#happy to talk more if some of my ideas or references don't make sense!

[hotvintagepoll]

personally I would love a poll for hot vintage actors/celebrities who played with gender and androgyny or were outright trans/nonbinary, but I'm not sure how many there are or how much time you have to dedicate to the polls so I'll throw it out there for any followers who want to start their own poll

I thought about doing this, but it would be an impossible poll to run fairly for a couple of reasons. (I'm going to be using the word "queer" here as a catch-all term for trans/nb/gender-nonconforming presentation, in the hope that we all understand I'm using it in the reclaimed sense.)

For one thing, being queer was so heavily silenced, punished, and/or criminalized we can't say with any certainty which hotties were trans/nb/questioning. It's possible many of these hot vintage performers would have come out if it had been safe to do so, but we can't tell from this distance. I would hate to exclude anyone just because they don't read as queer "enough" to my eyes, when for them they were just busy surviving.

The other thing is that even as recently as the vintage era of these polls, queerness sat a little differently than it does today. Just as modern historians can't project current systems of gender on figures from the past, I would feel uncomfortable assuming that someone might be trans/nonbinary/gender nonconforming just because they would be read that way today. There's been a lot of cultural shift over the last 100 years where certain things that used to be considered very radical and genderqueer are now utterly normal (ie, women wearing pants) and other things that now read as queer would not have raised an eyebrow then (ie, the oft-quoted article from 1918 that posits that pink is a boys' color, or the entirety of the classic Wings).

In a way, this is freeing—watching vintage movies shows many different ways of framing gender and sexuality, and while some of it is the kind of dated binary we expect, some of it is like light pouring through a window. There are many different ways of framing a gender! The whole concept of gender is moveable and transient! Queerness is as much a part of human nature as love, and teeth, and bones, and touch! But because it was a different era, and because the secrecy prevalent at the time doesn't fully let us know who was or wasn't part of the community, we can't really say for sure (without a lot of extra research, and lots of very careful framing) who was doing things with gender we would today translate as trans, nonbinary, or queer.

Hope this makes sense!

#asks #i hope this comes through w/ the respect for vintage trans nb people i intend. i just don't think it's our right to pry or rank #(as a bracket inevitably does) in a case as tender as this. #happy to talk more if some of my ideas or references don't make sense! #queer vintage #lgbtq+

[kiwi-bitchez]

Double Down, Triple Threat 

Summary: insecure!Eddie x bartender!Reader

Eddie is constantly flirting with you after his Corroded Coffin sets at the Hideout, and you have the bad habit of flirting back. What happens when you overhear a conversation that wasn’t meant for you? Maybe you’ve had the wrong idea about the cocky metalhead who negs you for free drinks. Now you need to take it into your own hands to resolve some built up tension. 

Smut, as always, with a touch of angst but generally fluff/happy ending. 

Word count: 18k (eek! in retrospect I maybe should have split this into multiple parts but...fuck it, brevity has never been my strong suit LOL) Buckle up for a doozy.

Content warnings: smut, afab reader with she/her pronouns, use of y/n, alcohol consumption, smoking, the devil’s lettuce, mention of Eddie's scars and sustained injuries (slightly canon divergent obviously because our boy is ALIVE here, but the events of season 4 generally stand otherwise), also Eddie does some negative self talk where he refers to himself as mutilated but everything is happy in the end I promise, and scars are nothing to be insecure about he's just down in the dumps you feel me?, oral (fem receiving), fingering (fem receiving), unprotected PIV sex (plz use protection irl), pet names, reader and Eddie shower together

A/N: I know it’s been a hot minute since I’ve posted a fic on here, but I hope all y’all who are still riding the Eddie Munson thirst train enjoy this :) I’m trying to regain the motivation to write more, so hopefully more fics to come soon (no promises though lol) (maybe some Steve? Steddie x Reader? Let me know what y’all want to see.) I

"I'll have the usual," his hoarse voice and boisterous presence cut through what few other customers sat at your bar, forcing your attention his way.

"Yeah, and what would that be?" you try to give him your best deadpan voice, unsure yet if you were in the mood for his antics. 

"Come on, like I ever order anything other than a whiskey and coke," his curly dark hair stuck slightly to his damp forehead, not having bothered to wipe the sweat from his brow in between the stage and the bar. If you could even call it a stage. It was more of a sad corner with an extension cable and a few amps that his grunting bandmates were lugging back into their truck while he very helpfully came over and tried to flirt with the bartender. You were the only bartender. On Friday nights anyways. 

"That's because you're unoriginal," his drink was already half made as you flick your eyes up through your lashes at him, knowing he was watching you intently, not that he was particular about how his drink was made by any stretch. "You're actually going to pay for it this time," you slid the glass over to him, "I'm not joking."

"You wound me," he tries his best to give you puppy dog eyes, "but I'm pretty sure Randy mentioned something about drink tickets when we negotiated our new Friday slot."

"That's not a thing," you make up menial tasks behind the bar to keep your hands and eyes busy while he relentlessly chats with you, "never has been. Plus if I keep giving you free drinks you'll get the idea that I like you or something." 

Fuck, you told yourself you should stop flirting back with him. Your first excuse had been professionalism, which didn't make a lick of sense considering you were a bar back at this hole in the wall that paid local bands in drink tickets, apparently. Your second excuse had been that as fun as Eddie was to chat with, you hardly knew anything about him other than his loud band and his drink order. 

Unfortunately he liked to chat and sooner than later you knew more about him than you wanted to. Your newest excuse? If you kept flirting back with him he might get the idea that he could see you outside of this dingy bar, and you liked the comfort and safety of the three feet of wood separating you, it kept you from doing something you might regret. 

"Don't act like you didn't like our set," he threw the rest of his drink back, "I saw you watchin' from over here."

"Yeah, well you're kind of hard to ignore, you know, with the volume and all," your voice had a too-playful tone that you mentally noted to dial back on. 

If you were being honest, Corroded Coffin was one of the weekly acts that you didn't entirely mind. Most were groups of middle aged men trying to relive the glory days by booking a weeknight at the Hideout, instruments barely tuned and a setlist that was decades out of style. While Eddie's band certainly wasn't everyone's cup of tea, you found yourself tapping your foot along with their songs more often than not. At least they were original, you’d give them that. 

He held his glass up to signal a request for another. "Go help your friends carry all your shit," you swiped the cup from his hand, hating that you focused on how your fingers briefly touched his, "and then I'll make you another. And I'm charging you for both."

"Whatever you say, babe" he spun around three or four times on the bar stool before sauntering off and finally assisting with moving the amps and drum kit. You rolled your eyes, not that he was watching you anymore, but more to keep yourself from checking out how his shirt clung to his torso. His black t-shirt was always a size too small, revealing his tattoo covered arms that you never allowed yourself to stare long enough at to make out what any of them were. 

Eddie was nice. As much as you liked to push each other's buttons and joke around, he was a lot more respectful than most patrons that tried their hand at flirting with you. He never said anything gross or disrespectful, not something you could say about most men who've had more than a few beers. 

But you didn't want to risk pushing any boundaries with him, because you work here, and his band plays here weekly, religiously. You didn't want things to get weird, and as much as you learned how to avoid certain patrons, there was only so much space between the 'stage' and your station behind the bar. 

Despite this, you have his second drink made before he finishes putting his stuff away, and you haven't started a tab for either of them. A big smile stretches across his cheeks when he notices his already-made drink set by his stool as he walks over from the back door. You couldn't help but feel a tiny smile creep up on your face as well. 

"Really made me work for this one, huh?" he takes the first sip while still standing before setting back into his seat, "truly amazing service, best I've ever had, really." You glare at him while cleaning some cups absentmindedly with a rag. "Not sure if you can tip on a drink ticket though..."

"Fuck off," you giggle and throw the wet towel at him, "you can't charm your way into TWO free drinks you ass."

"Aww you think I'm charming?" the flirtations between you were always edged with sarcasm, which you both found a lot easier than admitting 'hey you need to stop looking at me like that or else I'm going to keep thinking about pinning you against this countertop.'

"No, I don't, which is why you're PAYING for both those drinks," a lie followed by another lie, and you both knew it. "Where'd your band go?"

"Why? 'm I boring you?" he didn't mind taking up all your attention when the other bar patrons were either too drunk to stand or too old to even notice that a metal band had performed for the past hour. "No one's ever accused Gareth of being more interesting than yours truly. Plus he doesn't drink anyways, so your venture capitalist instincts wont work on him." He raised his drink to punctuate his joke before taking another long swig. 

"Ha ha," you don't give him the satisfaction of a real laugh, "I just wanted to make sure you had a ride home in case you try and swindle me into making you a third drink."

"Oh no, I told them all to scram, that I had a hot date with you and my unsettled tab," he leaned over the bar, trying to eliminate as much space between himself and you, "plus I've got a friend coming by to pick me up in a bit. So if you wanted to make me that third drink in exchange for me keeping you company while you close up, I certainly don't have any reason to turn you down."

"Fine," you point at him with a stern finger, "but this one'll be more coke than whiskey."

"Deal," he pointed his finger back at you, moving carefully in so the tips of your pointers touched. This made you genuinely laugh, unable to keep up a wall for too long around him. 

He finished his second drink while you ordered last call, and settled up with crumpled cash and mumbled thank you’s from the few remaining drunks. After closing up the cash register you make him that more-coke-than-whiskey drink as promised, and get to wiping down every sticky surface. 

"What's your drink?" he asks.

"Hmm?" you glance over from your hunched over position, trying to get the wet rag across the underside of the bar where someone had clearly spilt what appeared to be an entire pint of light beer. 

"You know my drink order, I wanna know yours." you stand up straight and look at him. 

You consider pushing back and demanding why he wanted to know, but it was late and you only had so many quips left in you, "Gin and tonic with extra lime." You get back to soaking up the spilt mess.

"Woooooow," his drink was finished and he took it upon himself to grab the broom from behind the bar and start sweeping up the bottle caps and tracked in dirt, "and you had the nerve to call me unoriginal."

"I'm not some creative rock and roll guitar guy like you, I don't need to be original, I'm just a bartender," you let him keep sweeping and start checking off other tasks from your closing list.

"You aren't just a bartender, give yourself more credit than that babe," he held up the dustpan full of crap, silently asking where to put it and you hold open a mostly full garbage bag for him to dump it into before tying it off, "judging by your drink order I would also guess that you're, hmmmm, an 85 year old man."

"Oh my god," you slap him on the arm with another half dirty hand towel, "in that case, you're doing voluntary manual labor just to flirt with this 85 year old man, so maybe you need to reevaluate your priorities."

He takes a few steps forward, not quite caging you against the bar, but nearly there. "And how am I doing? Is it working?" He's the closest he's ever been to you, jokingly sliding the broom around your feet, pretending to sweep while maintaining searing eye contact.

As the which-one-of-us-is-going-to-learn-in-first question buzzes around you, an irritating light flickers through the big front window, indicating someone had pulled their car right up to the curb with their high beams on. Eddie scrunches his nose up, and your urge to kiss him somehow grows despite his annoyed expression. "That's my ride."

You give him a small nod, turning your head to try and squint to see who could possibly be picking him up at this hour, but not making out much through the foggy glass. "I suppose I can manage the rest without you," you grab the broom from him, fingers touching for the second time tonight, "see you next week, rockstar."

Eddie wants to do something smooth, a wink or a clever line, but instead nervously gives you a nod and is out the front door before he can give it a second thought. The minute the door closes behind him you let out all the air you had been holding in your chest, both frustrated and slightly relieved. Eddie on the other hand- was bursting with regret and frustration, immediately running his hands through his hair and pulling a cigarette out of his pocket. 

"Absolutely not," Steve craned his neck out of his car that always looked like it had just gotten a fresh wax and detail, "at least five feet away from the beemer if you're going to light that." 

Eddie rolled his eyes, considering putting the cigarette back into the carton and getting the fuck away from this bar, but ultimately gave in and pivoted on his heel storming back towards the brick exterior and slumping against it as he flicked his lighter and took an aggressively deep pull. 

"What's your damage?" Steve moved out of the expensive car, keeping a bit of distance from Eddie but close enough that the two could talk, "That bartender you like wasn't on or something?"

