wrong with you."

You knew that.

But it still hurt.

And then she called Eddie.

"She's just worried about you," he laid down next to you.

"Can she stop?" you asked. "Her obligation to me is over. She's not a mother anymore. She's been released from her sentence."

"Wayne--"

"I don't want to hear about Wayne," you wrenched your eyes shut, squeezed them shut, because you could feel the poison building in you again and you knew that you couldn't control it if the beast deep inside you wanted to attack. You couldn't do that to him. "Wayne is great. And even if he wasn't, it's not the same. So please..."

"I just..."

You turn and stare at him with wide, pleading eyes.

"Please Eddie."

He's never seen you like this; you wanted to hide this part of yourself from him. You wouldn't blame him if he ran away.

And as your body gave up on you again, you expected the bed to shift and the door to squeak open and slam shut.

But it never did.

"Alright," he whispered and shifted closer. Not touching. Just...closer. The heat of him brushing the length of your body. Enough for now. "I get it."

---

If the diner was holy, this was a place of insurmountable divinity.

Whispered words floating over skin and evaporating.

An orgasm secondary to a confession.

The closeness to one another, in body and in spirit, meant more than anything.

“I thought it was going to be over,” he muttered against your cheek. “I wanted it to be over. Finger on the trigger. A friend stopped me. And I hated him for it.”

You’re silent as he uses you, just as you’ve used him a hundred times. You open your mouths and swallow one another’s sorrows. It’s your own form of soothing and healing. Like licking a wound.

A doctor, a therapist, a friend could only hear so much. This was an act of consuming…becoming…

Was it healthy? Probably not.

But neither of you were.

“I’m exactly what they said I am.”

You feel his tears now. Or yours. They’re one in the same here. You are one in the same. Magnificent and horrible, the two of you.

“I’m nothing. I’m a freak. I’m a monster.”

“You’re my monster,” you whisper.

He spilled himself inside of you and all of his sorrow, expelled, warmed you from within.

---

You stared at the casket.

There was no hole in your chest.

No pain, no fear, no anger, no sorrow.

No numbness either.

Simply peace.

Death was peaceful. An old friend. Even if He wasn’t here for you this time.

You and Eddie had joked, the many times when you dragged him and the single time he dragged you to funerals like these, how yours would be.

Everyone mourned in their own way. You both liked to laugh.

“I want the full weekend at Bernie’s treatment,” he whispered conspiratorially. “Call my friends Gareth and Jeff and have them walk me around the room.”

“I want,” you upped the ante then, “you to make a life accurate paper mache model of me for the casket and halfway through the memorial, you beat me with a stick.”

“Can I put candy inside? Like a piñata?”

“You see the vision,” you kissed him proudly, happy that you found someone who found humor in your twisted ideas.

And you both liked to be unapologetically yourselves.

“You know those songs?” He started.

“The ones you think I don’t know about?” You rested your head on his shoulder. “Yeah.”

“Don’t throw em out or anything if I ever…” he shrugged. “Yeah. Make copies of them at the library or something.”

“Maybe I’ll get them published, like poems. The Unfinished Works of Edward J. Munson.”

“Like Mozarts Requiem.”

“So you do listen to my tapes.”

“When you aren’t home and I need to clear the ol’ nog, yeah.”

“Knew it,” you grinned triumphantly. There was a beat.

You wanted to ask him to look through your pictures, to remember you for who you were and not some idealized perfect thing like other people spoke of in a eulogy. You wanted him to remember you for the raw and wild thing that fought and spat and hissed and also loved and loved.

But you didn’t need to say it, because you knew he would.

You saw each other. Honored each other. The good and bad. The beautiful, broken, and incomplete.

He would make sure, if the time came, the world would know exactly who you were. Because he knew.

You took his shaky hand in yours and squeezed.

“You ok?” Eddie asked and pecked a kiss onto your head as you watched the casket be lowered into the ground.

“Yeah,” you smiled.

It was a good day.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #Eddie Munson angst #tw: death #tw: suicide

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crissiebaby · 8 months

Text

Codi's Trick

DISCLAIMER: This story contains diaper usage, diaper filling, masturbation/diaper sex, slime transformation, humiliation, and other ABDL themes. I hope you enjoy!

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“This is never going to work!”

“Shhhhh! Try to be optimistic.”

“We’re too old for this!”

“I keep telling you, no, we’re not! And I triple-checked. This neighborhood is Little friendly. We have nothing to worry about.”

*DING DONG*

Lifting her finger off of the doorbell, Crissie stepped back with a giddy expression on her face. Dressed up as a non-specific, non-mouse house princess, she quickly cozied up next to her partner in crime, Codi, huddling close for warmth on the chilly October night. She tugged at her short skirt which did nothing to hide her bulky diaper as a gust of wind moved between her thighs. “I really should’ve worn stockings,” she said, forcing a heavy exhale and watching the white cloud of steamy breath form mid-air.

“I told you!” said Codi, rolling her eyes and shrugging Crissie off of her. Per Crissie’s orders, she was wearing a fancy prince costume that she’d pilfered a few years prior. At least she had something on that covered all of her body on such a cold evening. She’d never been one to retain heat well. That being said, she wasn’t thrilled about the massive diaper bulge she was rocking thanks to the tight pants she had on.

After waiting for a few seconds, Crissie and Codi could hear footsteps moving closer to the door. Readying a big smile, Crissie was excited to tell her first knock-knock joke of the night. She’d been preparing for over a month with a book she bought online, much to Codi’s dismay. Codi, on the other hand, took the time to quickly check the hem of her pants, making sure that the diaper she had on wasn’t poking out. She didn’t need to make her padded status any more pronounced.

The door swung open and a kindly-looking woman who had to be pushing 50 years old stepped out with a bowl of candy in hand. “Trick or treat!” shouted Crissie before elbowing Codi to repeat the phrase.

“T-trick or treat,” muttered Codi, avoiding eye contact with the middle-aged woman as she held her empty candy bag forward, “Sorry if we’re a bit too old for this. It’s my first time so I don’t really know the rules very well.”

Patting Codi gently on the head, the older woman giggled at her apology. “Oh, deary, there’s no need for that. Everyone deserves the chance to do some candy begging. No matter how old you get, it’s what's in here that matters, and I can tell you have a youthful spirit,” she said, pointing to Codi’s heart, “Now, as a first-timer, you should know that the cost of a piece of candy is your finest joke.”

“Ooh! I’m so ready for this!” said Crissie, clearing her throat an excessive amount, “Why is Cinderella so bad at sports?”

Suppressing a chuckle, the older woman asked simply, “Why?”

“Because her coach is a pumpkin!” yelled Crissie, leaping into the air on the punchline thanks to her child-like energy going off the charts. She held her decretive, princess-themed candy basket forward, watching with hungry eyes as the woman dropped a small handful of miniature candies into her basket.

Having completed her trick-or-treat joke, all eyes turned to Codi, filling her heart with anxiety. With her eyes trained on the older woman’s dark brown flats, she mumbled, “W-What kind of medicine do witches use on their warts?” Internally, she cringed at the joke she had picked out. It wasn’t extremely funny but it was the only one to get a chuckle out of her when Crissie was reading that dumb joke book non-stop.

Before the older woman could ask for the answer, Codi blurted it out nervously, too on edge to play along with human joke conventions, “I don’t know, but whatever it is isn’t working.” She laughed under her breath after finishing the joke, trying to fill the void of awkward silence that followed.

“Haha! That’s hilarious! Best joke I’ve heard all night,” said the woman, cackling generously. While to many, it would be obvious that she was laughing along for Codi’s sake, Codi was still new to the way Earth people talked and took her words at face value. She curled her lips inward and produced a soft smile, happy to receive such glowing praise.

“But! But! What about the Cinderella joke?!” shouted Crissie, bouncing on the tips of her feet with a pouty expression, “That was the best one too, right?!”

The older woman giggled at Crissie’s immaturity, finding her bratty behavior adorable. “Of course, you two are both hilarious,” she said, giving Crissie the same headpat treatment that Codi was getting, “In fact, since you both are so funny, why don’t I give you an extra special treat? I have a sheet of cookies cooling on my stovetop. Would you two like one?”

“Um, is that even a question?” said Crissie, her excitement doubling at the sound of munching on her favorite dessert. It was only their first house and they were off to a fantastic start. If this kept up, this was bound to be the best trick-or-treat night ever!

Walking back into her house, the older woman called back, “Wait right there. I’ll grab you each one.”

While waiting for the cookies to arrive, Crissie looked down at her candy basket, checking to see what delectable treats she had been given. “Ooh! A pixie stick and some Twix minis. What did you get?” she asked, leaning over to sneak a peek into Codi’s bag.

“I-I don’t know,” said Codi, peering into her bag at the candies she had been given, all of which were completely foreign to her, “Are you sure it’s a good idea we keep going after this? I’m not so certain everyone will be as open as this lady is.”

“Relax, you big worry wort! House number one and we’re getting fresh-baked cookies as a bonus treat. If that’s a sign of how our night’s gonna go, everything’s going to be A-OK!” said Crissie, letting Codi’s concerns bounce off of her.

Before Codi could raise another protest, the older woman returned, carrying two cookies individually wrapped in a paper towel. “Be careful, they're still a bit hot,” she said, handing off the first cookie to Crissie and the second one to Codi.

As Codi graciously accepted the pastry, she could’ve sworn she saw the older woman wink at her. However, the moment was too quick for her to be certain. She quickly pushed the idea out of her head and chalked it up to her being overly paranoid.

