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#something for every demographic here
sylvainahyperfixation · 4 months
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bipolarandannoyed · 10 months
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I am EXTREMELY hesitant to partake in fandoms of any sort as I have partaken in fandoms in the past and.....
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rowenablade · 5 months
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Okay. I’m going to wait to do a second watch before I articulate most of my other feelings here, but I want to address one thing.
I’m seeing a lot of posts like, “I related to Izzy because I am also queer and older/disabled/depressed. By killing him off, the writers are saying that I deserve to die.”
Guys.
I’m not saying your feelings aren’t valid. I totally understand grieving a character that you relate to. But speaking as a writer, I just want to point out that trying to write with the shadow of “what is the absolute worst and most harmful way a reader can interpret this” will smother your ability to create. Twisting yourself in knots, trying to think up the worst-faith takes possible and scotch-guarding all your writing decisions against them is exhausting to the point of making you just not want to write anymore.
And we’ve seen the writers deliberately choose not to do this in Season 1. Remember all those terrible “Izzy is racist” takes that the writers and cast seemed completely blindsided by? That happened because the writers and directors and actors weren’t going over every scene with a fine tooth comb, ferreting out every shot or line of dialogue or micro expression that could possibly be interpreted as racist, and scrubbing it off. Because there comes a point where your story is what it needs to be, and you have to accept that some people will interpret it in ways you didn’t intend them to. And if you can’t accept that, you’ll never find the courage to put your work out there.
The point of diverse casts and writing teams isn’t to achieve a state of, “Nothing bad ever happens to a character from a marginalized demographic ever again.” It’s to achieve a status quo of these types of characters just being people in the world of the story. Not symbols, not representation boxes to tick, not tokens that you can point to so that you can say, “Here, we acknowledged this type of person exists, now where’s our woke points?”
OFMD is full of characters of color, queer characters, older characters, characters of differing body types. And in stories, things happen to characters. Some fall in love. Some make the same mistakes over and over. Some turn into birds. Some die.
Izzy’s character represents a lot of things, but he does not represent every older, disabled fan or fan who has struggled with suicide, any more than Jim represents all genderqueer fans, or Olu represents all black fans. That’s not how the writers were handling him. They were handling him like a character, because that’s what you have to do.
Again, I understand being sad. I am so, so fucking sad. But this idea of, “Any time something bad happens to a character I relate to means that the writer thinks I deserve these bad things to happen to me,” will poison everything you engage with eventually. Because stories are full of things happening to characters, and they won’t all be good things. And the more representation we get, the more often bad things will happen to characters we relate to.
But good things will happen too.
Queer couples get married. Disabled women run off with their favorite husbands. Middle-aged characters change careers. A multiracial polycule finds a home at sea. A fat man covered in tattoos stars in a drag show and all his friends cheer. All these things happened in the same show as Izzy’s death. This is what this world is.
Anyway. I know emotions are running high and I’ll probably get blocked or unfollowed by a few people for this. But I’m just trying to find my peace where I can, and if anyone else finds this useful, cheers.
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germiyahu · 2 months
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There's such an intricate interplay between antisemitism and islamophobia from the slacktivist left. For every reason they can think of to delegitimize the Jewish People's connection to Eretz Yisrael, it's propped up by some Noble Savage presumptions about Palestinians/Arabs/Muslims.
Since Jews in America are seen as a model minority, seen as having accessed whiteness and privilege, and "antisemitism" is at worst having to explain what Hanukah is to clueless Christians, the Left is confused as to exactly why Jews care about Jerusalem and the Land of Israel so much. Shouldn't they be above such petty and barbaric and outdated concerns such as a dusty old book from 2,000 years ago?
They should be more enlightened than that. They're all rich suburban secular Democrats. They're the leftist religion, according to bloggers on this very platform. There is no room for Judaism to be a religion, there's no acknowledgment of ancient customs, rituals, and the deep mysticism that's still alive and well in the Jewish community. There's no attempt to understand Jewish history and culture and why a group of people you think shares your vaguely atheistic vaguely liberal (and not in the Tankie sense) vaguely smug detached Western worldview... is more complex and unique than that.
Jews should be happy living in Diaspora because clearly the problem of antisemitism is fixed now, and never really was a problem in America. There must be something sinister behind a desire to reestablish a country by and for Jews. There must be something colonial, oppressive, European and White about it. Because why else would they do it? They have it good here. And no we won't acknowledge where Israelis primarily descend from because that requires us to do research and have a shred of nuance and integrity when it comes to Jews. No thanks!
A lot of the modern left is nonconsensually dragging Jews kicking and screaming from their own unique demographic toward the banal Norm. To themselves. But not totally. See they think they relate to Jews and vice versa, but not enough that when they think Jews should "know better," or haven't "learned their lesson," from the Holocaust, it engenders a deep seeded disgust and mistrust and rage that's not felt for actually privileged mainstream dominant society.
Conversely, the slacktivist Left sees Arabs as savages. Silly desert people who eat sand and worship a big black cube and cover every inch of their bodies for some reason. How quaint! When the Palestinian/Arab/Muslim cause explains that Jerusalem is important to them, the White Western Leftist nods sagely and says "Your culture is so valid queen," because they don't care. They just accept that Muslim society would be willing to fight over an ancient city proscribed as holy in dusty old tomes. Because that fits the narrative already surrounding Muslims.
They're seen as backwards, but the Left, reacting to their conservative parents and the Bush era, see "Muslims are backwards," and says not "No actually they're modern groups of people with practical geopolitical goals," but instead "Yeah and that makes them better than us!" Especially with this new crop of baby Leftists who think Islamo-Fascist "Feudalism" or whatever the best term would be, is aspirational or at least harmless... because it's not capitalism :)
So Muslims are infantilized and condescended to because the Western Leftist is still just as racist as their parents, but they feel guilty about their parents without considering their contribution to White Supremacy and the Post Bush surveillance state. And all the while Jews are reprimanded and held to an impossible standard because the Western Leftist, again, rejects their conservative parents' philosemitism, and decides that Jews Must be Punished when they step off the pedestal that Suffering the Shoah placed them on.
Jews should be above nationalism, Jews should know that demurely suffering pogroms and ethnic cleansing and genocide and general inequity and humiliation will earn them their divine reward in the end. Muslims should not be above nationalism, because they're not capable of being above it, and can't we throw them a bone, after all Obama was the worst president in history because of the Drone War and let's not mention George W Bush at all :0
Hot take, but I believe this is an essential underpinning of where the average disaffected White millennial/zoomer Leftist's head is at with regard to Israel and Palestine. They won't acknowledge it of course, but I can generally see through things like this.
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princessbrunette · 24 days
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just thinkin about pope n innocent!reader,,, and her calling him daddy while he has her on her lap stuffing her w his fingers :( just thinking…
also, could i please be 📝 anon? :) i loovee ur writing
✧˖°.🩰✧˖°.
pope liked to reward good behaviour. he found positive reinforcement worked well with you, and was happy to use that to his advantage as it kept the two of you content.
if you were to make a good suggestion to the pogues, you were rewarded with something small and quiet as acknowledgement to your deed, like a kiss on the temple or a reassuring smile and nod. if you were to go out of your way to do something kind or helpful, like bringing him food when he’d forgotten to eat — or sewing up his shirt that got ripped on a pogue mission, you’d be rewarded with copious praise and affection, calling you his ‘good girl’ which seemed to be your favourite, melting like putty in his hands each and every time.
now these were things he did naturally, for nothing in return, purely because he wanted to. but it didn’t go unnoticed that the sweeter he was on his girl, the softer and more vulnerable you’d become — stripping you down to your most true self. he wanted you, wanted all of you— so he’d keep going, keep praising to work you out. you were popes favourite thing to study.
when you’d been consistently well behaved through the entire day, even when odds were against you — he’d often help you unwind with your favourite type of reward, having you on his lap with his long skilful fingers deep inside.
“i know, i know. how’s it feel when it rub you like this, hm? can you talk to me?” he used his softest tone on you, not the voice he uses to sark at jj or argue against john b’s outrageous plans. he was his softest, most relaxed with you — and he loved that you brought that out of him.
“i—i like it, m’gonna cum soon.” you wail but it’s muffled into the smooth skin of his shoulder muscle, the plane that had been bearing all of your pleased tears and sounds.
“thats good, bambie. gonna keep rubbing that pretty clit just like this okay?” he lilts his voice gently, tilting his head when you don’t respond, too focused on breathing out heavy breaths against him. he noses at your cheek, craning down to try and get your eyes on him. “okay?” he repeats and you screw your eyes shut, nodding.
“‘kay, daddy.” you release with a held breath. he’s kind of glad your eyes were shut, because it catches him off guard for a second, blinking down at you as he continues to work his fingers inside you, thumb resting over your button.
daddy.
he couldn’t say he was surprised that you were into that kind of thing, infact — jj had in a way predicted it in once when the two of them were out on the boat fishing. something along the lines of “nah dude she’s real sweet. i see why you like ‘er. got the whole innocent, ‘daddy please fuck me’ thing goin’ on, ‘ya know?” now at the time, pope had been too preoccupied with scolding jj over being vulgar about his girl to entertain the conversation, but now it was coming back to him and he realised he was right.
it definitely made sense. bad relationship with your own father which had wound you up in his arms— someone calm, nurturing, enforces gentle rules and guidance, teaches you new stuff. even away at college before he met you he was a magnet to a certain demographic of girl, one who needed a gentle demeanour and occasional firm hand.
he wracks his brain for what to say as he drops a long kiss to your forehead, blinking rapidly as thoughts fire off. he wants to please you, wants to be that for you— and for once he hadn’t done his ample research beforehand to really support you through it. he decides on something simple, trying it out.
“daddies right here, let it go for me, pretty girl.” he’s more of a natural than he realised, and as if he flipped some sort of switch— you gasp, clutching onto him hard as he feels you gush around his fingers in a water-fall like consistency.
you slur a bunch of nonsense against his skin as he shushes you kindly, ears pricking up and heat rising to his face and cock each time the word ‘daddy’ comes out muffled against his shoulder. if daddy was what you needed, daddy was what you’d get. he better get studying.
✧˖°.🩰✧˖°.
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verysium · 4 months
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This is such crack brain fart idea 😶
What if some blue lock boys ask the reader what brand her shoes (or something dumb like that) over text and reader sent them a voice message on text and it’s just:
“Hi baby, okay so the brand is—- *insert car accident noises*”
Have you seen those TikToks???
If you do this request, it can be any blue lock boys you want
HELPPP i saw something similar on hinge, and i was hunched over the side of my bed laughing for like 20 minutes. in general, i don't think pranks with any of the bllk boys would go well (unless you wanted to be punted like a football, american-style) but i'm taking a risk today, so here you go:
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sae sees through your bullshit in a peloponnesian minute. he has morning practice, three interviews, and a daily nap to get to, so what makes you think he has time for you to fake a car accident? leaves you on read. (brutal, i know.)
rin is mildly concerned, but he's too smart to fall for whatever prank you have planned. he'd probably reply with a sarcastic, dry ass response or a deadpan emoji. refuses to talk to you for the rest of the day because what if you actually got into a car accident? he would lose all sanity. tbh he can't stand it when people make light of serious situations even if it's just a lighthearted joke.
kaiser is petty. he sends you an official funeral invite titled "in loving memory of y/n." he personally designed it in photoshop and even added those tacky glitter rose GIF animations on the front. coincidentally, everyone in your immediate circle also happened to receive the same mass email chain with those invites, so you had to explain to your family, friends, and co-workers that (1) you did not in fact die in a car accident and (2) your funeral is not set for the 15th. (you never played a prank on michael again.)
isagi freaks out. he's calling 911/119, whatever emergency service there is. immediately calls you and nearly breaks down in fear of losing you. when you tell him it was merely a prank, he laughs in relief but internally he's cursing you out with every colorful name in existence.
ness is isagi but even more high-strung. there is no time to call the ambulance in his mind. he's already thundering down the highway looking for the evidence of your car wreck. calls you and screams ballistically into the speaker: "WHERE ARE YOU? WHERE ARE YOU? WHERE ARE YOU?" so yeah....don't ever play a prank on ness. it's for your sake, not his.
shidou takes you up one notch and sends a picture of himself in the emergency room with a cast on his leg and an IV drip. this spawn of satan took your message literally and decided to copy you and got into a real car accident. so now you have to take time off work and sign the hospital discharge papers because he listed you as his sole emergency contact.
nagi doesn't give a shit. he's already chronically online, and reo's played pranks on him before. probably texts you an "ok" and then tells you he's run out of toilet paper again, so you need to stop by the store to buy some.
reo matches your energy. he replies with: oh yeah, i've heard of that brand. it's the—*insert sound of trucks colliding and screeches across asphalt* you both had a good laugh after.
ok that's all i have for now. this is going to reach a very niche demographic, but you're welcome.
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heesdreamer · 11 months
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TWO FOR ONE
PAIRING ➩ heeseung x reader x jake
SUMMARY ➩ Don’t let the tiny amount of plot fool you… this is straight up smut lol. Heeseung is a gentle giant who doesn’t talk much and Jake is an absolute menace
WARNINGS ➩ Straight up smut. slight switch heeseung… he just listens well lol, hard dom jake but he’s sweet at times, double penetration, slight degrading… it’s just a mess lol this is definitely getting content blocked. Heejake are NOT together and do not get intimate at all other then slight instruction from the latter! NOT PROOFREAD
WC ➩ 11.1k
AUTHORS NOTE ➩ So.. I’m back lol. Not what I typically write but well… guess I was in a mood so here you go. Hope you enjoy however many of you manage to see this considering tumblr isn’t being so kind to smut writers right now
It wasn’t like you weren’t accustomed to men and their actions, especially in your specific line of work.
Being a waitress meant you were subjected to almost every type of man, ranging from the attractive ones who talked too much about themselves and their accomplishments to the less favorable who seemed to think calling out comments about your uniform would get them a date after your shift ended.
You loved your job on a regular day, working in a hole in the wall diner that managed to get pretty heavy foot traffic between the drunk people wandering too far from the main stretch looking for cheap food and the truckers who were 16 hours into a shift and needing somewhere warm to refuel on coffee and stretch their legs.
The summers were hectic and considering part of your uniform entailed rolling around on a pair of bright pink skates as you delivered hot mugs and stacks of plates, you definitely wouldn’t have liked it as much if it wasn’t for your coworkers and the hefty tips you’d get if you managed to bring yourself to batting your eyelashes at the customers.
You were six hours into a shift now and your ankles were definitely swollen from the tight skate laces around your ankles, hair frizzier than it had been in the morning from the humidity and sweat and you were almost positive some sticky mouthed kid had stuck gum on the back of your apron.
Still your attention was locked on a booth in the corner of the diner, leaning forward on the counter with your elbows holding up your weight to stop you from rolling forward or backwards. Your eyebrow was raised as you looked at the two people seated across from each other and you were running over your mental catalog to see if you’d seen them before. Eventually decided you definitely hadn’t considering the reason for your initial curiosity, that being the fact they were the complete opposite of your usual demographic.
“They screw you out of a solid tip or something?” Your coworkers voice was mumbling from beside you and you glanced over just in time to see him taking off his hairnet and leaning down on the counter next to you.
Riki had actually been one of the skaters a year or two back before he hit a random growth spurt and became to clumsy and accident prone. It had only taken three spilled coffees onto unexpecting patrons before he was being push back onto cook duty in the back kitchen, happy to at least have kept his job even if he was missing out on server tips now.
“They’re Sunoo’s table.” You were explaining to him and shaking your head softly, pausing for a second. “I just haven’t seen them around before.”
He was shrugging and you could feel him glancing at you in confusion before he was looking back at the two boys who were innocently eating their fries and barely paying attention to their surroundings. “So, what’s the big deal? Maybe they’ll be your first regulars who aren’t 60 years old.”
You didn’t directly respond to him but you kept watching the boys curiously for the rest of your shift and four more after that, they kept coming in day after day and sitting in the same booth in the corner.
Eventually you would’ve gotten bored of trying to figure out where they came from or what part of town they lived in, if it wasn’t for the fact they started to notice you too. Especially one of them considering he would continuously poke his head over the booths divider wall and look at you for a few seconds until you made eye contact with him, then he’d shoot back down and sit tight in his seat.
It was funny at first to see how nervous he got whenever you held his gaze for half a second but eventually it started to get on your nerves and distract you from your actual tables, never having served them yet considering they only sat in Sunoo’s section.
A week passed before you were sighing and asking your coworker if it was okay for you to swap sides of the diner for the day, watching his confused expression turn into a meddling one as he glanced over at the boys in the corner knowingly before he was nodding his head enthusiastically.
“Which one are you interested in?” He was whispering in your direction with an excited smile but you ignored his question due to your lack of an answer and skated back over to an awaiting table.
The next day they were coming in again and you watched them patiently for a few minutes before the nervous one was scurrying off to the bathroom, giving you the chance to smoothly skate over and stand in front of the booth. It took the remaining boy a few seconds to look at you and realize you weren’t Sunoo but he was smiling as soon as he trailed up your uniform and stopped on your face, not relenting even when your eyebrow cocked.
“Hey.” He was breathing out and your nose scrunched slightly at the confidence in his voice, glancing behind you for a second before sighing and tucking your pen behind your ear.
“Why does your friend keep staring at me?” You were asking swiftly and his smile faltered for a second at the sound of your annoyed tone, bored expression on your face as you stared down at him and waited for a response.
You could hear the sound of the bathroom door opening behind you but you didn’t turn, already knowing who it was based off context and the fact the boy sitting down was looking around your frame now and smiling again as he saw his friend returning to the table. It took longer than the walk from the bathroom usually did and you imagined he had frozen for a few seconds when he saw you standing there instead of Sunoo.
“He thinks you’re pretty.” Your eyes were shooting back to the boy who was sitting as he spoke and they stayed on him even when the new figure was sliding into the seat across from him and doing his best to avoid touching you, captivated for a moment by the way he was looking at you.
Then you were breaking away from his gaze to take in the boy you kept catching peeking at you, eyes flickering from his red cheeks to the glasses sat on top of his nose. He was both staring at you intensely and avoiding looking at you at all cost, darting from your face to your hands that were touching the table and then back at his friend with a slightly panicked expression.
“That true? You think I’m pretty?” You were asking him with a slight bite to your words, feeling almost suspicious like they were potentially making fun of you.
You knew you were pretty attractive but at work you weren’t exactly at your hottest, normally sweaty from the beating summer sun through the large windows and the effort that skating around in clean lines all day took. You imagined your hair was frizzing out of its ponytail by now and you typically carried a heavy grimace on your face unless you were attempting to butter up the high tipping regulars.
“He does.” The other boy was answering for him and you turned your gaze back towards him in a glare. “He talks about it all the time.”
“He can’t speak for himself?” You were interrupting harshly but your tense demeanor disappeared slightly when he was shaking his head in denial, glancing back towards the boy with glasses to see him looking much more embarrassed now that you were talking about him. “No he can’t or no he can?”
“I-I can.” He was hurrying to rush out in a stutter and your eyes softened slightly at the way his widened, trying his best to address you directly despite the way his friend was laughing softly across the table.
You turned your head to glare at him again for his small chuckles, feeling oddly protective over the other boy even though he’d been getting on your nerves with his constant distractions and staring. The first boy stopped laughing but kept a small smirk on his face as he watched you, eyes flicking down to your chest for a second as he scanned your name tag before meeting your stare again.
“I’m Jake and he’s Heeseung.” He nodded his head across the table at the latter part and you looked back over to the boy with glasses to see him attempt a small friendly smile in your direction.
You tested out their names in your head for a few seconds before you were sighing and taking your pen out from behind your ear, finally getting around to asking them for their orders and ignoring the way your cheeks were heating up as you skated back behind the counter.
——
Heeseung and Jake continued to come into your work regularly and you continued to ask Sunoo for that table even if it wasn’t on your side, every time flushing bright red at the knowing smirk on his face and eventually being overly grateful when he told you that you didn’t need to keep asking him every single time.
You didn’t speak to the boys much and you definitely weren’t friends but Jake tried to make conversation with you every time you took their order, smirking and leaning forward on the table with his elbows so he could stay in your line of vision even when you tried your hardest to ignore him from the corner of your eye. Heeseung stayed quiet for the most part outside of whispering out his orders but you felt him watching the side of your face the entire time you were around them.
So you weren’t exactly sure why you were accepting their invitation to come to their apartment one weekend after your shift had ended, at first ignoring Jake when he explained there was going to be a small party and he wanted to see you there.
He had smiled at you and wrote down their address anyways on one of the napkins from the metal dispenser, sliding it in your direction and not saying anything else when you snatched it off the table without agreeing to show up.
You were definitely overthinking the fact you’d shown up now considering you definitely hadn’t given any hint that you would be, standing outside their door and being hit with the realization they might not even want you here anymore or maybe it really was a small gathering and they only ordered enough food or drinks for a certain amount of people. You pictured having to stand all night because there wasn’t enough seats and your face pulled into a cringed grimace, getting ready to turn around and leave before the door was swinging open.
You froze for a few seconds before realizing it was just Jake but then you were tensing even more. You were used to seeing him in more casual clothes throughout the day but he was definitely dressing up tonight, sleeves rolled up just above his elbows and your eyes stayed locked on the thick veins in his arms for a few seconds before you were snapping back up to his face.
“You’re early.” He was chiming but that familiar sleazy smile was making its way to his face now after he’d seen you briefly checking him out. You rolled your eyes at his comment but you were grateful when he wordlessly stepped aside to let you pass through the front door.
“You didn’t exactly give me specifics.” You were sarcastically responding as you stood in the entryway, eyes scanning over their apartment and being pleasantly surprised by how normal it seemed.
It was almost overly tidy and you had a strong feeling that was more Heeseung’s doing, spotting stacks of video games pressed tightly onto an entertainment center shelf and perfectly dusted coffee tables with no liquid ring stains unlike how your own looked. You could see a hallway leading away from the main living area and there was three doors, one of them closed completely.
You turned your head to glance back at Jake over your shoulder to find him already watching you, his expression slightly darker now but softening again when he noticed you looking. “Where’s Heeseung?”
“He’s in his room getting ready still.” He was answering smoothly and you assumed the closed door must be his, nodding your head softly and pausing awkwardly for a second before kicking off your shoes by the door. “I think he’s nervous.”
Jake was moving towards the kitchen area as he talked and you watched him curiously as he opened the fridge and took out a drink, waiting for him to continue even when he was turning back around and resting his elbows on the counter as he glanced at you. He seemed to take notice of your curious expression and raised eyebrow, laughing in surprise for a second before he was opening his mouth to speak more.
“I meant it when I said he thought you were pretty and, if you haven’t noticed, he’s not the best with talking to girls.” He was shrugging softly as he talked but you could tell it was a deeper issue between the friends, something they’d definitely talked about before.
You were looking down towards the hallway again and then back at Jake.
“So you’re his wingman.” Your tone was flat as it fell from your mouth and you were taken back at your own directness, for some reason finding yourself grateful when he smiled softly instead of getting offended at your almost harsh level of bluntness.
He was shrugging again and you felt a small wave of frustration pass through you, not necessarily at the boy directly but at the fact he never seemed to give you a straight answer to anything and constantly watched you with that smirk he carried so naturally.
If it was any other situation, you would have figured Jake was the one who was interested in you. He was constantly watching you carefully in a way that almost made your skin crawl if it wasn’t for his easygoing demeanor and gentle way of speaking, especially to Heeseung who he seemed to care deeply for. Deep enough that he was constantly mentioning him any time the two of you were alone and solidifying the fact he didn’t like you himself.
You were sighing under your breath before nodding to yourself and turning on your heel, wandering down the hallway and knocking softly on the closed door before you could see Jake’s reaction, already picturing the amused look that must be on his face.
Despite your knocking, you didn’t actually have the patience to wait for him to come and open the door so it was more so a warning as your hand touched the knob and twisted it to reveal Heeseung standing in front of his mirror as he messed with his hair. His eyes flicked up to the reflection to see who it was coming into his room so suddenly and he froze up completely when he realized it was you, hand stood still in his dark hair and eyes widening a touch.
“Hey.” You breathed out and smoothed down your skirt awkwardly, needing something to do with your hands as you glanced around his room.
You figured your assumptions about the cleanliness of the apartment being his doing were right considering the state of his bedroom and you looked back over at him to see him still frozen in place, snapping back out of it slightly when he realized you were waiting for him to say something.
“H-hi, you’re early.” He was rushing out and turning to finally face you, his hands falling back to rest on the desk and then immediately being brought in front of his stomach instead like he wasn’t sure what to do with them.
“Jake said the same thing.” You told him and you tried your best to smile softly at him, trying to find a way to calm his nerves that were obviously increasing. You glanced at his bed and then back at him with a raised eyebrow, feeling thankful he got the memo and nodded his head softly with slightly parted lips. He watched you intensely as you lowered yourself down on his soft bed, glancing around your surroundings again and taking it in.