"She's inside closing up now, so keep your fuckin' voice down" he gave Steve a glare and then immediately an apologetic look for being so prickly, "I'm just bad at this shit, man."

"You can't be that bad at it, Gareth and Jeff said the two of you eye fuck across the room every Friday night," Steve shrugs, understanding Eddie's drawback but knowing his friend rarely gives himself the benefit of the doubt. 

"Yeah, well, that's not the hard part," Eddie rips his cigarette and presses his wild hair deeper into the brick behind him, exhaling upwards. 

You had taken note that Eddie's ride hadn't left yet, so you busied yourself for a minute before deciding who cares if you had to give him an awkward wave on your way across the parking lot, so you locked up and grabbed the trash to take to the dumpster out back before leaving for the night. 

You really didn't mean to eavesdrop, but as soon as the back door clicked you heard their muffled conversation from around the corner. Rather than give away your presence with the clanging of the trash you gently set it against the wall and moved forward silently, staying out of sight but well within earshot. 

"Flirting is the easy part, she's fuckin' easy to talk to, man" Eddie's voice carried, and you felt guilty but continued to listen, "I don't want to just fuck her though, I want to like, date...her."

"Oh," Steve's voice dropped knowingly, "well that's... good, I guess, that you like her like that."

"Well even if I didn't like her like that and was only looking to fuck her," he sighs out, and you carefully listen while furrowing your eyebrows, trying to make sense of their conversation, "she's gorgeous, and no girl that hot- scratch that no girl at all want's to fuck some mutilated freak."

"Don't call yourself a freak," Steve's voice seems apprehensive. 

"Yeah, sure, but you can't say I'm not mutilated." There was a beat of silence, and you didn't have time to think too much about his words before he went off again, voice laced with thick sarcasm, "Oh hey babe, so glad you were able to look past that I live in a trailer park and all my neighbors think I'm a satan worshiping murderer, but I hope you can be cool with my singular nipple and weird lumpy scar tissue, I know it's super hot, you're gonna have to get in line." His voice carried easily far past your hiding spot. 

"You're not giving her much credit dude," Steve was still apprehensive to respond, knowing how Eddie got when he started to spiral, "Maybe she's not that shallow."

"It's not that," Eddie's voice started to calm, "I'd just rather take my twenty minutes of flirting after our Friday gigs than risk it and have her look at me like she's sorry for me or something." 

With that he snubbed out his cigarette butt with the toe of his combat boots, let out a big sigh, and moved to get into the passenger side of Steve's car. You take a few slow, careful steps back towards the slumped garbage bag and wait until you hear the engine start and see the lights pull out onto the opposite side of the road. 

Fuck. Part of you felt incredibly guilty for listening to what was obviously meant to be a private conversation, especially a private conversation about you. But your gears were turning far too fast to get hung up on guilt. 

You always felt apprehensive about Eddie because you figured he was a flirt, a player, the kind of guy who talks to all bartenders like that, and you just happened to be the one he flirted with after his Corroded Coffin shows. You never wanted to get too invested in making him smile or waiting around for him to chat you up, because you know how most guys are, especially guys who carry themselves with that much confidence. And you were fucking wrong. 

Now fully realizing that the ball is in your court, you need to plan your first move. You decided, Eddie was worth taking the risk. 

It was truly a shot in the dark, but if your intuition ended up being a bust then no one would know about your wasted afternoon other than yourself. The following afternoon you drove aimlessly up and down the unpaved residential streets of the trailer park. There were two in town but you had a pretty good feeling that this was the one. 

You only started to feel stupid when you got some confused and slightly angry looks from people going about their business, hanging laundry or smoking on their porches, scrunching their noses and trying to make out the unfamiliar car driving in circles around their neighborhood. 

Aha! There it was. You knew that your gut could only fail you so many times when it came to Eddie. Exactly what you had been looking for, a big black and blue 1971 Chevrolet van strewn with dents, patches of rust, and, your telltale sign, a homemade Corroded Coffin sticker crookedly placed on the faded chrome of the bumper. 

Step one, complete. Step two was contingent on Eddie even being home. The presence of his van had you feeling hopeful. 

You attempt to rid yourself of lingering nerves with a deep breath and silent pep talk. You park adjacent to his van and hop out before your legs can convince you not to, and suddenly you've rung the doorbell and are standing with your hands clasped nervously in front of his door. 

"Just a minute," you hear him yell from inside, step two, complete, "What're you here for? Cuz I only got weed right now so if you're..." his hollering voice trails off from inside as he catches a glimpse of you through the screen. "Y/n? What the fuck are you doing here?" 

"Jeez, hello to you too," you try to lace your voice with the same flirty edge that you always took with Eddie, but you didn't have the comfortable barrier of the bar or the security of being the person serving him his drinks. 

"How the fuck do you know where I live?" His tone wasn't quite angry, but it was bordering on more pointed than just confused. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to drop by totally unexpected," you suddenly felt vulnerable, regretting this whole stupid plan, "I can go." 

You start to scurry back to your car and hide your face forever, but he cuts you off with, "No, no, just, why are you here?" He softened his voice, and came down the stoop to hover over you on the last step. 

"Well," here goes nothing, "last night I felt like we sort of got interrupted." You pause, trying to gauge his reaction, "And I couldn't stop thinking about it, and I didn’t want to wait a whole week to see you again."

"Oh," his face and reaction didn't give you much of a clue as to what he was thinking. 

"And," you started filling the empty air with words, as you often did out of anxiety, "I know where you live because I've heard you sing 'fuck everyone in the trailer park, I'll play my music and curse your existance' probably a thousand times, it really wasn’t that hard to figure out where you live." 

He let out a chuckle, despite being deep in the throws of processing your earlier statement of feeling cut off. Of course he wanted to see you outside the confines of the musty bar, he just hadn't expected it to be like this, so sudden. "Well that's fair. I’ll give you double points for perception."

"I didn't mean to interrupt your Saturday," you began to reel again, "just wanted to tell you I'd like to hang out with you sometime, preferably not at The Hideout."

"Can sometime be now?" he hopped down from the last step and gave you an inquisitive smile, nose slightly scrunched and giving you butterflies. 

"Yeah, sometime can be now. You promise I'm not interrupting anything?" you felt a wave of relief, his energy had fully shifted from confusion to your comfortable flirty banter.

"Just a packed bong and have some laundry I probably wasn't going to do anyways," he suddenly realized he either had to invite you inside, which would be slightly embarrassing given the current state of his trailer, or suggest a secondary location, "you hungry? We can grab lunch or something?" 

He offered to drive, and you suggested sandwiches and beer to go for a backseat van picnic. He was relieved that you were down with doing something so casual, no stuffy cafes or overpriced food. If you were more than happy to suggest eating deli counter sandwiches in the back of his clunky van then maybe he had less to worry about than he thought. 

The passing moments between you had him realizing he truly didn't know much about you. Your job, how you had no problem snapping back at rude customers, and most recently your favorite drink. He wanted to know more, and quickly did as you had a 'regular' sandwich order and gave him directions to a side street that looked out onto a small lake, explaining that you'd eat lunch out here sometimes when the weather was nice. He parked the van in reverse, letting the back doors swing open, giving you the perfect bench looking out to the scenery to sit back and eat. 

"All my years living 'round here, I've never been to this spot," he noted through bites of sandwich wrapped in white paper.

"Yeah, most people know the spot across the lake with the rope swing and all that," you gesture across to where there was a popular jumping rock littered with empty beer cans, "too crowded for me though, it's more peaceful over here." 

"Sorry if I was a bit rude earlier," he started, but you quickly cut him off before he could finish his apology.

"No, no," you move your hand over to gently grab his mid gesture, "don't apologize, your reaction was incredibly reasonable."

"I just-' he started but you gave his hand a squeeze, "I really am happy you decided to come by, I didn't want you to think otherwise."

"I'm happy you chose lunch with me over a bong and laundry, that was some tough competition I had," he rolled his eyes at you.

"Don't make fun of me," he nudged your side, "I'm usually pretty wiped from Friday's show and trying to think of clever things to keep up with you, so my Saturday's are usually pretty lazy," your shoulders rubbed against each other, "being a washed up wannabe rockstar and flirting with a girl way out of my league can really do a number on me."

You share a soft giggle but reassure him that playing live music, even if it is only for you and a crowd of five drunks is still pretty cool. "Plus I like that you dress like this all the time, it's not just an act, this is just how you are," you gesture to his ripped jeans and ring clad fingers.

"What did you expect, babe? Surprise me at my trailer to find me in a polo and khakis?" the suggestion alone had the two of you laughing, brainstorming an alternate universe where Eddie was an accountant by day and only let his rocker side loose on Friday nights. 

"If you aren't secretly an accountant, what do you do when you're not playing music, if I may ask," you realize this was really one of the first personal questions you'd exchanged, keeping things punchy and surface level until this point.

"Ah, well," he scratches the back of his head, "although I wish the drink tickets we make at The Hideout were enough to cover rent, I work down at the body shop, you know the one down the street from the grocery store? My uncle knew some guys there and hooked me up with a job fixing cars after high school, and it's not too bad, I'm not half bad at it either, so that's where I'm at."

"You just really keep getting better and better, huh?" at first he wonders if your comment is sarcastic, but you continue "So what I'm hearing is you'll look at my rattling engine for free? I know nothing about cars and am always worried the people at the body shop are going to overcharge me."

"I only charge in sandwich dates and drink tickets, so you're in luck," he responds quickly without giving it much of a thought. 

You take a second, "What about dinner dates? Maybe movie dates too? Are those acceptable payments for your mechanic expertise?" 

"Not usually, but I'll make an exception for you," he responds after a few beats, realizing you wanted to see him again, and not just at the bar. 

You both are looking out at the lake, the buzzing energy around you making you nervous to look at each other. So you just tilt your head sideways to rest on his shoulder, "Phew, that's a relief, because I have a lot more of these planned."

"Oh yeah?" he shifts his body towards you, lifting your head from his shoulder and finally meeting his gaze, a stupid grin plastered across his face, he couldn't help it. "Which one of these dates do I finally get to kiss you?" You let out a breathy laugh, half amused by his corny line and half surprised he was being so forward. 

"Hmmm, I'm not sure," you pretend to think it over, stringing this out was killing both of you, but you couldn't help but push his buttons a bit more, "I'd say I'm kind of a third date kind of gal."

"Three? As in three from now or three including this one?" He seemed genuinely concerned, causing a genuine laugh to slip through the act you were putting on. 

You move your hand to his chest, faces closer than they had ever been. You had always been sucked into his big brown eyes, but now you saw flecks of honey and deep browns that bordered on black in them, faded freckles dotted across his cheeks, a chapped patch on his lower lip that had clearly been the victim of some anxious chewing. "I'll make an exception this time, for you."

He let you make the first move, leaning in and gently pressing your lips to his, soft and slow. You could feel his breath catch in his throat, prompting you to pull back and look at him through fluttered lashes, as your mouth parted slightly to ask him if that was okay, his big ring clad hands cupped the sides of your cheeks and pulled you right back into him, kissing you like he was afraid you'd evaporate if he ever stopped. 

The wind was knocked out of you. You couldn't be bothered to breathe when your attention was solely focused on his lips, his tongue, the sharp intake air he sucked in between slotting your top lip down to your swollen bottom one, nipping with teeth and holding your face so close. 

After a minute of soft whimpers and exploring the new intimacy you pull back to finally catch your breath, fully ready to ignore the need for oxygen and lean back in when you see his face, rosy and buzzing with excited energy. 

"Sorry, if that was kind of a lot," he realized you had given the sweetest peck and he proceeded to practically shove his tongue down your throat. 

You however, were already brushing his apology off and leaning in for more, missing the feeling of his big hands cradling your face, sending tingling shockwaves down your body. Before you could lunge back at him and take more of what you wanted, he takes your chin in between his fingers and tilts your head up to his.

"I don't know if you can tell, but I'm sort of crazy about you. And I really don't want to fuck this up, but I've wanted to do that for a really long time.” 

He could tell by your pout that you were begging for another kiss, and he couldn't refuse you. You were completely lost in it. Learning that he let out a little gasp when you ran your fingers up into his hair, that he would catch your bottom lip in between his teeth when you started to pull away and he needed more, that you were already completely wrecked for him. You weren't even conscious of the fact that you were now fully seated in his lap, sandwich wrappers and empty cans long pushed aside. 