“Yay! Snickerdoodles are the best!” shouted Crissie as she instantly went to work devouring the cinnamon-covered cookie. With a mouthful of moist dough, she added, “Fankoo, owd wady!” not considering how insulting her words were.

Not wanting to be rude, Codi meekly took a tiny bite of her cookie, before stuttering, “I-It’s very yummy. Thank you.” Part of her didn’t know why “yummy” was the first descriptor that came to mind. It definitely felt like something Crissie would say instead of her. Perhaps the childishness of the night’s events was finally rubbing off on her.

Scarfing down the last bite of her cookie, Crissie licked the cinnamon sugar off of her fingertips, savoring the last of the scrumptious confection. Without saying another word, the impatient Little ran off, ready to beg for candy at the next house.

“Crissie, wait up!” yelled Codi, rushing off to join her friend. She took one look back at the middle-aged woman and said, “Have a good night!” before turning around and sprinting to catch up.

Leaning against her door frame, the older woman snickered, her eyes glowing around her irises. “You too, baby girl. You too.”

Running up to the next house, which was painted bright pink with multi-colored, pastel shutters to help its exterior pop, Crissie eagerly pressed the doorbell before turning back and waving to Codi. “Come on, slowpoke!” she shouted, snickering as she watched Codi waddle up to the porch.

“Ugh! At least tell me before you run off next time,” said Codi, leaning over and placing her hands on her knees as she recovered from the run. Being a shut-in artist, she didn’t have a whole lot of stamina to speak of, unlike Crissie who seemingly had an endless supply of energy. Part of her wished she could know what it felt like to be so loose and carefree all the time. However, that wish never made it past the concept phase thanks to watching Crissie make a fool of herself countless times. Looking back, she noticed a sign on the side of the house that read The Pretty Palace Daycare Center. “Crissie, I don’t think anyone’s here. It’s daycare so they’re probably closed for the-”

Before Codi could finish her sentence, the door opened and a young man who looked as though he was young enough to still be in college stepped out with a bowl of candy in hand. He was dressed up as a vampire, albeit a lame one that was more than likely thrown together last minute.

“Trick or treat!” said Crissie and Codi with a flourish of enthusiasm. Crissie’s head whipped toward Codi in response, beyond surprised to see her getting into the festivities. Brushing it off as nothing more than her getting over her nerves, she turned back to the young man and held her bag forward. “I love your daycare, by the way! It looks like a fun place to play!” Getting another eyeful of her surroundings and the young man at its center, she could feel a new story idea brewing in her head.

“Thanks! It’s not mine, though. I’m just the one who got left holding the candy bowl while everyone else is out trick-or-treating,” said the man, dropping his performative smile and acting more casually due to the fact that he was dealing with adults and not children, “Judging from those diaper bulges, I take it you both are Littles. Well, the fee is the same for kids and adult kids. One joke equals one piece of candy.”

Giggling at being called out for the thickness of her diaper, Crissie was prepared to launch into her next joke. However, before she could say anything, Codi blurted out gleefully, “Why do you put a baby in a diaper?”

Crissie’s head once again snapped in Codi’s direction. What had gotten into her bestie? First, she joined in saying “trick or treat” without any hesitation. Now, she was delivering a joke confidently like she’d been doing so for years. Not to mention that the joke she was telling had to be original. If there had been a diaper joke in that book, Crissie would’ve been using it non-stop.

“To tie up loose ends!” said Codi without giving the young man any chance to respond. She then burst into hysterics, doubling over in a fit of uproarious laughter. Then, without warning, she lunged forward for the candy bowl, grabbing a handful of candy before toddling off into the night.

Still in a state of shock, Crissie looked back and forth between the young man and her friend who was shrinking into the distance. “Um…she’s not usually so…whatever that was. Sorry about that,” she said as she turned around and prepared to chase after Codi. Before running off the porch, though, she reached back and took her own handful of candy from the bowl, shoving it into her basket and rushing in Codi’s direction, “Codi, wait up!”

Hanging a sharp right at the end of the block, Codi paid little mind to the words of her padded pal. Instead, she proudly rushed up to the next house and banged her fist on the door, shouting, “Trick or treat! Trick or treat! Trick or treat!” over and over again.

Crissie reached the same doorstep just in time to see a middle-aged man open the door. He looked a tad shocked to see a pair of adults out trick or treating, letting the full-time bab know that this was probably not someone to be overly Little in front of.

Codi, on the other hand, had no restraint. “Hey, mister! What are the two reasons I wear diapers?!” she shouted before turning around, pulling down her waistband, and presenting her padded rump for the unsuspecting man. Scrunching up her face, she grunted and let out a small load into the seat of her pampers, causing it to sag dramatically. An all too familiar hiss of urine hitting her diaper soon followed as she proudly stated the answer to her joke, “Number one and number two!”

Needless to say, Crissie’s jaw hit the pavement, stupefied by the outrageous display that her dear roommate was putting on. “C-Codi? Are you…feeling alright?” asked Crissie, inching closer and patting Codi on the back.

“You betcha, Pissy Crissie!” responded Codi, causing Crissie’s face to flush intensely over being called such a dorky nickname, “Especially now that my tummy isn’t so full!” She rubbed her belly with one hand and reached down to smoosh her messy diaper with the other, giggling all the while. Then, with her candy bag in hand, she held it open for the man to drop a piece of candy inside.

Nervously, the middle-aged man placed a mini-candy bar in Codi’s bag and backed away. “Um…d-do you want some candy too?” he said to Crissie, refusing to make eye contact with either girl.

Unable to turn down such an offer even in the face of unbelievable circumstances, Crissie shrugged and reached out to accept the candy offering. “It’s uh…her first time trick-or-treating. I think she’s just a tad too excited,” she said, starkly contrasting the attitude she had only two houses prior. She quickly bent down to grab Codi by the shoulder and stand her back up.

Unfortunately, Codi wasn’t interested in standing at the moment. She was far more enamored with the idea of squishing. Allowing her legs to go limp, she fell back onto her butt and began to bounce up and down, giggling all the while.

“Here, just take as much as you want so long as you please leave,” said the man, setting the candy bowl on the pavement by his door and retreating back inside.

As concerned as Crissie was for her friend's sudden shift in personality, free candy was too good to pass up. Kneeling down next to the candy bowl, she began shoveling the bite-size pieces into her basket.

*Crinkle!*

“Eeeep!” screamed Crissie as she felt a wandering hand grab the underside of her diaper. One quick look back revealed what she already knew.

Stationed directly behind Crissie was Codi, who was wearing a mischievous smile as she felt up Crissie’s partially used nappy. “Only soggy? And here I thought you were CrissieBABY,” she said, bringing her hand dangerously close to Crissie’s kitten.

Unsure of what to do, Crissie knew that the display they were putting on whilst standing on some random dude's porch was probably not the best idea. On the other hand, she’d been trying to get Codi to come on to her for quite some time. She may have been too nervous to say anything, but Codi was totally her type. “C-Codi, we can’t do this here!” whisper-yelled Crissie, covering her mouth as her nursery mate continued to tease her with the idea of naughty diaper fun. She frantically looked around, both thankful and nervous that no one was around to stop them.

“Sure, we can. If I can fill my diaper right here and now, so can you,” said Codi, snickering as she circled around Crissie like a lioness in heat, keeping Crissie tucked beneath her claws all the while. That’s when a cheeky, idle thought entered her brain, one that made her horny beyond belief, “Tell you what. Why don’t I fill your diaper for you?” She moved her hand to the front of Crissie’s waistband, pulling it open slightly.

Confused, Crissie was about to ask what Codi meant by that. Did she expect her to remove her diaper in public? She wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. However, just as she was about to tell Codi no, she looked back to see the most unbelievable sight.

Holding her other hand up for Crissie to see, Codi’s unnaturally pale hand turned fully translucent, taking on a lilac hue. Forming a fist with her fingers, she merged her digits into a single, slimy appendage. “You know, I can’t believe you never asked what kind of being I was. Pretty neat trick, huh?” she said, licking her lips as she plunged her moldable slime tentacle into Crissie’s diaper.

Crissie moaned passionately as Codi’s lukewarm, purple slime moved to occupy as much space in her diaper as possible. Frozen in place from the sheer inconceivability of what was happening, she watched as her diaper swelled in all directions, quickly taking on the same color as Codi’s body. All the while, her hand remained firmly pressed to her mouth and blushy cheeks, preventing her moans from getting any louder. “Y-You’re a slime girl? Why have you never-”

“Because I was too nervous to tell you. I don’t know what’s come over me but I feel so confident tonight…and silly. Hehehe!” she said, finally removing her hand now that Crissie’s diaper was filled to the brim with her ooze, “And for the record, we prefer the term goo-people. I hope it’s not a problem.”

Before Crissie could inquire further about Codi’s personhood…or goo-hood in this instance, she felt her diaper start to shift and rub up against her, as if dozens of tiny hands were mooshing her padding around all at once. “W-wha…wha awe chu…” she sputtered out, unable to form a single sentence thanks to the unreal pleasure she was experiencing.

“Whether or not my goo is attached to me, I can still control it. Makes for quite the diaper filling, doesn’t it?” teased Codi, using her reformed hand to squish the near-overflowing diaper and causing Crissie to let out yet another adorable moan. Taking Crissie by the hand, she led the shaky-legged Little away from the house and back toward the sidewalk. “Come on, the night is young and there’s still plenty of candy to collect, little sis. Or are you too horny to keep going?”