“It’s..” He trailed off awkwardly after attempting to start a sentence and your gaze went back to him curiously.
Heeseung was definitely attractive even if he lacked any signs of confidence, never really meeting your eye and instead allowing his more extroverted friend to basically speak for him instead of talking to you himself. It almost made him cuter to you despite not necessarily going for guys like that in the past but you were slightly flattered by how nervous he got whenever you approached their table.
He seemed especially on edge now that you were sitting carefully on his perfectly made bed, out of your stained uniform and dressed in a small skirt that was sliding up your thighs every time you slightly shifted. He was fidgeting with his hands still and you could see a soft blush on his face even though he was avoiding looking at you for more than a few seconds at a time.
“It’s what?” You were trying to coax the rest of his sentence out of him but his body stiffened at the soft tone you’d suddenly taken on, something he hadn’t heard before considering you typically were harshly barking a response towards Jake.
“It’s j-just.. not a bad thing that you’re early.” He was eventually forcing the words out and looking at you briefly to check your reaction, swallowing so hard that it almost looked painful. You were smiling softly but not immediately responding, letting his words hands delicately in the air for a few seconds before you were standing up and approaching him slowly.
He didn’t move away from the desk but he was completely tense now that you were close to him, still not near enough to touch but pretty clear in your intentions when you took another small step. He was so stiff that you were almost worried you were making him uncomfortable if it wasn’t for the many times Jake had told you that he liked you, encouraged you to make a move because Heeseung wouldn’t do it himself.
You were hit with a wave of disappointment and then embarrassment however when he was suddenly taking a few quick steps to the side and placing a hand over his face to try and cover the visible redness, staring at the floor to avoid the hurt on your expression considering he’d basically just ran away from you.
A mean scoff was falling from your lips before you could swallow it and Heeseung winced slightly at the sound, eyes squeezing shut for a second like he was preparing himself to be yelled at. You shook your head even though he wasn’t looking at you and swiftly turned to leave the room before you could embarrass yourself further, storming back down the hall and roughly attempting to put your shoes back on so you could go back home.
“Woah woah woah.” Jake’s voice was coming from the living room, sounding panicked and confused as he quickly stood up from the couch and approached you. You felt his hands touching the bare skin of your arm and you flinched softly before glaring at him, watching as he took the hint and held the hand up in surrender. “Hey, what happened?”
His voice was gentle but you could tell he already had a feeling by the way he was glancing towards the hallway with a similar disappointment on his face.
“You said he liked me.” You spat at him and you were even more mortified considering the embarrassed tears that were threatening to spill, bending back down to try and pull on your other shoe but stopping when you felt his hand touching you again.
He was holding your arm softly and not taking it off this time despite the murderous look you were giving him, squeezing your skin just enough to get your attention as he waited for you to stand back to your full height and focus on him before spreading. “He does, I promise you he does Y/N. He just… he’s inexperienced.”
“Oh you don’t say.” Your laugh was mocking and mean and you would’ve felt more guilty if it wasn’t for the anger coursing through you, more convinced now they had been messing with you.
“I’m serious.” His tone was harsher now that you were seemingly making fun of his friend, his touch still gentle despite the slight edge to his gaze. “He’s never even kissed a girl before.”
“What?” You were fully pausing in your attempts to leave now and staring at him with a bewildered expression, eyes shooting to the hallway and for a second you wondered if Heeseung was potentially listening in on your conversation considering you weren’t exactly whispering.
“Just don’t leave yet, okay?” Jake’s voice was soft and reassuring and your eyes dropped down to the way he was holding your arm for a second before you were nodding in confirmation.
He was letting out a relieved sigh and then disappeared down the hallway quickly, leaving you standing there awkwardly before you decided to go and sit on the couch. What he said hadn’t completely shocked you since you figured Heeseung didn’t have much experience due to his demeanor but you didn’t expect him to be at absolutely zero especially since he was definitely attractive and had at least one outgoing person in his social circle.
It was a few minutes before Jake was coming back down the hallway and searching the room for you, stopping for a beat when he saw you sitting uncomfortably on their couch.
Heeseung was trailing behind him and he somehow looked even more awkward than he had back in his bedroom, shoulders tensed and eyes set on the floor in front of him so he didn’t accidentally make eye contact with you. He only got more unnerved when Jake was sitting on one side of you, leaving him no choice but to sit on your right and sandwich you between them.
Neither of them were touching you but the air was heavy and you were feeling slightly anxious considering you didn’t exactly know them that well and you were sure why Jake had asked you to stay.
“Is somebody going to speak or are you just going to stare at me all night?” Your tone was snappy again and you uncomfortably shifted in your spot when Jake let out a small disappointed sigh even though you had a feeling it had more to do with his silent friend than your harshness.
“He really does like you.” His voice sounded more exhausted now like he was sick of having to repeat it and you looked at him for a few seconds before moving your stare towards Heeseung.
“You do?” Your tone was still on the colder side as you addressed him and his eyes widened for a beat before he was nodding in agreement. You were grateful he atleast could admit it even if he couldn’t say it outright but you were losing your patience for the weird game of telephone that was happening between the three of you. “Kissing isn’t that scary, all you had to do was ask.”
He didn’t say anything, not that you expected any different from him, but you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes slid over your face until he was looking behind you towards his friend.
You sighed softly even though the action spiked your curiosity, shifting so you were facing him on the couch with your back towards Jake, scooting towards the quiet boy so your knee was bumping into the side of his thigh. He swallowed harshly and you spotted a hint of red creeping back up his neck, only worsening when you were leaning closer to him and glancing at his parted lips. “Can I kiss you?”
He seemed startled but not at all by the fact his friend was still in the room, sitting on the same couch as you and watching the two of you intensely as you tried to navigate his silence. He was nodding softly but you could tell he was nervous, even more so when you were leaning forward to press against him and he stayed rigid.
You pecked his lips a few times softly, not able to do much else considering he wasn’t moving at all and you were two seconds from pulling away and abandoning the idea completely before Jake was speaking from behind you.
“Show him properly.” His tone was lower than you’d heard it before and you jumped slightly at the reminder that he was there, his voice closer than you remembered.
“What?” You were turning your body back around to be able to look at him but you paused when you saw the way he was looking at you, close enough now that if you completely turned your head your noses would have bumped into each other.
“That isn’t a kiss.” He was shaking his head just enough for it to be noticeable and his hair fell into his face more, blonde strands covering his eyes and making him look more disheveled than you’d seen him look before. You were offended for half a second and planning to explain to him why kissing Heeseung was almost impossible but you stopped when you realized he was staring down at your lips as they parted to speak.
He seemed to notice you’d stopped because of his gaze and he met your eyes for just a second before he was surging forward to kiss you.
You were only startled for a second before melting against him, leaning forward in his direction when you felt his hand gripping your chin almost harshly and keeping you in place as he moved against you. He was turning your head at an angle and you realized it was to give Heeseung better viewing access, forgetting all about it when Jake was slipping his tongue into your mouth.
He was the complete opposite of Heeseung in general but especially when it came to kissing and you barely had any time to process it, wet and sloppy as he squeezed your face again before pushing your head back so you weren’t touching anymore.
You watched him with a startled expression, slightly dazed from how out of nowhere this all seemed and the lingering feeling of his spit on your chin. You imagined you looked a bit stupid in that moment, eyes wide as you stared at him with slightly squished cheeks between his big hand. He didn’t seem to mind considering he was smiling softly at you for a second before turning your head so you were facing Heeseung again.
You’d almost completely forgotten about him and a wave of embarrassment and guilt washed over you until you realized he looked almost as affected as you did, staring at you intensely with red cheeks and low eyes.
Jake was nudging you in his direction wordlessly and you followed his silent command easily, leaning into Heeseung again and this time finally being able to kiss him properly. He still was amateurish and seemed a bit lost but seeing a direct example must have given him some direction considering he was atleast moving with you now, kissing you much slower and sweeter than how Jake was just a few seconds again.
It felt overly dirty to kiss two people back to back so quickly like this but it strangely sent a fire to your lower stomach instead of disgusting you, feeling the other boys presence and command behind your back even though he wasn’t touching you and hadn’t vocally said anything.
Heeseung was pulling away to take a breath, his glasses sliding down his nose, and you tried to catch your own but you didn’t have a chance considering Jake’s hand was gripping your chin again and turning you back towards him.
His mouth was on yours again and you let out a soft whine at the feeling of him sitting up slightly so he could push himself deeper against you, licking into your mouth so vulgarly that you couldn’t help the gasp that slipped from your mouth into his. Your chest was rising and falling quickly as you got overwhelmed between them, only getting faster when he was turning you softly so you were facing forward.
You were confused for a second before he was pulling off the kiss and grabbing just underneath your knee, pulling your left leg over his lap so you were spread wide open and facing the TV, head lolling back against the couch in a kiss drunk daze when his mouth was moving down your neck and biting down softly on your skin.
His hand was softly caressing your knee that was on top of his lap and you spread your legs more to try and get him to move it up slightly, not even realizing the movement was causing your other leg to be pushed against Heeseung’s frame until he was hesitantly touching the smooth skin of your thigh. He didn’t hitch it over his lap like his friend did but he was at least touching you finally and you gasped softly as you looked at him with hooded eyes.
He still seemed nervous and awkward but you watched a small wave of confidence come over him from your reaction, his hand large enough to cover a lot of your bare thigh and even accidentally hitch closer to your core once he started to rub it softly. You were letting out another small whine and impatiently lifting your hips to try and scoot further down the couch, purposely causing their hands to slide up your legs and finally touch you where you needed.
Heeseung moved his hand back down to your thigh swiftly but Jake stayed touching you under your skirt, a soft chuckle falling from his lips due to your neediness.
“Look at you.” He was speaking in a low tone against your neck and another shiver ran through you when you felt his breath on the side of your face, turning your head a bit so you could look at him as he spoke. “Spread open so nicely for us.”
The use of the word grouping him and Heeseung together didn’t miss you and neither did the dirty feeling it brought along with it, fully processing by now that you were being touched by two different set of hands and their spit was mixing together on your tongue. Your hips rolled on their own as he spoke so vulgarly, eyes shutting in pleasure when you felt his thumb shift closer to your core.
He didn’t waste any time and didn’t bother teasing you any further thankfully, shifting in his spot on the couch so he could watch your reaction even when he hand was sliding up your stomach and then back down inside of your panties, both of you pausing for a second when he made contact with the wetness dripping down your thighs now.
You let out a soft cry at the feeling of him touching you considering how sensitive you were and you didn’t care enough to be embarrassed of the fact you were seconds away from leaking onto their couch, hitching your legs up further to try and get him keep touching you where you needed him most.
Breath hitching next to you caught your attention and you glanced over lazily to see Heeseung staring down at where Jake’s hand had gone, eyes wide as he caught sight of what was happening and saw how wet you’d gotten just from kissing them both. He must’ve felt you staring because he was making eye contact with you seconds later, freezing up until your eyes were dropping down to his lips and a whine was slipping from your mouth again.
He thankfully got the message and he was taking a deep breath before leaning in to kiss you again, his hand on your thigh stilling as he put all of his focus on kissing you softly.
The contrast between him gently kissing you like you were fragile versus Jake roughly gripping your leg and keeping you spread open wide for him was making your head dizzy and you could barely keep up with Heeseung’s mouth. He didn’t seem to mind considering he continued to keep leaning into you and licking softly against your mouth, letting out small gasps and groans everytime you sucked on his tongue or wrapped it with yours.
“Fuck hyung she’s getting so wet from kissing you.” Jake sounded almost pained next to your ear and you wondered if it was from the feeling of your cunt or the sight of you and Heeseung sloppily kissing just a few inches from his face.
Heeseung ignored him but you felt his hand tighten against your thigh at his friends words, rolling your hips again at the feeling and moaning into the boys mouth when Jake’s fingers started to rub your sensitive clit in slow circles. Your hands were coming up to grip onto one of Heeseung’s shoulders, moaning sharply at the sensation and nearly losing your mind from the amount of pleasure you were receiving between them.
“Please please.” You were suddenly begging but you weren’t exactly sure who you were talking to or what you were asking, overwhelmed with desperation for both of them.
“What baby?” Jake was asking softly in your ear again but his tone was almost mocking, still rubbing you with his fingers and keeping your legs spread almost painfully wide. “Tell me what you want and we’ll give it to you.”
You thought for a few seconds the best you could through the haze, glancing at Heeseung for confirmation and watching as he eagerly nodded in agreement before softly squeezing your thigh again. You were opening your mouth to try and request moving further when you were cut off by the sound of fist pounding on the door.
All at once it hit you, the panic of possibly being caught in such a vulnerable position followed by the embarrassment and self disgust considering you were spread between two men that you didn’t know very well, wet around one of their fingers and practically begging for them to keep touching you. You felt like somebody had thrown a bucket of cold water at you and you were swiftly sitting up on the couch, smacking Jake’s hand away and fixing your skirt after he’d removed it.
He watched you for a second with panic in his eyes before the knocking resumed even louder, annoyance settling over his face as he let out a rough sigh and stood up off the couch to go and answer it.
Your hand was shakily coming up to cover your mouth and you tried your best to ignore the fact Heeseung was still sitting next to you, mouth wet from where you’d been desperately licking into the kiss. You could feel him shifting uncomfortably and you were worried he was planning to speak to you so you stood up and quickly rushed down the hallway towards the bathroom as you heard Jake start to greet the guest for the party you’d completely forgotten about.
——
You stayed in the bathroom for around forty minutes until you felt like it was less noticeable you had just been seconds away from getting fingered, waiting for the music to start playing and the sounds of people drinking and loosening up to overwhelm the loud pounding of your heart.
When you ventured back out into the main area you still felt just as embarrassed, being the only person who wasn’t mutual friends with somebody there. You were barely friends with Jake and Heeseung either and you suddenly felt like an intruder despite how intimate you’d all been together less than an hour ago.
You had a few drinks to try and calm your nerves but avoided making conversation with any of the boys friends, pretending you didn’t feel Jake continuously staring and checking on you throughout the night. Heeseung was nowhere to be found for the first hour but eventually you realized that he was hiding out in the corner by the speaker, taking sips out of a half empty cup and looking just as awkward as you felt despite the fact it was his party and these were his friends.
It must’ve been the past annoyance you felt towards his staring at the diner mixed with the alcohol starting to settle over you that drove you in his direction.
He tensed when he saw you steadily approaching but then his gaze was dropping down to your mouth and staying there.
“Stop staring at my lips.” You were spitting out at him and he flinched back at the tone of your voice, glancing around like he was checking to see if anybody had heard you. “Do you guys do this type of shit all the time?”
“W-what? What are you talking about?” He was speaking louder than normal so you could hear him over the music and leaning forward to hear you before deciding against it and pressing back into the corner. His eyebrows were pulled forward in confusion and another wave of annoyance washed over you, this time at yourself for finding him extra cute considering he was almost pouting down at you.
“Find a girl you like and pretend like you don’t have any experience so she fucks you and your friend.” You delivery was sharp and deadpanned like you were overly confident in your discovery but you knew that wasn’t what was happening here exactly, just saying anything to try and hurt him since you were feeling embarrassed.
“How could you say that?” His tone was still soft like it always was but you could tell he was offended by your accusation, pausing and looking over your shoulder so quickly you didn’t even realize it.
You were forced to in a second however when you could feel somebody approaching from behind you, already knowing who it was despite not realizing how loud and heated your conversation with Heeseung had just gotten until you turned your head to see the concerned expression on Jake’s face as he stopped a few inches away from the two of you. “What happened?”
Nobody said anything for a few beats and your jaw clenched with irritation, crossing your arms and feeling embarrassed again now that the two of them were with you. “She thinks we lied and used her.” Heeseung was butting in to explain awkwardly and you shifted uncomfortably when Jake’s surprised gaze shot over to you.
He didn’t immediately move to deny it but you could tell by his expression that he was taken off guard by the fact you were feeling that way, glancing down at your crossed arms under your chest before his gaze was softening and he started to shake his head in denial. You knew by now that you’d been wrong and they weren’t using you but you were too far into your bratty fit to completely backtrack.
Jake’s big hands were coming back up to your arms again like they had earlier when he was stopping you from leaving and your breath hitched when you looked at his fingers, a heat rolling over you at the lingering feeling of him rubbing you slowly under your skirt.
He had originally planned to defend himself and Heeseung but when he noticed your dazed out expression and wandering gaze, he paused and a smirk built back up on his face.
You let him tug you forward by your arms and spin you around softly, facing you towards Heeseung who looked extremely confused by what was happening considering you’d just been bitching him out harshly only a few seconds ago. He watched as his friends hands wrapped around your stomach and pinned your back against his front, staying still against the wall even when Jake was softly moving the both of you to the music and the tension left your shoulders.
“You feel used?” He was whispering in your ear and a breath escaped you, head falling back to land on his shoulder from the pleasure of him rubbing against you. “We aren’t using you but… something tells me you wouldn’t mind.”
The two of you were facing Heeseung which meant your backs were turned towards the party and other guest but it still felt extremely dangerous to be dancing like this, especially when his hand was sliding down your stomach and pushing under the waistline of your skirt. You faltered in place and would’ve tipped forward and fallen if it wasn’t for Heeseung instinctively stepping off the wall and catching you against him.
He tensed along with you considering he was now flush against your front and his hands were holding your hips softly to help steady you.
He was making the move to take a few steps back towards the wall but stopped when your hands were reaching forward to grab onto his shoulders, keeping him pressed against you and titling back again so you could feel Jake on your back. You were completely sandwiched between them now and a small whine slipped out of you when you felt the bolder boys fingers softly rubbing your clit through your underwear.
“Watch her hyung, so filthy for us even when she’s upset.” Heeseung seemed thrown off by being so directly addressed but he followed orders easily, staring down at you intensely and turning red in the face at the way you struggled to keep your eyes open.
You knew he was a lot bigger than both you and Jake but the difference was especially noticeable now that you were all pressed together, towering over the two of you and completely shielding your body from the view of people passing by as his friend continued to touch you.
“Kiss her Hee, I wanna see how wet she can get.” His voice was low and almost a groan and you felt his hips moving again behind you, rubbing his hardness against your back and impatiently rolling up your skirt more so he could drag himself along your folds without the second layer of fabric in the way.
It took him a second but Heeseung eventually listened, leaning down to kiss you now that you were standing and it felt particularly dirty to be meeting his lips in this position. You gasped into his mouth when Jake harshly pinched your sensitive bud, giving him the opportunity to lick into your open lips and stick his tongue deeper than he had earlier.
You were quickly learning that he was an extremely dirty kisser and he almost seemed feverish the longer he felt you against him, momentarily losing his shy demeanor and becoming completely addicted to kissing you so messily. You were turning your head so you could suck his tongue further into his mouth and a wave of satisfaction hit you when he was whining softly and bucking his hips forward, both sending you further into Jake and letting you feel his own hardness.
Jake’s finger was slipping inside you as you practically let his friend fuck your mouth with his tongue, wetness dripping down your thigh and crying out softly at the feeling of his thick digit finally pushing into you.
You were standing onto your tiptoes and dropping back down to try to get him to fuck you with his fingers but he was roughly groping your chest as a warning to stop, biting against your neck softly and moving his hand under your chin. He wasn’t exactly choking you but the feeling of his large hand completely covering your throat brought out another whine that Heeseung quickly swallowed.
“Fuck Y/N you’d let us take you right here wouldn’t you?” His voice was breathy and he rubbed himself against you again in sync with the assault his fingers continued. “Have you taken two cocks before baby or would we have to force them inside?”
You were shaking your head and clawing at Heeseung’s shoulders absentmindedly, breathy moans falling from your lips and stopping you from being able to kiss properly. He took the hint and pulled back to let you speak clearly but his eyes stayed on your wet lips and chin. “Have to force it Jake, would be so tight you wouldn’t fit.”
“Is that what you want angel? You want both of us inside you, fucking your greedy hole so loose.” He was panting as he spoke and you could feel tears coming to your eyes from the speed of his fingers inside you.
His hand on your neck was squeezing tightly for a second and taking your breath from you before he was moving it up to roughly grip your chin, tugging your head straight so you had no choice but to stare up at Heeseung who was watching the two of you with a wild expression, face completely red and glasses slightly skewed from your intense kissing. “Look at him and say it.”
You shook your head for a second and winced, feeling overwhelmingly shy for some reason now that you were looking at the less forward boy despite the fact you were still pressed against him and could feel that he was also hard against your stomach. You could still taste him in your mouth even but you weren’t able to bring yourself to say it right away, snapping back out of it when Jake lifted his hand to lightly slap your cheek in warning.
“I want you.” You were staring up at him as you rushed it out in an embarrassed mumble, your cheeks heating up more but feeling the familiar twist in your stomach when his eyes flashed with something you hadn’t seen before. “Want you both.”
Heeseung was moving forward before you could even process it and suddenly you were kissing again, his big hands coming up to cup your face softly and keep you against him as he fully soaked you in.
You were getting needy and impatient, Jake’s thick fingers not being enough considering the amount of touching and overstimulation you were getting between the two of them. You almost wanted to cry thinking about the party happening behind you, wanting nothing more than to be alone so you could completely give yourself over to the two boys.
It was beyond dirty and completely unlike you considering you weren’t a big fan of hookups in general, never even considering letting two people share you at once, but you’d never craved something so badly and you felt like you’d nearly die if you didn’t get to feel them soon.
Heeseung was pulling off the kiss and watching you as he took deep breaths, eyes frantic and continuously glancing between the way you were panting against Jake’s shoulder and his friends expression as he pushed his fingers deeper inside you.
“Jake, make them leave.” He was muttering quickly and your eyes widened in surprise for a second hearing him speak so directly, a similar reaction happening behind you considering Jake’s hands were stuttering for a second.
They had some sort of silent communication over your shoulder that didn’t take long for you to understand considering Jake was taking his hand out of your skirt and softly leaning you onto Heeseung’s tall frame. You could feel his lips pressing against the side of your head before he was backing up to presumably tell the guest to leave.
Heeseung was awkwardly holding you for a second and you felt slight whiplash from his change of demeanor again, happy when he at least started to move and take you back down to his bedroom.
He was gently laying you on the bed and sitting back up on his knees to watch you for a second, scanning down your body as your chest continued to roughly rise and fall from your near orgasm just a few seconds ago. He was looking more hesitate now like he had originally and your gaze softened as you looked at him watching you so intensely, remembering this was his first time doing something so intense.
Your hand was coming out to grab onto his and he was freezing from his position beside you, kneeling on the bed and towering over you but not looking the least bit intimidating.
“Please touch me Hee.” Your voice was still coming out in a whine, desperately tugging on his hand to try to get him to fulfill your request. His eyes widened at your tone and he glanced down at your hand over his before shaking his head softly, stuttering out something you couldn’t understand. “Please baby please, I’ll show you how but I can’t wait.”
“F-fuck we should really let Jake come back, I won’t be any good.” He was shaking his head again but not moving his hand away when you were lifting it and placing it against your stomach, your muscles clenching under his warm skin and a heavy breath slipping from your lips.
Heeseung watched you with wide eyes as you pushed his hand under your skirt, struggling a bit and whining softly considering he wasn’t helping at all. You released his hand for a second and thankfully he didn’t remove it from your stomach, giving you the chance to unbutton it and pull it down your legs so he could have more access.
You were holding his wrist softly and moving him back down towards your underwear, back arching up off the bed in a small cry when he was finally touching you over the fabric and you heard his breath catch in his throat when he felt your wetness soaking the material.
“You’re s-so good please Hee please.” You were crying out softly and rocking your hips up against his hand, a handful of tears slipping from your eyes considering you were so overwhelmed and he still wasn’t really touching you. “Fuck you’re so big.”
The last comment slipped out accidentally, completely distracted by the fact his hand almost covered the entirety of your cunt, but it seemed like he liked it considering he was shifting on the bed and finally applying some pressure to you.
A low moan sounded through the room and it took you a second to even realize it was coming from you, his fingers soft and inexperienced as he started rubbing you and you felt him tense when your wet panties were sliding to the side and he was touching your bare cunt for the first time. Your hands were instinctively coming up to hug his arm and try to tug him down towards you, grateful when he shifted so he was laying beside you and not kneeling anymore.
He kept his fingers on you even when you were pulling him in for a messy kiss, gliding your tongue over his lips and moaning into his open mouth when his fingers slipped again and applied more pressure.
You didn’t realize Jake had entered the room even after the bed dipped down under his weight, only snapping out of your haze when Heeseung removed his lips from yours so he could stutter out an apology to his friend. You were sitting up slightly to look at him and a whine left you automatically seeing how dark his gaze was as he watched you desperately moving against his friends hand.
“She’s as much yours as she is mine.” He was dismissing the other boys apology in a curt statement but it made your head spin, the implication of them both owning you together sending another wave of heat through you and another sob hit you. “Hyung, hold her legs open for me.”