Part of you wanted to wait, to let things build up organically over time and get physically intimate when the moment felt right. But fuck it, the moment felt right now. 

Any apprehension or worry of scaring him off dissipated when his thumb ran across your cheekbone, his other strong arm holding you steadily against him, you don't think you could wiggle away if you tried. Swirling in your apprehension you also fought the urge to press your hips down into his and grind against him harder. You wanted to let him take things at his pace and not rush anything, but fuck you could feel his cock getting hard between your legs and it was driving you insane. 

He dragged the knuckle of his middle finger up your neck along the curve of your jaw, speaking softly into your kiss, "can I kiss you here?" pressing his touch into the side of your neck.

"You can do anything you want to me," you pant back, slightly embarrassed at how desperately horny that came out.

"Fuck," he groaned out, cock noticeably twitching against his black jeans and into your thigh, "you can't say shit like that to me."

"Sorry, sorry," you try to gain your composure and lift off him slightly, “I-"

He took a hold of your waist and pulled your back down into his lap, diving into the side of your neck and nipping and sucking until he found the spot that made you squeeze your thighs slightly around him. "Anything I want requires a lot more time and space than we have right now, pretty girl." He mumbled into your neck in between kisses, his words making your back arch slightly more into him. "Plus I need to be a gentleman," you rolled your eyes at this. 

"Since when have you ever worried about that," you tug his hair back to force him to look at you.

"You really want to know what I want, right now?" he quirked an eyebrow.

"Really, really," you let your weight sink down onto his lap a touch more, feeling the stiff length under his jeans slot between your thighs a bit deeper, making his breath hitch before he could respond. 

"I want you to lay back on those blankets up there," he nodded towards the few crumpled up blankets he had shoved behind the driver's seat, "and let me eat your pretty pussy until you're screaming loud enough for the people across the lake to hear."

Whatever you were expecting, it wasn't that. 

This unexpected burst of sexual confidence threw you for a loop, as you were fully prepared to be the one making all the big moves. Your mouth hung open slightly, struggling to form a response when all that was swarming through your mind was holy fuck, holy fuck, that was so hot, what the fuck do I say. 

Rather than respond with words you just roll off his lap and start moving deeper into the back of his van, propping your torso up on bent arms and sending him back a suggestively raised eyebrow. He swung his legs up over the ledge and took one of the doors with him, sliding into the van and quickly shutting the other as well. 

It took a second for your eyes to adjust, the previous sunlight coming in from across the lake was cut off, and the light source now was only coming from the front windows, making things darker but not invisible. You quickly had no trouble making out Eddie's slender form shuffling around and getting situated in between your bent knees, urging you to lay back a bit more and relax as much as your body would allow against the lumpy blanket pile. 

"This is okay?" he asks while leaning down to pick up where you had left off a moment ago. 

"Yes, fuck," you wiggle up into his form, wanting as much contact as he would allow, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down into your lips. 

It all had moved faster than you were used to but fuck if it didn't feel so right. Why did you feel more comfortable with this person you hardly knew than you had with your past few long term relationships? He just had this way of taking your nerves and throwing them out the nearest window. 

After sucking on your lower lip until it was puffy and slick he dips his chin into the crook of your neck, dragging his perfect nose up your jugular and nestling into the junction of your neck and ear, licking a stripe all the way. You wanted to desperately buck your hips up into his, but only allowed yourself half the satisfaction of lifting your thigh slightly to give him more space to sink deeper into your slumped form. 

When Eddie’s life flashed before his eyes, on more than one occasion- actually- he wasn’t particularly satisfied with what he saw. In the moments before what he assumed was death, his brain searched for the best moments to accumulate and reminisce on before his body succumbed to the untimely demise he was facing. It wasn’t much. 

He wished he had more than smiling moments with his D&D club, a few killer performances at the Hideout, no killer audiences, some nights of revelry with his friends, and a few forgettable hookups in dingy bar bathrooms. That couldn’t be it, right?

In the wake of his life flashing, fading, and flashing again, he made more space for good things. After his shows now he let himself think about you, and how much he liked you, let himself try his hand at flirting. Because if he was going to come anywhere that close to death again, he needed more to show for it than a few trysts with nameless girls and an unnerving amount of scar tissue. 

So he wasn’t about to fuck this up. If someone came at him with an axe tomorrow, at least he’d have the memory of you splayed out beneath him in the back of his van, lips shiny and cheeks rosy. If his life were to flash before his eyes again it wouldn’t be as bad.  

“Do you know how long I’ve thought about this?” he mumbled into your neck, his denim clad thigh pressing perfectly in between your legs. You could only hum back as if to say, “no, tell me.”

“I think you do know,” his teeth grazed upon your earlobe, sending a jolt through your hips and finding solace in the friction between your thighs with his.

“Yeah, I know,” you breathe out, arching your neck down to nudge the tip of his nose with yours, “do you?”

“I didn’t have a clue,” he mumbled into your lips before slipping his tongue against yours, sickly sweet and laced with all the regret of not asking you out sooner. 

You let your ankles hook around one another, locking your hips together and earning a deep rumble of a moan from the man trapped. “I recall you mentioning something about the people across the lake hearing me…” you playfully trail off, equal parts confidently flirty and deeply desperate for him to act on his earlier promise. 

He had nudged his way down into the neckline of your shirt, licking and nipping at as much of your breasts as he could find, fingertips grazing the waistline of your pants. Part of you wanted to just lay here and let him have his way with you, but the conscious part of your brain recognized the insecurities he expressed in that conversation you weren't supposed to hear, and signaled you to be as forward with him as you could be. 

“Fuck,” you struggled to pry your hands between your pressed bodies to reach your jeans button, “Eddie can I take these off, I want to feel you.” 

With your hands moved south, you managed to undo the clasps of your jeans while also running your hands upwards towards his shirt, wanting to feel the skin beneath. 

It was subtle, but impossible for you to miss, when your fingertips grazed his lower stomach and trailed up his t-shirt his body shifted into a tense state for just a moment. You could have easily missed it. It took all of a millisecond for him to subtly jerk away from you and redirect the attention to your now unbuttoned pants. His hands were dragging the material down your thighs before you had a moment to register the way he averted your touch. 

He playfully tossed your bunched up pants over his shoulder, as if they had anywhere else to go other than the three feet of van between him and the doors. After that flashed moment of shyness, you noticed nothing but a playful smirk on his face, smile crinkled at the corners of his cheeks and eyes full of wild mischief. 

His hands spread against your thighs, digging his fingertips into as much skin as the width of his palms would allow. 

“So fucking perfect,” he drank you in, hardly noticing the moment you pulled your shirt and bra over yourself, but dumbstruck as soon as his eyes caught sight of your reveal.

Knowing he had yet to put his money where his mouth was, he adjusted downwards and let his flushed cheek make contact with your thigh. In that moment he vowed to let the sight of the little damp patch in the center of your cotton panties stay forever in his mind. 

He didn’t let a single thought register in his brain before he leaned forward and let his tongue lick a fat strip up the middle of your clothed center, adding dampness to the apparent arousal already there. 

“Jesus,” you were slightly taken aback at his action, letting your head fall back, while still lowering your gaze down to where his hooded lids and pink tongue sat in between your thighs.

He reveled in the feeling of being between your thighs, letting his tongue play around the center of your panties for a few strokes before the twitching in your legs signaled that you had had enough of his teasing. 

Taking a blissful moment to hook his finger through the crotch piece of your underwear and pull it to the side to reveal your slick center, he simply couldn’t help himself. He pulled back and drank the sight of you in, panties wet with your arousal and his spit pulled to the side and your perfect cunt finally in his sights. 

The groan he let out only tripled your level of neediness for him. You let your chest puff up and hips gyrate forward at nothing to signal that you needed him, like, now.

Before you could even think of something snarky to say to get him to get on with it, his entire face was fully buried in you. An involuntary ahhh escaped you as he let his entire tongue press as far into you as space would allow. 

“Ohmygod,” all coming out in one breath, “fuckeddie.” 

He groaned deeply into you at the feeling of your pussy on his mouth, your taste, how your hips twitched slightly when his nose pressed against your clit. He didn’t even think about all those drunken chats with the boys or stupid cosmo articles he couldn't help but read, eating your pussy didn’t require any thought, he could only feel. 

Your sighs were like a song to him, every sharp inhale and subtle whimper, he caught it all and it was the most beautiful music. He let his tongue swirl faster when he heard your breath hitch, gripped your thigh tighter when you let out that beautiful exhale. 

“So fucking good for me,” he mumbled into your inner thigh in between licks, fully pussy drunk and ready to stay here forever, “fucking perfect.”

After some selfish exploration, he settled on a steady rhythm against your clit, making your back arch and whines jump an octave. 

“Eddie, Eddie,” you groaned, feeling embarrassed how needy your voice already sounded, “can you use your fingers too, please.” Desperate. That’s how you felt, and you couldn't help but be self conscious for any more than a moment, as he immediately headed your request. 

Guitar fingers. You fucking knew it. You always found him attractive and charming, but immediately scolded yourself the moment you started speculating about those damn fingers. If he could learn Metallica solos in private, what else could he do?

Curling upwards in that magically delicious motion that had you already seeing stars, he glanced up at you upon entering and was met with the glorious sight of your mouth hanging open and eyes fluttering shut. 

You simply couldn’t be bothered by the rickety van floor beneath you, the sad lumpy pillow propped under your head, or the stagnant, vaguely cigarette scented air around you. Nope. No thoughts other than the tightening knot in your stomach and how those pretty brown eyes peered up through too-perfect lashes at you in between sinful strokes. 

“Making me feel so fucking good,” you hardly recognized your voice as your own, “please don’t stop, Eddie, please…”

And there it was, euphoric bliss found in the back of a pot dealing metalhead’s van. Your thighs quivered and your brain lost all capacity for thought. All you could feel was the sudden wash of pleasure, the pulsing between your legs, and the tongue and fingers fucking into you as if it was the last thing he ever did. 

Writhing, trying to keep your moans down despite his verbalized promise for them to be heard far and wide, you try to control the jerk of your hips and grip on his hair. You rode out your orgasm, far sooner than you would have liked. You wanted to revel in it. 

After months of relentless flirting and suppressing your attraction to him, you wish you could have held your orgasm off a while longer. You simply couldn't allow yourself to bask in the velvet of his tongue or the tickle of his bangs on your thighs. You needed it too badly to hold off. 

Coming down from your orgasm, a broken moan cracked from you and let him know to slow his roll. In between catching your breath you catch a view of him sucking your release off of his slick fingers, and almost throw yourself at him, beg him to jump your bones. But all you can do is let out a breathy laugh and find the strength to prop yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at him. 

“You come?” he asks, slight snark to his voice.

You muster up the energy to bop him upside the head and ruffle his hair along the way. “Fuck off,” you respond, still breathless, “you know I did.”

“I know,” he cocks his head, still admiring your form, your flushed face and rise and fall of every breath, “It’s polite to ask, though.”

“Ah yes, Eddie Munson, most polite man I know,” you flop back onto the mismatched pillows.

“Hey!” he pretends to sound offended but only manages to tug at your heartstrings, “I’ll have you know, that I am a delight.” 

“Can’t argue with that,” you reach down to feel your dripping folds before hunching forward to search for your underwear, which haven't traveled too far from his knees on the van floor.  

You wanted to return the favor, do more than return the favor, but something about his shift in demeanor and the way he angled his body away from yours slightly to adjust his hard cock in his pants and keep up the too-casual post-orgasm conversation had you thinking it was more than him being too polite to accept your advances. 

“Shit, what time is it,” he begins to shuffle towards the front of the van to check the time while you awkwardly gathered your clothes and redressed, fully assessing that whatever fooling around in the back of this van you were doing was officially over. 

“I, uh, have a few errands to run,” he sounded apologetic, not like he was making some excuse to get you out of his hair, “I can drop you off, or you can come along for the ride…”

There is was, your affirmation that he was just as desperate to hang onto this moment together as you were. 

“I actually have a shift starting pretty soon,” you regrettably admit, “and as much as I’d love to ditch it and be your passenger princess, the Saturday tips are usually the bulk of my rent money so…” 

He understood, he hated how much he understood. 