Blushing deep crimson, Crissie allowed Codi to drag her forward, too embarrassed to admit how unfathomably aroused she was. Of course, she wanted to go back to the nursery where it was certain that sexy diaper time was bound to happen. At the same time, though, she didn’t want to rob Codi of her first chance at trick-or-treating. Plus, it wasn’t like the nursery was going anywhere. With the goo in her diaper refusing to let up, she shuffled behind her new crush, ready for a fun night of yummy candy and even yummier diaper play.

Meanwhile, sitting on her porch out in front of her house with her bowl of candy in hand, the woman from the first house they visited reclined in her seat with a warm blanket over her lap, enjoying the chilly nighttime air. By now, she knew that the spell she placed on those cookies had to have fully taken effect. “Nothing like a little personality swapping to add some excitement to the night,” she said to herself, sipping from her mug of hot cocoa with a devious smile, “Happy Halloween to all and to all a spooky night.”

THE END.

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To read and see more of Crissie and Codi's adventures, check out The Crissie Canon gallery on DeviantArt! (https://www.deviantart.com/crissiebaby/gallery/80803633/the-crissie-canon)

Artwork By CodiBaby 💜 Story By CrissieBaby 💕

Patreon: patreon.com/crissiebaby DeviantArt: deviantart.com/crissiebaby Pixiv: pixiv.net/en/users/27465644

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cosmicasteroids · 3 months

Text

Qsmp lore hcs and thoughts !

This is mostly character techno based so I’ll use Q!techno and also based around chayanne and some other things.

Phil mentioned that techno helped guide chayanne in the fight against ender!phil that lasted for like three days and I already had some like small lore on where technos been in the events of the qsmp character wise. Techno was a conduit for the blood god due to this the voices and everything onlt got worse with time and even healthy outlets fell through. Techno took this as a personal mission to bring his fight to the blood god in the spirit realm and left his own cloak and a note behind for Phil before leaving to go fight the gods themselves.

Thing is when techno won that fight and the blood god was slain there was now a new champion to take on the rule of blood and war kind of like a, ‘you kill the king you now are the new ruler situation’, you topple the god off his tower and now the realms deem you to be that god. Techno didn’t anticipate this and now is bound to be and become the new blood god and carry out his tasks and deeds and keep the realms in balance as the other gods. Bros just kind of winging being a god he didn’t come out here to be trapped in the spirit realm forever and become a immortal being, tis was not the plan.

In present day techno uses his god hood to watch over Phil and the his new family he has when the fight with the enderking happened between Phil and chay techno stood in to help guide chayanne through the whole fight where to stand how to hold his sword what to dodge when to strike he knew Phil better then anyone after all. Thing is after days and nights of this fight techno accidentally claimed chayanne to be the new blood god conduit a little soldier much how he was his entire life. Techno tried to speak with the gods saying it must be some sort of mistake but the gods told him it was simply fate. So techno took it in his hands to try to make chayanne better, stronger, and of more sound mind then he ever was using his mistakes of his past as simple warnings.

Of course when chayanne says he hears voices and has nightmares of war and slaughter and has this terrible need for violence Phil freaks out a bit. He’s seen all of this before he had a kid much the same toiled by blood and he’s watching closely to help like he did in the past nothing has changed.

Anyways besides story lore there’s also smaller bits of other little fun facts hc lore !

Only conduits of gods can see other gods, Phil is more likely to be able to see techno if he wakes up for a second during ender kings possession, unlike chay who can see him all the time. Phil is less blessed by a god and more being used like a puppet so he doesn’t have the luxury to see the gods as easily as chay would be able too. Chay can see the enderking wrapping himself around Phil and he hates it.

Techno is the new blood god but as such he kind of claimed the blood gods old memories from thousands of years and his powers making techno not the most sound of mind 24/7 he tries to be generally calm and teach about protection and defense but sometimes the voices beg for war and he can’t help the things he’s becoming (aka techno angst is real)

Will emerald duo ever reunite stay tuned cause gods can’t keep promises and even if the gods reach out and hold tight sometimes words can’t be reached by mortals of light.

Anyways I will make concepts of techno and chay for my lil hc lore au qsmp thing lol but I wanted to shout my thoughts into the void even if no one sees them. And if you do hope you enjoyed my ramble hope it made sense. If you have any questions you are free to ask but no pressure.

#asterrambles #qsmp #qsmp rambles #qsmp hcs #philza #qsmp chayanne #technoblade

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olderthannetfic · 9 months

Note

I found myself rereading an old discussion about AO3 commenting culture (ye olde "Authors aren't owed comments" vs. "Readers aren't owed fic either" wank). And you know, it strikes me that a lot of the drama in such discussions is rooted in the fact that people only ever seem to engage with the worst things the opposite side says. And of course that leads to miscommunication, because the extremes are not generally applicable to most people.

Like, for instance. Someone going "I comment so regularly I practically gave myself burn-out commenting". Authors complaining about people who act entitled to stories aren't talking about you, I promise. They're talking about people who genuinely can't be bothered or go on flippant "Why don't you just write for yourself?" rants, while still enjoying other people's work. Ditto on the other side: people get offended at being called entitled authors, but odds are good the person isn't referring to you, who would simply like to not shout into the void, odds are good they're referring to the asshole authors they've met who'd throw hissy hits over comments that weren't phrased exactly to their liking, because yes, people like that do exist so it's simply flat out wrong to say "Just comment, authors are always happy to see comments, no matter how short! :)"

Also, a particular comment jumped out at me:

"It's not a consumer's job to compliment a promote an artist's work"

I generally agree that acting like people are owed comments is useless and stupid, but if I had to pick a phrasing that sums up my misgivings about common commenting culture, it's this. So many people seem to act like authors are getting a paycheck for this and don't need any additional motivator.

The other thing that bugs me is when people talk about all the reasons they don't comment (low spoons, anxiety, tired, etc.), but ignore the fact that authors have to deal with all of the above, too. And not just in fanfic. It seems any time there's any kind of social conflict being discussed (like, say, replying to a friend's messages in a vaguely timely manner) a ton of people will trot out excuses for why they can't do [insert what's generally seen as the vaguely courteous thing to do], but inadvertently act like that makes them special and like they're the only ones who have these legitimately valid excuses.

This started in one place and led to another, sorry. I guess I'm just frustrated with the Tumblr mental health culture of "I have a semi-specific reason I struggle with this so I'm not even going to try". I think people overcompensate too much for "Just don't be disabled!"-style ableism and swing too hard in the embraced helplessness direction.

Back to fanfic, every time I see the "I can't do it because of X" thing in the context of commenting, I can't help but think of how many authors also deal with depression, anxiety, self-esteem issues, low spoons, etc. and how easy it would have been for them to give up, but they got through it and posted the fanfic anyway, and how often they're then met with silence because the prevailing attitude among their audience is e.g. "I read this before bed and was too sleepy to comment, and too forgetful to comment the next day". I think about some of the fic I've written, often fic written when I maybe should have been doing something else, or fic written at the cost of sleep, or hyperfixating at my keyboard for six hours instead of going for a nice hike with my family, and it's hard not to get a little bitter, you know? Talking about legitimate reasons for why commenting is hard just so often comes across as "You're free to make sacrifices to write the stuff I read, but I won't make any"

I also feel a bit bitter that it's impossible to even discuss these things in a vacuum without someone going "Discussions like this are why I've stopped commenting", as someone inevitably will in the notes of this post. "Just shut up and make your Content(TM) and don't complain about anything", is what it feels like.

The entire phrasing of reward and owing is stupid.

The reality is that lots of people won't produce work unless they feel like someone cares. No amount of moralizing or excuses will change that.

It's also the reality that posting to the masses on AO3 or tumblr will result in maybe one like or other interaction per hundred hits if you're really, really lucky. The rate has never been much better than that, and it never will be. It's often very much worse.

If one personally wants to encourage people, sure, go out and do that, but any call to action that ignores the above two realities is like fighting the tide.

I do think "It's not my job to promote you" typically comes up in the context of meltdowns about letting artists "languish in your likes" instead of being reblogged onto your actual blog and/or contexts where the artist/author/etc. is selling their work.

Here's the thing: people who never comment do not count.

They think they're part of a community. They're not. If you don't participate, you're a ghost.

When some author moves to a more enclosed space, a lot of people who saw themselves as part of something are suddenly left out in the cold, wondering why. But the fact is, if you don't pay the entry fee of socializing with others, you're nobody to them.

The entitled randos don't matter. If they bug you enough, take your toys and retreat to a discord with your friends.

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jeonqkooks · 1 year

Note

hello, my angel! congrats on your anniversary for starters hehehehe, i love you!

for the drabbles requests, could you do:

21 and 41 - smut

8 and 9 - fluff

thank you 🥰

velvet cherry | jjk (m.)

pairing: jungkook x reader

prompts: "call me that again." + "lay down and stay still."

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

genre: exes to lovers (??), agent/spy au (idk it's pretty vague but all you need to know is that their profession is smth like this!), some fluff, some angst, definitely smut

warnings: mentions of injuries, mentions of violence (gunshots, blood), mentions of death, cursing, shower sex, unprotected sex (this is fictional. don't do it irl, be smart dudes), fingering, a lil dirty talk, UNEDITED bc i'm a menace :p

word count: 5.9k

note: pauli bby!! thank you for the request hehehe. the initial idea i had for this request was different but i was watching bad and crazy (kdrama) and every time lee dong wook has an action scene i'm just sitting there in front of my laptop, full on thirsting bc 🤤🥵 and i just had to channel it into this piece!!