Heeseung was pausing like he was trying to figure out how to do that, eventually scooting behind you so he could tug you up between his legs. You were resting against his chest and stomach, elbows on his thighs and you could feel how hard he was pressed tight to your lower back. He moved you easily, like you barely weighed anything and his size made you ten times wetter than you had been before.
You felt extra exposed now that his hands weren’t covering you, embarrassment coming back when he was hitching up your knees so he could spread your legs and completely expose you to Jake who was watching the two of you curiously.
“Look how messy she is. She must really like you hyung.” He was smiling at the two of you but it didn’t meet his eyes fully, something darker and more intense behind his expression and you tried not to feel too intimidated when he was moving closer to you on the bed.
He watched you for a second more before he was pressing a kiss against your knee, moving his lips down your right thigh and pausing for just a second before he was putting his mouth on your wet core. A gasp flew out of you and you would’ve clamped his head in your thighs if it wasn’t for Heeseung’s hand gripping your knee tightly and keeping them spread open.
“Fuck fuck.” Your hips were instinctively moving with Jake’s mouth, practically making out with your dripping pussy and you were once again overwhelmed in a way you’d never experienced before. Heeseung was softly brushing your hair out of your face with his free hand but you barely even noticed, the room filling up with the sounds of Jake’s mouth on you.
His tongue was pushing past your folds and prodding at your entrance, drawing another low whine from you when he was glancing up at you from between your legs. His eyes were mischievous and you could barely hold the eye contact for more than a few seconds, leaning back against Heeseung’s chest and gripping his arm for support.
“Take her top off.” He was pulling off of you to speak to the boy behind you and your eyes locked on your wetness coating his chin, his lips quirking into a smirk when he noticed what you were focusing on before he was softly kissing your thigh again.
Heeseung easily sat you up, almost rough in the way he was moving you so weightlessly if it wasn’t for how gentle his hands were. He was pulling your top off and fixing your hair before pausing and you felt his hips twitch from underneath you, figuring he just be looking at your bare chest. You knew he wouldn’t move on his own so you didn’t bother waiting, taking his free hand that wasn’t on your knee and forcing him to roughly pull at your chest.
Jake was smiling at your neediness before going back between your legs, the pleasure from his mouth paired with Heeseung’s hands on your chest and nipples was almost too much and you only lasted about thirty seconds before you were roughly tugging on the younger boys hair to warn him to stop.
He froze completely and looked up at you, beautiful between your legs and even more so with the concern in his gaze. He quickly realized what you were needing however and he lost the soft expression.
“Sure you can take us both?” He was asking as he sat up on his knees, looping his hands under your thighs and tugging you forward so you were sliding closer to him on the bed. Your head was on Heeseung’s lap now and he let out a soft whine when you were instinctively nuzzling against the hardness in his pants, your cheek pressing on him.
You didn’t bother with verbally answering him considering how dizzy you felt, knowing your voice would just come out slurred and weak, but you spread your legs more in front of him so he could fully get the memo. His eyes were darkening more before he was gesturing something you couldn’t understand to the boy behind you, a cry coming from your lips when he was shifting and moving away from you.
“Be patient sweet girl, he’s just moving down here.” Jake’s voice was coming through again and a pout formed on your face instinctively at his soft tone, getting close to release twice now without finishing and feeling overly sensitive and needy. “She’s pretty isnt she?”
You were confused for a second about who he was talking to until you realized Heeseung was down by the end of the bed now, fully seeing you for the first time since he’d undressed you and staring at your body with widened eyes. They flickered up to yours when he realized you were watching and waiting for a response.
“So pretty, she’s so pretty.” His voice was weak and Jake laughed softly at the taken tone his friend had, nodding in agreement before he was shifting again.
“Gonna fuck you first alright baby? Get you nice and ready for hyung.” His voice was dropping lower and getting more serious, tugging his shirt over his head and barely giving you a second to process anything before he was undoing his belt with one hand, holding your legs open with the other.
“Both I want both.” You were whining out in disagreement, a small sob hitting you again at the thought of not being stretched by both of them together.
Jake paused for a second before he was glancing to his side towards Heeseung, waiting and having some silent communication together until he was turning back towards you and nodding. “You’ll get us both don’t worry, still need to stretch you first.”
You were almost worried he’d go back to using his fingers, as much as you liked them inside you you were starting to think you’d die if you didn’t have something bigger in the next few seconds. Thankfully he seemed to be feeling the same considering he was wasting no time before lining himself up with your entrance, kissing your forehead quickly before pushing inside you.
Your breath caught in your throat and your back arched off the bed instinctively, bunching the sheets up in a tight fist and you wished Heeseung was close enough to hold onto. You didn’t get a chance to look at Jake’s size but he was clearly bigger than you had planned for considering the stretch you were feeling just from his thick tip inside you, a pained cry filling the room at the same time he hissed in pleasure.
“Fuck Y/N, how are you so fucking tight.” He was speaking through clenched teeth and his head dropped down onto your shoulder, shutting his eyes to try and calm down before he came too early. “Baby you’ve got to stop clenching around me or I won’t last.”
“You’re hurting her Jake.” Heeseung’s concerned voice was coming from the right and you glanced over at him, face pulled into a grimace still but softening slightly at the worry on his face.
It made you feel better that he was more concerned with your pleasure than potentially not being able to fuck you but you almost sobbed again at the thought of not getting to feel him tonight and you quickly started to shake your head and reach a hand out towards him.
“Can take it, I can take it I promise.” You didn’t need to say much for Jake to believe you considering he was using your distraction as the perfect time to fully push his length inside you.
Your hands were wrapping around his back to claw at his skin, somehow not noticing how broad he was until he was on top of you like this but you felt the familiar heat of pleasure finally resurfacing below the pain and you practically whimpered at the boy. “Please fuck me, please I need it.”
He was kissing your lips gently before taking a second to adjust his position, meeting your eyes and then pulling himself nearly all the way out of you. The previous stretch did almost nothing to prepare you for the feeling of him slamming back inside you, never feeling so stuffed before and almost getting lightheaded from how full of his cock you were. You couldn’t imagine fitting more inside you but you glanced back at Heeseung and another wave of desperation hit.
Jake let out a low growl before he was aggressively lifting you up off the bed, holding you still in his lap for a moment with a slow buck of his hips to keep you moaning and whining and you vaguely heard him barking an order towards the other boy.
You didn’t fully understand what was happening, rocking your hips and riding Jake lazily with continued cries and begs for him to lay you back down and fuck you properly. When he was finally listening and laying you back down on the bed, this time Heeseung was behind you and a breath of relief escaped you.
Part of you felt guilty that his first time wasn’t necessarily romantic or intimate but it was hard to think about when he started to push his cock into you alongside Jake’s, the stretch almost unbearable and you heard Jake spit out something else you couldn’t make out.
You assumed he was telling the inexperienced boy to stop because he froze up underneath you and laid his forehead on sweaty shoulder, small whimpers vibrating your skin as he tried to stop himself from either pushing all the way inside before you were ready or cumming from the tight and wet squeeze.
“Fuck she’s so wet.” His voice behind you was making you dizzy, taking on a deeper tone you hadn’t heard from him before and you reached a hand back just to feel any part of his skin.
The two boys helped lower you back onto their cocks and you nearly blacked out from how deep they were inside you, the pleasure multiplied by the fact they were both sharing your hole together and you were finally going to be fucked open by them.
“Gonna ruin this pussy for anyone else.” Jake was whispering it into your mouth and you watched him with widened eyes, shivering when he was licking against your tongue sloppily before tugging your head back by your hair so you were resting against Heeseung’s shoulder. “Always gonna need two cocks filling this nasty hole up, never going to be satisfied with just one again.”
“Please.” You were gasping the word out in one breath, repeating it a few times in a slurred fit of begging before trying to gather as much energy as you could to lift yourself up and down on their cocks. You failed and fell back down on shaky thighs, crying softly and rolling your hips slightly. “Fuck me please fuck me, ruin me. I want to be yours.”
That seemed to cause something to snap in the boy in front of you and he wasted no more time, aggressively fucking himself inside you and at the same time lifting you up a bit so you were coming back down onto Heeseung’s cock too, helping the other boy set a steady rhythm considering he was already close just from the foreplay you’d had earlier since he was particularly sensitive.
“You’re ours, gonna fucking ruin you.” Jake was talking continuously into your shoulder but you were barely able to hear him after a few seconds, lost in the feeling of the stretch and how deep they were inside you. Both boys were caging you in and someone’s hands were roughly playing with your nipples, anothers tugging your hair and it was all so much you hardly felt like you were able to breathe.
You were a mess of skin and lust, your whines mixing with a combination of their low moans and you were suddenly very grateful they’d cleared out the apartment so you didn’t have to worry about biting your tongue.
Heeseung was reaching forward to press down on your stomach and you heard a groan slip out of him. “Fuck dude, I can feel us inside her.”
That seemed to be enough for him considering he was sucking in a sharp breath, worrying you for a second before you realized he was cumming inside you. You were upset for half a second before you thought about both of them filling you up with their cum, mixing together and leaking out of your used hole onto Heeseung’s bed.
“Cum inside Jake.” You were begging him and he gave you a bewildered look, almost seeming like he was going to disagree until he leaned back and saw the absolute desperation and need on your face. His jaw clenched and he was fucking you even rougher, barely noticing his friend slipping out of you and helping you rock against Jake since you were both exhausted.
He was rushing forward to kiss you and your teeth clashed, drunk from the taste of his spit in your mouth and his cock slamming into you even after he was coming undone and filling you up even more. Heeseung’s hands were slipping between you and Jake to rub your clit softly and surge of pride hit you, moaning into Jake’s mouth and letting him suck your tongue into it.
The extra stimulation was all you needed to fall apart and both boys held you between them as your hips twitched and your stomach clenched in pleasure, feeling Jake slip out of you so he could watch the way your hole clenched around nothing and started to leak with the mess the three of you had caused.
You were too exhausted to feel awkward even though now that they weren’t stuffing you so full you couldn’t think, you were slightly humiliated and feeling a bit dirty from how sweaty you were between the two friends.
All it took was a hand from behind you gently rubbing your stomach and a soft kiss on your forehead from the other boy to calm your nerves, falling back onto the bed together in a mess of limbs and nervous giggles.
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eldritch-thrumming · 1 year
Text
i’m so in love that i might stop breathing.
i want to brainwash you into loving me forever, i want to transport you to somewhere the culture’s clever, confess my truth in swooping, sloping, cursive letters.
Eddie Munson is signed to a big-name label, one that monitors every move their artists make. The label practically runs half of LA, with so many artists under contract that Eddie’s not really sure how they can even keep track, let alone micro-manage every single one of them. But somehow they do it.
Eddie’s in the hard rock and metal division. Very rarely does he have to cross paths with artists outside of his genre. It’s not really an issue. It’s not like he’s going to collaborate with some bubblegum pink pop princess.
But then the label decides that they need to cross-market some of their artists. They’ve got lots of big names and Eddie’s on tour for his fourth studio album. He’s established, already done a world tour that was so successful the label had wanted to send him back out almost immediately, but he’d pushed back, asking for some time to write. So it’s been two years, but he’s written some of his best songs to date and the arenas are selling out.
Eddie’s so successful that the label decides that they’re going to pair him with some new up-and-coming singer-songwriter duo. The label wants at least one song, but hopes are high that Eddie will take them out as an opener for the last leg of the tour. Eddie’s given their EP a listen; he can’t really imagine that his demographic will ever overlap with theirs, but if this it what the label wants, then who is he to deny them?
It’s a sunny afternoon in LA when Eddie meets Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley at his favorite coffee shop downtown. It’s a safe place for celebrities, with a hidden back entrance and tinted windows, so he’s fairly certain they won’t be caught out together. Eddie’s ordered some lavender honey oat milk latte, something he would never admit to liking in a million years, but it tastes so good he makes the trip here at least three times a week. He’s sitting in a secluded corner, far enough from the windows that he won’t feel nervous, and he’s still got his sunglasses on, just in case.
He spots Robin and Steve almost immediately. They’re hard to miss, both beautiful and sun-kissed, smiling wide as they bicker before they both stop to look around the space.
“Hi!” Robin exclaims when she spots him, rushing over to his table. She grabs his hand between both of hers before he’s even had the chance to offer it to her and pumps it up and down a few times, like they’re shaking hands.
“Rob,” Steve mutters, placing a hand on her shoulder. Then, he turns his blinding smile on Eddie. Eddie had never believed in that whole ‘heart skipping a beat’ thing before but… he feels something happening in that region. “Sorry about her, she’s, like, a huge fan.” He offers his own hand to Eddie and they shake, the brush of skin on skin leaving Eddie just a little breathless, before Steve pulls out a chair and drops into it.
“Ugh, don’t make me sound like some creepy stalker, dingus.” Robin puts her hand on her hips. “What do you want?”
“Uh,” Steve squints at the menu before glancing down at the cup Eddie’s got between his hands. “What’d you get?” He directs the question at Eddie. Eddie tells him, only a little sheepish about it, and Steve smiles again. Eddie’s skin starts to feel itchy, too tight at his collarbones. “That sounds good. I’ll have that,” he tells Robin and she turns to head toward the counter, mumbling about having to order girly drinks.
Once they’re alone, Eddie slides his sunglasses off his face and up into his hair. He clears his throat before looking up into Steve’s face. Their eyes meet and something… happens. Something electric, something pulled taut between them. Eddie feels it and he’s pretty sure Steve does, too, judging by the way his lips part and his tongue darts out to wet them, quick and nervous. Eddie can’t stop staring. Neither can Steve.
Robin comes back with her hands full and glances between them. “Everything alright?” She asks slowly, cautiously, and their gazes finally snap away from each other, a blush rising in Steve’s cheeks.
Steve looks back into Eddie’s eyes like he just can’t help himself. Like he wouldn’t want to look anywhere else. “Yeah,” he says smiling. “Everything’s great.”
~*~
Eddie agrees to take them out on tour with him. The minute he saw Steve Harrington in the flesh, he knew he’d be taking them, but Robin turns out to be pretty cool too. He warns them that his fans can be pretty intense, that he can’t imagine they’ll be all that pleased with the kind of music the duo plays, but Robin and Steve assure him that they’re really just looking for some tour experience more than anything else. They’ll figure out the songwriting on the road, collaborate in a way that will bridge the gap between their style and Eddie’s.
When he gets home later that night, after a detour back to the label’s offices, Eddie can’t help but insta-stalk. He looks up Robin’s page first, upholding the pretense of ‘market research’ even in the privacy of his own mind. Most of her pictures include Steve and so it’s easy to be led away to Steve’s profile. It’s a natural progression. Totally normal.
Steve is… extremely cute. That’s usually not a word that Eddie would apply to someone he’s interested in—he tends to prefer the leather and chains variety much more than the sugary sweet type—but for some reason Eddie’s left breathless this time. He scrolls down Steve’s page, sees a picture of him with a herd of kids climbing on his back, another of him and Robin in matching sailor costumes. He hits the follow button without giving it too much thought and then slides back to his own page. Eddie is notoriously private, Instagram page consisting of only professional and promotional shots of him on tour with his band or in the studio recording. It’s not that Eddie is hiding anything, but he knows enough to know that the more you open up, the more that can be taken from you. He knows enough to know that the metal community can be somewhat closed-minded about some things, so he prefers to hide his personal life away, to keep some things precious and secret.
He wonders what Steve would think of his page, if he were to scroll through it. He wonders what it would be like to be open and honest about his personal life, about loving someone. What it would be like to not have to worry about losing fans, losing sales, losing bookings. To not worry about what the public would think of him.
He sighs and places his phone face down on his bedside table before turning out the light and drifting off to sleep.
~*~
Steve and Robin have been on tour with Eddie for two months and Eddie is almost positive that he’s falling in love with Steve. It was one thing to listen to Steve sing on their EP. It’s something totally different to watch Steve perform, to see his fingers slide up and down his guitar, the notes and his voice melancholy sweet. Eddie thinks almost anyone would fall in love with Steve if they’d just pay attention.
They haven’t done anything. Nothing has happened. But the green rooms and the tour busses have been full of lingering looks and soft brushes of skin. He’s pretty sure that Robin is close to saying something, clearly irritated by their pining. But Eddie’s still unsure. He knows it’s a lot, being on tour and in close quarters for the first time. It’s complicated and he doesn’t want to jeopardize Steve’s first big break. He doesn’t want to distract him. It’s easy to get caught up on tour, to mistake proximity for real feelings. It had happened to Eddie before; he didn’t want it to happen to Steve now.
Because this is a big deal, for Robin and Steve. Eddie had been unsure about taking them on, but, surprisingly, Eddie’s fans had embraced the duo. Their songwriting methods had complimented each other in a way Eddie hasn’t experienced since he first started writing with Gareth and the three of them had written five songs together already. Eddie would pull them both onstage halfway through his set to perform at least two of them and then again for one during the encore. The crowd went wild every time.
It’s the last night of tour when the space between them finally snaps in two. It’s the encore, they’re playing Eddie’s favorite of the five songs they’ve written together. They’ve made it through the complicated bridge, the final chorus, and now they’re closing out the last verse. The energy between Steve and Eddie practically crackles, almost visible under the harsh arena lights. Adrenaline is pumping, making Eddie feel invincible, and he can tell that Steve feels it too by the way he smiles across the stage at him. The final notes ring out and Eddie can’t help himself. He grabs for the strap of Steve’s guitar and pulls. Steve falls into Eddie’s chest, laughing, eyebrows raised, and Eddie can’t even think. His lips crash into Steve’s and it’s magical. Better than Eddie ever even dreamed it would be.
There’s a roaring in his ears as Eddie pulls back, reluctant. Steve’s eyes are still closed and he tries to follow Eddie’s mouth with his own, but Eddie laughs and gives him a little shake. Eddie glances around and realizes that the roaring he’d heard was the crowd going absolutely wild, screaming and cheering and clapping. Eddie looks back at Steve, who’s looking just a little dazed, blush on his cheeks and dopey smile on his lips. Robin’s screaming into her microphone, jumping up and down, egging the crowd on. Steve looks around the arena, still smiling, before looking back at Eddie and mouthing something in his direction. It’s too loud, Eddie can’t hear him over the crowd, so he shakes his head just a little. Steve tries again but Eddie still can’t hear him, so he raises his microphone to his lips.
“Finally,” Steve practically shouts, voice ringing out across the cavernous space. “Thought you’d never take the hint.”
All Eddie can do is laugh and pull Steve in for another kiss as the crowd continues cheering.
@grtwdsmwhr gave me “i want to brainwash you into loving me forever” and this is what I came up with i guess
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oldshrewsburyian · 5 months
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Any thoughts on *why* so many people are subliterate now? Is the educational system really that much worse than it was even 15-20 years ago? Or is the tsunami of information we all live with too much to deal with? Or is there something else going on?
...I do have Thoughts on this, actually! Quite a few of them! And I suspect that the answer to your slate of options might be: D, all of the above. I will address your points out of order (sorry.)
B: As for the information tsunami/superhighway, I don't think it's to blame in itself. As the president of an academic organization said at the biennial conference in 2016, "Nous lisons de plus en plus, mais nous lisons autrement" (we read more and more, but we read differently.) It says something about what he meant and about that particular historical moment that I was live-tweeting. And obviously I'm not saying that reading the internet is bad (I read the internet all the time.) But I do think that it facilitates habits of minimal, shallow, or superficial reading, and I do think that's a problem. I once had a student say--in class!--that the historical essays I assigned were challenging for him because he's more used to reading tweets. I stared at him for several long seconds before saying "Then this is good practice for you." I also had a very sweet student in a first-year college seminar who just had no clue how sentence mechanics worked, so I had to find a gentle way of asking, in office hours, "Do you... read at all? for fun?" "Oh, I read all the time," said this sweet student confidently, and my own reading habits enabled me to counter: "Fanfic or published works?" And yep, that's your problem right there. Obviously I read and write fanfic myself. But reading principally fanfic is a great way not to learn how grammar works.
A: in the US? ...yeah, it kind of is, actually, which is horrifying. Like a lot of the rest of my demographic (educator, xennial, NPR devotee,) I listened to the APM podcast Sold A Story. In going to find you the link, I found bonus episodes which I also highly recommend, in part because they include criticisms of the podcast and notes on policy. But what this podcast describes also tracks with my experiences in two very grim years when I tutored reading at the elementary/middle school level, and also found reading comprehension to be a weak link in ACT/SAT prep.
C: this brings us to "something else going on?" And I don't know what that is. But even my college students who can read at a basic 6th-grade level (sob) seem to have really stunted capabilities for inference. I ask them to make inferences and they look at me with the heartbreaking expressions of confused dogs. Or they'll see something blindingly obvious and say things like "Could this... possibly be...?" and I say brightly: "Yes! that's absolutely what it is! good job!" instead of saying: "What the **** else would it be?" Sometimes an entire class of students will read something without comprehension and subsequently thank me for "explaining" a text when all I have done is paraphrase it. And we're not talking academic articles here; we're talking 2-4 page excerpts of primary sources selected with TLC for a target audience of beginning college students. So far I have not snapped and screamed, "I didn't explain shit!" But I do find myself having to, well, explain that explanation would mean digging deeper into the text. I also find myself puzzled and alarmed by the fact that they don't seem able to identify or describe what they find challenging. If I had a nickel for every time I've heard "Just the entire thing was confusing"...! I've modified entire courses to try to get students more of the reading practice and additional skills they need. I'm not sure how much it's helping.
I really wish I had more answers. What I do have is a lot of despair.
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mayipleasehavebread · 1 month
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I Can See You - Chapter 1
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Kendall Roy Masterlist
Pairing: Secret Office Romance!Kendall Roy x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 10k
Chapter Summary: You and Kendall meet and have a one night stand, neither of you having any idea that you’re about to start working for him. 
Warnings: Age gap (reader in her 20s, Kendall is 39), swearing (a given when writing for Kendall), alcohol, smoking, light sexual harassment (creepy dude in a bar gets too close), smut (one night stand, protected piv), light fluff (18+ MDNI)
A/N: This series is not canon compliant. It’s set somewhere after the beginning of season 2 and includes plot elements from the original storyline, but it does not follow the exact series of events from the show (ex. in this universe, Kendall and Naomi have already met and dated, despite the events of this series being based around seasons 2-4 of Succession). No physical traits for reader are mentioned except that she has hair long enough for Kendall to tuck behind her ear. Light elements of grumpy/sunshine trope throughout the story. Hope you guys enjoy, chapter 2 coming soon!!!
Chapter Theme Song: Still Don’t Know My Name by Labrinth
*No use of Y/N
Living in New York is not how you imagined it would be.  
For almost four years, you had fantasised about what your life in a big city would look like. The only thing that kept you motivated (especially when you began to question why you were putting yourself through the misery of a business degree) was thinking about your future in Manhattan. Obviously it was where all the best job opportunities were, but you also wanted the adventure of living in the most cinematic city on earth. You imagined yourself with a big group of friends, a fashionable apartment, and weekends spent sipping lattes while window shopping in SoHo. Every movie and TV show set in New York seemed to promise a romantic lifestyle, and that’s exactly what you wanted for yourself. 
So far though, you were coming up short. You had moved into a tiny studio apartment a few days ago, and since then, a vast majority of your time had been spent searching for secondhand furniture to fill up the minuscule amount of space you had. Aside from a neighbour who had given you a dirty look when you accidentally bumped into them in the stairwell, you’d had pretty much zero social contact with any Manhattan locals. So, unable to wait until starting your new job on Monday to meet people, you decide to drag yourself to the dive bar down the street from your building.
It’s Friday night, and the bar is buzzing with patrons. As you shuffle through the crowd, your eyes scan the dingy booths, taking note of the bar’s demographic. Laughing loudly in the corner over pints of beer is a group of frat boys, their phones out on the table as they research which nightclub is going to have the hottest girls. In the booth next to them is a more mellow gathering, a trio of young people with an abundance of tattoos and piercings, all leaning toward the centre of the table as they discuss something in depth. Sitting alone in the booth next to them is a man who looks to be in his late 30s or early 40s. He’s dressed in business attire, but unlike a rowdy group of finance bros seated a few tables away, he doesn’t seem to be letting loose or having any fun. A glass full of some clear alcohol sits untouched on the table in front of him.
“How diverse,” you think to yourself, hoping that out of all the many different types of patrons, there is at least one person in here that you can connect with. 
You order a drink from the bar and then grab the last empty table at the very back of the space. The booth is pretty dark and hidden from view, but that doesn’t matter; you just need a spot where you can give yourself an internal pep talk and gain some liquid courage before you force yourself to approach someone, literally anyone, here. 
It seems that someone else had a similar idea though. You’ve just taken the first sip of your drink when a large stranger slides into the booth across from you. He’s blonde and broad shouldered with a wide grin on his face, and he quickly eyes you up and down.
“This spot taken?” he slurs, and you don’t respond. If his sloppy speech wasn’t a dead giveaway, the cloud of alcohol fumes surrounding him sure is - the guy is hammered. 