“What time do you get off?” He didn’t even try to hide how eager he was to see you again, again in ten minutes, again later tonight, again tomorrow, again as many times as you’d let him. 

“Get off? Pretty sure I did that like three minutes ago…” you joke and appreciate his huff of a laugh, “Um, I’m closing, so probably not until like two or three. Don’t worry though, I can give you my number and we can do this again when we’re both free.”

“I’m free later… at two,” his expression was dead serious, “or three, or four, or whenever.” He noticed your brows shoot up and words start to form in your mouth, before you could speak he cuts in, “If you won’t be too tired or anything. I can pick you up?”

“It’ll be pretty late Eds,” you were falling into the trap of his puppy dog eyes, “you don’t need to wait up for me like that, I promise we can see each other again, tomorrow even…”

“Tell me to fuck off if I’m being pushy,” he took your hand in his and mindlessly stroked circles into it with his thumb, “but I’m sort of a night owl, not big on the whole sleeping thing anyways, and I’d love to pick you up from work later.”

“Okay,” you agree, the soft earnestness of his voice snared you, and considered the magic he had just worked between your legs, who were you to say no. The glimmer in his eye and quirked smile at your response had you wishing you had said more than ‘okay,’ wondering what kind of look you would have gotten from a ‘yes, please,’ or ‘I’d love that.’

He drove you back to his trailer, not letting go of your hand during the ride, not even to turn up the music at his favorite parts. He offers to follow you back to your place, insisting that waiting for you to shower and change into work clothes and then drop you off at the Hideout was “on the way” to these supposed errands he had to run. 

You roll your eyes but start to accept that this is the kind of guy Eddie is, insincerity undetectable when he makes these offers. You invite him in, but he opts to wait outside with a cigarette, pacing a bit and then forcing his legs and mind to still by waiting in the drivers seat. 

“Hey hot stuff,” he wolf whistles as you exit your apartment, dressed in your usual black shirt and jeans for work, apron balled up in your bag to put on once you arrive. 

He’s sweet, and sincere. As much as you liked the jab banter between the two of you at the bar, you think you might prefer his sarcastic jokes mixed with sweet compliments and longing gazes more. Not that you weren’t getting that from him at the bar before, there were plenty of longing gazes there too, but now the shared glances are heavy with the knowledge of what his tongue feels like on your cunt. 

A sloppy, exaggerated kiss on the cheek and a ‘go get ‘em tiger’ sends you off into the bar, where your hands will be pouring cheap liquor for the next several hours but your mind will be solely occupied with what your post-work date with Eddie entails. 

The drink special of the night was a mix of anxious anticipation and lustful yearning, shaken too aggressively and served with sunsteady hands. Luckily the Saturday rush kept you mostly focused on vodka sodas and Guinness pours, wiping down sticky surfaces and making change for impatient customers. 

You had assistance behind the bar, and that also meant assistance closing up, finally allowing yourself to start peeking through the window to see if Eddie held up on his promise. Of course he had. He’d been waiting in the lot, scoring a few sales from exiting patrons who knew him previous deals, since long before the bar closed. 

You wipe your sweaty palms onto your apron and ball it up into your bag before bounding across the parking lot towards Eddie, who always seems to have this effortless charisma buzzing around him, a cigarette dangled from his pretty lower lip and posture just slouched enough to still be sexy. Maybe you were biased at this point. 

He pulls you in by your waist, angling his chin up to blow the smoke up into the sky rather in your direction. 

“How was work?” Your cheeks were already starting to grow hot at the feeling of his pinky finger landing on the strip of skin between your shirt and jeans, “Miss me?”

“Bartending’s a lot easier when I don’t have your nosy ass pestering me for free drinks,” you cock your head at him, silently asking for a drag of his cigarette, which he immediately understands and complies, “wasn’t too bad though, happy it’s over,” you exhale. 

“If you’e hungry there’s some fries and a milkshake by the passenger’s seat,” he let you slip from his grasp to spin around towards the van door.

“For me?” you peek through the window, realizing he didn’t just mean extras from his dinner earlier, he had gone out of his way to pick you up a post-work snack.

“Unless you aren’t hungry,” he moves to hop in the drivers side, “In which case you can practice tossing fries into my open mouth while I drive.”

You let a few fries fly across the car seat in his general direction, feeding him the occasional one directly, but inhaling most of them shortly after you peeled out of the parking lot. 

“D’you want me to bring you home, or…” you knew where he was headed with this, a nervous edge to his voice. 

“We can hang out back at your trailer if that’s okay,” you say mid-fry, “as long as I can take a quick shower I don’t mind chilling there.”

He grins like a giddy schoolgirl and grips the steering wheel just a touch tighter, and drives just a bit faster back to the trailer park. As anxious as you felt during your shift, you can’t be bothered to overthink with Eddie leaning towards you with his tongue lolling out of his mouth, making googly eyes at the shake you were downing as his way of asking you for a sip. 

He put the van into park before the wheels had even come to a complete stop, hustling around the front to make sure he was the one to open your door. He had spent some of the time you were away straightening up his trailer for the first time in a good long while. Empty beer cans were cleared and he even changed the bed sheets. It still wasn’t the Ritz or anything, but at least he can say he tried.

He tried to busy himself with locking the door behind you after entering, not wanting to see if your eyes drifted over to the mess of records and smoking pariphenelia that cluttered the coffee table, or the chance that the mixture of heavy metal and nerdy posters strewn about would draw a judgmental reaction. 

When he let his gaze drift back to you, you weren’t looking at any of that. You were looking right back at him, already leaning up on your toes and asking, “Can I kiss you again?” 

A mumbled “of course” had you wrapping your arms around his neck and melting into his touch, finding his lips already on yours before you could go in for the kill. 

The kiss started off French-fry-and-strawberry-shake flavored, smiling into his lips as the anticipation of seeing him again after only a few short hours slips away. 

“Thank’s for spending so much time with me today,” you whisper in between sticky sweet kisses, “and for the fries and-“

He took your cheeks in his hands and smushed your lips into his mid-sentence, pulling back to see the puckered fish face he held between his hands. 

“You’re welcome,” his big button eyes bore straight through you, as if he saw all of you and more, “but you don’t have to thank me, I like being with you, and I ended up eating most of the fries anyways,” he trails off, cheeks rosy and lips slick from your claim on them.

“You wanted to shower?” He cuts himself off, and feels stupid for it. He knew he could keep kissing you and kissing you and kissing you, and the only thing holding him back was his anxious brain and big mouth. 

“Oh, yeah,” you were a little surprised that he remembered, and chose to bring it up now, “if you don’t mind. I always feel a little sticky after work, you know, with the Hideout’s C health rating and all.”

With a smile that nearly knocked the air out of you, he took a deep bow like some silly court jester and motioned down the trailer’s only hallway. You took your lead and followed his outstretched arm, figuring there were only so may doors that could possibly lead to a bathroom. 

“Oh, shit, wait,” you hear him scramble behind you, shuffling past into the door you assume to he his bedroom, emerging milliseconds later with a crumpled towel in his balled up hand, “you’re gonna want this.”

“Thank you,” you’re slow with your movements, wondering how he was acting so squirrelly, like a middle school boy around the girl he wanted to take to the dance, even though he had you fully spread out begging for him in the back of his van only hours earlier, “is the shower big enough for two?”

You meant it equally suggestive and genuine, knowing full well that not all showers are built for partner bathing. However, the fear stricken look that washed across his face for a millisecond before scrunching up and setting to neutral had you thinking you had just asked if there was a built in hot tub or something like that. His mouth hung open and for a moment that conversation you weren’t supposed to hear replayed in your mind, maybe you had to take this slower than he was willing to let on. 

“Just looking for someone to massage my scalp, that’s all,” you try to jokingly play it off, keeping your invitation open but concealing it with a joke to double back on just in case.

“Yeah, it’s- uhhh,” Eddie, who was always quick with a comeback was suddenly lost for words, “It’s the size of a normal shower, yeah.” It’s not like he could lie, all you had to do was turn around and size it up for yourself. 

You take the towel from his white knuckled grip and pivoted towards the door that was close to having burn holes from where his laser focused eyes were shot. You give him a wink over your shoulder, figuring that was enough of an invitation and vague enough of an excuse for him to leave depending on what he wanted. You hated this line you were towing, knowing more than you should- yet still feeling so in the dark. 

He was right, it was a normal sized shower. A bathtub with a sliding door and a detachable shower head with only one working setting. There was a rack with three-in-one and a bar of dove soap, which should have annoyed you but made you giggle instead. You let a quarter sized drop of the generic body wash slash shampoo slash conditioner lather into your hands when you heard the bathroom door creek open, purposefully left unlocked. 

“Hey, is it okay I’m in here?” He sounded so genuine in his concern, unknowing you were on the verge of begging him to get in the shower with you. 

“Yeah,” you borderline shout over the running water, “here to help massage my scalp?” You let your tone stay light and joking despite being deadly serious. 

“Wow I didn’t realize your hands were really that delicate and incapable,” he tried to match your energy, but an anxious edge remained present. 

“I mean,” you searched for your words, “I’ve seen you play Metallica, I know those fingers could surely get this pine scented crap deep into my roots.” You let the suggestive comment linger, nervous after a beat of silence passed. 

“If you really need my help,” you heard him shuffling around , “who am I to turn a damsel in distress away?”

You felt your cheeks get rosy and shoulders wiggle with excitement as you caught the shower door jerk open. Your face was towards the shower head, and you only turned a quarter of the way around before Eddie stepped in behind you and those guitar-string-calloused-hands gripped your shoulders and twisted you back towards your view of the water stream. 

“I’m gonna make you a deal,” his voice was coated with as much charisma as he could muster, his worries only poking through enough for you to notice, “I’ll give you the full treatment, but you can’t turn around.”

You were willing to play along with about any game he suggested. If he asked you to bend over backwards you’d extend your spine as far as it could go. 

You stood with your front as straight towards the shower head as you could, only feeling his presence behind you and his gentle hands lay on your shoulders to assure you wouldn’t turn around. 

“Just let me take care of you,” he edged closer, letting you feel his naked body enter your space, his face craning over your shoulder to gauge your reaction, “Just stay like this and let me feel you.”

It was less of a question and more of a plea, the only thing more pathetic sounding was the whimper that slipped out of you when you felt his body press against your back, warm and hesitant to press all the way into you, but close enough for you to feel his skin. 

“Okay,” you let your head lull back onto the space between his collar bone and shoulder, keeping your eyes closed, not that you could see anything from this angle anyways, “I’ll stay just like this, promise.”

“I just-“ you could hear his walls come up, suddenly trying to find the words to explain himself to you, “I’m not-“

“Eddie,” you whisper, eyes fluttering open to glance up at him as much as you could, “it’s okay. I’ll stay just like this, I’m just happy to be here with you.”

You gently found his hands resting at your hips and guided them up to your soapy scalp, “We both know the real reason I called you in here anyways,” you joked, and angled your head straight forward so he could run the pads of his fingers all through your 3-in-1 coated hair.

He let out a light chuckle at your joke, nearly feeling it catch in his throat as all the passed time of insecurity and locking his feelings away welled up and shattered with the intimacy of washing your hair. What did he do to deserve having you like this? For you to understand and want him to stay anyways? 

As much as his emotions clouded his vision and stunted his breathing, the rush of blood in between his legs broke his internal monologue. As overwhelmed as his mind was, his body couldn’t be convinced to focus on anything other than the sudsy girl pressed up against him, letting out little noises of satisfaction as he let his fingers absentmindedly massage away. 

“This’s nice,” you lean back into him a bit, “it’s like masturbating, you know? Always feels better when someone else does it for you.” You didn’t feel too guilty about the sexually charged comment, considering the fat rod that was pushing into your lower back. 

He let out a short chuckle, but his breathing was rapidly turning heavy as the air clouded with steam and your wet body rubbed against him, fully arching into his erection as if you wanted to get a better feel. 

“Can I wash the rest of you?” his request is polite, but his voice is lust filled and bordering on begging. 

You hum in agreement and lift your arms to let him slip his hands around you, one crossing your chest and the other reaching around to get more gel, “It technically is shampoo and body wash, and I was promised the full treatment here.” 