— as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

Everyone is yelling, screaming. Even the force trying to shake you into consciousness practically shouting in your face. Your head feels like it’s been split into two even without all of the loud noises threatening to deafen you. Your body hurts. You’ve definitely bruised your ribs, if they aren’t already broken. Even your face, which remains unmoving, aches from the simple act of breathing.

Inhale. One, two, three…

Exhale. One, two, three…

Stay alive.

It would kind of really suck if you died right now.

Embarrassing, even.

“C’mon, c’mon, wake up! Y/N!”

Huh? You know that voice.

It feels like your eyes have been glued shut, but that voice is so familiar that your lids wrestle with weariness to get a look. It can’t be him, can it? How would he even know that you were here?

Does that mean this is heaven? Or the void, or wherever the fuck it is that people often preach about? You have never believed in an afterlife because any and all life ends after death. Your soul doesn’t enter another spiritual plane of existence; you just simply cease to exist. This has always been your stance on the matter, but now, as you listen to that voice desperately cursing out your name, you waver.

Because that’s the only way you can explain why he’s here.

Oh, so you did die?

“Y/N!”

Heaven, or the void, or wherever the fuck this is, sure is loud.

You force your eyes open despite the debilitating exhaustion eating away at you. It takes a moment for your vision to adjust to your poorly lit surroundings. From the corner of your eye, you see small fireworks erupting before their booming echoes reverberate throughout the room. The lead projectiles whiz above your head, right behind the silhouette of him hovering over you, calling for you, shielding you.

Once his face becomes your focal point, everything around you staticizes. You can’t find it in yourself to care about the screams, nor the gunshots, or even the gash in your side where a knife grazed you earlier.

Not when he’s looking at you like that. Like if you were to die, there’s not a single part of him that would hesitate to follow.

“I thought I recognized th–that voice.” You cough, feeling the cut on your lips open wider. You hadn’t noticed the metallic taste on your tongue until now. “Funny seeing you here, Jeon.”

The feeling in the pit of your stomach thickens. It could be relief, or it could be dread. The lights go out before you get a chance to decipher which one it is.

The next time you wake, you jolt upright with a gasp.

“Ah, shit,” you instantly groan; it feels like something sharp is jabbing into your abdomen. You brush your hand over the spot to find smears of crimson on your clothes, but the wound underneath doesn’t seem to be bleeding anymore.

Where the fuck is it now?

Your frantic eyes scan the room, expecting to find yourself still in that warehouse, hopelessly holding on for life while your teammates get killed one by one.

But you aren’t there anymore. There aren’t bodies scattered all around you nor bloodstains splattered carelessly on peeling walls.

No, where you are smells like jasmine and fresh cotton. It’s warm and bright, and it’s filled with framed photos of a familiar dog that you once loved even more than his owner. The couch beneath you feels like a cloud carrying you through the pearly gates.

Arguably, this seems more like heaven. Or is it a twisted version hell? It feels like a stretch that someone like you could get into heaven, if there even is one.

“Welcome back, sleeping beauty.” His voice from behind startles you into action. You spring from the couch, or more like, you clumsily jump up only to be met with white hot pain that courses through your entire left side, and fall down onto the sofa again.

“Fuck!” you hiss through gritted teeth.

He rushes over, almost dropping the mug he was holding in his hand. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

Apologetic hands help you into a proper sitting position. You don’t know why or how, but it really is him.

Jeon Jungkook, what a sight for sore eyes.

The discomfort you feel in your body takes a backseat momentarily as you stare at him and his beautiful doe eyes, shimmering with concern though it’s now much more diluted than before. He examines the stitches on your forehead and your side, it’s been a while since he’s done this.

“Y/N, are you okay?”

You snap back into reality at the sound of this.

Fuck! How could it have possibly slipped your mind?

Your words come out in an uneasy rush. “Where’s Namjoon and the others?”

Jungkook stares at you, tongue in cheek, blinking in mild disbelief. Of course the first question you ask is about your team. You haven’t changed, he sees. “They’re at the hospital. They’re fine,” he says.

You close your eyes and heave a heavy sigh, visibly relaxing at his confirmation. When you turn to him again, you ask, “Where are we?”

“My apartment.”

“Why? Why am I not at the hospital with them?”

“You don’t remember?”

The confused look on your face tells him as much.

“You woke up while they were stitching you up. Nearly made a scene and everything. You kept saying you wanted to go home, but your place was trashed so I… brought you here.”

You wonder if you had actually demanded to be brought to his place specifically, after seeing him when you were so delirious before. You wonder if he’s just sparing you the embarrassment. “Oh,” you say simply, glancing around the room. You haven’t been here in a long time, but most of the things here are still the same.

“You haven’t answered my question. How are you feeling? Are you okay?”

You shrug, ignoring the throbbing pain that has dulled into a perpetual pinch in your side. “Of course I’m okay. Still alive and kicking.”

Jungkook’s brows furrow just the slightest. “You almost died tonight.”

“But I didn’t die, did I?”

“Why are you acting like it’s no big deal?”

Nostalgia washes over you in waves. You’ve had the same conversation a million times before.

“Because it isn’t that big a deal,” you say, feeling the urge to coat your words in a thick layer of bravery. “It’s not my first rodeo.”

“And that’s supposed to make it better? You could’ve died!”

“What is up your ass?” you ask jokingly, but it doesn’t sound right even to your ears. “You keep pushing it like you wanted me to die.”

Jungkook stares at you blankly, but you can tell that he’s agitated by your flippant attitude. You regret the words the very second you said them.

“That’s not funny,” he says, his voice strained.

Slightly ashamed, you look down at your hands and fiddle with your grimy fingers. “Y–yeah, I’m sorry. That was… too far.”

There’s a bitter taste in your mouth as you watch him grit his teeth and attempt to exhale a steady breath. It comes out a little shaky, a sign of his frustration. He takes a few minutes to calm his nerves while you sit there in silence, not usually tongue tied around him but even you know that what you just told him was pretty fucked up.

Finally, Jungkook says, “Get some rest. You had a long day.” He goes to help you up without you asking, still so considerate even when he’s trying to not be angry at you, but that’s not what you need right now.

“Can I take a shower first?” you ask.

“You just got your stitches a couple hours ago. You can shower in the morning.”

“I know. It’s… I’m covered in blood and dirt. I’d really like to wash it off.”

He looks at you as he considers it. This isn’t Jungkook’s first rodeo either. He had to deal with you countless times like this, when you’re freshly wounded but you don’t seem to give a damn about doing things that might hurt you even more.

“Suit yourself. You know where the bathroom is.”

You mutter a thanks as you let him pull you up from the cloud that he calls a couch. You could feel his eyes on you as you wobble to your desired destination, but even the short distance between his living room and bathroom proves to be a whole trek in your current condition. You’re surprised that you even made it to the hall when your legs finally gave out on you. You brace yourself against the wall, but one of Jungkook’s strong arms is already wrapped around your waist, steadying you before you could collapse.

“You should get some sleep. You can barely walk,” he urges gently.

“I feel like shit, Jeon,” you tell him. “I won’t be able to get any rest like this.”

“Y/N–”

“We both know you’re not talking me out of it. You can choose if you’re gonna help me or not, though.”

“You want me to help you… shower?”

“Will you?”

He won’t, you’re sure of this. Jungkook isn’t teasing or frivolous as you are. He doesn’t go around testing people’s patience like you do. The relationship didn’t end on bad terms, and you think he has deliberately kept it that way because you have to see each other at work so often, even though you’re assigned to different teams. You want to keep things light, to joke around with him, to essentially still be you and him minus the romance but Jungkook keeps you at arm’s length. And if you’re honest, you can’t blame him for that. That doesn’t mean that it doesn’t suck sometimes; you used to love him after all.

He looks pensive for a moment, and you don’t know why he’s even pretending to consider it when he’ll just say no anyway. You’re prepared for him to reject you and leave you to your own devices, but then–

“Fine,” Jungkook says, voice flat, eyes blank. “C’mon, I’ll help you.” It surprises you into complete stillness, wondering if the doctors and nurses fucked up when they were stitching up your head. The man in front of you raises an eyebrow when you don’t respond to him, as if he’s challenging you, which staggers you even more because he usually doesn’t entertain your outrageous ideas like this. Especially not after you parted ways.

You blink a couple of times and find your voice from where it’s stuck to the back of your throat. “Okay then. Lead the way.”

Jungkook guides you down the hall and into the bathroom. You think he’s just baiting you, challenging you back to see if you would actually be okay with hopping into the shower with your ex because even though it isn’t that scandalous of an idea to you, it is to Jungkook. You expect him to back out any second now, but once you’re standing under the warm white light of his bathroom, he asks if he could take off your clothes.

Have you underestimated him?

You nod your head, eyeing him with a smug smile tugging at the corner of your lips and a barely-there layer of underlying nervousness. His face gives nothing away. So you two are really going to do this, huh?

Jungkook peels off your bloodied shirt, careful not to let his fingers brush against your skin though they will have to in just a few minutes. He averts his gaze as he helps you step out of your clothes until you’re completely bare.

You mistake his reluctant eye contact for shyness. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” you joke.

True.

But no, that’s not the reason why he refuses to look at you.

He hated seeing you in pain, covered in bruises and cuts. It’s why the two of you broke up. You were too stubborn to quit, and he couldn’t stand watching you treat yourself like mere collateral damage, as long as you get the job done.