Your eyes begin to frantically search the room, wondering how you’re going to get out of this social interaction. 
“No need to look around baby,” he grins menacingly. “Everything you need is sittin’ right here.”
You feel your heart begin to race with anxiety. “No thanks, I have a boyfriend,” you say, but you hear a stutter in your voice and you know that your lie is not convincing.
“I don’t see him anywhere,” the man laughs, and suddenly he’s rising from his seat. For a split second, you wonder if he’s going to leave to get another drink or go to the bathroom, giving you a chance to make an escape. 
Your heart sinks into your stomach when he takes a few uncoordinated steps over to your side of the booth and slides in beside you. 
“Must be my lucky day,” he continues. “It’s not often that you see a woman as sexy as yourself out all alone.” 
His last word hits you like a slap in the face. “Alone.” It was never a scary word to you before this moment - you enjoy your own company and aren’t afraid to do things independently - but you’re suddenly very aware that you really are alone with this creep. You might be surrounded by people, but none of them seem to notice the way that this total stranger is beginning to rub his hand up your thigh and lean into you.
————————————
Kendall stares at the glass of vodka in front of him. He’s over 2 months sober but he isn’t sure he’ll be able to make it through tonight without breaking that streak. 
Since the… “incident” at his sister’s wedding a few months ago, his life has been in complete shambles. With his father holding that horrific secret over his head, Kendall has been forced to follow Logan’s strict instructions on everything he does and says. He’s nothing more than a puppet. A powerless, pathetic little puppet who will forever live in the shadow of his dictatorial father. Nothing brings him joy, nothing gives him any hope for the future, and nothing makes him feel like he has any control in his own life. The only thing that might make him forget all that for awhile is this glass of top shelf vodka sitting on the table in front of him.
Kendall wraps his hand around the thick tumbler and breathes in the alcoholic fumes. “Fuck it,” he thinks to himself. 
He’s about to lift the drink to his lips when something catches his eye. A large man sitting opposite a cute 20-something girl at a table in the corner has just risen from his seat and is walking over to her side of the booth. He stumbles over his feet as he slides into the spot next to her. Kendall catches a glimpse of the girl’s expression before the wide shoulders of the man block her from view, and she looks terrified. 
Kendall slowly sets his glass down and continues to watch the scene. He can barely see the girl behind the man’s hulking shape, but he can see the man’s hands reach toward her as he leans in closely, much closer than he would need to if the girl wasn’t leaning away from him. 
Without thinking, Kendall abandons his plans to break sobriety and quickly rises from his table. He strides across the room to the booth and, when he reaches the pair, says the first thing that comes to mind. 
————————————
“You ready to go sweetheart?”
A deep voice cuts through the loud buzz of the bar, causing the hands of your harasser to fly off you as he turns to see where the sound came from. You look up as well, and your eyes meet deep brown ones. The solo business man you noticed upon your arrival is standing at the edge of your booth, his face showing obvious concern for your well-being. He’s offering you an escape.
“Yes,” you breathe, relief flooding through you as you give him a smile of gratitude. 
The drunk creep next to you awkwardly shuffles out of the booth, mumbling a half-hearted “sorry man” as he stumbles away, but your saviour doesn’t acknowledge him. His eyes are locked on you as he reaches out a hand to help you up, holding it gently before he guides you through the crowd, to the bar’s exit, and out onto the street. 
Cool autumn air hits your face when you’re outside, and you feel like you can finally take a deep breath. The kind stranger turns to make sure that you weren’t followed out by your harasser before he drops your hand, and you immediately throw your arms around his neck. 
“Oh my god, thank you so much,” you exclaim as you hug him. He seems taken aback by the gesture at first before he gives you a gentle squeeze in return. 
“Seriously, you have no idea how much I appreciate you stepping in,” you say, pulling away. You look up into your saviour’s face and are met by that deep brown gaze again. He has somewhat dark circles under his eyes, a clear indicator that he works in the Manhattan corporate world, but you also notice the way his eyes crinkle at the sides as he smiles at you. Despite your guess that he’s at least 10 years your senior, this little detail is so endearing. It gives him a youthful, charming look, and you find yourself genuinely smiling back before you extend your hand to him and introduce yourself.
“Kendall,” he responds as he takes your hand, his eyes still crinkled from his smile. “So, uh, tell me,” he asks in his baritone voice, “which fuckin’ TikTok influencer told you it was a good idea to go to the sketchiest bar in Manhattan by yourself?” He gives you a good natured grin as you laugh.
“Hmm, yeah, unfortunately that genius idea was all my own,” you admit. “I just moved to town, I thought it might be a good place to make some friends but I don’t seem to have attracted the right kind of people.” You suddenly realise what you’ve said and scramble to correct yourself. “Not including you of course! You seem like a great guy.” 
Kendall smirks in response, clearly entertained by your fear that you’ve offended him. “Really? ‘Cause uh, I’m actually a huge asshole,” he jokes.
You laugh again and feel the tension and anxiety from earlier completely leave your body. Standing out here on the sidewalk with Kendall is the most at ease you’ve been since moving to the city.
“Well you had me fooled,” you smile. 
Kendall smiles back and holds your gaze for a moment before he raises his arm from his side to quickly check his watch. It snaps you back to reality and you realise that while you may not have anywhere else to be, that might not be the same for Kendall.
“Oh sorry, I should let you get on with your night. But really, thank you so much for your help Kendall. I seriously owe you one.” 
————————————
Kendall’s heart sinks slightly when you say this. His subtle attempt to impress you with his extraordinary wealth did not go as planned. Instead of noticing the absurdly expensive Rolex watch on his wrist, you incorrectly took it as a sign that he was done with you. No, he’s not even close to being done with you. He only has two options on how he will spend tonight - either he distracts himself from his miserable life by getting to know the pretty girl standing in front of him, or he walks back into that bar and finishes the first of what will become many glasses of straight vodka, likely followed by a mass amount of cocaine. Without question, he knows which option he should pursue.
“Well at least let me get a cab to take you home. Or, uh, if you want, we could get a drink at a much better spot down the street...” He eyes you intently, trying not to pressure you into joining him, but desperately hoping that you want to continue the night.
To Kendall’s relief, you smile and don’t hesitate in answering “Yeah, okay. Let’s go.” He gives you another genuine smile that reaches his eyes and leads the way.
“So, uh, where’d you move from?” he asks as you walk side by side. You give him a quick summary of your hometown and where you got your degree, and he watches you as you answer, noticing the way that you keep your eyes forward but take quick glances up at him through your eyelashes. He smiles a little bit every time your gentle gaze meets his. 
“What about you?” you ask in return. “How’d you make your way here?”
Your question, as simple and sincere as it is, sends Kendall’s mind into high gear because it confirms something for him - that you have no idea who he actually is. Whether you know anything about Waystar or the Roy family, he isn’t sure, but you clearly aren’t aware that you’re walking beside one of the most influential men in New York City. Kendall’s heart beats a little faster as he realises that he doesn’t need to play the role of Logan Roy’s puppet tonight, and that, for the first time maybe ever, he can get to know a woman without wondering whether she’s only interested in his money or status. Tonight, he’s not a Roy. 
“Actually New York born and raised,” he responds, and does his best not to react when he sees your head turn toward him in surprise. “So a business degree huh?” he quickly asks before you get the opportunity to probe into his immensely privileged upbringing. “Coming to join the rat race?” 
“Unfortunately,” you sigh. “I start my first big girl job in the corporate world on Monday,” you say before turning to him with a somewhat cheeky smile. “Which I’m assuming is also your stomping ground?” 
“Uh yeah, pretty much,” he says, giving you a half-hearted smile. “Although I wouldn’t necessarily describe it as a stomping ground, more like a uh… fuckin’ battlefield.” He laughs lightly before suddenly eyeing you up, his smile growing a little wider. “You, uh, you definitely don’t strike me as the corporate type though.”
The two of you reach the bar and Kendall holds the door open for you, allowing you to step inside first. You raise an eyebrow slightly as you pass by him and enter a much quieter and much swankier bar than the one the two of you just left. He leads you to a table in the corner and a server promptly comes over to take your drink orders. After you order your regular, Kendall orders a bitters and soda and desperately hopes that you don’t question his choice to not order an alcoholic drink. To his relief, you don’t. You have a different question in mind.
“Sorry, I wanna get back to what you said before” you say, leaning forward on the table. “About me not being the corporate type. You don’t think I’m capable of being a ruthless shark?” You prop your elbows up on the wooden surface and rest your chin in your hands, narrowing your eyes in challenge as you await his answer.
Kendall smiles again, happy with the new direction his night has taken. The glass of vodka he left sitting on the table at the last bar is the furthest thing from his mind right now. 
“I mean, you tell me,” he challenges in return. “You just don’t seem like the cutthroat type. But uh, who knows,” he says as he leans slightly forward. “Maybe you’ve got some cruelty under your, uh, sweet exterior.” 
Kendall gives you an expectant look and is pleased to see you avert your eyes from his gaze for a moment and smile sheepishly. You’re clearly trying to hold your own against him but just can’t stop your shy side from coming through. The fact that he can so easily break down the cheeky-front you’re trying to put up makes him feel in control of something for the first time in awhile. 
“I mean, are you the competitive type?” he presses. “Or do you tend to play nice with others?” 
You look down and your timid smile grows, confirming his theory. “Yeah you got me,” you laugh lightly. “I’m definitely a play-nice, let’s-all-get-along, rainbows and butterflies kind of girl.” You laugh again, slightly embarrassed. “I don’t know, maybe you’ll have to take me under your wing and give me some lessons in being an asshole.” 
Kendall chuckles, trying to remain casual, but your phrasing has his mind immediately wandering to thoughts of you under him. It’s been so long since he’s felt this excited about flirting with a woman. When he’s ‘Kendall: son of Logan Roy,' there’s no chase. 99% of the time, his money and name will get him any girl he wants. But as ‘Kendall: the random stranger from the bar,’ there’s a chance he might actually strike out and go home alone tonight. The anticipation of whether or not that happens is exciting as hell. 
Your server drops off your drinks just as Kendall feels his face warming. 
“I don’t know, I think my asshole ways are probably a bit too extreme for you,” he says coolly as he wraps his hand around the thick glass. 
“Oh c’mon, I can be a bitch!” you exclaim, but you say it in such a peppy way that Kendall can’t help from breaking into a huge smile. 
“Oh yeah, you’re very convincing,” he grins as he takes a sip of his drink. 
You grin back. “Seriously though, you seem to be able to balance your nice and asshole sides pretty well. I don’t want to be destroyed on Monday, how’d you learn to hold your own?” 
Kendall swirls his glass in his hand. “Well I, uh, I was raised by a father who rules with an iron fist, so it’s kind of ingrained in me to be ruthless...” 
He regrets his words the minute they’ve left his mouth. This is supposed to be a fun night with a cute girl, it’s supposed to be a moment of freedom from his father, but here he is, immediately bringing him up when given the chance. 
You raise an eyebrow slightly. “No offence, but I really doubt it’s from your daddy issues Kendall. If it was, I’m pretty sure a majority of the population would be ruthless.” 
Kendall gives a low chuckle and instantly feels the tension that had begun to build in his shoulders dissipate. He’s grateful (but also impressed) that you so easily sidestepped his impulsive answer. 
“Ok, well, where do you think my cutthroat tendencies come from?” he challenges. 
You cock your head to the side and squint your eyes, inspecting him before you nod to yourself. “I have a theory,” you say, but you don’t give up your answer immediately. You take a sip from your glass, and Kendall watches, amused, as you try to build tension before you reveal your thoughts. 
“Alter-ego,” you finally say. “Like Sasha Fierce. An asshole that comes to life when you walk into the office. But I feel like your alter-ego is named Emperor K or Big Ken Doll or something.” 
Kendall smirks at your theory, knowing it’s wrong and that ruthlessness is a core part of who he is, but he’s entertained nonetheless. “Oh yeah? And where’d you get those names from?” 
You take another sip of your drink. “You strike me as someone who’d be into cheesy 90’s hip-hop and would pick that kind of name for yourself.” 
Kendall laughs this time. “Damn, you’re uh, you’re not far off. Are you telling me you don’t like 90’s hip-hop?” 
“God no,” you scoff. “I came of age when trap was the big thing. I can’t take that cringey 90s stuff seriously, I’m far too gangster for that.” You flash a cheeky smile at him. 
Thus begins the next few hours of your night. You and Kendall begin discussing music, which evolves into films, then books, and then a myriad of other topics. The conversation flows naturally, and Kendall finds himself feeling what he thinks must be happiness for the first time in ages. He can’t be sure, it’s been so long since he’s felt anything close to that word, but talking to you feels easy and right. The only stress he’s currently feeling is from his fear that he’ll slip up and reveal to you that he’s a Roy. While he does openly share his thoughts and experiences, he has to keep his stories vague enough to ensure that he doesn’t out himself as the heir to a media empire. 
Eventually you move onto the topic of university and are telling him about the time you slept through one of your final exams but somehow convinced the professor to still let you take it. Kendall laughs as you end your story by saying that you failed the exam anyway. 
“Still impressive. If you can talk your way out of that shit, you’ll be fine on Monday. Corporate speak is mostly just being persuasive as fuck.” 
You lean back in your chair and give him a defeated look. “Yeah I can be persuasive when I really want something, but not when the other person wants something else more. I back down so fast when someone else makes it’s clear that they’re not gonna budge.”
Kendall frowns slightly and shakes his head. “I uh, I won’t lie to you… you’re gonna have a shitty time if you can’t stand your ground. Anyone who senses any weakness in you will fuck you over in a heartbeat.” 
“Yeah I know, and it terrifies me.” You look away from the table and sigh, crossing your arms. “I wanna do well but I’m just not good at playing mind games. And I’m such a people pleaser that I’m willing to make myself miserable to make life easier for someone else.” 
Your eyes are still staring off to your left, but Kendall’s are on you. He notices the little crease that’s developed between your eyebrows as you likely think about what Monday holds for you. At Waystar, he feels no pity for those who can’t keep up with the requirements of the job. But in this moment, with you… he sees a girl who really wants to succeed in her chosen field, but has too good of a heart to act viciously when necessary. 
“Who knows… maybe you’ll surprise yourself. I don’t know, you could, uh, be capable of more than you think,” Kendall offers, not exactly sure if he’s being comforting but wanting to try. He pauses for a second, debating if he should add the next part. “It’s, uh… refreshing, to meet someone as real as you. Someone who isn’t afraid to say exactly how they feel.” 
————————————
You turn to face forward, your eyes meeting Kendall’s again. He seems unsure of what he just said, his face watching yours for your reaction. You smile softly. 
“You must not meet a lot of very real people if me saying I’m a people pleaser is refreshing.” 
Kendall gives a small chuckle as he looks down at his drink, swirling it in his hand. “Uh yeah, I don’t. Doubt there are very many real people in the crowds I run with.” 
“Or maybe you’re too intimidating and people don’t feel comfortable opening up to you,” you say as you lift your glass to your lips. You know it’s a ballsy comment to make, but you’re about 3 drinks deep at this point and your politeness filter is beginning to fade.
Kendall looks at you, eyebrows slightly raised and the hint of a smile creeping onto his face. “…Are you intimidated by me?” 
“… Yes.” 
The smile on Kendall’s face grows a little bigger. “Hmm, okay. Tell me why.” He takes a drink from his glass but keeps his gaze on locked on you. You see something flash behind his eyes - Interest? Power? Attraction? You’re not sure, but it’s clear that you have his undivided attention. 
You look at Kendall and think, trying to verbalise what it is about him that’s so intimidating to you. “I think it’s a mix of things… I mean, hearing how aggressive you’re willing to be in your career kind of solidified you as someone I should maybe be a little scared of, but it’s also the way you carry yourself. It feels like you belong in any room you walk into. And how deep your voice is.” You can feel your face flush slightly as you say this last part and hope it’s not noticeable. 
If it is, Kendall doesn’t say anything. He waits for you to continue. “I think it’s something about your eyes too… they’re intense… and wise,” you say thoughtfully, slightly cocking your head to the side as you let yourself get dragged into the gravity of his deep brown gaze. You suddenly realise how intently you’ve been staring at him and quickly look away. “And I swear that’s not me calling you old,” you joke, breaking the tension of the moment.
Kendall gives a light laugh and leans back in his chair. “So uh, basically what you’re saying is I’m a hot older guy with loads of charisma.” He gives you a mischievous grin. 
You take a sip of your drink as you smile and roll your eyes. “I mean, I definitely didn’t say that, but I won’t disagree.” 
Kendall leans forward again, resting his forearms on the surface of the table. Over the last few hours, his professional attire has slowly become more casual. His blazer hangs over the back of his chair, his tie is slightly loosened, and the sleeves of his dress shirt have been rolled up. You watch as he flexes his hands, protruding veins weaving across the surface of his skin. 
“If we’re being honest with each other,” he says, eyes somewhat glazed over and settled on a spot in the middle of the table, “I don’t usually hang out with women like you.” He looks up at you. “But I’m uh, I’m kind of digging it.” 
You lift your drink to your lips again and give him a somewhat skeptical look. Pausing before setting your glass down on the table, you lean in as well. “Okay. I’ll bite. What’s so different about me from the girls you usually hang with?” 
“Well, you’re not afraid to be yourself or say what you’re thinking. There’s a uh… an innocence and… positivity to you that I don’t come across often.” He pauses for a moment. “I don’t want to be a dick, but most of the women I meet are pretty vain and materialistic. And you can tell that they want you think they’re sophisticated.” He sits a little taller. “I’m not saying that’s bad, just… you’re a breath of fresh air.” 
You watch Kendall as he speaks, the smile on your face growing a little wider with every cliché he uses until you can no longer hold it in. The “you’re different” move is typical, but this? You let out a laugh and hide your face in your hands. 
“You realise you just called me unsophisticated? To my face?” You laugh again and lean back in your chair. “Damn Kendall, you really know how to flatter a girl.” 
Kendall bows his head and lets out a low chuckle. “Uh, yeah, okay, I guess I deserve that… I’m just being fuckin’ honest though, you’re uh, you’re new for me… in a good way.” 
You smile and lean forward again. “I’m just fucking with you Kendall, it’s fine.” You make the sudden decision to place your hands on top of his, halting the way he had started to fiddle with them. It’s the first time you’ve touched each other since he pretended to be your boyfriend and led you out of the other bar hours earlier. It feels like a lifetime ago. 
Kendall looks from his hands up to you. His expression is impossible to read, but it’s clear a moment later what he might’ve been thinking. He gently removes his right hand from under yours and reaches up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. Your breath catches in your throat as his touch lingers there for a moment, convinced he’s about to kiss you, and utterly disappointed when he pulls away. Your disappointment doesn’t last long though.
“Hey, did you uh, maybe want to find somewhere else to continue our conversation? Looks like they’re closing up here.” Kendall glances around, prompting you to do the same. Somehow you’re only just now noticing that the two of you are the last customers in the bar. The only people left are the bartender and your server, both of whom seem to be distracting themselves with menial tasks and small talk as they wait for you and Kendall to leave. 
“Umm…” you pull your phone out of your bag and check the time. 2:48am. Jesus Christ, you had no idea it was that late. You should probably just say goodnight and go home, but you can’t bring yourself to. Not after you look up and lock eyes with Kendall. His face isn’t conveying any strong emotion, but his eyes… maybe you’re imagining it or just seeing what you want to see, but it’s almost like they’re pleading with you, begging you to say yes and stay with him, and fucking hell, you actually want to. After days of being alone in an unfamiliar city, connecting with Kendall tonight has felt so good. You’re not ready to give up that feeling yet, so you make a stupidly impulsive decision that you’re sure you’ll regret in the morning, but feels right in this moment.
“Could you walk me home?” you ask innocently. 
Kendall takes a second to absorb what you’ve asked of him before answering “Uh, yeah, of course,” though he seems slightly confused as to what this request actually means. 
He stands up and walks over to your side of the table, offering you his hand to help you out of your chair. You smile and accept the gesture, expecting him to drop your hand once you’ve stood up, but he doesn’t. He grasps it firmly and leads you out of the bar, only slowing down for a moment to mumble something to the bartender about charging the bill to his account. The bartender nods in acknowledgment before turning his attention back to the glass he’s polishing. 
Kendall drops your hand to hold the door open for you, but quickly reaches for it again once you’re out on the street. 
“So where do you live?” he asks lightly as he looks over at you, but he breaks into a smile as your eyes meet. You’re looking up at him and making no attempt to hide the confusion you’re feeling from appearing on your face. 
“What?” he asks with a chuckle.
You give a slight shake of your head as you begin to lead him in the direction of your apartment. 
“You,” you answer. “I meet you at the shittiest bar in the city, but you have an account with a bar that’s ten times nicer right down the street?” You scoff slightly, keeping your eyes forward but feeling his on you. “You are an enigma Kendall.” 
He laughs softly. “I, uh, I promise it’s not that complicated. It’s just good to have a nice place to bring someone you want to impress.” You feel a gentle squeeze of your hand and your stomach fills with butterflies. “But sometimes it’s uh… sometimes I don’t wanna be in that world, you know? It’s nice to disappear into a crowd.” 
“I don’t mean to burst your bubble,” you say, glancing over at him, “but you were one of the first people I noticed when I walked in that bar.” 
Kendall’s eyes quickly flash in your direction. “Oh really?” You feel his arm tense up beside you. “And uh… what did you notice?” 
“I was mostly just wondering what the old guy was doing in there.” You grin over at him and he scoffs, shaking his head with a smile. “No, just kidding. I guess I mostly noticed that you seemed… stressed. I don’t know, that your vibe was just on a different wavelength than everyone else in there.” 
Kendall sighs before answering. “Well… yeah, I uh, I wasn’t having the best night earlier.” You see him glance over at you in your peripheral vision. “It’s a little better now though.”
You turn to look at him, mock offence on your face. “Just a little bit?!” 
“No, you’re right, much better,” he says, and he flashes you his crinkly eyed smile again. 
The walk to your place is short. Kendall points out a bar he and some friends tried their first fake ID’s at when they were in 9th grade, but seems reluctant to give specific details when you ask more about what it was like growing up in Manhattan. Before you know it, you’ve reached your street and are slowing to a stop in front of your building.
“This is me,” you say as you turn to Kendall.
————————————
Kendall looks at you smiling sweetly up at him, and his heart both swells and sinks at the same time. He’s not ready for tonight to be over. What began as a mere distraction from his shitty life has turned into… something he wasn’t expecting. It’s rare that sober-Kendall socialises without thinking “this would be more fun with coke,” but that thought didn’t occur to him even once tonight. 
“I, uh…” He tries to think of something to say, something that might keep him here with you for a few moments longer, but nothing comes to mind. His eyes flicker between yours and he feels his composure slipping. Then, in an instant, he loses himself. Giving in to his impulses for the first time all night, his right hand finds your cheek, his left your waist, and he leans in, gently brushing his lips against yours. 
The kiss is over before it’s even begun. Kendall pulls back almost immediately because for a split second, he felt like he had broken sobriety. Letting his urges take control and kissing you felt eerily similar to the feeling he gets when he does a line for the first time after months of being in recovery. Something that feels this good is usually not good for him, and he’s learned to associate that kind of pleasure with guilt. 
Kendall looks down at you, his mind spiralling as you stare back at him, your lips slightly parted. For a split second, he wonders if he misread the moment and fucked everything up, but you put those fears to ease when you reach up to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him back in.
Your kiss is not hesitant or soft like Kendall’s was. Your lips move purposefully against his, almost urgently, and he feels your arms tighten slightly around his neck as he reciprocates your enthusiasm.  Almost immediately, he loses himself in the moment. He lets his hunger for you take over and begins to feel his hands move of their own volition. His right hand, which had been placed gently on the side of your face, migrates to the nape of your neck where it begins to tangle itself in your hair, and he can’t stop his left hand from exploring the rest of you. It had previously been resting lightly on your waist, but he feels it begin to run up and down your back, desperate to feel the skin beneath your light jacket. This isn’t good enough, there’s still too much space between the two of you, but he’ll take whatever he can get in this moment. His grip on your neck tightens slightly, and his palm presses firmly against you to push you further into his body. 
You react exactly how Kendall hoped you would. He feels you lean into him, and your arms loosen around his neck so that your hands can run through the short hair at the back of his head. Excitement begins to stir deep in his stomach, and he’s suddenly very aware that the two of you are standing out on the street, unable to get any closer. It’s probably a good thing that a moment later, you begin to gently pull away. 
Both of you are breathless as you break apart, neither of you removing your hands from the other. You drop your head sheepishly and Kendall looks down at you, waiting for your eyes to meet his. His heart races in anticipation as he awaits your reaction to what just happened. Fuck, he really wants to keep kissing you.
Finally, you look up at him again and he holds his breath, waiting for you to say something. The next thing he knows, he’s watching the most beautiful smile spread across your your face as you roll your eyes. He feels your arms retreat from around his neck, and your hand entwines itself with his. You utter a soft “c’mon” as you lead him into your building. 