As much as you wanted to keep joking with him, finding silly things to comment on to break the tension, your resolve was quickly going down the drain as his big hands lathered you up. 

“You’re so beautiful,” his voice is just audible over the rushing of the shower water, “I’ve always thought so, but now I fucking know it.” 

His warm breath against your ear manages to cut through the heat of the steam, making you shiver despite it all. “Eddie,” you whine, his hands running up and down your torso, spending more time on your chest than the rest, but surely showering you in as much attention as his hands could reach.

Knowing that tone from earlier, already committing to knowing your body as intimately as you’ll allow him to, he immediately gives in and touches you exactly where you want him most. 

Most of the bubbles had dissipated, and he held you close to him, with one hand splayed across the center of your chest and the other dipping down to run two fingers through your now parting legs. 

He could feel the slick of your folds, standing out from the water cascading down your body, so warm and wet in a different way. 

“Fucking hell,” he groans out, letting his hips roll forwards slightly to find some friction against your backside, sliding his fingers from your hole up to your clit a few experimental times before letting his middle and ring fingers dip into you. 

When he had gone to town on you earlier in his van, which somehow felt like a million light years ago, you had taken a keen interest to the way his metal rings brushed up against your inner thighs and lower lips when he slipped his digits into you. As much as you had reveled in that new sensation, he had taken all his jewelry off along with the rest of his clothes and reservations before joining you in the shower. And now you could grind down onto his hand until he was completely buried to the hilt of his knuckles, no demon heads or upside down crosses in your way.

You wanted to wiggle and writhe around, feeling a bit week in the knees and desperate to buck your hips down against his pumping fingers. He pressed your chest tighter against him, lips pressed up against your ear, “I thought you promised to be good and stay still for me.”

He could feel your pussy clench at that, letting out a satisfied chuckle and  plunging his fingers right back into your cunt, letting the meat of his palm massage your clit in perfect time. 

“S’ this what you wanted,” his voice had the full bodied confidence of a man who didn’t just ask you to not turnaround to see him without a shirt on, “for me to be all sweet and wash your hair, then make you cum on my fingers like the dirty girl I know you are?” 

The smallest fraction of you wanted to be a brat and joke back at his silly use of shower innuendo, but your mind was almost entirely committed to the feeling of his hands on you and his dick rutting Into the meat of your ass.

“Eddie,” you could barely squeak his name out, “Eddie, can I touch you too, please? Please?” While his voice had been pleading before, you were literally begging to get your hands on him. 

“Like this,” you manage to open your eyes, head still resting against his shoulder and your hand snaking back to where his cock pressed into you, not fully grabbing it but motioning towards it with your hand. 

He snatches your wrist up with the hand not occupied with your tightening pussy, and for a second you fear that you had crossed a boundary. 

As much as you were willing to comply with not looking, you were bursting at the seams to touch him, make him feel good, show him how much you wanted to be right here with him and nowhere else. 

Before your mind could race any further, come to a screeching halt and apologize, he guides your hand up underneath your chin and demands “Spit.”

Your short circuiting brain dashes from his fingers, remaining crooked inside of you, his request, and the tone of voice he used to ask. You were fucked. Drool leaks from your lips before you even have the chance to process his words other than the immediate feeling of oh fuck yes. 

He brings your spit coated hand back to reach around, allowing you to wiggle it in between your wet bodies and find his eager cock already arching into your touch. 

He only faltered for a moment, the consistent dizzying pace of his fingers inside you stuttered the moment he felt your slick palm take an experimental stroke. The moan he let out was involuntary, along with a breathy “Oh, shit.”

Obviously you couldn’t size him up visually, but the weight of him in your palm was enough to have your mouth watering and thighs squeezing his wrist a bit tighter. Uncut? Maybe? With a pretty patch of curls to match his mop top? 

“Just like that, please,” you whine out into the steamy air, the two of you finding a joint rhythm between your hands and subtly rolling hips. 

“Your pussy feels so fucking good, so warm and tight for me,” every other word slurred into the curve of your neck. 

“You’re gonna make me cum,” you try and match his increasing speed with your hand, “Eddie, please don’t stop, I’m-“

“Shhhh,” he was getting lost in it too, “I’ve got you.”

Your legs turn to jelly, but he keeps you steadily upright with his support on your chest, focusing entirely on you despite the welling orgasm of his own rapidly approaching. 

It’s the crack in your voice that pushes him forward, the high pitched breathy moans crumbling and releasing the noises of pleasure from deep within your chest. His name  mixed in with ahhhs and uhhhs as if his name is the only word you know in this moment. 

“That’s right,” a sense of confidence welled in him as your limp body twitched against his and your cunt squeezed his relentless fingers, “cum all over my hand, doing so good for me.”

Despite your orgasm wracking your brain and body succumbing completely to whatever Eddie was willing to give you, the thought of collapsing into the shower floor never crossed your mind. He held you so close and steady against his chest, it crosses your mind that you may not be putting any weight onto your feet at all by this point. 

Rather than catch your breath as you come down from your quaking orgasm, you slip deeper into the throws of pleasure, biting your lip and craning your neck backwards so he can see the fucked out expression on your face. A few more steady, enthusiastic pumps mixed with a desperate kiss, wet and at an awkward angle, breathless and needy, perfect and dizzying, sends Eddie over the edge with you.

The deep rumble of his chest against your back as he groans into your open mouth, encourages you to keep your pace as he gently fucks himself into your hand. He’s spilling into your hand and halting his wiggling fingers buried inside you, letting the momentum that the two of you had built up come to a pulsing end. 

The two of you stay tangled in each other for a moment, hands sticky and brows dewy with sweat despite the running water, which had long lost its heat and now settled at a less than comfortable lukewarm. Neither one of you wanted to move. Eddie would have stayed there until his legs cramped and the shower turned ice cold. 

His eyes were screwed shut, head tilted back, still holding you close until you wiggled from his iron grip to bring your cum covered fingers up to your lips to suck two of them clean. 

“Jesus Christ,” he was thankful that he had opened eyes in enough time to witness that, “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me, you know that?”

You let out a mischievous giggle with his cum coated fingers still in your mouth, glancing over your shoulder to catch the look on his face. Equal parts hungry to pick you up and fuck you against the shower wall right now, and melting down to nothing and slipping away down the drain, unable to even start comprehending what had just transpired between you two. 

You let your fingers go with a pop and turn back around, “Don’t act like you weren’t going to do the same,” you let the chilling water hit your face, focusing on anything other than turning around and lunging at him, wrapping your body around his and letting your skin melt into his. 

He gives into temptation and lets his pruny fingers meet his tongue. He knew what you tasted like from your escapade in his van eaierler, but he’d seize any change he got to take in as much of you as he could. 

“That was,” he started, unsure how to sum how he felt, good, great, perfect, none of those words felt correct, “fuck, yeah- that,”

“Me too,” you press your back into his again, “Thank you Eddie.”

Before he can stumble over his words any more, you ask if he’s okay for you to shut the water off, and you ask if he’d be willing to spare some sleep clothes for you to borrow. You curiously stay in the shower while he takes your excuse for him to leave unseen. 

After toweling off and slipping into the old t-shirt and boxers he left folded up on the counter for you, you found him already dressed and in bed, set criss cross and packing a bong. 

“Post-shower-orgasm smoke, cuddle, then sleep?”

“I’d love nothing more,” you get cozy among the pillows and let the swirling smoke and easy conversation lull you into a comforting half sleep. 

An easy energy settled between the two of you, a silent understanding that you weren’t going to ask him questions, and a building comfort that made him almost ready to show you. 

You slept tucked into his side, and didn’t even mind his snoring or tossing in the night. Every time he rolled over, your sleeping form just found a new way to mold into him. It was the best he had slept in months. 

A steady stream of sunlight blazing directly through the blinds and into your eyes pulled you from your slumber, gorging your groggy eyes to open and crunched up limbs to search for room to stretch. The involuntary fluttering of your eyes and long extension of your libs was far beyond your control. 

“Oh!” You whisper out to yourself once your brain manages to catch up with your waking body, realizing the somewhat compromising position the night had thrown you into, your leg hiked up and clinging to Eddie’s waist, with both your arms scrunching up his t-shirt and leaving a strip of stomach exposed. 

A negligible, unnoticeable few inches between where his sweatpants hung low on his hips and where your gripping arms had balled up his hole-ridden t-shirt stood before your gaze. 

You didn’t mean to stare, and the moment you caught yourself doing so, you quickly and quietly removed your tangled limbs from his and repositioned yourself so that he was half spooning you, eyes facing far away from his unintentionally exposed scar tissue. 

You knew it was probably going to be worse than you were expecting. You hadn’t dedicated much thought to what it could be, or what maybe had happened. You just knew it made him feel like he wasn’t worth your time, and you needed to make him feel seen and safe enough to know that that couldn’t be true. 

Everyone has insecurities, sure. There are surely parts of yourself you weren’t eager to share with the world, let alone someone you’re romantically interested in. You had moved past being astonished that someone who wore gaudy costume jewelry and sang boisterous music for a bar of twelve patrons with the energy of someone who had sold out Madison Square Garden would ever shrink into their shell the way you had seen Eddie. Now, laying in his bed and knowing that whatever it was, the scars were more than what was on his skin.

“Mfffmmm,” he groans and shifts behind you, wiggling beneath the sheets and snaking his arms to wrap around your waist and pull you close into him, “This is nice.”

His morning voice was scratchy and barely above a whisper. 

“I think you just like that my butt is all pressed up on you,” you joke, dodging admiring that you’d rather be here than anywhere in the world in this moment. 

“Yeah, I’m not complaining,” he digs his nose into the side of your neck, “But you smell nice too, ’s nice to wake up to.”

“That 3-in-1’s really doing it for ya?”

“No, you do smell like that a little, but more just like yourself. Girl smell.”

“I’ll get started on that perfume line right away. Girl Smell. Might be a million dollar business venture.”

“I just woke up,” the sleep in his voice melted away and his hands running up and down your sides were more deliberate, “Don’t make fun of me. Plus I’ve got a pretty girl in my bed making me all nervous.”

“Anyone with magic fingers like you has nothing to be worried about,” you keep the conversation playful but allow the unspoken truth, that he truly has nothing to worry about with you, be spoken.

“You just like ‘em cuz I washed your hair so well,” he plays with a strand, letting his finger pads dig into your scalp and scratch away, massaging a bit harder after you let out a satisfied groan.

“You must have lots of practice,” you reach an arm back blindly and half smack the side of his shoulder before finding his messy bedhead, staying resolutely facing the poster-covered wall. 

“You’ve got really pretty hair for a boy,” you let your finger wrap around a curl. 

“For a boy?! Excuse me, I have pretty hair period.”

“Yeah, suppose that’s true” you giggle at his joking defensiveness, “It’s incredible that it’s this nice considering you use the same thing to condition your hair as you do to wash your balls.”

“If you show me what kind of shower products you like I’ll replace the three in one,” he nuzzles his face into the hand playing with your hair, “but maybe the three in one is what’s keeping it so luscious.”

“I wanna wash your hair next time,” you say absentmindedly, meaning it wholeheartedly, with little anxiety after that you had implied a next time. 

“Yeah maybe next time,” his voice trailed off, still soft and flirty but edging on a tone that let you know this conversation was just about over. 

“Eddie,” it came out as hardly more than a whisper. You wait for him to respond but the gravity of the silence between you quickly became unbearable and you needed to break whatever tension this was. 

“I meant it yesterday when I said I wanted to go on more dates with you. You know that right?”

“Mhmm” he mumbles into your shoulder, still holding you against him.

“We have a lot of fun at the bar and stuff,” you search to find your words, “But I want you to know that I don’t just like you cuz you make me laugh and have magic guitar fingers. I like pretty much everything about you so far, and I want to know you more if you’ll let me.”

Your voice wavers, and your message is perhaps more vague than you would have liked, but the deep exhale he lets out conveys that he hears you loud and clear. 

“I know I’ve been…” he starts, “It’s just that I…”

“It’s okay Eddie,” you flip around, rolling so that your chests are pressed together and noses are almost touching, “I don’t want to push it. You can tell me when you’re ready, I just want you to know that I like you a whole lot and I don’t think there’s much that could change that right now.”