It wasn’t that you couldn’t take care of yourself. In a lot of ways, you’re far more capable and skilled than he is. But sometimes you can be reckless, a little too hot headed for your own good, a little too heedless of your own safety than he can handle.

He loved that you were remarkable at what you do; it’s what drew him to you in the first place. When you used to spar together, at the beginning of your relationship, he loved that you could kick his ass so easily. Sometimes, even on his best days, he was still no match for you.

But what’s the point in dwelling? None of that matters anymore.

Jungkook takes off his own clothes then, and you resist the urge to focus on his body too much. He’s gotten even more muscular than the last time you got to see him naked. Hard pecs that are practically popping in your face, solid abs that demand to be touched… Well, this is going to be… interesting.

He tests the water first before he lets you go in. When you finally do, you sigh as the warm water rains down on your skin, enveloping you in a liquified blanket of comfort. You’re trying not to let your eyes wander, you really are.

You hum happily when he smooths the shampoo over your hair. As his fingers massage your scalp gently, a soft moan escapes your throat. The sound travels straight to his groin, making him stiffen just a little bit and poke into your thigh. You bite your bottom lip to suppress a giggle but Jungkook just clears his throat awkwardly. Getting a boner feels inappropriate in a moment like this, when you’re his ex and you had nearly died earlier tonight.

But he isn’t responsible for the way his body chooses to react, not really. You’re showering together, for fuck’s sake. Though to be fair, he has no one to blame but himself for this irrational decision.

When he lathers you up with his body wash, you decide to do it again, just to tease him. As his hands start kneading one of your breasts, you let out a slightly exaggerated moan.

He knows you’re doing it on purpose, but his dick is stupid and it hardens regardless. “Quit it,” Jungkook says.

“Quit what?” you ask, batting your eyelashes at him coquettishly. You put a hand on his chest, then trails it lower to graze his defined abs. “You look like you’re enjoying it, no?”

He doesn’t answer you, choosing to focus on his task of washing you instead, as if ignoring you will make you stop whatever it is you’re doing.

You trace your fingers along his V-line until you wrap your hand around him, making him hiss as you touch him. You give him a few lazy pumps until his member is standing tall and proud, just for you.

“Y/N…” Jungkook grits his teeth and swallows thickly. The steam is suffocating him. You are suffocating him.

“You can tell me if you don’t want it.” You tilt your head up, letting your face inch closer to his until your breath fans his lips. You feel him grip your waist – an act of restraint – then quickly loosen his hands around your body as if he suddenly remembered that you’re still battered up. You brush your lips against his, just testing him. You both know a kiss would be so much more intimate than what you’re doing to him down there.

He parts his lips slightly, the temptation is getting too strong to resist. You cloud his judgment the same way the hot water encloses the room in a mystifying haze. He presses forward to capture your lips, only to feel himself completely melt against you in an instant.

You taste like longing, like regret. Something like a needle pierces right through his heart when you give him a needy sigh, muffled by his own lips.

He knows he shouldn’t do this, but is it a mistake? Even if it is a mistake, he can’t find it in himself to stop, now that it has already started. You’re still as alluring and captivating as ever, and he’s still the same Jungkook who always fell to his knees for you.

“Touch me,” you whisper.

“Y–you’re hurt,” Jungkook rasps. Is that the only reason? There’s no conviction behind his words and he knows you know it. If he was really against this, then he would’ve stopped you already.

“Please.” Your voice is different, desperate, when you say this. He can’t tell if you’re crying or not because of the water still glistening on your face, but it doesn’t matter. When your hand guides one of his between your legs, he squeezes his eyes shut, searching inward for that last bit of self-control that’s nowhere to be found right now. You’re so fucking slick, and as his middle finger slides through your sodden folds to find your entrance, your head falls upon his shoulder.

“Fuck,” he mutters to himself, barely audible to you over the sound of running water. You’re hurt. He knows he should stop, but he can’t. His thumb finds your clit in no time, and nudges it the way he remembers you liked. You choke on an exhale, now grinding against his hand and gripping his biceps to keep yourself upright. He rubs you leisurely as the water cascades down your bodies. A part of him thinks he’s twisted for enjoying the quiet whimpers you let out.

“Are you sure?” he asks, both hoping for and dreading the answer you might give him.

“Yes,” you confirm. You press his hand harder against your core, as if you’re begging him to pleasure you. “Make me feel better.”

Jungkook slides two digits into you before he slants his mouth over yours, swallowing the moan that you instantly keen out. You’re wet enough that his fingers can drive in and out of you without much mercy from the get-go. He buries them in you until he’s knuckles deep, scissoring you open how he always did to prepare you for his cock.

“Fuck, Jeon,” you purr, rolling your hips to meet the thrusts of his hand. “That’s good.”

“Yeah?” He smirks, finding that spot inside of you that never fails to make your legs shake. His strong arm holds you flush against his body as he relentlessly fingers you, absolutely loving the way your juices run down the back of his hand. There’s a sense of arrogance in the way he fucks you, even though he was hesitant about it just moments ago. The quivering moans that you grace him with are fucking addicting. At least for now, he has you. Standing in his shower, begging him for release, whispering in his ear things that he hasn’t realized how much he’s missed hearing until this very second.

His fingers ram into you until your inner walls are pulsing around him and your voice hitches beautifully. “Fuck!” you cry, holding onto him as the high crashes down on you, sending shockwaves throughout your entire body. You grind down on his hand, wanting so desperately to prolong the pleasure like you’re afraid he’ll take it away from you. Jungkook would never dream of giving you anything less than what you deserve, so he maintains the momentum of his thrusts, fucking you through your orgasm even when you clench so tightly around his digits that it becomes more difficult to move. He helps you through it until your breath no longer comes out in heavy pants, until the only stars you see are the ones in his eyes.

As he withdraws his fingers, you give him a chaste kiss as if to say thank you. He doesn’t expect anything more; it’s enough that he could give you a helping hand in your time of need, make you forget about everything even if it was only for a little while.

But then you’re deepening the kiss, one hand tugging on his hair as the other finds his hard cock again. He groans against your mouth, torn between asking you to keep going and letting you stop. “You don’t have to…” he mutters, placing a hand over yours.

“I want more,” you say breathily, but somehow it sounds almost demanding. “I want you.”

He stares at you with uncertainty in his eyes. “Are you sure you can handle it?”

Your answer comes in the form of a squeeze around his length, making his eyes flutter briefly as he rests his forehead against yours. “I can always take you.”

You watch Jungkook clench his jaw before he crashes his lips onto yours, promptly slipping his tongue into your mouth to draw the neediest of moans from you just by his kiss alone. He lifts you up by the back of your thighs and cages you between the wall and his chest. Your legs wrap around his waist as he presses his body against yours, slowly grinding his cock against your throbbing heat. You whimper when his tip nudges your sensitive clit.

“I need you,” you cry out, rutting against him desperately. He hears it then – the vulnerability in your voice that you try to mask with desire – and that’s when he thinks he gets it. You’re shaken.

You were scared tonight. That’s not something that happens very often.

He was scared too. He nearly lost his mind when he heard the news that your team was ambushed. You should’ve seen his frantic state when he raced to the scene, heart speeding a thousand miles an hour at the mere thought of something happening to you. He prayed to every god he didn’t believe in that you’d be okay, that the phone call he received minutes prior was just a sick prank someone was playing on him.

“I’ve got you,” Jungkook says, diving in to kiss you again. There’s a lot more to those words than either one of you would like to admit.

You both sigh when he pushes in, and although it’s been a long while since your bodies knew one another like this, there’s barely any resistance. He fits perfectly like you were made for each other. He’s bigger than you remember, already feeling so good inside of you that you think you could come with just a few thrusts. Instead of moving, he stays there like he wants to memorize the feeling of you, so warm around him and so inviting.

He was always the sentimental one.

“Move,” you whine, still bossy in a moment like this. He chuckles against your mouth before trailing his lips tantalizingly slowly across your jawline and down your neck to your breasts, where he sucks on your skin harshly, marking you. His hips pull back, making you moan from the delicious glide of him along your slickened walls, before they snap forward and set a pace that has your eyes rolling backward.

“Shit, nghhh…”

It’s like no time has passed at all. Jungkook still remembers everything you like, still knows your body like the back of his hand. You feel like you’re practically transcending the limits of space and time with every thrust of his hips and every motion of his mouth. The rough way that his fingers dig into your thighs to hold you up makes it so much more heightened as his lips wrap around one of your breasts, sucking it harshly into his mouth, his tongue laving at your hardened nipple. Now that you’re finally experiencing this again, you don’t know how you could go two whole years without it.

Every part of you misses him.

No one knows how to please you like he does.

“So fucking good…” Jungkook grunts, flicking your nipple with the wet muscle of his mouth. You arch your tits further into him as moans of unfiltered pleasure fall from you. Even as he fucks you into oblivion, he’s still mindful of your injuries. Strong hands kneading your skin roughly but softening when they brush over your bruised spots.

He tries not to pay much attention to your battle scars, but how could he not? He feels them under his fingertips everywhere they go. Some are from before you met him, some from after. Some he doesn’t recognize because you must have acquired them during your time apart. He always hated them. You used to tell him that you wore your scars proudly, that they are proof that you survived every horrible thing you’ve had to face.

That’s certainly one way of looking at it, but Jungkook hated them then and he hates them now. Not because he thought they made you ugly – no, nothing could make him see you as anything less than the most beautiful person he has ever laid his eyes upon – but because they remind him of all the times that you have had to suffer. They made him feel unworthy of you, for not being there to keep you safe.