Kendall feels a jolt of electricity run through his body. Jesus fucking Christ, it’s happening. There was no need for name dropping, wining-and-dining, or surface level small talk. No sleazy clubs or hardcore drugs or excessive amounts of alcohol. He likes you, you like him, the end. 
He’s vaguely aware that you’re leading him up your building’s stairwell, down a tired looking hallway, and to a white door adorned with the number 201, but he’s mostly focused on the buzzing anticipation building in his chest. You drop his hand to pull your keys out of your bag and unlock the door, pushing it open and dragging him inside with you.
Your urgency to get him inside tells him that he doesn’t need to waste time with awkward pleasantries or forced compliments about your apartment. You quickly shut the door behind him and not a moment later, he’s got your back pressed up against it. The two of you pick up exactly where you left off on the street. 
————————————
Your hands find their way to the back of Kendall’s head again, fingers running through his short hair as he rushes to press his mouth to yours. The Kendall who initiated the soft brushing of lips outside is long gone and has been replaced by a starved man who can only be satiated by you.
You feel the solid wall of your apartment door press into your back as Kendall leans further into you, mouth practically devouring yours as his hands grip your waist, your hips, your ass. One of his hands travels further down the back of your thigh so that he can hike it up and place it around his hip. You gasp at the new position, feeling the hardness of Kendall’s groin push into your core.  
Kendall groans into your open mouth as he begins to rut his hips against you. The bulge protruding from his pants hits the sweet spot between your legs and the excitement that’s been building deep in your stomach multiplies. You hear a moan escape from your lips, and it sends Kendall into a frenzy. 
“Fuckkk,” he growls, his voice somehow sounding even deeper than before. His hands travel up to your face and he kisses you harder. Anywhere his body can be pressed into you, it is. His enthusiasm is intoxicating, but he seems intent on taking his time with you here at second base. He’s made no attempt to take anything further, not even a hand sneaking up under your shirt. You, on the other hand, are impatient for more. Your inner thighs are growing increasingly wet and you’re growing increasingly frustrated. Why the fuck do you both still have clothes on? You usually like to take your time with foreplay, but the urge you have for Kendall right now is building too quickly and you want nothing more than to feel his hands on your bare skin.
You remove your hands from Kendall’s hair and lower them to his waistband where you begin to pull up the dress shirt tucked into his pants. Grazing over the rock hard erection pushing against the cloth of his trousers, you feel his length twitch against your fumbling hands. His breath hitches in his throat, only for a moment, before his lips are suddenly on your neck, leaving kisses and licks and bites up and down the side.
“God you’re so fucking hot,” he breathes against your skin as you frantically work to undo the small buttons until his shirt falls open. Your hands rush to push the fabric off his shoulders and finally feel his warm skin on yours, exploring the toned muscles of his upper arms and back as you do. His mouth latches onto yours while he pulls his arms out of the sleeves and throws the shirt behind him, hands quickly racing to the bottom hem of your own top as soon as they’re free. He helps you pull it over your head until it drops to the floor beside you, and you feel his hands run up and down your back, his touch exploring every inch of your skin that he can access.
The ache building between your thighs is becoming unbearable at this point. The inside of your underwear is a mess of slick, and Kendall’s hardened groin pressed against you isn’t enough anymore. Your hands retreat from his back and fall to your own waist, where you hook your fingers into your waistband and pull your pants off your hips, stepping out of them quickly. Kendall has no time to react before you grab one of his hands and guide it to your core, placing it outside your underwear where he can feel how wet you are. 
A deep groan sounds through your apartment the moment Kendall feels the damp fabric clinging to your centre. “Fucking hell,” he husks as he begins to rub, and you echo him with a moan. Relief rushes through your body as two of his finger circle your clit, but now you’re feeling your entrance begin to clench around nothing and you ache for Kendall to satisfy that need too. Your hands fly to to his belt buckle. 
“I want you so fucking bad,” you breathe as you attempt to unbuckle it, but your hands are shaky from anticipation and you can’t get it undone quickly enough. Kendall suddenly grabs your wrist, halting your fumbling fingers. “Bed,” is all he says before he’s kissing you again, leading you backwards toward your mess of blankets and pillows in the corner while he expertly undoes his belt with one hand, the other hand tangling itself in the hair at the back of your head. 
His belt is undone by the time you reach the bed, as well as his pant’s button and zipper, and soon he’s pushing his trousers down his hips and kicking them off. Seeing Kendall like this, his erection fighting against the thin cotton of his boxers to spring free, increases your sense of urgency. You’re done with foreplay; you’re not even fully naked yet, but you have the hazy vision and tight knot in your lower stomach that always precedes your climaxes. You need him - now. 
You remove your bra and underwear in a frenzy and pull Kendall onto the bed with you, plush duvet and collection of pillows cradling your naked body as he rests his weight on top of you. “You’re so gorgeous,” he groans into your neck, his hands running over your breasts, waist, hips, and down to your core. He slides one finger between your folds and feels the pool of arousal that’s developed there. “Holy fuck,” he moans deeply, his hand rushing to palm his groin over his underwear while the other continues to spread your slick around your crease. “Fucking please let me feel you,” he husks, inserting one finger into your slit and eliciting a loud moan from you. 
“Oh my god, yes,” you breathe as he continues to pump his finger in and out. It feels incredible to finally have something for your inner walls to clench around, but you’re ready for the main event. You reach down and grab his wrist, feeling his finger slip out of you as you bring it up to your lips and place it on your tongue before closing your mouth and sucking your arousal off him. Kendall emits a primitive sound, something between a moan and growl, as he feels your tongue swirl around his finger, his eyes fixated on your mouth. 
“God I have to fuck you right fucking now,” he groans, pulling his finger from between your lips and racing to place his mouth on your neck. His hand falls back to your core and he rubs your clit, causing you to whimper as you reach over to your bedside table and pull a condom out of the drawer. Kendall takes it from you, rips the wrapper open with his teeth, and rushes to roll it onto himself. He’s frantic to line himself up at your entrance, but takes his time as he pushes in. You moan in unison as he buries himself fully inside you, the feeling of you stretched around him bringing the sweetest relief to the aching arousal you were experiencing before. He pulls out halfway and then fills you again, slowly building up a rhythm until he’s furiously thrusting into you. 
“Fuck you feel incredible,” he says, his breathing becoming more ragged and heavy. His gaze is locked on where he’s entering you, watching his cock disappear into your hole and then feeling your inner walls squeezing him tightly. “I don’t know how long I can last.” He looks into your eyes, his pupils blown out with lust and you’re sure that he’s seeing the same thing in yours.
You moan again at his words, eyebrows creased and lips parted, and you feel the elastic in your core begin to tighten with his steady rhythm. This has never happened so quickly before. You’ve never approached a climax with any previous partner this fast, but you’re already so close to your release that it feels like he’s been edging you since your kiss on the street. “Please keep going,” you plead. “Please, I’m gonna cum.”
You can feel yourself getting tighter around him, and you know Kendall can feel it too because he emits a husky groan as you begin to approach your peak. His rhythm is becoming more erratic as he gets close to his own climax, his hips thrusting at an uneven pace and heavy breathing interrupted by deep groans. His hand reaches down to your clit, where he begins to rub quick circles. The elastic snaps immediately. 
Heat rushes through your body as you moan out an “oh my god” and grip Kendall’s toned back, holding yourself close to him. You feel an internal pulsating and rush of wet in your core, your mind spinning as Kendall continues to fuck you through your orgasm. This doesn’t last long though, as the sensation of your climax around him sends him over the edge too. 
He pushes himself deep inside you and his entire body tenses up as he lets out a long, drawn out moan, holding you tightly against him. The pleasure of your own orgasm washes over you as you feel his heart beating frantically in his chest and his erection twitching against your inner walls. The only sound in the room is both of you breathing heavily. Soon though, he’s relaxing his bodyweight on top of you, and you’re wrapping your arms around him as he catches his breath. 
One of your hands reaches up to run your fingers through his hair and he sighs contentedly, his head dropping beside yours and resting on your shoulder. “Fuck,” he mumbles into your skin. “That was… fuck,” is all he can manage to say, and you aren’t capable of too many words either. The most you can think to add is a light laugh and a “yeah… fuck,” as your fingers continue to run through his short hair. He sighs again, his breathing beginning to slow and his erection beginning to soften, and you enjoy what you assume will be the last bit of physical touch you’ll experience tonight. No one ever sleeps over after the first hook-up.
Eventually he turns his head to kiss your cheek and then lifts himself off your body. Groaning, he slides out from inside you and you feel the remnants of your arousal seep out as well. Kendall pulls the condom off and throws it into the garbage bin near the foot of your bed before collapsing next to you. You’re surprised when he immediately pulls you into his arms, but you settle in right away, overjoyed that he's keen to cuddle too. 
“God you’re incredible,” he breathes as he buries his face into your neck, leaving a soft kiss where your jawline begins. 
“I feel the same way about you Kendall,” you murmur, nuzzling into his chest, and you feel his arms wrap around you a little tighter. You think you’d probably be happy staying with him like this forever. 
The night has caught up with you though and you suddenly feel how exhausted you are. It’s almost 4am at this point, and the combination of being post-orgasm, nestled in your cozy bed, and wrapped up in Kendall’s arms has you feeling extremely relaxed. You can’t help but let a little yawn escape. 
“Is it time for me to go?” Kendall asks softly. Despite his low volume, you can feel his deep voice rumbling in his chest. 
“You don’t have to go,” you mumble sleepily. “It’s so late, you should stay.” 
The offer slips out of your mouth without any forethought, but you don’t regret it. Somewhere in the back of your mind you can feel that what you’ve done tonight with someone you met only hours ago is probably too-much-too-soon, but you can’t bring yourself to care just yet. You’ll deal with the consequences tomorrow, but you’re happy to give yourself what feels good right now, and Kendall feels good.
Kendall leans his head down to leave a soft kiss at the top of your head. “Okay,” he responds, “I’ll stay.” You nuzzle into his chest again, taking a deep breath and relaxing fully. You fall asleep to the feeling of his arms around you and the soft rhythm of him stroking your hair. 
***
You’re awoken by the sound of a phone ringing. Somehow, in your half-asleep daze, you’re able to recognise that this is not your own ringtone sounding off. You’re momentarily confused until you feel the warm body pressed against your back gently pull away and last night’s memories come flooding back to you. Smiling to yourself, you roll over just in time to watch Kendall sleepily walk over to the other side of the room where his pants lay crumpled on the floor. He pulls a cellphone out of the side pocket and you notice that his shoulders immediately tense up as he reads the name on the screen. 
“Dad?” he says in a low voice as he picks up the phone, and you slowly sit up in bed behind him. Kendall spins around to the sound of your movement and you’re surprised to see he looks slightly embarrassed. He clears his throat before pointing to the bathroom to ask if he can take his call in there while he says “Uh yeah, just a second,” into the phone. You nod an ‘of course’ and he strides over to it, quickly closing the door behind him. 
You grab your phone from the nightstand and attempt to not eavesdrop, but it’s difficult. Kendall sounds nothing like he did last night and it’s throwing you off. He’s still speaking in the same deep tone, but the confidence and banter is gone. The voice on the other side of the bathroom door sounds serious and slightly anxious, like Kendall isn’t fully sure of himself or anything he’s saying. You think you hear him say the word “cruises,” but you aren’t sure. You can’t imagine that planning a family vacation would make him sound this stressed out, but he did mention a ruthless father… 
You attempt to turn your attention back to your own phone. Kendall obviously wanted to hide this call from you for a reason, and you barely know each other; you have no right to be theorising about his family life or listening in on his personal conversations. You open the message app on your phone and see a few texts that your best friend from back home sent you last night. You respond to her messages before adding a “btw… I met someone last night” text. You have a scheduled phone call with her later today, but you’re too excited about meeting Kendall to wait until 3pm to tell her. Wondering how long you have until your call with her, you check the time and see that it’s only 7:57am. Why the hell is Kendall’s dad calling him this early on a Saturday morning? 
The bathroom door opens a moment later and Kendall steps out, looking even more exhausted than he did when he had just woken up. You lock your phone and set it down beside you on the bed.
“Everything okay?” you ask, pulling your knees up and hugging them to your chest. Despite being in your own apartment, hearing the tone of his call has you feeling a bit like you’re intruding in his space rather than the other way around. 
Kendall scoffs lightly and walks over to the bed, sitting on the edge of it. “Uh, great, can’t you tell?” He looks over at you with a playful smile but you can tell that his heart’s not in it. 
“I’m sorry,” you say sympathetically. “That’s not a fun way to start your day.” You’re tempted to reach out for him and hold his hand or pull him back into bed with you, but Kendall doesn’t seem to be in an affectionate mood. His body is tense and he’s seated as if he’s preparing to stand up at any moment. “Do… do you need to leave?” 
You know the answer before the question has even left your mouth, but Kendall confirms your suspicions when he sighs and looks down. 
“Uh, yeah. I have some uh, some stuff I need to take care of.” He hesitates for a moment before standing up and quickly grabbing his clothes from their various spots around the room. You watch him get dressed, your knees still hugged to your chest. “I’m really sorry I have to rush out so soon,” he says as he buttons up the front of his shirt. 
You smile at him gently. You don’t doubt that he actually does have stuff to take care of, but the way this is ending feels more like a one-night-stand than you’d like it to. You do your best to hide your disappointment. “It’s okay Kendall, I understand. Go take care of business.” 
He gives you a small but grateful smile as he quickly pulls on his shoes, and then walks over to the bed. “I had a lot of fun last night,” he says as he places his hand under your chin to tilt your head back. He leans in slowly and brushes his lips softly against yours, causing the little group of butterflies in your stomach to stir. The gesture is surprisingly sweet, and your fear that this was turning into a one time thing is momentarily put to rest. He pulls away, brown eyes locked on you as he reluctantly drops his hand from your face. “I’ll see you soon,” he adds, and then he’s gone. 
You stare at the closed door for a few seconds before flopping backward on your bed. Your eyes fixate on your ceiling and gradually glaze over as you try to commit his face to memory. You run over every detail you can remember from last night, looking for signs that he only wants something casual, or worse, is going to disappear now that he’s gotten what he wanted from you. He did say he’ll see you soon… you wonder if he’ll reach out later today once he’s handled his personal business. 
It’s when this thought appears in your mind that you come to the awful realisation that you and Kendall never exchanged numbers.
————————————
Kendall shuts your front door behind him and pulls out his phone as he strides down the hallway toward the stairwell. He quickly orders an Uber to pick him up outside your building (he prefers to use his personal driver for transportation, but Uber Black does the trick when he needs a last minute ride) and sees that the driving time to get to his Dad’s place from yours is over 20 minutes. Fuck. He can already hear the condescending comments that Logan will undoubtedly make about him taking so long to arrive. The news he received on the phone this morning, that New York Magazine is preparing to publish an article about the Waystar cruise line misdeeds, has put his father in the worst mood imaginable. When the company could be under investigation and the stock could plummet in a matter of hours, 20 minutes will not go unnoticed. 
Kendall exits the stairwell and steps out onto the street, immediately lighting a cigarette; it’s the only vice he has to keep him sane these days. Last night was the perfect escape from the depressing reality of his life, but this morning has been the most aggressive push back into it. What he wouldn’t give to have been able to spend a few more hours with you…
He takes a puff of his cigarette and stares up at your building, wondering which window belongs to you. Maybe, if he’s able to bury the article about cruises, he’ll be able to see you again soon. He should probably text you though to let you know that he’s going to be busy for awhile.
His heart sinks into his stomach. He can’t text you because he doesn’t have your number. He never asked for it. 
He looks down at his phone screen, sees that his Uber is 2 minutes away, and then up to your building. 2 minutes is definitely enough time to run back upstairs and ask you for your number, and he’s sure you’ll want him to have it. 
He takes a step toward the front door, but stops himself suddenly. His mind is already in critical thinking mode as he prepares to find a solution to the cruises scandal, but now it’s beginning to consider what the outcome of him going back upstairs will be. If he gets your number… what’s next? A normal relationship with you isn’t possible. You’ll eventually learn who he really is, and he doesn’t see any way that ever ends well. 
By your own admission, you’re already intimidated by him. Learning that he’s a billionaire with more power than 99.99% of the world population won’t make you feel any more comfortable around him. And what about the people in his life? How could you, being as authentic and sweet as you are, ever hold your own around his family? If you stuck around with him long enough, would his money corrupt you the same way it corrupts everyone else in his world? Would everything start to feel as meaningless for you as it does for him? 
He can’t do that to you. He won’t. You’re still young and impressionable, and he would never forgive himself if he pulled you into hell with him when you still had your entire life ahead of you. It’s best that he leaves last night as a memory. A really fucking good memory.
Kendall glances at his phone and sees that his Uber is right down the street, only a minute away. He look up at your building once more before taking another puff of his cigarette and then stomping it into the ground just as his car rolls up. He gets in silently and begins to prepare himself for a full day of Waystar chaos. What a fucking start to the weekend. 
Tag list: @foreverasleep717 @berryfinch @ad-astra-again @18dmlk @maraschinodreamo @loveandthings11 @waystarnatco @allcheesemelts @r0semaryjane @l2theogan @fictionalmen-dilflover @thetorturedpoetssdepartment @randomnessfangirl @verchans
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dreikit-23 · 8 months
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There is a Rampant and Vicious Cycle in the Online Left That Needs to Be Addressed
Every leftist needs to understand that not every proclaimed leftist is a safe person or one that is acting in good faith. Many people in this sphere --even if they are minorities themselves-- are Abusers. Let me be clear: they are Abusers REGARDLESS of --NOT because of-- them being a minority. Despite this, many of them have weaponized their standing as a minority in order to get away with their behavior and achieve what they see as some form of power and control over others. Let me be clear. I am referring to those that:
Manipulate and lie about pressing situations (especially when it's to harm another person or demographic)
Excessively use idpol to either elevate themselves to holier than thou levels ("listen to ___ people but only when it's something I agree with, which just so happens to devolve from constructive change to making others grovel and plead forgiveness endlessly before me") or belittle others (ie their skin color, gender, queerness, disability, neurodivergence, religion, age, etc.) in order to discount their point or not treat them as equal human beings; yes, even if their skin tone is white or if they are men, abuse does not have to be backed up by systemic issues in order to be abusive or at the very least harmful (sidenote: this does not apply to people talking about their experiences as a minority that is otherwise not experienced or understood by others, the issue I'm pointing out is when it's twisted to cover everything not directly tied to their identity and proclaim themselves as the only ones allowed to be the voice of reason, therefore shutting up everyone else and to avoid any constructive criticism or discussion)
Act on rage and at times even trauma to bring forth harmful ideals (ex: truly hating every person of a demographic, wishing for a genocide, making actual death or rape threats towards someone or a group, conversion, etc)(sidenote: I'm not discounting those that have trauma and even have harmful thoughts, just please seek help and understand that it is not healthy nor sustainable to paint or alter reality to be in line with what trauma makes you believe)
Actively try to get others they don't agree with to either permanently leave the internet or commit suicide and even celebrate when either happens
Excessively test others on their "purity" on unachievable standards to the detriment of everyone and Leftism as a whole (purity culture is fueled by christian culture in order to disguise doomerism, accepting defeat when change is not possible, of which is the very thing that will kill leftism)
Infight over weird made up issues (remember how divide and conquer is a war strategy? To split hairs and discount others for non-issues is to do the work of conservatives and nazis for them)
Shut down people or discussions over minor slights such as using an incorrect word/phrasing or any numerous perceived mistakes (example I've seen here: berating a person with schizophrenia (or a trans person or any other minority) for using a derogatory term for themselves when they're talking about how everyone else is speaking over them and not listening), ignoring the hypocrisy or not taking into account any number of mundane causes such as non-native english speakers, generational gaps, being in the process of learning (either recovering from harmful beliefs or simple ignorance), using those terms to prove a point (such as that example I mentioned above), neurodivergence, etc.
Not letting others talk about their experiences of oppression when those experiences don't match theirs, instead opting to call those people bigoted for contrived reasons
A rejection of nuance, intersectionalism, and even reality to better suit their goals (ex: claiming that every trans man benefits from the patriarchy and can never experience misogyny)
Misuse of therapy speak and terminology in order to water down those terms and render them near meaningless so they can weaponize them under the pretense of their original use (ex: gaslighting), or to cut off any need to connect or sympathize with other human beings and instead speak to them like a PR message (refer to this video by Zena and Poppy for reference)
They never speak on true leftist/progressive ideals or positive change, they only engage in destructive discourse or any behavior listed above
Making baseless dangerous accusations towards someone they don't like. Before you go harr harr you're doing that, I'm not calling out any specific person and am merely listing dangerous behaviors I've seen people here act out. What I am referring to are when someone casually calls someone specific a predator (or whatever else) with absolutely zero proof and expecting everyone to believe them no questions asked. This has been shown to ruin people's lives
Any other similar behaviors not included in this list (as well as classic logical fallacies), but what I've mentioned above should paint you a good picture
Every example I've pointed out were REAL EVENTS I've seen from people that proclaim themselves as leftists or even just progressive, and sometimes are even minorities themselves (some even infight against their own communities using the behaviors listed above, often out of internalized bigotry)(an example of a real event that happened here recently were when several people were making rape threats towards a trans man by the username of @a-faggot-with-opinions). To be blunt, I'm pointing out exclusionism in practically every form, asexual discourse, transandrophobia, TERFs/radfems, TEHMs, tankies, "cornbreadtube", nationalists and ethnonationalists, and all else I don't have the terminology for For many of the people that fall under that bullet list I would hesitate to even refer to them as leftist or progressive, as they never seem to actually show they act on it or even believe in it, only making an appearance in those communities for their own destructive personal gain; hell, often times they have ideals that directly go against what those communities stand for! Examples include TERFs with white supremacist beliefs, transandrophobes that are misogynistic, ethnonationalists that are antisemitic, puritans that are ableist, the list goes on forever. Once you know what to look for, you can see the hidden or overt bigotry behind their false "progressive" statements
No one is infallible No one is better than everyone else You are not immune to propaganda No one is immune from behaving abusively
These people are dangerous, whether they actually qualify as abusers --as I've been referring to them as such for brevity and impact-- or are people that are engaging in hurtful or fully abusive behavior (use this paragraph as a disclaimer, I of course can't know if someone is an abuser in real life unless there is documented evidence of such). Regardless, they are hurting the left and are letting the right win
If you see any of these behaviors either 1) take caution if you're unsure, 2) block them, or 3) if you have the fortitude, call them out. Either way, use your best judgement and think for yourself (or discuss with good faith leftists if you're uncertain). And remember, often times (albeit not always) they are actually fully aware of their disgusting behavior and are choosing to act maliciously, not ignorantly.
Stay safe, log off, do what you can to support your local community and leftism as a whole, don't let these people distract from the real issues at hand. Have empathy, if you don't have empathy then act in compassion, if you don't or refuse to do either please do not engage in politics. Misanthropy has no place in matters concerning humanity.
And remember: we have to stand together in unity so we can create a better future for all
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defectivevillain · 5 months
Text
this broken design, ch16
pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Reader
summary: That familiar analytical gleam in your eyes lives in Hannibal’s mind as he sinks his teeth into his prey. Despite your departure hours ago, Hannibal sees you sitting across from him at the table. Dining alone has never bothered him; yet, right now, he can’t help but desire your company—your scintillating conversation, your sharp wit, your clever smirk. Indeed, his table feels uncharacteristically empty. Hannibal stares at the chair across from him—the same chair he’s grown accustomed to seeing you sit at—and takes another bite. Flavor explodes on his tongue, yet you are what dominates his thoughts.
Your experience in criminal profiling means that you've met a wide variety of people from all different walks of life. You've stared down hardened criminals and fought for your life against people hellbent on killing you. Even so, something about the FBI's new target, the Chesapeake Ripper, seems to elude you.
Then you meet Hannibal Lecter: an enigmatic jigsaw of a man with jagged corners and misshapen pieces.
Fortunately, you've always been rather good at puzzles.
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read from the beginning here.
ao3 version | Spotify playlist
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some of this chapter is born out of me realizing, as i read The Red Dragon, that i essentially limited Alana’s presence in this fic to that one rather tumultuous interaction, instead of expanding on her potential as both a strong, intelligent side character and a friend to the reader. Hopefully this makes up for that a little bit. Alana’s pretty cool. I sort of lost sight of that.
warnings: negative self talk, suicidal ideation/thoughts, panic attack, hyperventilation, derealization, canon-typical blood, violence, & gore
The darkness swirling around you is relentless in its writhing, distorting and jerking you around in its shadowed grasp. For a while, you’re content to let the shadows take control. You float in an endless abyss. Memories flit before your eyes, just long enough for you to reach out to try to grab them. They never stay long enough, flickering and disintegrating before you get the chance to grasp them and dissect every miniscule detail. 
Stay awake, says a whisper itching at your skin. 