His eyelashes flutter shut, forehead touching yours, “Thank you.” 

“Unless you have a huge chest tattoo of something wildly offensive, or like a tramp stamp that says ‘I heart Ronald Regan.” He appreciates your natural ability to make him laugh even in situations like this. 

“Nah,” he pulls back and gives you a serious look, “Fuck Ronald Regan.” 

The two of you burst into a fit of giggles, rolling deeper into the sheets and settling into a comfortable cuddle again, with your head on his chest, face angled up to his and legs all tangled up.

Coming down from the beginnings of the conversation that had been lingering above both of your heads, you place a few reassuring kisses up his jaw and find your way up to his parted lips. 

“Mmmm,” he hums into the deepening kiss to signal you to stop, “I probably have mega morning breath,” he huffs into a cupped hand which makes you laugh and flop your head back into his chest.

“It’s okay, if you do then I do too and didn’t notice,” you peek back up at him, “But if you want to brush teeth and get your day started I won’t stop you.”

“No, no,” he grabs your cheeks and pulls you back up for a smushed kiss, “I wanna stay here all day with you, if you’ll let me. Our second date, we can order a pizza and watch movies here, won’t even have to put pants on.”

“That sounds really nice, I don’t have work today so I’m all yours.”

“All mine,” his grin reaches the apples of his cheeks, “I will go brush my teeth though, cuz I think this second date involves a lot of kissing.”

“Got a spare I could use?” you shuffle out of bed before situating yourself  on the edge of the bed, “Or do you brush with three in one too?”

“Oh my god,” he chuckles, “you with the three in one. After today I promise there will be three separate shower products stocked and ready for your use.”

He manages to find a spare toothbrush in the closet and keeps you wrapped in his arms while both of you take turns spitting into the sink. Looking at the two of you, eyes still crusty from sleep, in the scratched up bathroom mirror, a weird sense of domesticity washes over the two of you. 

Eddie realizes that less than 48 hours ago he was too nervous to make a move to kiss you, and now he was already thinking about making room for your toiletries in his bathroom. 

As comforting and easy it was to do normal everyday things with you at his side, he couldn’t help but notice your nipples poking through his oversized t-shirt you slept in and the way your toothpaste full mouth was framed by your perfect, spit slicked lips. 

“You got a spit kink or something?” You half joke, pressing your ass into the growing rod you could feel nudging against your side.

“Sue me,” he spits and wipes the corners of his mouth, pulling you by the waist into a minty kiss. “Bed? All day?”

“Mhmm,” you agree and lean in to kiss him again, standing on your toes and letting out a shriek of surprise when he scoops you up bridal style and travels the short distance to his bedroom. 

“Eddie!” You yelp out as he gently tosses you back into the pile of sheets. 

“I know I’m no Hulk Hogan, but moving guitar amps is pretty good strength and conditioning.”

“Shut up, you never help your friends carry the equipment.” You think of all the times you watched his poor bandmates lug their equipment after a show while he seamlessly flirted with you. 

“Not when you’re around, you’ve got me there.”

As promised the two of you laze around all morning, bowls of cereal in bed and a bowl of weed to accompany it, switching between fits of giggles and tangled in the sheets while a B horror movie plays on the little TV set propped up near the end of Eddie’s bed. 

He tells you about how he used to live with his Uncle in a trailer down the street until he saved up enough to start renting his own, the three attempts to finish high school and the relief when the local mechanic shop hired him despite his reputation around town as a satan worshiper. He talks a bit about his friends, some who’ve stayed in town and others who’ve long moved away. 

You listen attently, taking in every spared detail. In return he asks you about where you’re from, why the hell you had moved to a bumfuck town in Indiana to be a bartender. He assures you that you wouldn’t have liked him if you had known each other in high school and you laugh and tell him you were far from popular yourself. 

After inhaling a large pizza and running out of VHS tapes you demand a “post pizza bloated cuddle” to which he happily obliges.

“Wish we could do this every day,” he pulls you into him.

“Then we’d need a much bigger movie selection, and maybe body doubles to go do our jobs,” you don’t disagree, although lazy and uneventful the day felt perfect. 

“Don’t wanna go to work tomorrow,” he whines, holding you a little tighter.

“Me either, but we can’t be in this lazy cuddle bubble forever,” his hands came up to massage and scratch your scalp, which he now knew you loved, “but next time we’re both free maybe we can have that third date.”

“If I remember correctly, date three is when I finally get to kiss you,” he jokingly smooches behind your ear and down your neck. 

“Only if you behave,” you reply sarcastically, “you’ve been such a gentleman lately, but you’ve been pushing it mister.” 

“I’ve never been accused of being a gentleman before,” his voice trails off as he buries his nose into your neck, “Will you let me be a gentleman now, make you feel good?” His tone was suddenly dripping with lust, sending a rush of arousal through your already so-relaxed body. 

“Mhmm,” you agree and let your body mold back into his a bit more, pressing yourself against him and letting his hands start to wander.

You arch your neck around from your spooning position and search for his lips, your kiss starting out gentle but not staying that way for very long. 

“You’re just somethin’ else,” he breathes out in between heated kisses, his eyes big and round, earnest, making your heart swell.

“Can I make you feel good too?” you roll your hips into his erection, your breath catching in your throat when you feel it pulsing under his boxers and pressing into the space between your legs. 

You flip around to straddle him, not hiding your intention to grind yourself down onto his covered cock, moans from both of you interrupting the hungry exchange of tongues and lips.

A shaky breath grabs your attention and he finds the air to exhale out, “Can I fuck you?”

You bring your hands to his cheeks to pull him into a deep kiss, continuing to rock your hips against him, giving him words as well you mumble a “Fuck yes, please, please Eddie.”

He finds the hem of your shirt and slips it over your shoulders, the momentary break in kissing makes you whine. He immediately makes it up to you by paying delightful attention to your exposed chest, leaving sloppy wet kisses on every inch of skin he had access to, “fuck”s and “so perfect” breaking them up. 

You instinctively reach down in between the two of you to take his hard cock into your hand, still pressing your core against it, but taking the rest into your hand to stroke him over his boxers, the choked out moan that escapes him is the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard.

You’re losing yourself in the feeling of his weight in your palm, sitting up to see his gorgeous fucked out expression, pinched eyebrows and flushed cheeks.

He swore he’d died and gone to heaven, despite all his sins, with you above him, lip tucked in between your grinning teeth as you rubbed up on him. Fuck, there was no going back after this.

You lean down to resume making out for a moment, missing the feeling of his nose pressed into the side of yours and his too-perfect eyelashes brushing the tops of your cheeks. 

“We can, um-“ you catch your breath, hips stuttering as you find your words, “I can turn around. Or we can make a blindfold or something.” 

His heart swelled at the thought that amidst fucking yourself against his lap you still had the courtesy to think of his comfort, his obvious insecurity, the elephant in the room that he was so desperately trying to shoo away. 

“I want you,” his voice strangely steady, “and I’ll let you have me, no stipulations.” 

You nod with a “Please.”

“Only because, I plan on fucking you every chance I get,” his tone makes you clench your thighs, “So we might as well rip this bandaid off now, because if you’re going to be my girlfriend I don’t want you worrying that I’m hiding something from you.”

He flips you over so you’re now laying beneath him, eyes still glassy with lust and mind swirling with the words he’s just let out.

“I’m gonna take off my shirt now, and I don’t want you to pretend like everything is fine, or that you don’t notice anything, because that’ll be a thousand times worse, okay? I know it’s bad. It doesn’t hurt or anything, but I know it’s not easy to look at.”

With that he pull this black t-shirt off by the back neck collar, and bares his soul to you. You can tell he’s examining your face for a reaction, very carefully managing your facial expressions for his benefit. 

He was right, it wasn’t easy to look at. Only because it made you wonder what horrible thing had happened to leave half of his torso, hip, thigh, and what you could only assume traveled onto his back as well, left entirely torn away and scarred. 

“And-“ he cut off your wandering eyes with his words, “Don’t ask what happened. I’ll tell you eventually I just- We can’t have that discussion if we’re about to have sex.” 

You nodded with understanding, you knew better than to ask. 

You think that your snooping and seed of knowledge helped hide some of your shock, his comment about missing a nipple dampening your realization that he was telling the truth, the scar tissue running so deep that his entire pec was covered in a jagged pink , slightly mishapen scar tissue, and leaving his opposite nipple to stand alone on his chest. 

The one thing that did leave you in a bit of shock was half of a tattoo on his hip that abruptly ended where the scar tissue started. Some sort of zombie head, the black ink lines all coming to a halt when’re his skin had been injured.

You let a tentative hand come up, fearing he’ll flinch away, but he doesn’t. You touch his chest, feeling the textural difference as you let your palm run across his chest and down to his hip. 

“You know, I still think you’re super hot, right?” You try to assure him, but he only lets out a dry chuckle. 

“I mean it,” you sit up a bit, pulling your hand from its exploration of his skin and bringing it to your own chest, using three fingers to cover your left nipple, “you’d still like me, right?” 

The softness in his face almost made you jump up to wrap him into a hug, you wanted him to know that everything was okay and he was safe with you, whatever happened was in the past and he didn’t have to worry. Although the moment was emotionally charged, neither of you could ignore the fact that you were both ravenously horny for each other. 

“I’m sorry you felt like you had to hide this from me,” you pull his face down to yours, “but I’m glad you showed me, because I’m so fucking ready for you to ruin me.”

He lurches forward and lets his body weight collapse down onto you, your legs widening to wrap around his hips, arm and legs locking him against you. 

Feeling his bare chest pressed against yours, lips on your neck and hips rutting into your spread legs, has your head spinning. 

“Please Eddie,” you whine, “let me feel you.”

Without missing a beat he shoves the waistband of his boxers down just enough to reach his thighs, hard dick springing free in the little space in between you, and he snatches your wrist and shoves it in between your bodies without unlatching his lips from your collar bone. 

“Oh fuck,” you couldn’t see what you were grasping, just like in the shower, but you didn’t dare push him off of you to catch a glimpse. He was all over you, hands tangled in your hair, groans and whimpers hardly making their way out in between the wet sloppy kisses he spread across your neck and chest. 

He slips a hand down your body, gracing your ribcage with his fingertips, a stark contrast to how they suddenly part your lips and rub the pool of slick from your hole up to your clit. 

“So wet, this for me?” He quirks and eyebrow and sinks a digit into you, causing your mouth to open and hips to wiggle up to ask for more.

“Yes ’s for you,” you breathe out, wanting to give him some pushback, wipe the smug look off his face, but not finding an ounce of courage to do so. You just let your head lull back and eyelids flutter shut as he curls his fingers perfectly inside you. “All for you.”

You use your free hand to push your underwear as far down your hips as this position will allow, not wanting to shift your focus from the feeling of him on your lips, his pulsing cock in your hand. 

“Need you,” you gasp out, partially at the feeling of his knuckle deep fingers buried inside of you, and equally the fucked out look on his face looming over yours, eyes blown wide and mouth parted on the verge of begging for more, “Eddie, need you to fuck me, please.”

He sits up and removes his fingers from you, earning a wince and a whine. He helps crunch your legs up to remove your panties, leaving your legs raised and crossed over one of his shoulders. He takes a moment to kiss your ankle and tenderly run his hands down the length of your leg. He took the moment to take off his own boxers, leaving you both bare in front of each other for the first time. 

“You’ve got a pretty cock,” you complement him earnestly, it was pretty. He gave you a halfhearted scoff and an eyeball in return. “No Eds, I mean it. It’s big too, good thing you got me ready with your fingers. That and I’ve been soaking wet for you for like 48 hours now, so it shouldn’t be a problem,” you giggle. His shy smile tells you he’s willing to take the compliment. 

You let your legs fall from their perch on his shoulder and fall to either side of his hips, opening yourself up to him. He’s staring, mouth half agape. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, but to have you laid out like this before him, fully ready to give yourself over to him and wanting him wholly in return, how couldn’t he stare. 

You let your hand stroke up his cock, bringing his attention back to where the two of you nearly met. You angle him closer to you, you’re slowly pumping fist brushing against your own center. He snaps out of his trance and nudges your hand away, using his own grip to tap his thick cock against your opening. 