But not like you would have let him anyway.

“Ah, fuck, Koo…”

His hips stutter in surprise. He’s not sure if you did it on purpose, or if it just slipped out in the heat of the moment.

“Call me that again,” Jungkook tells you. It doesn’t matter that the simple nickname brings up feelings he’s been trying so hard to suppress. It doesn’t matter that those feelings are damn close to spilling over the confines of his wretched little heart, that it will fucking hurt later when you leave He just needs to hear you say it again.

“Koo, fuck! Right there, keep doing that…”

He tears his mouth away from your chest to come up and chase your lips. His tongue slips inside to dance with yours, so much more intimate than it is dirty that it makes you dizzy beyond nostalgia. In a split second of weakness, it makes your heart want to be his once more. His thrusts are now even faster than before, harder and more calculated.

He pulls back enough to look at you and takes in the blissed look on your face, how your lips part when he hits your g-spot just right. “Y/N, I…”

“I know,” you whimper, your nails digging into his back and leaving angry red trails in their wake as they drag downward. “I’m close too.”

That’s not what he was going to say. Maybe it’s a good thing that you’re too fucked out to notice it.

“C’mon, I’ve got you,” Jungkook resorts to saying. He keeps up the rhythm of his hips, determined to give you what you want the most. He’s pounding into you so impossibly deep that you can feel him in your guts, each thrust making the base of his cock grind against your aching clit. It feels so fucking good, you can’t even see straight anymore. His hand is unknowingly digging into a bruise on your leg but the pleasure is too overwhelming that you’ve stopped caring about the discomfort. This is exactly how you wanted him to fuck you – hard enough to make you forget the pain.

It hits you even harder than before. You cum with a cry of his name as your toes curl and your body shakes in his hold, stars exploding behind your eyelids when the orgasm wracks through you like an earthquake. Jungkook’s hips never cease their movements, fucking into you until you find enough strength to squeeze your walls around him and pulls him in for a sloppy kiss. He unravels then, filling you up endlessly with his warmth that you’re sure you’ll feel for days.

You stay like that for a while, just holding each other, until he softens inside of you and you feel your releases drip down your thighs and onto the floor. The water promptly washes away the remnants of your heated session. When he slips out and helps you to your feet, you want to chase it instantly – the feeling of him, with you, where he’s supposed to be.

You aren’t fully present for everything that happens afterward. As Jungkook dries you off and dresses you, he feels something tug on his heart at the sight of you in his clothes. Your tired face and the way you lean into him, trusting him to keep you steady as he prepares you for bed. Trusting him to keep you safe, to protect you.

He can’t help it.

He tilts your head up by your chin and kisses you softly. Slow. His lips are gentle, but he’s sure of himself. This isn’t the first kiss you’ve shared tonight, but in many ways, it is.

When Jungkook pulls away, he doesn’t say anything. No excuses or explanations on why he chose to do it when the lust has waned and the moment is no longer heated enough to muddle his mind. You don’t ask for anything either; you just let him lead you into his bedroom. That doesn’t mean that you don’t want him to just tell you anyway.

He tucks you into his bed as if you’re a child. When he’s sure that you’re comfortable enough, he turns to leave.

You protest immediately. “Where are you going?”

“To the couch,” he says, like it’s obvious.

You sit up in order to push yourself from the bed, erasing his previous effort of tucking you in. “I’m not making you sleep on the couch in your own home.”

“Lay down and stay still,” Jungkook sighs before pushing you back onto the mattress again. “If I stay here with you, will you please sleep in the bed?”

You purse your lips, considering this for a moment before you compromise. “Yes.”

He turns off all the lights and makes his way to the other side of the bed, getting under the covers with you. You’re disappointed when he puts a little distance between your bodies. It’s not that you expected anything to come from your brief reunion, but your heart sinks regardless. Surely, sleeping in the same bed as your ex can’t be worse than having sex with him? You’ve already done the latter, but somehow this feels so much more intimidating.

You do what you do best when you don’t want to deal with your more difficult feelings – crack lame jokes and hope they’re enough to diffuse the tension. “Why are you so stiff? Scared that I’ll fuck you? Already did that, Jeon.”

Jungkook throws you a humorless chuckle. “Was that your plan all along? To seduce me?”

“It just happened,” you say. “To be honest, I wasn’t sure if you even wanted it before y’know… you popped a boner.”

If the silence in the room was a little bit louder, then you could probably hear the way he pauses halfway through a breath. He doesn’t entertain you for much longer, even though it feels like he’s got something on his mind.

He doesn’t ask what this means for the two of you, if it even meant anything. What’s the point in trying if the outcome is the same? His stance on the matter hasn’t changed at all. After what happened to you tonight, it just fueled him even more. He won’t deny that his feelings for you are still there, because he’d be the first to admit that they never went away to begin with. Jungkook would try, he would try for you a million times over, but in the end, where would that lead to if you wouldn’t even try for yourself? You’ll just keep breaking his heart day in and day out, over and over again if this recklessness of yours persists.

“Go to sleep, Y/N,” he says tiredly.

You bite your lip, disheartened that he’s shutting you out again, even though he has every right to. “Okay,” you mumble.

Despite the exhaustion submerging you like a tidal wave, you can’t find rest. You were conscious for barely half a minute when Jungkook found you in that abandoned warehouse, but you could hear the panic in his voice as he tried to shake you awake. He never had to find you like that before. When you were still together, every time you got hurt, you never let anyone call him until after your wounds had already been stitched up, until you were sure that you were good enough to crack a joke once he’d rushed to the hospital.

Tonight was the first time he saw you on death’s door. You didn’t know if he even cared anymore. You were scared to think that he didn’t.

But then you heard that voice of his, and you opened your eyes just long enough to see the tears fill his eyes. You were so out of it that you thought maybe, just maybe, there was a piece of his heart that still felt something for you. Something beyond just concern for an ex lover.

You don’t know how much time has passed, with you lying there staring into darkness. “Jeon, are you asleep?” you ask quietly, only to be met with silence from his side. Nothing but his steady breathing. You want him to be awake to hear you say it, though you’re not sure how you want him to react to it. The past 2 years have been hard. Your own guilt chews you up and spits you out every single day. The breakup was your fault, wasn’t it? It wasn’t just Jungkook who repeatedly expressed concerns for your safety. Your parents never wanted you to go into this line of work in the first place.

You were too selfish to really consider anyone but yourself. You and Jungkook both do the same thing – you go out and risk your lives every day. But back then, you didn’t understand why you should be the one to stop. Why not him? Why just you?

The difference between the two of you is clear as day. Jungkook knows when to stop, and you don’t. He wanted to be able to make it back home to you more than he wanted to catch a bad guy. He put you first. He put the people who loved him first.

“I think I’m going to quit.”

Your chest feels so much lighter as soon as the words leave your mouth. Something evaporates from within you, a burden that’s finally been lifted, and that’s how you know it’s the right decision. You aren’t doing it just for everyone who loves you but is terrified for your life all the time. You aren’t doing it just for Jungkook. You’re doing it for yourself too.

Peace finally finds you then, as though it’s been waiting for you this entire time.

You don’t mind that Jungkook is already asleep. You said it, and admitting to yourself that maybe it’s time to stop, is good enough. Having that conversation with him in the morning won’t be late. You’re already halfway to dreamland when you feel him right behind you, enveloping you in a warmth that’s so distinctly Jungkook. He carefully wraps an arm around you and pulls you close to his chest, close enough that it feels like his heart is beating right into yours. He sighs, like he’s wholly relieved too.

You can’t discern what he says next, but you can feel the kiss he presses against your hair.

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churromancermasterofchurros · 1 year

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I think that the switch from reddit to tumblr is particularly difficult for me so far, and i know it's just been a few days, but i wonder if other people are having these issues as well, so i thought it might be a decent idea to write out my thoughts here.

-first off, i was a lurker almost exclusively on reddit. Much more introverted, and i only spoke about things i knew or if i knew id get karma for it (being a person with RSD, i kind of hated downvotes, regardless if they were just "useless internet points" or not).

-tumblr requires you to be more interactive and speak out more with its etiquette, by reblogging and so forth (ive read in a few places that comments sections werent used much before the refugees invaded tumblr, which i think seems like a cool positive)

-while there arent any downvotes, i still feel anxious to talk/put myself out there. Am i reblogging right? Are my tags funny? Is my blog a big uninteresting mess?

This isnt a problem with the site itself, but with me obviously. But we are talking about my difficulty here, so it still needs to be said.

-the communities arent built in here like they were with reddit, so you sort of have to find it, and the regular posters who have the kind of quality content you want. This is pretty cool, but vastly different from reddit and im having a tough time getting used to it.

-there's definitely a few people i missed from the reddit communities i was in, and i wish i knew if they were here or not. (Talking about you, u/nepalman230)

All this being said, holy hell, its wild. Im putting my thoughts out here right now, and while it does feel....uncomfy, i think its more because im not used to it. It feels more like shouting out to the void. Maybe itll talk back. Who knows?

But i think this site is very neat, and i love love LOVE how much more inclusive tumblr is. Im straight and a cis male, but there were a lot of toxic communities that would just not let people be who they say they are, and im so glad that all my LGBTQ+ friends have a more inclusive place like this, and that so many have migrated over here. I wish i wouldve come here sooner.