You take a deep breath. The next time you blink, you find yourself standing in a far too familiar place. Hannibal’s kitchen is quiet—eerily so, you think as your footsteps echo against the floors. There is hardly a sign of life on these countertops, hardly a stain or sprinkling of powder to assure you this place has ever been used. There is a single light boring down on the back of your head: a spotlight. You swallow hard and step to the side in an attempt to escape the light, only to find Hannibal’s rolodex sitting in the middle of the brightness. Your business card sits on top, displaying your name, phone number, email address, office location at headquarters, birthplace, height, weight, eye color, age, and any other demographic information you could possibly imagine. The font is tiny, yet you can read it with ease. Feeling a sudden urge to touch, you grab the business card and let it lie flat in your palm. There’s a tear in the corner, you realize. Frowning, you move to touch it, only for the tear to extend further down the flimsy material. Crimson dots appear on the white background, swirling and twisting until there’s blood collecting on your fingertips. You look down, only to realize that the dark red stains have permeated the fabric of your shirt. Puddles are gathering at your feet, marking your footsteps with every movement you make. The card melts into the blood gathered in your hands, and you’re left holding the tattered remains of your identity. 
Stay awake.  
You blink again. Abel Gideon is peering at you from behind the bars of his interrogation cell. “You have Lecter on a leash, don’t you?” Gideon remarks with a laugh. You huff a laugh under your breath. The thought amuses you, for reasons you cannot quite discern at the moment. “A very long leash, but a leash nonetheless.”  Your hands tremble at your sides and you restlessly shift your balance from one foot to the other. Gideon’s gaze is knowing and it pins you to the ground. 
Stay alive.  
A blink. You’re standing in the doorway of your office at headquarters. Everything is as you left it, save for your chair, which has an inhabitant. Franklyn Froideveaux stares at you with empty eye sockets and a gaping maw.  Blood slips down his gaunt frame, leaving murky red-brown streaks down his cheeks and around the cavity of his chest. You blink and his skin turns a murky yellowish green from decay. 
“See?” Garret Jacob Hobbs croons from over your shoulder. You can feel the smile on his face, feel his breath hitting your neck and provoking a deep nausea in your gut. 
Another blink. Blood slips hotly down your fingers as you stand in a dimly lit hallway. Your skin feels lit with flames and the knife in your hand gleams a sickening crimson. You want to release the weapon from your grip, but your fingers are locked around the blade with unshakeable force. The smell of death and decay wafting through the enclosed space makes your stomach turn. None of these sensations are powerful enough to rip your attention away from the corpse at your feet. 
“Killing must feel good to God, too,” Hannibal remarks with a hum, hands behind his back as he regards Abel Gideon’s form. There is a mildly intrigued expression on his face as he studies the body, before looking back to you with eerily crimson eyes. As he pivots, bloodstained antlers stretch from his perfectly coiffed hair. They disappear in a moment—a trick of the light. His voice is dark and airy all at once. “And are we not created in his image?” You swallow past the nausea building in your chest. Time stretches on with terrible slowness. His gaze is flaying you apart. “Don’t you want God To want you?” He asks softly.1 
“See?” Stay awake. Stay alive.  
Darkness, then light. “To the Ripper, understanding is love,” Hannibal says, a flicker of a smile settling on his lips. His hands are folded and he leans forward. Your chairs are close enough to force you to knock knees with him, but Hannibal doesn’t seem bothered by the prospect. “You are the first person to see through his façade, through the layers of his mask.” His skin looks strangely patterned, as if it's made of ceramic. You reach out to grasp his face, to yank off his mask, only for Hannibal to catch your wrist and hold it in a tight grip. Suddenly, your chair is tipping backwards precariously, lurching further into the abyss. You try to reach out and grab onto something, but Hannibal’s hold is the only thing that keeps you tethered. The void crawls up your skin mockingly, waiting to drag you into its umbra. Your momentum is slipping backwards and you’re filled with an unsettling anticipation. Contrary to your expectations, Hannibal’s grip remains strong. You look at him. The Ripper looks back, a bloodstained smile on his lips. You feel his fingers trace the edges of your skin with a mocking gentleness, before you’re falling backward into the darkness again.
You slip out of the darkness and bolt up, only to find yourself in a painfully bright room. You can’t quite stop the gasp that comes from your lips, nor can you suppress the urge to look around frantically, searching for the signs that this is a dream. The incessant pain in your abdomen is a harsh reality check. You look down at the area, only to find meticulously wrapped bandages covering your lower torso. Your upper forearm stings from the IV burrowing under your skin. 
“Hey,” a voice says. You squint in the bright light, waiting for the blurred figure in front of you to sharpen. It’s a nurse—the same one who helped you the last time you were wounded. She holds her hands out in a placating gesture. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You were just dreaming.” Her eyebrows are furrowed in concern, a sentiment you feel you don’t deserve. 
You bite back your questions—knowing the answers are clinging to the blinding white walls around you. The nurse asks you several questions about your symptoms and your pain level, before departing with the promise that she will return soon. 
The events that transpired in Hannibal’s office cling to your skin with fervency. Your abdomen burns, especially when you remember that Hannibal inflicted the wound. You shouldn’t feel betrayed. You shouldn’t be afforded the privilege of being betrayed, not when you knew Hannibal Lecter’s nature since that night you sleepwalked out into the middle of the street. 
Even so… you enjoyed being in Hannibal’s presence. You enjoyed the song and dance you had gotten so accustomed to playing. You spent so long spectating the game that you forgot your role in it. You were a pawn, and nothing more. The thought displeases you. With each passing second, the ugly feeling in your chest grows and swells within the confines of your rib cage. It’s getting to be too much. 
There is no one to sit at your bedside this time. When she returns, the nurse pointedly does not mention your husband. You don’t have the heart to tell her that your “husband” was the same person who stabbed you, or that your husband was never really your husband in the first place. She seems to understand anyway. Pity is hidden beneath the kind smile on her face. You stop making eye contact with her. 
Lying in this hospital bed is a lonely existence, dominated by a constant state of pain (at worst) or mild discomfort (at best). The only interaction you get is from the nurse herself. You get the feeling she’d be a good listener, but your tongue feels ironed to the roof of mouth and your conversations quickly morph into anecdotes about her life. You’re grateful for the small kindness—for the prospect of being treated like a human being, despite it all.  These small moments of humanity push you to keep going, even amidst the several voices crooning in your ears about your cruelty.
You don’t expect any visitors. Indeed, your first visitor is entirely unexpected. When you’re first told that someone wishes to speak to you, you think of Beverly, Jack Crawford… hell, even Freddie Lounds. You certainly don’t foresee Alana Bloom walking through the door, a gentle, reserved expression on her face. Seeing her brightens your day, and her presence reminds you that you’re not entirely alone. You welcome the thought. 
“Alana,” you greet her, your voice rather raspy. You cough to clear your throat. “How are you?” You ask. 
“I should be asking you that,” she responds with a wry smile. She stands at the end of your bed, before walking to the side. Alana regards the lonely chair at your bedside, before placing her hands on the back. She looks well—albeit a little tired. “I’m good. And you?”
“I’ve been better,” you decide to respond honestly. There’s no point in lying to Alana—she used to be your psychiatrist, your girlfriend. She would be able to see through your dishonesty anyway. Sure enough, Alana seems to appreciate your honesty, because her eyes momentarily widen before she moves to sit down. Seeing her sit in that chair makes your stomach turn. When you blink, you see Hannibal sitting there—lithe frame effortlessly arranged, tupperware in hand. You rub your eyes roughly, dispelling the image to the recesses of your memory. Alana was courteous enough to visit you—the least you can do is acknowledge her presence, instead of imagining her as someone else. 
For a moment, you stare at Alana. A mundane sense of envy strikes you, but it’s fleeting. You don’t deserve to be envious of her good health and safe wellbeing. Your own hubris is the reason why you’re currently confined to this cot. You look at her for a moment longer, before letting your eyes rest on the plain walls around you. You can feel Alana staring at you with concern. Instead of acknowledging that sentiment, you let the first question on your mind pass through your lips. “Where’s Jack?”
Alana is silent for a few seconds. Is it a difficult question? You don’t think so, yet Alana almost seems to falter. Eventually, she must manage to find the words. “Busy, as I’m sure you can imagine,” she evidently settles for saying. Upon closer examination, her hands are clasped in her lap—whitened knuckles betraying her otherwise tranquil image. Alana’s next words are quiet yet firm. “He’s tracking Hannibal—the Chesapeake Ripper.”
You inhale slowly. Somehow, hearing her say that cements the reality of it all. Everyone knows Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper. It’s not just you anymore. You bring up an arm slowly, before tilting your head down and pinching the bridge of your nose. Somehow, it is this statement that reminds you of the pounding sensation behind your eyes and the aching clustered around your temple.
“Are you alright?” Alana asks, lips twitching into a slight frown. 
“Yes,” you respond flatly. Your answer sounds devoid of emotion and purpose. 
“Are you sure?” Alana persists. You don’t have the heart to lie to her twice in a row. 
“...No.” You acquiesce. You rub a hand over your face, feeling rather small in this hospital bed. The sheets are slightly scratchy and the weight of them feels constricting, rather than comforting. You’ve never felt so small. 
“I’m sorry,” Alana sighs. She seems entirely sincere and it almost makes you want to scream. You don’t deserve her sympathy. “I know you two were close. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.” That statement is incredibly reassuring, despite the frenzy you had worked yourself into surrounding Alana. When you reflect on the events of the past months, you realize that you have few allies and even fewer true friends. One of those true friends is sitting right next to you. 
“Thank you,” you nod. Guilt stirs in your chest as you stare at your old psychiatrist and ex-girlfriend. Every time you’ve seen her since she kissed you, you’ve purposefully cut conversation short. Somehow, the thought feels silly to you now. Perhaps almost dying a second time does that to a person. You stare at Alana for a moment. She looks well put together, as always. “Alana?”
“Yes?” She questions patiently. That’s another thing you envy about her—her unwavering compassion, her unflinching patience. You could stand to learn a few things from her, you think. 
“I’m sorry,” you remark. The sentiment has been dancing on the tip of your tongue for the past several weeks, yet you never got the chance to verbalize it. Life has been a whirlwind lately. You’ve been so caught up in everything swirling around in your mind that you never paused to think about those around you, or how they were affected by the recent turn of events. “For…” You break off, unable to articulate it. You settle for a vague hand gesture. Alana seems to understand anyways, as her eyes momentarily widen before comprehension passes over her face. 
“Don’t apologize,” Alana is quick to say, nothing but sincerity written in the lines of her shoulders. Her eyes look slightly glassy for the briefest of moments, before she shakes her head and looks at you once more. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I’m sorry for kissing you without warning.”
You nod in acknowledgement. Silence descends upon the brisk air, leaving the two of you to your thoughts. You’re not content to let this overbearing tension rule over your conversation. You clench your fists slightly, filled with renewed resolve. You stare at Alana for a few seconds, until she notices your gaze and returns it. “Friends?” You ask, extending a hand towards her.
“Friends,” Alana responds with a smile, rising from her chair to meet your outstretched hand. Your handshake is short but reassuring. It’s enough to convince you that there are no hard feelings between the two of you. Alana fills you in on some of what’s happened since your admittance to the hospital; mostly, though, the two of you talk about the small things. You know Alana is trying to give you some semblance of normalcy. You appreciate the effort, you really do… but you’re not sure you’re capable of pretending everything’s okay. Furthermore, the small things seem inconsequential—now that you’re entrenched in the middle of everything. Even so, you make sure to thank her before she leaves. You don’t know how you would have coped without seeing a familiar face. Alana smiles and promises to be back soon. 
As you expect, Alana doesn’t turn up the next day. You certainly don’t expect her to stop by, since you know she’s always rather busy.  Ultimately, you come to the conclusion that you want nothing more than to be out of this hospital. Even worse… apparently, the stunt you pulled with Beverly during your past hospital visit did not go over well. You’re firmly reminded to avoid any attempts at an early release. You’re too tired and embarrassed to argue. You don’t have anything better to do than rot in this hospital room, anyway. Besides, you’re certain you’ll be met with some unpleasant reminders of Hannibal as you get home. You think you have a few cardigans in your closet that you meant to give back to him. The thought sends a bolt of nervous excitement through you, and you have to actively talk yourself down that precarious ledge. 
Alana does visit the day after. Beverly turns up the day after that and gives you several hugs. After that, at least one of your friends—Alana or Beverly— visits every day, which you’re extremely grateful for. You’re certain you’d go absolutely stir crazy in this hospital bed if you didn’t have anyone for company. Your conversations are typically fun and refreshing, like light breezes of summer air. Sometimes, though, you’re bogged down by your memories. Sometimes, you’re forced to remember the corpses you left in your wake. 
Even with Alana and Beverly visiting, you’re given more than enough alone time to contemplate everything. You have ample time to pick apart Hannibal’s actions and discern his true motivations. So, when Jack Crawford finally visits, his shoulders drawn tight with stress, you’re prepared to recount that night to him. Jack is insistent on the fact that you don’t have to speak about anything you don’t want to, but you know the offer is more for pretense than anything else. He needs this information, needs to understand the Ripper’s past actions and how they govern his future.  With that in mind, you wave off his concern and tell him about your late night meeting with Hannibal.
Jack is silent throughout, never once interrupting you or reacting in a manner other than an affirmative nod. It’s very characteristic of your boss; you think that you would have been unsettled if he responded with heightened or dramatic emotions. Jack’s cool composure is an anchor that you quickly latch on to. 
“He wanted you alive,” Jack states, once you’re finished explaining everything. He says this with frightening assuredness. His utter conviction surprises you, prompting you to ask how he knows that. 
Of course, you certainly considered that same possibility yourself, but it feels more real when you hear it from Jack. “The stab wound wasn’t fatal,” he points out. His gaze falls to the edge of your abdomen. The bandages feel extremely constricting. You wonder if they need to be changed soon. “It easily could’ve been. The Ripper is a skilled killer—he wouldn’t have missed unless he wanted to.” You take a shuddering breath in. 
“He’s toying with us,” you manage to agree. Your hands fidget restlessly along the rough blanket thrown over your form. You feel restless once more. 
“He’s toying with you,” Jack supplies. There is no room for argument in his voice. He doesn’t look restless, afraid, or frustrated. Not for the first time, you wish you had Jack’s control and constitution. However, you know Jack well enough to see the signs of tension in his clenched fist and drawn lips. “Taunting you, and the rest of us, by proxy.” That statement in particular sets everything in stone. Your theories are no longer just theories—they are unobjectionable facts. 
“Jack.” you remark, trying to push the words past the dread settling on your tongue. 
“Yes?” Jack asks, patient and restless all at once. You’re choking on the words. It’s such a simple sentence, yet so dangerous of an admission. If you told the truth—confided in Jack about how you suspected Hannibal the moment you met him, and grew to realize that he is the Ripper—you would certainly lose your job, not to mention all of Jack’s trust. 
Selfish, your victims croon. Your psyche nods in agreement. It’s truly selfish of you not to provide Jack with your utmost honesty. You’re doing a disservice to every person Hannibal has ever killed, every waking moment the team spent hunting for the Chesapeake Ripper. You wasted so much time, so much space. 
“I-” You try to continue. I knew. I knew and I did nothing. I am complicit in his crimes. Tears are slipping down your cheeks. You’re a rotten excuse for a human being. You don’t deserve to be alive. Why hadn’t Hannibal just finished the job? It’s cruel, almost. He allowed his other victims the mercy of death, yet he left you alive. You will forever be scarred—both by Hannibal’s knife and by the bone-deep knowledge that your silence made you an accomplice to his crimes. 
Breathing is suddenly a far more arduous task. Your lungs burn and your throat feels as if it’s closing in on you. Your vision is extremely sharp and your shaking hands are drawn with harsh lines and even harsher edges. The world around you is suddenly rendered immensely inconsequential. The beeping of the machines at your bedside, Jack’s steady breaths, the traces of conversation slipping in from the hallway… It all fails in comparison to the chimes of the grandfather clock in your mind. You dig your fingernails into your skin, desperate for unspoken confirmation that you aren’t dreaming.
At this point, you’re panting. Drool falls from the sides of your mouth and hits the scratchy blanket. Every nerve in your body feels as if it’s on fire. You’re a puppet cut loose from the puppeteer’s careful hand, yet you’re still strung together with wooden bones and durable string. You bring your hand to your chest and try to breathe, but the more you try, the harsher and more rushed your attempts become.  
“Agent.” There’s a hand on your shoulder. It’s enough pressure to make you feel as if you’re melding with the thin mattress below you, sinking into the floor and the shadows. For a moment, you can see Hannibal looking down at you in your mind’s eye, a contentious expression on his face as he lets you fall to the darkness below.  “Breathe.” Jack grabs your hand and brings it to the inside of his wrist. His pulse beats steadily beneath your fingertips and you latch onto the rhythm.  Jack begins counting, prompting you to breathe in time with him. You’re not sure how long it takes you to clear your airways—you just know that, at some point, Jack migrated from where he stood at the end of your bed to the side of the bed. 
“Jack,” you try again. Your lips part but nothing slips out. It’s such a simple confession—a mere few words, yet you can’t utter them. 
“Agent,” Jack interjects, before you can choke on the words you don’t want to say. His expression has returned to a combination of rigidity and anticipation. You know what Jack will say before he says it. “Can I trust you to handle this case? Do I need to remove you from this case? ” He doesn’t say that last part, but you hear it anyway. You take a deep breath and rub a hand over your face. Your eyes burn from all the tears you shed. 
“I can handle it,” you assure him. 
“You’re close to all this,” Jack remarks. He gets up from where he had been sitting and walks back to stand behind the edge of the bed. His gaze meets yours, but you know he isn’t really looking at you. That expression on his face means Jack is looking through his options, puzzling out the future in his head. You wait for him to refocus. “You know I don’t typically assign agents with personal investments in cases… But, you’ve been on this case for a long time. You know the Ripper better than anyone else does, whether you want to admit it or not.”
You stare at Jack silently, daring him to take you off the case. You know that your words will fail you here, so you hope your conviction shows through in your eyes. Jack stares back and, for a long moment, you’re both trapped in silence. Eventually, Jack seems to ascertain that you think yourself capable. He takes a deep breath. 
“In terms of the Ripper, we currently have a unit determining his whereabouts,” Jack begins. “The Ripper—Lecter—covered his tracks very well. The last time he was seen was…”
“When he stabbed me,” you say for him. 
“Yes,” Jack confirms. “As you know, Lecter is proficient at leaving behind very little—if any—evidence.” You nod, thinking back to all the crime scenes he created. There was hardly any evidence left behind. Hannibal was always meticulous and careful in his crimes. 
“He only leaves clues when he wants to,” you continue. “He is not so kind hearted as to leave us clues for the hell of it, or because he slipped up. He doesn’t make mistakes.”
“We found very little in his office,” Jack concedes with a sharp nod. He pinches the bridge of his nose. Stress seems to tighten the line of his shoulders. “We did manage to find several concealed weapons, upon closer examination.”
“He stabbed me with a knife that was disguised as an antler on a deer sculpture,” you recall flatly. The thought makes your side flare up with pain again. “I shouldn’t have gone to his office. I should’ve come to you first. I knew, and yet…”
“Frankly, Agent, that is not my concern,” Jack states matter of factly. “The past is the past. If I were to dissect every minute mistake we’ve made along the course of this investigation, we’d never be able to proceed.”
“True,” you answer. You still don’t think Jack has truly comprehended the implications of what you just said. You knew Hannibal was the Chesapeake Ripper long before that night. After all, you didn’t explicitly state when you first discovered the identity of the Ripper. Of course, you suppose it is also likely that Jack was able to intuit that from your response. If that were the case, you can’t help but wonder why he hasn’t kicked you off this case or fired you. 
You know it’s best for you to drop this particular line of questioning, so you do. For the duration of Jack’s visit, he debriefs you on what the team has deduced so far—both in terms of his current location and where he’ll go next. After an hour passes, however, your luck runs out. Your nurse enters the room and promptly shoos Jack out, claiming that you need time to rest. She is entirely impervious to his objections, even when he tries to pull rank on her. You’re rather impressed. Jack manages to get a last remark in, before the nurse can guide him out of the room. 
“Lecter will turn up soon enough,” your boss states. With that, Jack departs. His cryptic remark leaves you with a lot to think about. You spend the rest of your hospital stay grappling with the implications of that statement, with the implications of Hannibal deciding not to kill you. You’re released from the hospital a week later with a troubled conscience and another scar to add to your collection. 
Somehow, news of your battle with Hannibal has reached the press, Jack tells you as he drives you home in the dead of night. Ultimately, Jack decided it would be best to get you home during a time when most people are sleeping. You’re grateful for his foresight, because when you return home, there are no flashing cameras or microphones shoved in your face. You thank Jack for the ride and he nods, sending you one final unreadable look before driving away. 
When you unlock your front door and swing the door open, you’re surprised to find that your house appears the same as when you left it. You close the door behind you and take in everything before you. Dust is beginning to collect on the shelves and surfaces—the space desperately needs a dedicated cleaning, but you know you don’t have the energy just yet. Right now, you’re content to cautiously walk to your closet and grab clothes. Despite the fact that Jack brought you a pair of old trainee clothes to change into when he arrived, you know you need a good shower to feel clean. The lukewarm water sliding down your skin is rejuvenating, but it doesn’t wipe away the dirt of your sins. You step out of the shower with clean skin and a muddy conscience. Drying off and putting on your clothes is an annoying affair, but you manage. 
After your shower, it’s safe to say that you’re entirely lost. You don’t know what to do next. You need to eat, you remember. Unfortunately, your fridge is pretty much empty. You sigh and survey the space that you call home. It doesn’t feel familiar, despite the knowledge that it’s been yours for several years. These are all your belongings, yet it feels as if you’re standing in a stranger’s shoes. You look around the room, pausing when your eye catches on a scrap of newspaper. The TattleCrime article from before rests innocuously on the kitchen counter. You walk towards it immediately, as if possessed. 
Criminally Insane. You stare at the photos featured in the article. The second photo—the one of the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane—led you to realize that Frederick Chilton had been kidnapped. The first picture… It unsettles you. There are hints of the dark circles under your eyes that you now possess, but there’s also an unspoken confidence in your posture in the photo. You choke on a laugh, running your fingers along the rough newspaper. 
It’s a miracle you’re still alive. Well, it certainly feels that way… but you know your survival can’t be put down to mere fate. Inexplicably, Hannibal did not aim to kill you. You contemplate what would’ve happened if he had aimed that way. You would have died in that office, certainly. Would you be free of this terrifying helplessness, this aching despair?
You manage to tear your eyes away from the article. After a moment of thought, you stuff it in a drawer—hoping you will never need to look at it again. Unsurprisingly, you still feel incredibly restless. You begin pacing slowly around the room, desperate for something to do. Perhaps this urge to do something is indicative of a deeper sentiment. 
The cicadas buzz from the trees outside. You’re suddenly struck with a perplexing urge to step outside. You follow that urge and walk mechanically to your front door. Maybe someone is on your porch. You peek through the peephole, unsurprised to find no one there. After a second’s contemplation, you step out onto your porch, letting your arms rest against the railing.  
The brisk night air doesn’t help your worsening mental state. You still feel numb, empty. Nothing feels real anymore. As you look out at your driveway, at the other houses lining your street, you’re hit with an immense sonder.2 How did you end up in this situation? How did you end up here, staring out at the suburbia around you and wishing you could take on the life of another person—someone who isn’t desensitized to blood, gore, violence, and murder?
You don’t know where to go from here. Your feelings are a dizzying combination of remorse, regret, and contempt—combined with an unhealthy amount of wishful thinking. You raise your arms and put your head in your hands for a moment. Succumbing to darkness has never felt so comforting and terrifying at the same time.
“Lecter will return soon enough.” Jack had said. There was a certainty in his voice in that moment—a sincerity that was surely unfounded. He was making a prediction and nothing more. Yet… the conviction in his tone made it seem as if he knew the Ripper’s next move. Surely, Hannibal hasn’t grown so predictable. Surely, he will continue to elude capture for as long as he wishes. 
A car’s headlights reach your vision, and you watch as it slowly cruises down your street. There is a certain nonchalance to the way it slowly rises on the horizon. You frown, wondering what this person is doing driving down your street at such a late hour. Perhaps it’s a neighbor. You continue to watch warily. For a moment, you swear it seems as if the car’s slowing as it approaches. Surely that can’t be the case. It’s too dark to make out the details of the car—let alone the driver. You settle for staring in silence as it moves along. Within the blink of an eye, the vehicle moves past your driveway and into the dark expanse enveloping the space past your street. You exhale in relief, just realizing that your breath had hitched during the car’s brief stint in front of your house. 
Why were you nervous? What were you expecting? You don’t want to acknowledge the answers to those questions—those solutions will only bring more problems. You shake your head. Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, and everyone knows. There should be nothing to be afraid of, except for a single thought that never seems to leave you. He will return for you, a voice whispers against the wind. He wants to finish the job.  