Tap, tap tap. His head meets your slick folds, hips jerking slightly with every tap.

“Don’t tease me Eds,” you push your hips forward and are only met with him rubbing his dick into the outside of your pussy, “want you inside, need it so bad.”

He want’s to be a bother and continue his teasing, watching your writhe and squirm, but he can’t find it in him to deny you, so he presses the tip in and gauges your face for a reaction, only finding babbling bliss and pleas for more. 

He’s sinking into you at an agonizing pace, craning down from his kneeling position above you to frame your head with bent arms and his lips on yours as you moan into each other’s mouths, him filling you more and more. 

Your hands are in his hair, keeping your foreheads anchored together, breathing in tandem. He finally sinks all the way down and you can feel it in your lungs. You wrap your ankles around his back and squeeze him into you tighter, not wanting him to move just yet, wanting to just feel how deep he filled you up for the first time. 

He lets out a shaky exhale and squeezes his eyes shut, “You were fuckin’ made for me,” he punctuates this with a subtle roll forward of his hips, lips falling into yours as if they had nowhere else to go. 

You let your legs fall back, unclasping his hips, and move your hands from his wild hair down to his thighs, pushing him to start fucking you. 

“Feel’s so fucking good,” you whisper into his mouth, your hands hardly assisting him anymore as he pumps in and out of your slick cunt, almost knocking the air out of you each time. 

He grabs your chin with the hand that’s not propping himself up, “look at me,” his pace doesn’t falter and your mind nearly turns to mush, “you’re mine now, yeah?”

“Yes Eddie,” it comes out as a broken sob, your eyes barely able to focus on him with how close he was, “all yours, only yours.” Your mind had barely made the decision to say the words before they had escaped your lips, a dumbfounded truth serum setting over you in your cock drunk state. 

You knew it to be true though, there was no going back after this, and you were willing to give yourself over fully, and accept anything he would give you. 

“Ahh, fuck” you let out after a particularly harsh thrust, fists now dripping the sheets beneath you. 

“So fucking good for me,” his hands now found purchase on your hips, setting a rhythm between you that only a musician could. 

Through glassy eyes you admire him. Curly bangs stuck to his forehead, frantically thrusting torso making his tattoos look like stop motion cartoons, and through it all the scars are hardly noticeable. If anything, they’re just another part of him, the person between your legs that you found incredibly sexy, insecurities and all. 

His perfect hands slid from your hips to your shoulders, now using the weight of your torso as leverage to fuck into you harder. His eyes bore into yours, searching for eye contact and finding your reassuring gaze that told him this was everything you wanted and more. 

“Yes, yes, oh fuck,” you babble out. His little grunts and whimpers send volts of electricity to your core and fog your mind with lust and desire.

He moves a hand down to meet your center, palm splaying across your abdomen and keeping you pinned to the bed, thumb methodically catching your clit with each thrust. He didn’t have to ask if it felt good, the rolling back of your eyes and mouth so wide he could see your molars were enough of an indication that he was headed in the right direction.

“Mhmmmm,” you could hardly form words, but smiled up through your fucked out gaze at him, wide beam and lust fulled eyes telling him that he couldn’t possibly be making you feel any better than you do right now. 

He leans back a bit, balancing himself on his thighs keeping his pace, thumb on your clit and eyes locked into yours. Through a groan he brings his unoccupied hand up to his face, biting down on the knuckle of his pointer finger, trying not to blow his load at the feeling of you squeezing around him. 

Of course, this only made him look hotter to you, and thus you flexed around his cock even tighter. 

Unexpectedly, he pulls out of you completely and before you can muster up the breath to complain, he’s dipped his lapping tongue against you. He fully buries himself into your cunt, cutting off the rhythm, of his cock with the somehow perfectly timed pulsing of his hungry tongue. 

You can’t help but cry out, arch your hips, and send a hand flying to his hair to ground yourself. Through frantic panting and wet slurping sounds you think you can make out a “just had to taste you.”

Completely breathless, you can hardly conjure a response before he’s plunging into you again, fucking into you deeply and capturing your parted lips into a passionate kiss.

Something takes over you, and you’re suddenly wrapping your legs around his hips and using some found momentum to flip the two of your over. Suddenly, you’re on top of him, his curls splayed around his pretty face and body laid flat beneath you. 

Before you had a moment to question yourself, you anchor your hands onto his shoulders and try your best to pick up the pace he had set earlier. Hips rolling and wet slapping sounds coming from between you. 

“Jesus- fuck,” he stuttered in his movements, unsure if he wanted his hands on your face or your tits or your hips or… they landed on your ass and he wouldn’t argue with his first instincts. 

“Eddie, I’ve wanted you like this for so long,” your words were breathy and mixed with lustful gasps, “always wanted to have you like this.”

“We could have done this a long time ago, huh?” He tries not to think about all the time wasted, and instead fantasies about all the making up for lost time you’ll do in the near future. 

“You were always giving me those eyes while you played with your band,” you looked angelic to him, face hovering above him, framed only be the poor overhead lighting and flickering VHS menu of the last film you’d finished, “I always wanted you, just wasn’t sure you wanted me like this too.”

Your statement was simple enough, but he knew what you meant. You wanted him more than a fuck, and that’s what he had been worried about all along. Now, to have you sunk down on his cock like this, telling him that you had been scared in the same way as he had, only made him roll his hops up into you and pull your cheeks down for a sloppy kiss to seal the deal. You were finally on the same page. 

Switching from a bounce of your hips, you lean back slowly and shift to more of a roll, keeping his cock buried deep inside of you while you gyrate your hips. Your arm extends back in between his spread legs to keep you stable, your torso finding its own rhythm in the midst of pleasure and fucking yourself onto his cock. 

“So fucking perfect,” he gasps out, hardly able to take in the sight of your body writhing and rolling above him. He manages to find bait of sense in his brain and brings his hand back to your lower stomach, thumb flicking over your clit with every thrust of your hips. 

“Oh,eddieohmygosh,” it came out as one breathy syllable, “pleasedon’tstopthat.”

He gently fucks himself up into you, matching your movements and not throwing you off of the sinful rhythm you’ve set, just managing too punctuate each bounce with the raise of his hips into yours and the increased pressure of his thumb on your clit. 

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he loves the way each breathy word out of your lips is matched with the beautiful bounce of your tits, “Eddie, you’re gonna-“

He doesn’t change a thing, the pressure on your clit, the arch of his hips, he would sooner die than rob you of pleasure or ruin this moment. Every moment he get’s to look at you, he thinks it’s the most beautiful you’ve ever looked, but he knows for sure that this one takes the cake. 

“Ahhh, I’m-“ you don’t  have to finish your statement for him to know you’re cumming on his cock, the pulsing squeeze of your walls and intense concentration from him not to bust on the spot, and rather to focus on the parting of your lips and the twitching of your hips on his. 

“That’s it,” he keeps his thumb on your clit, but lets up on the pressure as soon as he feels you jerk against him, “that’s my girl.”

You lurch down and wrangle him into a kiss, only wanting to feel his lips on yours as you come down from your orgasm. You’re still slowly rolling your hips against his, but focused more on the feeling of his cheeks under your palms and his lips on yours. 

“You okay?” He asks in between tongue tied kisses. 

“Yes, perfect, thank you,” you arch your back into him a bit, “ready for more.” 

Although you were fully prepared to bounce on his cock until he came, you were pleasantly surprised when his large hands surrounded your waist and hoisted you up off the bed. He wanted to try and keep his cock inside you, but accepted defeat as he managed to situate on the edge of the bed.

He shifted around you and situated himself in between your legs. You laid out, everything below the knees hanging off the edge of his hand-me-down mattress. He stood above you and lowered himself to land a few wet kisses on your breasts, his hard cock pressing into your needy center. 

He jerked you up by the underside of your knees, pressing your thighs into your chest and sinking down into your open pussy, causing a deep groan to emit from both of you.

Here he was, scars and all, standing above you and thrusting into you as if it was the last thing he would ever do, and he looked like an angel to you. 

More thoughtful than you may have initially given him credit for, his thumb finds your clit again and he politely, yet breathlessly asks, “Can you come again for me, pretty girl?”

How could you say no to that. You dumbly nod and throw your head back against the sheets, your hands balled up at your sides as he thrusted into you, grunting and moaning your name. 

“So fucking good Eddie,” you manage to squeak out, “You make me feel so fucking good.”

“Ah fuck, yeah, yes,” his voice nearly jumped an octive, signaling his release. “Where should I-“ he began to ask.

“Inside,” it came out as two syllables in-between breaths, “It’s okay you can come-“

“Fuuuuuck,” a strangled moan and a collapse of his arms, along with the delicious pulse of his cock inside you signaled his release. 

Before you could eve catch your breath, regain consciousness of the situation, he was reeling back and replacing his softening cock with two fingers. He latched his lips to your clit and began to suck in time with his finger’s replication of his cock’s earlier movements. 

“Oh my god,” you were truly taken aback, his face buried in your cunt and setting you back on track to your building orgasm. 

It didn’t take more than a minute and a half of him slurping your mixed releases from your cunt and bullying your g-spot with those damn magic fingers to send you hurdling towards orgasm number two, shaking and crying out his name. 

It wasn’t until your legs were truly shaking and your hand was searching for his forehead to push him away from overstimulation that he finally let up and let up of your pussy with a wet pop and a smug look.

“You come?” He asks again, just as he had in the back of his van. 

You don’t have the energy to respond, only roll your eyes and flip him the bird as you flop back down onto his bedsheets. 

He managed to get you a warm rag and a cold glass of water, stroking your har and asking if you felt alright.

“Feel perfect Eddie,” you say after a long gulp, “you took such good care of me, you always do.”

He stroked your hair and positioned the two of you back comfortably beneath his sheets. “Thank you,” he starts, but you cut him off with a kiss. 

“No, thank you,” you kiss him again, “for trusting me.” The look in your eyes could nearly make him melt. “You’re really something special Eddie, I mean it.”

“Special enough for a fourth date?”

You smack his chest and bury your head into his neck. “I don’t think we have to count dates if I’m your girlfriend now…”

Those dimples you adore perk up on his cheeks, and he bear hugs you, scarred chest and all. 

“What time should I set the alarm for tomorrow?” He asks with a sorrow in his voice. 

“How about never,” you roll over to trample him with another kiss, smothering his body in yours, knowing you’d be luck enough to have many moments like this soon to come. 

A/N: I'm sorry I have long lost the tracking of a taglist (crying emoji) don't want to bother anyone who asked to be added the last time I wrote a pic ten thousand years ago, so I hope this reaches everyone it needs to <3

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #smut #Eddie munson imagine #Eddie munson #stranger things smut #Eddie munson fanfiction

[cdlum]

I just wanted to say I think your art style is awesome! I was wondering if you had any tutorials on how you draw anatomy in your style (hips and legs especially)? Sorry if there's already one posted and I just didn't see it 🥲. Happy New Year :>

thanks for the kind words. i tend to draw people pretty stylized and then some so a good bit of artistic licence gets used. these tips are just what i use so feel free to take them with a grain of salt. with anatomy in particular you can kind of talk in circles because human/animal bodies are that complex so ill just zone in on the points you specified. here's a little image with a bunch of pointers:

the above image condenses a lot of the points I'd make, but basically the key parts are to start with the bare essentials and build up that complexity. using a line of action is a good way to get a quick, rough start. you draw a line out in the general direction of the pose and do your best to adhere to it to give the pose a sense of flow.

you can also draw smaller, thumbnail versions that throw a lot of caution to the wind but capture the basic energy of what you're going for. even having a tiny little stick figure version of your idea can make for a good guideline of where to take it forward.

when it comes to actual limbs, you wanna consider how they integrate and work together, kind of like how chains do. you can see on some of the parts of pear i've drawn out these wireframes to kind of portray how the mass of her legs works in a three dimensional space. for aspects like the waist/hips, i use that X technique i highlight above a lot, particularly for the lower torso. a lot of the times, even when drawing a character totally naked, imagining them wearing things like skintight underwear can help a lot to guide you in the right direction.

its also a good idea to consider things like gravity and weight to a degree. humans are essentially big meat sacks and gravity is always pulling down on that, but theres all kinds of aspects that effect that, such as character build or clothing. pear technically isn't naked in this, but i've tried to imagine her as such and take that into account.

if you are drawing digitally, don't be afraid to take advantage of the convenience you get with that workflow. you can retry and iterate on things a lot faster that pen and paper, and do things that aren't really feasible at all when it comes to editing and modifying your existing work. things like resizing certain bodyparts, instantly flipping the canvas, or using selection tools to completely adjust the positions of parts of your drawing. to give you an example heres a timelapse with all the little edits i made just to this demo drawing:

you don't have to use these techniques linearly, either. sometimes ill have a really solid idea for a piece in my head, and go back to basics with certain elements if they’re not coming out right or i just want to brush them up a bit more. some of the tutorial-y parts i added in i didn't actually use during the drawing but often do use so they're there just for demonstration. not every drawing i do starts as building blocks or a really basic version, often ill just start with a face and build it out from there.

i always encourage liberally using references (this can include yourself) and trying out stuff like life drawing or looking at things like existing photographs of real people/places/things if you can, the more you use learning material the better you'll draw up a mental inventory in your head that you can rely on more and more. some of these tips are things i've learned from other artists over the years (the chin one especially i remember seeing a tutorial about lol), so this is a lot of knowledge i've amassed from other sources over time myself. there are plenty of times ill use all sorts of reference material and its all in service of arriving at the final destination as smoothly as possible. learn by doing, as they say. hope this helps!