Im also very grateful to all you veteran tumblr users putting in the effort to help us out. Youve put so much out here for us, to help us better understand how to navigate these new waters, and honestly? I'd have been really screwed without the help ive received, because tumblr is really kinda chaotic.

Its good to be here, and i'm hoping i can get over all my dysfunctions and really enjoy this space you've shared with us.

#reddit boycott #reddit blackout #reddit refugee #kinda hopeful #a strange new world #dealing with ADHD #rsd is a bitch #venting and reflecting #tumblr vs reddit #reddit sucks #thoughts

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monsterfuckerconfessions · 11 months

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Welcome to Monster Fucker Confessions!

~ This is a place where you may submit anonymous monster related confessions to our ask box.

~ "Confessions" can mean many things here. It can be just thoughts you have on the subject of monsters. It can be sharing your experiences as a monster enthusiast. It can be story ideas and concepts. Really anything goes.

~ "Monster" also can mean many things. I do not gatekeep what counts as a monster. In fact, even confessions that are regarding human fictional characters with "monster vibes" are acceptable. There is no judgement here in regards to the type of monster you enjoy.

~ In addition, confessions submitted here do NOT have to be sexual. They can be sexual, but that isn't a requirement. This is a place for monster enthusiasts of all kinds to freely shout anonymously into the void. Whether you're into monsterfucking, monster-cuddling, or you just think they're neat, you're welcome here.

~ Confessions are added to the queue as they are received. The frequency of the queue is constantly adjusted to insure that posts never wait to long to be posted but also that the queue does not run out too quickly. ~ Posts are not tagged with any sort of warnings. Please browse with caution.

Guidelines:

~ Please only follow this blog and submit confessions if you are a legal adult. There is a lot of sexual content on this blog. ~ Please avoid giving any identifiable information in the submission. ~ Please be kind about the types of monsters others enjoy. Let's stay positive about each other's monster preferences! ~ Website URLs or images are NOT allowed in submissions. They will be deleted instantly and the sender is at risk of being blocked. ~ If you want to submit something that is too long to go in one ask, you may send it in multiple parts. Please be clear that you are doing so by marking them as 1/2, 2/2, etc. ~ ~ Please ONLY do this if the submission is too long to fit in a single message. Doing this for short submissions will result in your submission getting deleted. ~ If you are sending something that is not a confession, such as a question directed towards the person running this blog, please say "not a confession" somewhere in the body of the message. Otherwise, it will be queued with the rest of the confessions and not responded to by the owner of this blog. ~ "Not a confession" type messages should exclusively be about this blog and the running of it. Any "not a confession" messages asking questions that are not directed at the person running this blog will not be posted. ~ Do not include language that is harmful towards marginalized groups. ~ Do not insult other people's bodies or preferences. It's okay to voice your own dislike for things, but please word it in a way so it is clear that it's your preference and not a statement of fact. Statements such as "__ are gross and disgusting" are not allowed. ~ Do not send threats of violence towards real people. It is understood that some of these fantasies may include violence, but please do not direct it towards a real life person. ~ The owner of this blog is one single human and may miss certain aspects of submissions. If you see a confession that contains harmful or offensive text, please kindly send a message so that the situation may be resolved. Please be clear about what the issue is. Vague messages will not help.

New guidelines will be added as needed.

#housekeeping

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faetreides · 3 months

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i'd really like to know if he'd have any types of kinks or a type?!!

like from what I've read from you, maybe it's just my impression, but does he find chubby people more attractive? (self-insert hihi)

or just kinks he'd have; like, modern!coryo screams corruption kink (maybe even a virgin!reader 👀), and things like degradation/praise, as well as a pretty big dom situation 👀

anyways, love your stuff!

I can't help coming back to your modern! coryo au literally everyday, I'm in love 🫡🫠

CW: implied-ish plus sized reader but i use “chubbier” so it’s a bit ambiguous i guess but that’s how i picture them, don’t like don’t read

First of all, thank you so much for loving the au, it's kind of getting demotivating a bit to see the fandom slow down but I'll ALWAYS have modern! coryo brain rot. So, I guess someday I'll be shouting into the void lmao.

I do think that when it comes to preferences, he does prefer chubbier people. He's one of those guys that likes being able to just really grab and slap anything and everything because you've got more than enough meat on your bones. Also, idk how to quite explain it, but I think he enjoys what he believes is a more realistic (?) body, like he'd deadass get so offended if you thought you had to shave or cover up stretch marks. He comes from a very superficial world where the beauty standards are impossible to achieve (edit: i’m NOT talking about being skinny being impossible, i’m talking about general beauty standards and having an unrealistically proportioned body like the ones in media, i’m aware that skinny people exist) . It's like how for a while, Aphrodite and other similar goddesses were depicted in media as very skinny but when you look back at how they were actually worshiped, there are statues and carvings and etc. with belly rolls and all kinds of versions of bigger bodies. That's what reader's body reminds him of, gets him feel closer to God and all that.

I'll get to some actual kinks in a second, but I do think he likes more of a reluctant person. He's someone that is built for the chase and that really revels in the wooing process, he'd never been in love before you, so the rush of intense feelings kicks his adrenaline into overdrive. It's a sort of predator/prey thing without being a full-blown kink, Coryo stalks and he circles around you until you're given such a small window of escape that you already missed your chance by the time he decides that he's done waiting around. You have the whole cutesy 'will they? won't they?' thing going for a bit until you just don't anymore.

In my head, modern!coryo's reader is a virgin for that exact purpose lol like he does have a fuck boy past that's typical for his place in society, so I just love the idea of sex suddenly becoming so "special" to him now that he's possessed with the need to mold your experience around him so you could never be satisfied by anyone else. I think he'd want to keep some of that shyness and insecurity no matter how much experience he gives you, so he can reassure you and praise you and tell you to suck on his fingers so the stretch of his cock won't be all you can think about.

He does favor praise over degradation but when he does degrade it's more... positive (???) in his eyes, calling you dumb because he wants you know you don't have to be smart, saying you're his slutty whore because he wants you to feel comfortable enough being as nasty as possible with him, etc. No matter what name he calls you, he's adding 'my' in front of it. The words will be the same, but his tone will change based on if you're driving him crazy (basically if he gets jealous for no reason again)

I also think that's he way more of a Dom type, he'll never go into extreme type stuff and he's more of a gentle Dom depending on the situation that led up to you fucking or making love. My modern!coryo is never going to let you have more control than letting you ride him (and you always end up getting tired, so he has to take over, which he is more than happy to do!). His control issues are severe like they are in canon, he's exhausted trying to hold himself back from just losing it on everybody. So, having a stress toy of an s/o that he can micromanage and love without limits does wonders for his mental health.

He's obviously obsessed with spanking/LIGHT impact play. The only bruises you'll get will be from him squeezing you too hard or littering your body with hickies, he'd bite you to pieces too but he likes to think that he has some sense of decorum.

He could get behind silk bondage, whether it's patterns on your body or spreading you out on the bed with your ankles and wrists tied to the bed frame. But he wouldn't do it because he wants to keep you from touching, he just wants to love you properly without you hurting yourself because you got shy and squirmed all over the place.

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untaemedqueen · 10 months

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At Your Service

Escort!Jeongguk x CEO!Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 14.

Series Warnings (Will Be Updated): Angst, Fluff, Cold Heartedness, Emotional Trauma, Healing, Smut, Dark Humor

Your sickness came and went with the wind, almost as if Jeongguk's soup was some sort of magical brew that could save the universe in one fell swoop.

The days after that were simply transcendent. You were slowly coming to the realization that Guk will probably be the first and last great love of your life.

Until you got sick again.

It didn't make any sense, it came out of nowhere and it was more fierce than the first bout of illness you had almost two weeks before that.

You were bedridden for a day, violently ill two days after that and even now it's difficult for you to function.

Namjoon had to buy and set up a computer for you in the empty office that had sat alone in your mansion for years now.

Jeongguk has been ever patient and kind, loving like you cannot believe and incredibly accommodating.

It's really strange for you to feel so well taken care of especially when you're retching over the toilet making ungodly noises at the crack of dawn.

The past couple of days your boyfriend has been begging you to go to the doctor and finally you've heeded it.

You never enjoyed going to doctors, it's as if they got their licenses just to give out bad news. Nevermind the fact that the offices always smell weird and the air within them is practically palpable.

You don't know why all doctors need to give bad news but even today you've heard something grave.

So now as you sit alone in the garden maze of your mansion, you can only stare straight ahead.

You're dumb.

It's that simple.

You're impulsive.

You're fucked.

You've been a shell since the doctor spoke to you. Your heart had been beating so fast and so hard that you can still feel how your chest thuds painfully.

But now, you're simply a shell, void of any emotion.

There's an evening haze that lingers over the bushes of roses before you, it's thick and heavy like you'd lose the sight of your hand inside of it.

You simply stare at the sight before you, allowing your skin to become damp by the small droplets of dew that swirl within the thick layer of fog.

How did this happen? How did your life become the way it is now? What did you do to deserve this?

Once again, the walls Jeongguk fought to break down are immediately patched up and even thicker than before. It's a tragedy, really.

Or maybe the tragedy is finding love in your heart for him.

When your phone rings, it tears you from your mind numbing thoughts.

With lazy eyes and the tilt of your head, you look down to the ringing device beside you.

You have no feelings, no emotion. You want nothing more than to crawl into your bed and just wither away.

"Yes?" you answer, picking up the phone and lifting your hand into the thick haze before you.

"Madam, there's a Jeon Jeongguk here at the gate for you."