You’ve never gotten so close to a case before. You almost wish you could travel back in time, to the first time you locked eyes with Dr. Hannibal Lecter. In that moment, you hadn’t been able to rationalize the intense foreboding and trepidation that seemed to crawl up your skin as he stared back at you. You had no true grasp of the danger you would soon experience, the lives you would soon take. When did you stop trusting your instincts? Your intuition is part of the reason why you’re such a successful criminal profiler, yet you were more than willing to entirely ignore it. 
A chill hits your skin, but it’s not from the brisk breeze of night air that gently rustles your clothes. The unsettling feeling comes from the car in your driveway, the bright headlights illuminating the woody forest behind your house. Were you so lost in thought that you neglected to notice someone approaching your driveway? You squint and take a step closer to the driveway, wavering on the edge of your porch. The car looks familiar, and that realization nearly pitches you off the porch and careening to the ground below. The driver turns the car off and swings the door open with taunting slowness. A roaring sound fills your ears. 
“Hannibal,” you remark. The driver closes the door and takes a step forward, close enough to the porch that the light hits their face and reveals familiar angled features. His lip is bleeding and there are droplets of blood scattered about his face. His clothing is ever so slightly rumpled. Other than that, Hannibal appears at ease. The Ripper looks at you, and utters your name in response. 
You don’t know what to do, what to say. Your hands clutch the railing in front of you with enough force to send bolts of pain through your fingers. It feels as if your heart is racing faster than humanly possible. You’re reminded of the pain in your abdomen, the scar slicing dangerously close to your eye. You clench a fist at your side and walk down the steps of your porch, before turning and moving to stand at a strategic distance from Hannibal: close enough to see his face, far enough to have an illusion of control and safety. 
The night is still. If it weren’t for your unexpected visitor, you might take solace in the tranquility of the midnight sky. Now, the stars seem to wink at you in warning. When Hannibal speaks, you nearly convince yourself that you imagine it. “I have evaded capture for long enough.” An ugly, foolish sort of hope settles in your chest. You try to push it away.
“You’re… surrendering,” you remark cautiously, waiting for him to dispel that notion. The Ripper does nothing of the sort. Instead, Hannibal stares at you, making strangely heated eye contact with you as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a knife. The moonlight briefly hits the metal, causing it to glimmer mockingly. Your stomach turns. The moon’s warm glow reveals more than just a shimmer—there are murky brown stains on the blade. You recognize the splatters as dried blood and your skin crawls. Hannibal is holding the very same knife he stabbed you with. He maneuvers it expertly, holding the blade and extending the handle towards you. Everything about this moment feels like a trap, but you willingly reach out and take the proffered knife, fastening it at your belt.
After a stretch of time in which neither of you elect to say anything, you decide that Hannibal must be telling the truth. Eyes locked on the man, you fumble around in your pocket for your phone and pull it out, dialing the only number you have memorized. Your intended recipient answers before two seconds pass. “Jack,” you say, your gaze still firmly fixed on the Ripper. 
“Agent,” Jack responds. Hannibal is staring at you with intense scrutiny, evidently attempting to decipher what Jack is saying to you. That recognition causes you to pause for a moment. At your hesitation, Jack’s voice takes on a concerned yet impatient tone. “What is it?”
“I have him,” you say, vaguely satisfied that your voice sounds clear and composed despite the emotional rollercoaster you’ve been subjected to. “The Ripper. He’s in my driveway.”
Jack’s end of the line is quiet. You know it must be nearly impossible to believe. You look at Hannibal and then look back at the phone, realizing what you need to do. Taking a deep breath, you bring a shaky hand up and press the speaker button. Despite every instinct in your body screaming at you, you take a small step forward—and another—until Hannibal is close enough to the phone. For a moment, he stares down at the device pensively. Then, in the blink of an eye, he grabs your wrist and tugs you closer—evidently to get to the phone. You glare at him, but he doesn’t seem to notice. 
“Hello, Jack,” Hannibal remarks, voice laced with amusement as he grasps your hand— the phone, you tell yourself—with unshakeable strength.  Despite the severity of the situation, you can’t do anything but roll your eyes at his chosen greeting. It seems Hannibal’s dramatics know no bounds. Even when his very freedom is threatened, he will continue to wear his carved mask of politeness and elegance. You try to listen for Jack’s response. There’s still silence on the other end—Jack is probably dispatching a unit as you speak. You’re sure Jack himself will be on his way before long. 
Indeed, Jack confirms that a team is on the way. He hangs up and your phone screen fades to black. Despite the call’s termination, Hannibal is still holding your wrist. “Can I have my hand back?” You ask wryly. You try to shake his grip off and pull away, but he doesn’t budge. Your heart is racing as you try to find an escape. Hannibal doesn’t seem keen to let go, instead looking at you with mild amusement written all over his face. It doesn’t take you long to come up with an idea. You attempt to shake off his grip once more, knowing it will not work. The moment you try to pull your wrist back, you take advantage of the momentum and aim a harsh kick just above his knee. Per your expectations, he doesn’t anticipate the attack and is forced to fall down to a kneeling position to avoid falling over. You lock eyes with him and tear his grip off.
Hannibal looks up at you on bended knee, entirely silent. You begin to realize just what you’ve done—you just disrespected him. You were the epitome of the rudeness Hannibal abhors. You swallow. If you weren’t dead before, you’re certainly dead now. The Ripper is still silent, before tilting his head down to hide his face. Fuck, you’ve really done it this time. You feel yourself taking an instinctual half step backwards, and you’re moments away from turning on your heel and running when you hear an odd sound. 
Hannibal is laughing, you realize. It’s a far cry from the typical gesture of joy you’d associate with laughter, but his amusement is still evident. He brings his head up once more and regards you with interest. “You never fail to surprise me,” he remarks amiably, getting to his feet and pushing the dust from his pant leg with a quick swiping motion. Hannibal doesn’t give your threat any consideration, instead simply regarding you with that same eerie look you’ve grown to associate with his full attention. 
Your hand twitches to grab the bloodstained knife at your side. You imagine yourself plunging the blade into Hannibal’s side, watching his smirk falter and his victorious expression crumple. The vindictive thought thrills you for a second, before you come back to yourself and feel immense revulsion and disgust. Hannibal almost seems to sense the mental gymnastics you're going through, as an intrigued expression flickers across his face before it’s gone in a flash. 
Truthfully, you don’t know how long you stand there—across from Hannibal, staring him down as he stares you down, prey regarding predator—until Jack arrives. It feels like an eternity. Time seems to entirely stop during those moments. Somehow, the quiet is more informative than a conversation ever could be. You don’t need words—not when you can see the tight line drawn across Hannibal’s shoulders, the persistence in his gaze. 
Even eternity must come to an end, though. Police sirens blink in the distance, drawing you away from your thoughts. You watch as several police cars find their way to your driveway. Jack sits in the passenger seat of the car at the front, and he’s quick to step out of the car. S.W.A.T. officers swarm out of the cars, weapons pointed at Hannibal. There is a horrible tension settling in the air, thick enough to make your breaths occur just a little faster.
Despite the exorbitant amount of fully-armed S.W.A.T officers, you’re still afraid. Hannibal is closest to you. If he wanted to, he could kill you—even with so many people present. You don’t doubt his strength or agility. These recognitions leave your heart drumming in your chest at an incessantly quick rhythm. You glance over at Jack and he nods, holding a hand up to the officers and walking towards you. 
“Doctor Lecter,” Jack remarks. Even now, he is incredibly composed. You latch onto his composure and try to emulate it,  though you know it won’t look convincing enough. The headlights from the cars are blinding and you turn your head, giving your burning eyes a brief reprieve. 
“Jack,” Hannibal responds, his hands raised in the air in surrender. The Ripper is indeed powerless, yet the gesture looks mocking. A few officers step closer and surround Hannibal, who kneels down with his arms still raised high. “You finally caught the Chesapeake Ripper.” His hands move to rest behind his head. 
Jack stares at the killer with an indecipherable expression. “You surrendered.”
“I want you to know exactly where I am,” Hannibal responds to Jack. After that remark, his head turns and dread rises in your chest as you realize he’s looking towards you. His eyes are glittering in the moonlight. “And where you can always find me.” You’re frozen, limbs locked as his crimson eyes pierce through you. 
Vaguely, you hear Jack order for Hannibal to be placed in his car. The officers pull Hannibal up from his knees and escort him to the police car. The Ripper’s gaze is locked on you until he enters the vehicle. Jack remains where he stands, sending you a look. You incline your head slightly, to wordlessly encourage him to leave you. Jack seems hesitant to do so, but his sense of responsibility must win out, because he walks back towards the car. You still feel as if you’re being watched, and you get the feeling Hannibal is staring at you from behind the dark tinted glass. The police car slowly reverses out of your driveway, before heading down your street and eventually out of sight. 
You purse your lips, before walking back up the steps to your porch. Everything seemed to have happened far too fast. In the blink of an eye, you’re left to stand alone, with nothing but your conflicting feelings of grief, anger, and remorse for company.  Memories burrow their way under your skin. Each breath is a testament to your own cruelty. 
Inexplicably, you reach up to touch the jagged scar cutting down your face. Your fingertips brush against the marred skin and you jolt. Your abdomen burns in remembrance. Hannibal Lecter has given you the quiet evenings, the comfortable silence settling in the air, and the thrill of an attentive, burning gaze that sends warm embers dancing up your skin.
But he has taken so much more from you in return.
Gone is the gentle caress of a hand on your cheek and the comfort of having unquestionable support. Gone is the hard-won feeling of being truly seen for who you are. Gone is the excitement, the anticipation of knowing that your companion can never truly be predicted. All of it is gone. 
You look up at the moon glimmering in the dark night sky. You idly wonder if Hannibal sees it too. It’s a foolish thought. His cell likely won’t have windows. He has probably been confined to four walls of cement, a metal toilet, and a thin, dingy mattress on a cold metal frame. There is no hope for someone like Hannibal—he will earn several life sentences and spend his entire life in that cage. You have to wonder: why? Why would he surrender?
It was a tactical surrender—that much you know for certain. Hannibal could easily have spent the rest of his life moving from place to place, taking on new identity after new identity. He could have spent however long he wanted, camouflaged but free. 
Freedom. Maybe that’s the answer. After all, that kind of aggressive mimicry is not necessarily freedom. Hannibal Lecter values being an enigma. The mystery that surrounds him, in part, relies on his reputation. Life spent in hiding isn’t really life at all. Even someone like Hannibal—someone with arguably everything to lose—would understand that sentiment. 
You exhale slowly, watching as your puff of breath fades into the air. You suppose Hannibal’s statement may have carried some truth. You will always know where to find him; you won’t be able to bury the memory of him next to the other skeletons in your closet and leave him to rot. Whenever your psyche falters, Hannibal will be there—imprisoned within your mind palace, gathering strength and lying in wait. 
Your phone rings in your pocket. You pull it out, momentarily surprised by the time displayed. It’s getting late. You hadn’t realized how long you spent lost in thought. When you answer, your voice sounds unfamiliar to your ears. 
“Crawford,” Jack clarifies, cutting right to the chase, “We got him.” There is no further explanation needed. 
“We got him, Jack,” you echo. The recognition sounds hollow, empty. Your gaze is pulled towards your driveway once more. Jack’s voice reaches your ears, but you can’t discern what he’s saying over the ringing in your ears. 
Hannibal Lecter is behind bars now, yet you’re the one who feels trapped. You’re a prisoner—trapped in a cage of your own broken design.
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1. Dracula by Bram Stoker
2. Sonder refers to the feeling of realization that everyone, including strangers and passersby, have lives just as complex and vivid as your own.
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Sorry if the intro parts were confusing. I wanted to *try* to write it in a way that showed how weird and unusual dreams can really be, especially after traumatic events.The mind is infinitely powerful, able to conjure up a new reality at a moment’s notice. I liked the idea of the reader drowning in a whirlpool of their own mind’s creation—as they fight to get back to reality. (also, I found the word “umbra,” which is apparently used to describe the shadow created by an eclipse. I think that’s cool as hell, so I included it.) Dream logic never quite makes sense and can be extremely convoluted, which is why the intro is a messy assortment of memories with no clear beginning or end.
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Y’all seemed to like my rationalization for the previous chapter, so I’ll include some similar notes for this chapter if you’re interested:
Hannibal’s surrender in this chapter is very much calculated. He realizes that he’s no longer free—since the FBI are onto him. There is a sort of cruelty in the life he would have to lead, as his “freedom” would include lots of mental effort, relocating, and subterfuge. Hannibal likely weighs his options, and decides between a life of constant stealth and relocation, and a life behind bars. It’s reasonable to assume that he also would have realized that his status as the Chesapeake Ripper would grant him special privileges as a prisoner—he’s aware of how much the Ripper has dominated the cultural zeitgeist and knows he will be able to use that notoriety to his advantage in captivity.
Of course, Hannibal also knows how to best dominate your thoughts: by remaining in one place. As he mentions, you will always know where he is and where to find him. You will not have to track him down by following the calculated clues he leaves behind—rather, you will constantly have to live with the underlying knowledge that Hannibal is accessible at any and every moment. In this case, Hannibal’s surrender is quite a tactical and manipulative move. He truly chooses to go to prison. It would be unsettling to know that the Ripper was on the loose, yes. But, the Ripper has been on the loose and free for several years already. On the other hand, it would be downright disturbing to know that Hannibal’s presence in prison is a willful choice—one that can be taken back at any moment. That can easily manifest a constant lingering fear in the back of the reader’s mind, in addition to an eternal desire to pin down exactly why Hannibal is remaining captive, chained. The chessmaster is willingly surrendering, but the game is far from over.
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And now… Act 1 of this story is complete! 
Never fear, Hannibal will return in Act 2! As for the other characters… Well, you’ll have to wait and see. ;) I will say that Act Two embraces some elements of The Red Dragon and Silence of the Lambs. Don’t worry, though—you don’t need to have read either of them. :3
Here’s a scrap for your efforts! (*throws you this unused dialogue like a scruffy middle-aged man with grey hair and a scratchy quarter-zip throws a piece of raw beef to the wolves outside his cabin*) This was one of the MANY options I had considered (but never used) for the big reveal:
“How long have you known?” Hannibal asks. “From the moment you invited me into your home,” you answer. There’s silence for a dreadful moment. “And you stayed.” “I did.” “Why?” “I like talking to you, I enjoy your company.… Does one really need a reason to keep the company of another?” You finish. A beat of quiet. “... I suppose not,” Hannibal acquiesces.
Act 2 will be posted as the second part of this series. Here's the link to the AO3 series: these jagged scars. I'll also post it over here on Tumblr. :)
Thank you so so so much for all the support! Your likes, comments, and reblogs keep me going! <33333
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autism-corner · 4 months
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Sweet tooth, for you
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During class you learn an interesting fact about demon teeth, and it takes over your mind for weeks after. What began as pure curiosity grows into something more passionate, but you can't just ask Belphegor to have a feel at his teeth, right?
Belphegor x reader || you/yours pronouns. reader has a dick. reader gets referred to with mr. once but otherwise unspecified gender. || lil bit of both comfort & smut || 3.3K words. || ao3
Usually, anatomy class at RAD discusses the biology of non-demons, striving to educate their demographic on bodies that are different from their own. The bodies and its functions of werewolves, ghosts and even humans have been thoroughly discussed. But, with the upcoming exam, a revision of their own person was needed. 
Of course, demon’s anatomy wasn’t the only topic to be revised, so they only spent about two hours on it until they moved on. Still, despite having done a fair share of your own experiments with certain demons’ bodies, there were a few new neat things you picked up on. Their blood gets darker depending on general power and rank, horns need to shed and regrow every couple of centuries, et cetera, et cetera. The one thing that really stuck with you though, was the fact that, apparently, teeth slowly shift into a form closer to their respective animal over the years. 
It was strange that you never noticed. Even though Levi rarely opened his mouth (and when he did it went too fast to take a proper look), he did seem to have longer and sharper canines, which closely resembled a snake’s fangs. Satan, although you’d never say this out loud, did also have a rather horsey (unicorny?) teeth, especially evident when he was once again grinding them down in his fits of rage. All the other brothers’ animals didn’t really have teeth at all, so they all have pretty regular mouths. Well, all, aside from Belphie. Cows had teeth for sure.
It’s been a couple of weeks. The exam had gone by, and it went okay, you guess. There’s not much reason to care about grades if you’re stuck here anyway. What you do care about is the thing that still hasn’t been able to leave your mind for all those weeks. You watched and watched, but nothing about Belphie’s teeth seemed much more fundamentally different than, say, Beel’s. It kept you constantly awake at night, and your entire search history was filled with research on cow’s teeth. You even tried the oldest books on bovidae you could find in the library. Nothing mentioned how these animals affect an associated demon’s teeth.
What you also didn’t understand was the reason for your fascination with his teeth. You and Belphie had been more than platonic for a good bit now, so it wasn’t like it’s weird to be interested in him. But this enchantment, spending day and night thinking about such a specific part of him, it felt strange. Too strange to just ask him about it. 
As days and weeks continued, your interest never diminished. No, it grew stronger the longer you held off simply asking him. Now, anytime he decided to nap near you, you couldn’t keep your eyes off that mouth of his. A few times temptation got the better of you, and you moved closer to get a better look. It wouldn’t be rare to walk into a room where you and him resided, and to find you with a finger in his mouth. Just to get a better look of course. Nothing more. Simple curiosity. Or so you kept telling yourself. 
You didn’t know how you managed to hide your interest from Belphie for this long. Maybe he was just too stupid, or maybe he was too enamoured with you in turn to notice. Beel picked up though. How could he not. He just didn’t think anything of it. It wouldn’t be the first time he walked in on something strange, and it sure as hell wouldn’t be the last. You don’t know what finally made him bring it up to Belphie, but you did know that a very amused cow is now standing in your doorway, and will not leave until you spill your not-so-secret-anymore passion. 
“Ugh” You groan. You knew it would eventually come to bite you in the ass, but that doesn’t mean you were prepared.
“Hi!” Cheerfulness is a scary look on Belphegor. You just know he is up to anything but good. “Beel was telling me about a little thing you’ve been doing to me…” The smile turned into a frown, clearly played up. “Why didn’t you ask me about it? I am very hurt you know…. Won’t you comfort me right now?”. Christ. He won’t let you get out of this. If you absolutely had to discuss this with him, better to do it in private. You huffed, grabbed him by the hand and pulled him inside. After pushing him on the bed, you made a quick trip to lock the door. Better safe than sorry.
When you turned back to the bed, Belphie had made himself plenty comfortable. It’s a mystery how he does it this quick, since the door can’t be more than two metres from your bed, but there he was. Somehow already under the blankets, unashamedly sniffing your pillow. For some reason his boots and pants were already thrown on the floor. You were entirely grateful for choosing to lock the door immediately. 
As you stood there, admiring the likely half-naked man in your bed, you had to force yourself to move. Prolonging the topic wouldn’t do you any good, and you were all too keen to reach the ‘good ending’ that has been so clearly presented to you by the demon in your bed. So, you sat down on the edge of your bed, way more nervous than you have ever felt in your own room.
“I-. Look.” Belphie didn’t move. You don’t mind. You needed to have your say, and a pair of piercing eyes on you while you did so was not going to help. “I don’t know how much Beel has actually told you, but all of it is probably true.” You couldn’t bear to look at him either, shame endlessly growing with intensity, but the warm hand that had reached out to hold yours helped. A little.
You told him everything. The anatomy class where it all started, your ever-growing curiosity for his teeth specifically, and the eroticism that started to develop for them as well. You decided to let out the details of your nightly pleasures to him, but he got the gist. The idea of big molars, and teeth in general, was very hot to you. Alright.
During your spilling of the embarrassing obsession, small tears had started to form in your eyes. You know Belphegor loved you and he had his own kinks as well, but this felt too weird. You couldn’t find anyone at all that shared your interest, and there were only a few videos online to satisfy your needs. Imagination was becoming harder to use, always having to be more aware that you could just ask the object of interest. But, in a way it felt good. Better. Halfway through your ramblings Belphie had gotten up and next to you, draping a blanket over the two of you. He hadn’t interrupted. He wouldn’t have known what to say anyway. Feelings weren’t really his strong suit.
Once you were finished with most of your difficult feelings, your tears having dried a bit, you gathered the courage to look at your boyfriend. Your voice was a bit sore, but you managed to talk again. “So. Have I turned you off with my weirdness?” It was a half-joke. Something like this couldn’t stop Belphie loving you, but you couldn’t shake the fear off you that easily. Luckily, the one thing regarding feelings that Belphegor was good at, was affirming his admiration to you. 
As his fingers continued fidgeting with yours, like they had for the past while, he responded softly. “You really think something like that could stop me from being with you?” His eyes reached yours for the first time today. “Darling. All of us have little secrets like that. If anything, I’m more upset that you've waited this long to tell me.” A small smirk formed on his face. “Do you know how much fun we could’ve had with this already? I know you see me as your little pillow princess, but I do want you to enjoy yourself as well. I am totally not opposed to you getting a feel, yaknow.” His face inched closer, his soft lips pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek. “Are you up to satisfying your curiosities right now?” 
You felt a bit stupid for doubting he wouldn’t be eager to please you as well. So, as soon as you gave him a smile and a nod, his coyness dropped and a huge smile came to his face. “Awesome!” Within the next second, he put his arms around your neck in one swift movement, and pulled the both of you down to lay on the bed. In a poor attempt to not put your entire weight on his fragile-looking body, your legs put you in excellent position to straddle Belphegor. He let out a sweet giggle at the feeling.
“So, Mr. Curious-About-Teeth, care to tell me what you want to know?”. The look he gave you was addicting. His arms were still around your neck, keeping you close, and forcing you to put all too much weight on the arms you have braced around his head. Unfortunately, you have a little too much dignity left in you to fall limp all over him by the mere mention of his teeth.
His teeth… 
As soon as you were brought back to reality, you returned to being very aware of the situation and everything it held. But, all the fantasies you had really didn’t prepare you for the real thing. Hmm. Where to start?
As you pondered over the next best thing to do, Belphies expression softened. His lustful gaze never lessened, but it became clear to him that this was still difficult for you. Understandably so. Neither of you had ever been this unprepared for a new ‘experiment’.
Finally, you grunted. “Argh. Listen, I don’t know.” The thinking was too energy-consuming, and you begrudgingly let your arms give in, making all of your weight fall onto the man below. If it did hurt, Belphie didn’t let you know. “Just. Let me do my thing. Please?” You had to start somewhere. And thus, comfortably splayed out on your demon, you began where you had left off a couple days ago. Getting your fingers all in that hot mouth of his.
Now finally being awake during your indulgence, Belphie immediately opened up obediently for you. With his mouth wide agape, you finally got to look at that which you so desperately longed for. Your fingers, which were already close to his lips to begin with, were able to properly slither in at last. Your eyes were instantly mesmerised by the look of you, reaching into that holy place.  
Your fingers reached his molars before your eyes were able to get a proper look at them. You made sure to remember to ask Belphie again later for another look and proper, non-horny research. Despite the current hard-on that was slowly developing in your pants, you were still fascinated by the entire concept from a scientific standpoint. Not right now though, no. Any logical or reasonable thought had long left your mind. 
They were pointy and flat. Anything you thought they would be. Grinding your finger against them, you could only imagine what your dick would feel like in those same dangers. God, they felt divine. Even better than you ever could have hoped. How can a demon like this feel this good? Although that would probably remain a mystery, you were all too keen to keep exploring. 
As you marvelled in his sharp wetness, another one of your fingers joined you. They travelled along either side of his jaw. You started at the front, with his smooth incisors. Not too much different from your own teeth. But, continuing to where you would have expected some canines, it turned into a smooth transition to his premolars. The premolars were a bit sharper than the molars farther back, and gave a very nice resistance. At this point though, the two fingers were getting a bit much for Belphegor, spreading his mouth out more than comfortable. Although he was known for his big mouth, you guess that this wasn’t what they meant.
Too entranced to notice, WAY to turned on to stop, you decided that the least you could do was give him something to pay with as well. So, alongside the two already in his mouth, another two fingers went in. It took a bit of shuffling to fit it in proper, but your index and pinky finger were now on either side of his jaw, your ring and middle finger keeping his tongue pressed down. 
As you continued, your focus finally able to shift to his molars fully, you let yourself go again. Bephie seemed a bit more contend as well, now leisurely licking and playing with the long forgotten fingers formerly resting on his tongue. You asked yourself later how he was even able to handle so much business in his mouth, but you guess there’s indeed plenty more to learn about demons’ anatomy. For now, back to the teeth.
The molars had been the most fascinating things for you. They are the teeth anyone sees when asked to imagine one. Big, square, pointy bits on the bottom (which were now still in his gums, luckily enough). The classic. Oh how you had longed to feel his like this.
They were bigger. Longer. One could have mistaken one of Belphie’s molars for two of a humans. It was hot. You couldn’t help but wonder how far back they went. So, your hand wondered, without any regards to the man whose mouth you were currently evading.