He'll never know why you're breaking it off. He'll never understand.

You, yourself, will never understand.

But the mistakes you've made with him are far too many to count.

To let yourself become lost and loving under his spell… It's unforgivable. To let yourself make such a mistake with him is… earth shatteringly impressive.

"He's not welcome here anymore. Please take him off the list. Jimin Park and Taehyung Kim too," you chirp, ending the call without another word.

The world around you is quiet for a moment, it's peaceful and lulling you into its clutches of madness before your phone begins to ring once more with a confused Jeongguk who could only want an explanation.

Silencing your phone, you stand. Your long black silk robe meets the soft, dewy grass underfoot and solemnly you make your way back to your mansion.

You can hear Jeongguk shouting your name in the distance, you can hear the horn of Taehyung's car blaring to no avail.

Once you're back in your sterile house and you close the back doors, the world is silent once again.

Jeongguk sits on his couch, arms folded as he stares at the screen of his phone.

It's almost as if he's trying to will it to give him a phone call with your name on it.

He doesn't know what went wrong.

What did he do? What did you find out at the doctor?

Hawking jumps up beside him, obviously missing the body who has been coddling him the past month. Guk can find no easy way to move, he feels sluggish and torn.

The Great Dane has to forcibly worm his strong head onto the escort's lap to even get some sort of attention.

"What'd I do?" Jeongguk asks his pet sullenly, burying his face into the top of his dog's head.

He was gone from your sight for all of four hours and now he's single and alone.

"Fuck!" he seethes through his teeth sharply, earning a weary puppy before him who he apologizes to for scaring.

He fucking loves you, he's all in in this relationship but to have no way of even contacting you? It's tearing him apart.

He knows you blocked his number, he knows you took away his privilege to get into your gated community, he knows it all.

But he doesn't know why!

Even Jimin and Taehyung can't even see you. What did he do wrong?

This feeling, this is different than when he was with Chloe. By the end of his time with her, he was a ball of angry and violent energy. Now, he's just an emotional mess who's scared and confused, heartbroken even.

"Let's go to bed," he breathes to Hawking, shaking his head.

You're going to work from home from now on.

You decided this almost immediately when you woke up the next day.

You weren't sick, you didn't feel any illness but you're not ready to face the world. Once you're outside of the gates of your community… anything could happen.

Grabbing your glass of orange juice, you sit down at the large desk within your home office. It's quiet in here with memories of Guk helping move stuff floating around the room like spiritual shadows.

Even when you woke up this morning the regret that lingered through your limbs was monumental. Jeongguk must be losing his fucking mind over you.

To have no explanation given, to rip yourself away from him so fast… you're causing him so much pain.

Chloe hurt him and betrayed him, that relationship made him into nothing. It brought him to lengths you wouldn't wish on anyone. And you're doing something almost as evil to him now…

He fucking loves you and you're… gone.

You can feel bile wanting to retch from you like you're a possessed demon and you can only think that this is what you deserve.

Turning on your computer, you stare straight ahead at the little teddy bear that sits atop the new couch by your desk.

Guk bought it and left it for you, a sweet secret present you very much adored.

"I thought you could use a friend while you work. Every time you look at the bear, it'll remind you of me and I'll always be with you."

With a whimper, you bury your face into your hands.

You hate this.

But most of all, you hate yourself.

Jeongguk bursts through your office doors with tired eyes that hold venom and fire within the pupils. The security couldn't stop him even though he had his access restricted and with a heaving breath he fixes his leather jacket.

"Dude," Namjoon guffaws, stepping out of your office.

"Where is she?" Guk inquires, waltzing with quick, angry steps towards your office.

"She's not with you? She didn't come in to work today, I dunno," Joon replies flippantly, folding his arms and leaning against the doorjamb.

When security arrives, your co-worker seems to grasp the situation just a tad bit better. He holds out his finger, telling them to wait as he takes in your disheveled boyfriend. "What happened?"

"She went to the doctors and then she fucking blocked me from everything and took away my access to see her! I don't even… I don't know what I did! I didn't do anything for her to act like this towards me!"

The blonde haired man before him fixes his glasses and he thinks carefully for a moment to weigh his options.

When you were with Guk, you were better. It's just that simple. Anyone could see it. You had a soul, you had emotions, it was really nice to see you in a comfortable light for once.

But you are casting him away… there's something wrong.

Namjoon has known you for years now and he knows that you're impulsive, he knows you're almost too ready to let things go at the drop of a hat but not with Guk.

You're invested -- were invested.

He can see just how broken and lost the escort is and even though he disliked him not too long ago… he can't help but feel bad for him.

"I'll pay Y/N a visit, see if she's okay and get some answers," your co-worker promises.

"Really?!" Guk gasps, widening his eyes.

"Yeah, I'll see what's up," Joon assures him, putting his glasses back on.

"Thank you!" the escort cries, coursing his fingers through his long black hair.

Namjoon hasn't been to your mansion since that fateful day, the day he realized he had absolutely no chance with you.

It was a cold slap in the face when he walked in on you. He finally understood in that minute that all the hoping he'd done for years now meant absolutely nothing.

You weren't his to have and it was that simple. And although it hurt him deeply to come face to face with reality, he's still your friend, he's still an adult. He still cares for you.

When he pulled up to the gates of your community, he was immediately let in.

Joon is confused with how to feel, if he's being honest. Should he be happy that he's still on the guest list or should he be offended that you don't care nearly as much for him as you do for two other people you only met a month ago to take away their visiting rights? It's hard for him to process.

On the other hand, he's incredibly worried about you. You were fine just two simple days ago and now you're locking yourself away in the black, sterile mansion once more.

Your co-worker can only think the news from the doctor is grave. He hopes you don't have a month to live or something like that because he won't handle it well at all.

He still fucking loves you, for God's sake.

All of this weighs heavily on his mind and shoulders as he steps up the stairs to the large glass doorway of your house.

Joon thinks about ringing the bell before he simply opens the door with the spare key that you haven't moved since he last let himself in.

If he rings the bell, you might simply decide not to answer at all.

Letting himself in, he calls your name which is drowned out by the loud opera that screeches throughout the house.

This is bad. Opera is a coping mechanism for you.

Namjoon creeps through your house quietly, hoping to not scare you if he sees you. He's almost positive that you're not in the mood for visitors.

Stepping up to the speakers that forcibly shake the floor around it with how loud the bass is, he lowers it.

That should get you to come out of whenever you're hiding.

He waits patiently for a moment before you appear in the hallway with curious eyes.

Joon in all his time has never seen you like this, you're wearing Jeongguk's hoodie and a pair of leggings that seem like they just came right out of the package.

When your eyes meet, you deflate visibly and trudge back into your office.

Joon follows after you, sketching your appearance into his mind like a quick artist.

You have bags under your eyes and yet they're puffy like you've been crying oceans and oceans of tears.

When he steps into your office, he watches you sullenly lay back down on the couch, clutching a random stuffed teddy bear.

"Y/N," Namjoon whispers softly, almost as if he's talking to a wounded fierce animal.

"What?" you breathe, your voice is hoarse and monotone.

"What's going on?" he inquires, sitting down on the Persian carpet beside you and unbuttoning his suit jacket.

"Nothing," you mumble stubbornly, letting your eyes flutter shut.

You're not yourself, obviously.

You bring your knees to your chest, hugging the teddy bear tighter and Joon can't help but feel his heart thud painfully at the sight.

"What'd the doctor tell you?" he inquires softly, pushing stray hairs off your wet cheeks.

He won't ask about Jeongguk just yet, he can see the emotional turmoil you're stewing in and bringing up the man might just break you.

"Nothing," you repeat monotonously.

"I'm here to help, sweetheart. Talk to me," the blonde man practically begs, leaning back against the couch to give you your privacy.

He stares at the intricate paintings along the wall as his temple connects with the top of your head sweetly.

You find some sort of ease with the touch and you sigh softly.

You sit in silence for a bit, listening to the now soft opera screeching into your ears. Once you say the words it'll mean that it's true. Are you ready to speak them?

Taking a deep breath, you just decide to say it.

You tell Joon the doctor's orders and he turns his head towards you with wide eyes.

"Are you serious?" he gasps, looking down at you.

You simply look up at him with broken eyes that scream that this is the truth.

"Y/N… you have to tell him," Namjoon whispers, coursing his warm thumbs over your cheeks.

"No!" you gasp, sitting up sharply.

Joon breathes a heavy sigh, standing up only to sit down beside you and pull you into his chest.

"You can't hide this. It's wrong," he coos softly.

The feeling of his suit fabric against yours is oddly comforting and your eyes snap shut.

The weight of telling someone else feels relieving but now that it's out there in the open… it makes an Earth sized hole in your soul.

"He'll hate me," you announce after a moment.

"He hates that you've cast him away," Joon replies simply.

"You saw him?"

"He came by the office earlier. He's a mess without you," your co-worker murmurs.

"I'm a mess without him," you say honestly.

"So what are you going to do?"

In all actuality, you don't know what the fuck you're doing. You don't know how the fuck to proceed with your life. You wish you could just stay in your mansion everyday for years to come. But it can't be that simple.

With a sigh you bury your face farther into Joon's chest and sob softly.

"I don't know," you cry out, wrapping your arms around his strong torso.

<---------- Last Chapter Next Chapter ------>

#at your service #chapter 14 #chap 14 #jungkook fic #jungkook #jeongguk #jeon jeongguk #jeon jungkook #bts #bts fic #bts smut #jungkook smut #dom!jeongguk

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