It had gone too far. The molars kept continuing, and your hand wasn’t going to stop by itself. But despite his unusual physique, Belphegor still had a gag reflex. Somewhere far back. 
He bit. You thought you heard a bit of a moan, but you weren't sure. It hadn’t ~hurt~ per se. If anything, your pants got impossibly more tight. But it couldn’t have been pleasant for Belphegor. So, regardless of your own burning needs, you retrieved your hands out of his sharp warmth.
You merely looked on while Belphie coughed and tried to get his breath back. You noticed that his eyes were a bit dazed, like they usually were after an eventful night, and was happy it wasn’t all that bad for the other party. Still, he clearly needed some space to wheeze for a moment. While he got his breath back, you got up and quickly slid off your pants. Those would not be necessary for anything that would follow.
It’s unclear how you got here. One moment you were hurrying your belt off, and the next moment you were sat on belphie’s chest, the demon under you already licking at your tip. Did he manage to pull you back here somehow? Reaching for a bit of stability in your new-found position, you placed your hands next to his head. As you did so, his eyes reached you once again, and he flashed you a smile. “Ready for the ride?” he asked with a sultry tone. At least, you think he did. Despite the loveliness of it, you couldn’t really focus on his voice. Everything you’ve longed for over the past months was right in front of you, and nothing but those pearly ivories could inhabit  your mind at the moment. Belphie didn’t mind your absence, pleased enough to pleasure you for now. This time, he didn’t cover his teeth as his enveloping warmth embraced you once again. 
It was rough. The scraping and tugging wasn’t exactly like what you tried to imagine so many times, but it felt good. Way too good. Something you hadn’t considered before but was certainly a plus, was the danger surrounding it all. You knew all the better that if Belphie really wanted to, he could properly bite down right now, and snap off your entire dick. The signs of thrust and love surrounding it all made you appreciate it even more. 
Up till now, Belphie had been giving you the regular ol’ blowjob. Definitely nothing wrong with it, especially so with the added roughness of his teeth, but you wanted, no, NEEDED more. You grabbed a handful of his hair and forced him to look up, shifting your hips to be in a position with more controle. “Belphs,” Fuck. His eyes met yours, and you were once again reminded how addicted to him you were. You smiled. “I’m gonna take charge for now, alright?”
He couldn’t respond of course, your dick still halfway in his mouth, but he managed to give a slight nod, accompanied with a little smile. Adorable. “Please, if it gets too much, tap me somewhere twice, alright?” It’s important to set up safeties, especially since you weren’t sure how aware you could be when things got further. He smiled again, a look of determination settling on his face. It’s a shame that in your current position, you weren’t able to kiss his face. Oh well. There were more important things at hand right now.
As your hips slowly started up again, Belphie placed his hands on your thighs. He pulled you closer, encouraging you to let loose. He knew what he was getting himself into. 
You manoeuvred your hips a bit, searching for the delicious points and dips of his molars your fingers had explored so well earlier. As you found your place, sandwiched between your lovers teeth, you noticed them bite down on you. As they did so, shivers went up your spine. It didn’t hurt at all. Alright, maybe it did a little bit, but it only added to the pleasure. It made you long for more, harder. Would Belphie like the taste of your blood? That’s something to find out later, you didn’t want to go that far this first time.
While getting used to the frankly weird and strangely hot situation, your hips gained movement again. You couldn’t focus on anything but grinding against this foreign sensation, hoping to remember every nook and cranny, and make them yours. It was delicious. 
Belphie’s teeth provided the perfect amount of resistance to rut against. With each movement of your hips the feeling increased, and so did the pressure. As your tip dragged along the sharp edges, you let out moans like you hadn’t ever before. And Belphie’s own grunting, as much as he was able to do so, only spurred you on. Slowly, you felt yourself get lost in the sensation, chasing and relishing in endless pleasure. 
You don’t know how long you used Belphegor. You came twice, thrice maybe? And he must have swallowed it all, since you definitely did not stop after your first round. Admittedly, all your memories of it are a bit hazy. You remember quick movement and relentless bliss, but not much more. All the more an excuse to do it again someday. But for now you were spent, and the boy sound asleep next to you clearly was as well. Come to think of it, had he even cum? Were you really too lost in your own thrill to care for his needs?? Surely that wouldn’t do, and you made a mental note to make it up to him extensively, once he woke up. Later.
As you pulled your demon closer to you, you placed a sweet kiss on his forehead. “Thank you” you murmured softly. Subconsciously, Belphegor moved closer to you as well, and you closed your eyes. Content after a night well spent you went on your way to join him in his dreams, hoping to give him more love there.
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HI thank you for reading!! its a pretty niche fetish so I need to make my own contend for it but im pretty happy with how it turned out =w=b just another reminder that I also posted this on ao3, and to comment and like/reblog if you enjoyed my silly lil teeth groping & fucking <3
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rubyarrows · 5 months
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A New Perspective
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I sat at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of coffee, while YN flipped through a magazine. We had been best friends for years, and now we were roommates. Our bond was unbreakable, and living together had only strengthened our connection.
As a detective in the Chicago PD, my days were filled with chaos, crime scenes, and the weight of the city's troubles. But when I returned home, I found solace in YN's presence. She was my anchor, always there to listen, support, and offer a shoulder to lean on.
Tonight, however, I had something on my mind that I couldn't shake off. Watching the sunset cast its warm glow through the windows, I took a deep breath and turned to YN. "Can you help me?"
She glanced up from her magazine, concern etched on her face. "Of course, Jay. You know I'm always here for you. What's on your mind?"
I hesitated for a moment, searching for the right words. "It's about this case I've been working on. It's been haunting me, keeping me up at night. I can't seem to find the answers I need, and it's eating me up inside."
YN placed the magazine aside, her eyes filled with empathy. "Tell me about it, Jay. Maybe I can offer a fresh perspective or help you brainstorm."
I recounted the details of the case, the missing pieces that eluded me, and the frustration that came with it. YN listened attentively, her unwavering support giving me the strength to confront my own doubts and uncertainties.
After I finished speaking, there was a brief silence as we both processed the weight of the situation. YN reached out and placed a comforting hand on mine. "Jay, you're an incredible detective. I've seen you solve countless cases, overcome obstacles that seemed impossible. Don't let this one case define your capabilities."
Her words resonated deep within me, and a spark of determination ignited in my heart. YN had a way of grounding me, reminding me of my own strength when I needed it the most. With her unwavering belief in me, I knew I could face any challenge that came my way.
"Thank you, YN," I said, my voice filled with gratitude. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
A warm smile graced her lips. "We're in this together, Jay. No matter what happens, I'll always be here to support you. We'll find a way to crack this case, I promise."
YN and I sat in our makeshift "war room," surrounded by maps, photographs, and scattered notes. With her background as a private investigator, YN had a unique set of skills that complemented my work as a detective. I knew that tapping into her expertise would be invaluable in cracking this case.
"So, YN," I began, leaning forward, "What do you think? Any ideas on where we should focus our attention?"
She studied the evidence board, her eyes scanning every detail. "Well, Jay, based on what you've told me and what I've gathered so far, it seems like this killer is targeting a specific demographic. The victims share similarities in their profiles, which suggests a pattern."
I nodded, impressed by her keen observation. "You're right. There must be a connection between them, something we're missing. We've been looking at it from an investigative standpoint, but maybe we need a fresh perspective."
YN reached for a stack of files and flipped through them, pulling out a few key documents. "I've been doing some digging on my own, cross-referencing the victims' backgrounds, social circles, and recent activities. I think it's worth exploring if they had any common acquaintances or frequented the same places."
Her words sparked a glimmer of hope within me. "That's a great lead, YN. Let's dive deeper into their personal lives and see if we can uncover any connections. Maybe someone close to them knows more than they're letting on."
Over the next few days, YN tirelessly conducted interviews, gathering information from friends, family members, and co-workers of the victims. Her natural charisma and ability to put people at ease proved invaluable in coaxing out hidden details.
As she returned from yet another interview, her eyes gleamed with excitement. "Jay, I think I may have found something. It turns out one of the victims had recently broken up with her boyfriend, but she never mentioned it to anyone. He's been acting strange since then, avoiding questions and changing his routine."
My heart raced with anticipation. "Do we have a name? Can we bring him in for questioning?"
YN nodded, handing me a file. "His name is Mark Thompson. I've already passed this information onto Intelligence, and they're running a background check. If he has a criminal history or any connections to similar cases, we might be onto something."
Sure enough, within hours, our suspicions were confirmed. Mark Thompson had a history of violent behavior and had been implicated in a similar unsolved case a few years ago. With the evidence piling up, it was time to make a move.
We gathered the team, including Intelligence and the tactical units, to plan our next steps. YN's presence in the room brought a fresh perspective, and her ability to connect the dots was invaluable to our strategy.
As we prepared to apprehend Mark Thompson, I turned to YN, gratitude filling my voice. "None of this would have been possible without you, YN. Your investigative skills have been instrumental in bringing us closer to catching this killer."
She smiled, a mix of pride and determination shining in her eyes. "We make a great team, Jay. I'm here to support you, always."
Together, we stormed Thompson's location, ensuring that justice would be served for the victims and their families. YN's expertise combined with our collective efforts brought us one step closer to closing this case.
As we wrapped up the operation, I couldn't help but feel a profound sense of gratitude for YN. Her unwavering support, dedication, and the skills she brought to the table had made all the difference. We were more than just best friends; we were a formidable force, unyielding in our pursuit of justice.
After the intense operation that led to the apprehension of Mark Thompson, YN and I returned to our apartment, both physically and emotionally drained. We collapsed onto the couch, relishing in a moment of silence.
Just as we were beginning to catch our breath, there was a knock on the door. We exchanged curious glances before I got up to answer it. To my surprise, when I swung open the door, there stood Sergeant Hank Voight, the head of Intelligence.
"Detective Halstead, YN," Voight greeted us with a nod. "May I come in?"
I stepped aside, allowing him entry, and YN quickly straightened herself, ready to face our superior. "Of course, Sergeant Voight. Please, have a seat."
Voight took a moment to observe our humble abode before settling into one of the chairs. "I wanted to personally thank you, YN," he said, his voice carrying a mix of respect and appreciation.
YN's eyes widened in surprise. "Thank me, Sergeant? But it was a team effort. We couldn't have done it without everyone's contribution."
Voight nodded, acknowledging her words. "That may be true, but your skills as a private investigator were instrumental in cracking this case wide open. You brought a fresh perspective and an invaluable set of tools to the table. Your dedication and unwavering support for Jay and the team did not go unnoticed."
YN's cheeks flushed with a mixture of pride and humility. "Thank you, Sergeant. I'm honored to have been able to assist."
Voight turned his attention to me. "Jay, it's clear that having YN by your side has had a positive impact on your work. You complement each other's strengths and make a formidable team. I expect great things from both of you."
I felt a surge of gratitude towards Voight for recognizing YN's contribution. "Thank you, Sergeant. YN has been an incredible asset, not just in this case, but in every aspect of my life. I couldn't have asked for a better partner."
Voight nodded, his expression softening. "Remember, the job we do can be tough, but having someone you trust and rely on can make all the difference. Take care of each other, because trust me, those bonds are hard to come by."
As Voight rose to leave, YN and I exchanged a knowing glance. We understood the weight of his words and the value of the connection we shared. Our friendship had evolved into something deeper, a partnership built on trust, understanding, and unwavering support.
"Thank you again, Sergeant," YN said, her voice filled with sincerity.
Voight offered a small smile before heading towards the door. "Keep up the good work, both of you. We've got a city to protect."
With that, he left, leaving YN and me with a renewed sense of purpose and determination. As we settled back onto the couch, I couldn't help but feel a profound sense of gratitude for the journey we had embarked on together.
"YN," I began, my voice filled with emotion, "I am so grateful to have you in my life. Thank you for always being there, not just as my best friend, but as my partner."
She reached out, intertwining her fingers with mine. "Jay, I feel the same way. We make an incredible team, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Together, we can face anything that comes our way."As we sat there, basking in the warmth of our shared bond, I knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, YN and I would always be there for each other, both on and off the job. Our unbreakable friendship would continue to guide us through the darkest of times, ensuring that justice would prevail.
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13thdoctorposts · 1 month
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That's why I hope one day fans of the Thirteenth Doctor will set up conventions just for Chibs era. We're clearly not welcome elsewhere and it really hurts going to cons only to be surrounded by bullies and loudmouth who compulsively shit on the era/13/Jodie, its made me not want to go to anymore fan events because I'm sick of it.
Yeah, and I often wonder those Doctor Who clubs around the world how many new members have they gotten in the last 6 years? Because if your a fan of the 13 era and especially if that’s how you got into the show, because the point of every new Doctor is to help pull in new and diverse audiences, why on earth would you join these clubs just to be apart of something where everyone tells you the thing you like is shit. Clubs won’t survive if all they do is keep shitting on current eras of the show.
It’s funny at the panel yesterday Chris was saying he thinks the Doctor appeals to people because he’s an outside and a large part of the Doctor Who base identify with that, of being an outsider… so all these fans who love the show because they feel like outsiders and so come together with their love for the show have literally taken a section of the fandom and gone we’re going to make you outsiders. And boy do they like to act superior and like condescending.
Because let’s be real if you’re a 13era fan you are definitely the real outsider. It’s ironic that they themselves selves love the show because the world made them feel like an outcast and then they do the same thing to a subsection of fans. I get 13s fans do generally seem to be a different demographic to the fan base as a whole but the fact people who don’t feel like they ever fit in properly then tell a section of the fandom you don’t fit in here is pretty ironic.
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many-but-one · 1 year
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Hey! Why did I split over something not even THAT traumatic??
I'm here to tell you. :)
So, this particular discussion has come up in our system server before and it's actually something I've wanted to talk about for a long time on Tumblr because I've never actually seen someone talk about this, and I am being hit with a sudden god-like hubris at 3 in the morning, so here we go!
So your question was "Why did I just split? What just happened wasn't even that traumatic. I've been through so much worse in the past, I don't even feel that stressed. What the hell? Am I just making this new part up?" and on and on. The idea that only the most awful and traumatic things are what cause splits in DID (especially later in life, after the childhood trauma window of 7-9ish has ended and especially in adulthood) is actually incredibly false, and I am about to explain why.
Note: This is about traumagenic DID systems, so endogenic systems, please stay off of this post thank you. :) /not mad
Note number two: I do want to get out of the way, that all parts DO split for a reason, there's no parts that exist for no reason (even if the reason doesn't seem relevant to you now, it may have been relevant at the time of the split, OR may have been somehow relevant to your brain even if it doesn't make sense to you now.) So I want to make it really clear that splits do not occur only because of hyperfixations. There typically has to be something going on for a split to occur, and hyperfixation alone will not cut it. Alright, now that I've got that out of the way, let's talk about how DID brains run on patterns.
DID brains run on patterns, like I said. All brains do, actually, but DID brains take it to an nth degree because these patterns that it learns are what help it stay alive in a distressing and traumatic environment during childhood. Our brains are remarkably plastic and they will do whatever is necessary to survive a given situation. It's why something like DID can even exist.
So what kind of patterns do we typically see in brains with DID? Well, the easiest one is that a lot of people with DID have pretty similar alter "types" or "roles." This is just a widespread pattern that you see across a large demographic of systems. It's why terms like "gatekeeper" and "protector" and "caretaker" exist. Because nearly all DID systems have parts that fill those roles, even if those roles aren't filled in the most "traditional" sense. DID is rarely random, every part exists for an express reason, and that reason is almost always symbolic in some way, even if it doesn't seem like it now. Once you start learning trauma memories and WHY parts exist, you very quickly start to see the symbolism and sometimes it is absolutely fucking terrifying, to say the least.
What other patterns are common?
Well, patterns we see in our own system and in other systems are something quite literally called "splitting patterns" which are more common in polyfragmented systems but not exclusive to them. This has various ways of showing itself, and the user @foreverfragmented made a post awhile back that I'm having a really hard time finding, HOWEVER I did screenshot the section about splitting patterns when I first read it, attached below:
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Wow that photo ended up bigger than I thought it would be. lol. Anyway. Those are another example of splitting patterns. (Note: in the original post, FF talks about how some of the terms above were coined by them or other systems, so not recognized medically, however I think they were worded perfectly which is why I shared them here.)
Another few examples include alter templates (AKA, splitting the same alter over and over in varying iterations), the same parts going out for the same types of trauma every single time, and why certain alter roles very often have the same "flavor" of personality.
For example, gatekeepers are often considered a bit cold and distant, and can be very analytically minded and rarely react purely on emotion alone. (I feel like the most common gatekeeper Myers-Briggs has gotta be INTJ...that was a joke, lmao.) This is typically for a reason. You have to have a certain mindset and a certain way of handling things to be able to properly manage a system. And this is not to say all gatekeepers are this way, but the pattern of a LOT of gatekeepers being like this is not unnoticed. Our DID specialist could tell pretty early on that our primary gatekeeper (James) was a gatekeeper long before he ever told her he was simply because of how he held himself, how he spoke about others in the system, and how much he despised her for "stepping on his toes"😂 They work together much better now, FYI, but it was rough in the beginning.
An example of alter templates in our system in particular is what we call the "Michaels." They were some of our earliest alters, and our brain was like "hey this guy is working really well, so I'm just gonna keep doing it." And it worked! Then, when trauma shifted to something completely different but in the same vein (CSA) our brain once again attempted to use this "Michael" template. It didn't work quite the same. And so our brain had to figure out these new patterns, which it was fucking desperate to do because we were going through some heinous shit that it could hardly even comprehend. I've learned that basically every blue-eyed white-haired motherfucker in here was a Michael copy at one point, but had elaborated into some other version that suited its job more.
Now, for the example that is going to actually help me explain the answer to the question posed at the very beginning of this post: alters who go out for the same things over and over.
So, depending on splitting tolerance, or whatever you happen to be going through in your childhood, you will likely have various "groups" of alters that handle certain things. If you had a particularly tumultuous childhood with several varying types of traumas, you will probably have several of these groups. And depending on length of trauma time, severity of trauma time, and levels of support during trauma time, these groups may be very large.
For example, if you had a situation like domestic violence (DV) happening in your household, you will have a part or parts dedicated just for DV, and if you also had CSA going on, you will have a separate group of parts (or a single part) who handles only the CSA. Unless your system is quite small and you have alters take multiple types of abuses, this is pretty commonly the case. [Note: want to say this is not subsystems unless these groups are highly separated via either amnesia barriers or inner world (IW) barriers, and have better communication with each other versus the rest of the system. The definition of subsystem gets a little funky, but we're not talking about that. Just wanted to make that clear. You can have groups of alters without them being subsystems.]
"Okay, so yeah, you're right. I have alter groups for [insert various traumas] what does that have to do with me splitting over [insert mundane thing that isn't even really traumatic]?"
Continuing on the "DID brains run on patterns" line of thinking, if your brain has patterns set and understood for the various traumas that you lived through in your childhood, usually up until teen years or adulthood, your brain knows what to do when those traumas occur again. The patterns are set. It's why it's super common for people with DID who experience SA in teen or adult years and don't end up having a split. Unless they have an extremely low splitting tolerance or the situation is extremely unique, the brain will just recycle what it already has. No need to go through the literally massively painful and traumatic experience of splitting again for something it already knows how to handle. This being said, the part that experiences this might end up splitting at a much later date if this trauma is far too difficult for it to handle, this is also common because sometimes it's "easy" to handle the trauma in the moment because they're used to this flavor of trauma but the processing of said trauma afterward can be just as traumatic and can cause a split.
Same if your father was super abusive to your mother, or vise versa, and you happen to have an abusive partner. That pattern is known and comfortable. That's what professionals mean by "DID systems are more likely to be victims of abuse than perpetrators." They return to the comfortable patterns, which, with DID, equals abuse. Things outside of those patterns are dangerous and confusing to navigate and the brain will avoid that at all costs.
However, and this is the answer to the question. What happens when something happens that the brain doesn't recognize in its "pattern database"? I'll give an example.
Say you were very high achieving in school. This is pretty common of systems who were diagnosed in adulthood, so far as I've seen. You likely did really well, had really high marks because your parents expected it of you or were abusive and angry if you didn't constantly constantly succeed in their eyes. This can also reflect in sports, clubs, musical talents, etc. This pattern continues on in adulthood. You push yourself very hard to be high achieving. Whether this be in a college setting, a work setting, etc. You are likely often doing well in those fields pre-system discovery, at least. Post discovery often leads to the "spiraling" phase, which sucks but again that's not what we're discussing.
So, say you have a job. You're hella good at it. You are always receiving praise, you are always getting raises, your reviews are always hella good. You're like "okay yeah, I'm good at this job, so I'm going to apply to a higher paid position in the company that just opened up."
And then...you don't get the job. Well, that sucks. Better luck next time, right?
Wrong. Well, not entirely. That's completely true. But that's not how your brain is actually processing this, is it?
You might tell yourself "oh well" but in your high achieving brain's POV, it's like "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON???? WE DON'T DO THE FAILURE STUFF!!! WHAT THE F***!!!" And it might panic, and several alters might panic, and the host might panic, and suddenly they're spiraling out of control over something that is mildly disappointing at best. Because WE DON'T HAVE A GUY FOR THIS?! We have a guy for SA, we have a guy for DV, we have a guy for medical trauma, we have a guy for bullying, etc. But we don't have a guy for REJECTION?! AHHH! [splits a part just to handle rejection.]
In adulthood, I've noticed both in myself and other systems I frequently speak to, these highly specialized parts are more commonly split in adulthood. Because while patterns are super helpful in childhood when you're experiencing the generally same shit over and over, in adulthood or even late teen years, there's so many effing unknowns that the brain is just like "what the actual fuck is this, this doesn't follow the fucking SCRIPT you guys. The PATTERNS?? Do they mean nothing to you??"
DID is a disorder that is incredibly helpful for survival in childhood and is an absolutely miserable crutch to live with in adulthood. And that's not me saying it super sucks all the time, but the disorder is not meant to happen, it shouldn't have happened, and coping with it without therapy and proper integration of parts and memories just makes adulthood kind of a hellscape, to be frank. There are tons of positives, I am so thankful, don't get me wrong. But there are a lot of downsides too.
So, to kind of drive home some examples of things that can cause a split that might not even be inherently traumatic based on my own experience and the experiences of some folks in our system server:
-(TW: mild NSFW in this one) We had our first consensual sexual experience when we were 19. We didn't have a guy for that. Everything we'd ever experienced throughout our childhood and teen years was not consensual. So when we were having consensual sex with our girlfriend, we were losing our mind because we didn't have this pattern integrated. So we split a guy whose literal only job was "consensual sex" and he was pretty much made to be the "perfect partner" for our girlfriend.
-We have a part whose only job is to play video games. We didn't know why until we realized he was fronting during stressful family gatherings and was playing videogames to pass the time until they were allowed to leave.
-We have a part that split only to handle our irrational fear of getting sick with a deadly illness right around COVID lockdown time.
-We had a part split just to internalize the feeling of "going to hell" due to our religious beliefs at the time.
-We have a lot of parts that split just to hold feelings of anger, sadness, or fear, even in adulthood. This is common in situations where anger or showing emotions was not allowed in childhood, so if the brain decides that's not allowed, when a part gets overly angry they might split a part to hold that anger, which then typically gets buried deep down.
Note about the above example: Trauma therapists often say that anger is one of the last emotions processed when processing traumatic events. Which is why "anger holding alters" are so so so fucking common. Kids and teens and adults get angry and if that's not allowed in some way shape or form, the brain will suppress it. It's also why it's common for people with DID to be able to "turn off" emotions or if triggered, will have a sudden intense burst of emotions (typically anger or frustration) because of how intensely repressed emotions often have to be just to survive living in a toxic environment that would cause something like DID. When you were a kid, you couldn't cry in front of your parents because you would be ridiculed or punished. So you will "turn it off" and go hide to cry later. But if, as an adult, you never let yourself "go cry later," that shit will build up and cause those intense emotional breakdowns, even after something that's considerably smaller scale than what you're used to. Kind of considered the "straw that broke the camel's back." You can be having a shit week with horrible thing after horrible thing and you're doing really well at "shutting it off" especially when around others, because god forbid you let the mask fall, and then suddenly you can't open a cheese stick or you can't find your keys so you might be late, or there's a stain on your shirt right before work, or the entire contents of your bag get dumped onto the floor of your car because you had to brake too hard...and that's when the breakdown happens.
Anyway, to get back on track, there are probably a plethora of other ways a system could split that seem mundane or "not that traumatizing" or alter roles might be super hyper-specific and the reasoning for that is because ✨patterns✨ We love to see it. /sar
Hope this was helpful! If you have further questions, feel free to hit up the ask box or the replies. :)
-Dori🌹
(Again, endos please don't interact, this is not for you. This is for the folks whose DID was caused via childhood trauma. These patterns likely would not exist in someone whose system didn't form from repeated traumas.)
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