#tutorial #2024

[jooniperbonsai]

My Bloody Valentine (jjk)

Pairing: Vampire!Jungkook x human reader (afab)

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 13.9k

Release date: Thurs. February 15, 2024

Genre: smut, fluff, humor, hella angst

Summary: You don't understand why your vampire boyfriend is so caught up in the idea of a silly holiday, until you realize it's about more than just candy hearts.

Warnings: Blood (duh), swearing, blood drinking, lots of angst, allusion to jungkook being bisexual, alcohol, brief description that sounds similar to disordered eating, jungkook is clingy and kind of a brat, so is reader tbh, accusations/assumptions of cheating, both are conflict avoidant which makes things worse, discussions of death and infertility, references to opiate addiction, medical theft, uh y/n kind of non-consensually feeds jungkook her blood, oral sex (m/f), masturbation (m/f), fingering, temperature play, unprotected rough sex, clit spanking, biting kink (!!!! just be warned lol), choking, dirty talk, mention of menstrual sex/oral kink, mention of somnophilia, creampie

a/n: Hi! Happy (late) Valentine’s Day! Thank you all for your enthusiastic support for this fic. I hope it exceeds your expectations (as it exceeded mine). I have some extra thoughts that I’ll leave at the end of this fic to avoid spoilers, but I hope you enjoy my little y/n and vampire Jungkook couple as much as I do. I would like to thank p for talking this universe through with me until it made sense.

“All I’m saying is that Halloween hardly feels like a holiday about vampires!”

“As opposed to what? Christmas?”

You’ve been standing in your kitchen arguing with your boyfriend for so long that the once-scalding cup of coffee in your favorite mug is now cold. Jungkook is sitting on the bar stool against the counter, his white shirt rolled up his forearms to reveal a similar pale shade underneath. You can see the corded tendons of his arms flex as he wrings his hands together in frustration. 

When you woke up this morning, it was not from a lazy well-slept haze you were expecting to have. Instead, you had awoken to a crash coming from the kitchen, sending your heart jolting as you tried to make sense of the world and the source of the noise. 

Buttercup, your cat and usual suspect for mischief, mewled angrily from her perch as she, too, eyed the wrongfully accused sleep disruptor. As she arched her back in one long, tail-shaking stretch, she glared at you and then twirled herself around to face the wall before settling back into her bed with a final huff. 

If it wasn’t Buttercup, then it could only be one other creature. 

You’d padded your way down the hall to the kitchen, only to see Jungkook already dressed and swearing to himself as he gathered the shattered pieces of a glass measuring cup and what looked like orange juice into a pile with a wet dish rag. 

“Don’t come any closer!” he shrieked, and before you could even open your mouth to assure him you’d be fine, he'd already swooped you into the living room and onto the couch. “Don’t move!” he ordered and because you heard the sharp warning creeping into his tone, you obeyed. 

An hour and a half later, the kitchen is a mess from what you now understand to be Jungkook’s attempt at cooking you breakfast for Valentine’s Day, a holiday that you both agreed you wouldn’t celebrate.

You take a sip of your coffee, trying not to wince at how it still somehow tastes burnt through the too-sweet pink sugar cookie creamer he’d doused it with when he insisted on making you a cup. 

“No, of course not. Y/N! But don’t you think Valentine’s Day should be more about vampires?” 

You snort, and the residual coffee on your tongue shoots to the back of your throat, sending you into a coughing fit. 

“What?” You say when you finally regain composure. You set down the mug and glance around for a single cup in your kitchen that hasn’t been dirtied in this process of making…well…you’re not sure what. There’s some burnt edges of something in the sink, but a weird goo glazing various bowls that somewhat resembles pancakes. However, a bright green lump of…maybe spinach?...rests in those as well, so you’re not entirely confident where he was going with this execution. 

Jungkook isn’t usually this oblivious to human tendencies, mostly because it wasn’t so long ago that he himself was a human. In the year you’ve been together, you’ve learned all about Jungkook’s swift descent into vampirism. Unlike many of his kind, he’s a fledgling. He was turned a handful of years ago and doesn’t exist in the ancient, strange accents and customs form of vampire some know. Nor is he a sleepless, sparkly teenager with superhuman speed. Yes, he has fangs, is paler than the normal person, and he will not (you think) age. But as someone who has maintained his twenty-something appearance, this currently presents as a non-issue because, if still alive, he would still be a twenty-something. 

And unlike the stereotypes of his kind, Jungkook is not in a decades-long bloodlust. Lust, perhaps, but it’s unknown if that’s because of his vampirism or because he’s a horny man. The one who changed Jungkook did so in a dark night club in Paris between searing hot kisses, where he slid his fangs along Jungkook’s throat while rutting against him on the dance floor. Jungkook, in that drunk and sex-induced haze, never suspected that the slight sharpness tracing along his jugular, sending a delicious chill down his spine, would result in him waking up three days later in a hotel in Vienna with nothing more than a vague note of warning and a few plastic bags of blood chilling in the mini fridge. 

While he doesn’t consume much now beyond A or O positive, Jungkok often cooks you meals so you’re not as tired when you get home from work. It’s sweet, but you know that he does it for himself, for the reminder of his humanity and, as he once admitted himself, for the fact that more energy saved from you not cooking means more energy for him to fuck out of you seven days a week. 

“I’m going to need you to explain your reasoning behind that logic,” you say, and finally locate a clean cup to fill with water. 

Jungkook grunts, and when you glance over at him, you can see he's pouting, his dual lip rings pulled under one of his fangs. 

“Well,” he says, tense, “I just thought…with all this stuff, Valentine’s Day should be more about, you know, vampires? Blood? Red? Hearts?”

“Baby,” you laugh, and fish around on the cluttered countertop for something to eat until you spot a bowl of strawberries tucked behind a jar of kimchi. Your stomach growls. “Valentine’s Day uses the heart motif because of love. You know that. You weren’t born yesterday.” 

He rolls his eyes in annoyance and you furrow your brow before popping the sweet fruit into your mouth. What is going on with him today? 

“Yes, I know I wasn’t born yesterday! Thank you for the reminder! But I’m saying that Halloween is this holiday that makes vampires into these beasts who suck and drain all the blood from bodies or sleep in coffins! Beware the dark corners of the world or else they’ll get you! But Valentine’s Day, what even is this about? A fat naked baby who spears you with an arrow and suddenly you’re in love with someone? Sounds way more monstrous to me! And people embrace this guy? People want him to stab them so they can be all fluttery in love and get all these nice things. But I have to be seen as this awful monster all the time? It’s just not fair!” he shouts, and swipes his hand across the counter. 

You gasp as you watch an empty plastic container clatter to the ground before he brings his hands up to cover his face. 

Jungkook isn’t one for temper tantrums. While he does have a tendency to be more sensitive, throwing things, even empty containers, is very out of the norm for him. You remember early on in your relationship, he once used a little too much of his supernatural strength to hit you with a pillow when you were both goofing off, which resulted in you being smacked right off the bed with the wind knocked out of you. 

You spent the rest of the day posted up on the couch under his orders, while he waited on you hand-and-foot despite the fact that once you recovered (mostly from laughter), you were perfectly fine. It led to an eventual discussion about how you weren’t so breakable, where you proved your point by showing him just how flexible you were. 

Which is why now, as Jungkook huffs all over the place, you know something is seriously wrong. 

You move away from the strawberries and walk around the kitchen island to Jungkook, gently pulling his hands down.

“Hey,” you whisper, looking up at him. His hair has fallen into his face, disheveled from all his fussing in the kitchen and the many times this morning you’ve seen him running his fingers through it. 

Jungkook yanks his hand away and stands, pushing away from the counter before stomping into the living room and pacing angrily. You follow him.

“Hey,” you try again, firmer. “You gonna tell me what is going on? Because normally you don’t leave a giant mess of whatever that is going on in the kitchen before you walk away from it, and you especially don’t walk away from me when I’m trying to talk to you.” Your jaw sets and you stand in the doorway, crossing your arms as you watch him pace. 

He responds with a sarcastic laugh. “Yeah, well that’s a start. Can’t even fucking cook my girlfriend a meal on this stupid holiday.”

This is exactly why you told Jungkook you don’t want to celebrate Valentine’s Day this year. All week long he’s been making snarky comments about it, from rants about the greeting card company’s agenda to explaining how it’s become over-the-top and overrated to now, as of this morning, promoting vampires as the superior holiday mascot to Cupid.

Truthfully, you’ve always liked this holiday. When all the post-holiday sales were running months ago, you’d noticed a deal on the record player Jungkook had been eying for months but would never let himself have. His last one had started to break right after you two started dating, but he was always a good sport about it, cracking jokes about how the old-timey canned sound it produced didn’t play Eminem, but “Eminesquire the Third”. Prompted by the desperate need to replace the tinny echoes that haunted your apartment, you didn’t hesitate to snag this gift for him and immediately wrapped it before shoving it under your bed to give to him today. 

Well, that was until all this started a little over a week ago. Up until that point, he’d seemed fine, never mentioning an opinion on Valentine’s Day. Then one morning you woke up and saw him complaining about how since he turned he would never be able to eat chocolate again. Which was incredibly dramatic, because Jungkook can eat if he wants to, but he chooses not to since it doesn’t do anything for him anymore. 

Every mention of the holiday since, from the ads popping up on his phone to the colorful heart shaped decorations in store fronts, has made him irate and hostile. 

“Listen, I don’t know what’s going on, but I didn’t ask you to make me breakfast,” you huff, now offset by his bad mood. “Like, I know that I told you last week we didn’t have to do any of this. So I’m not sure why now you’re trying to make some grand gesture of breakfast or stomping around arguing with me about the politics of vampires being a traditional mascot for Halloween instead of Valentine’s Day or how dumb you think this holiday is.” 

His nostrils flare. “Well excuse me for trying to be a good boyfriend and do something nice for you!” 

“What?” Heat flashes through your entire body as you feel the thin hold you have on your anger slip. “Oh, I see. So this is all about me is it? This is my fault? Tell me, when I go in there and clean up your mess of all my food you wasted by doing this nice thing I didn’t ask for, is that also for me as a treat? Or is that going to be leftover in the fridge for me to clean later?” 

Jungkook’s eyes narrow as you match his anger. He opens his mouth to speak, but you raise your eyebrow, daring him to try. 

“Ah ah,” you warn, your voice laced with venom. “I’m not fucking done speaking.”

He slides his tongue over his teeth instead before sucking in his lips. 

“So, after I noticed it hurt you and said we didn’t have to do it, after I promised you I didn’t mind if we skipped the theatrics of this holiday, you what? Took it out on me? How the hell is this being a good boyfriend, Jungkook? How is you shutting me out for the last week, pouting and being an absolute brat doing me any favors? Showing you love me?”

You begin to feel the fury recede into something worse: pain. It settles over the heat, moving back down into your throat with a sharp lump. 

“You wanna talk about shutting someone out, Y/N? Really?” Jungkook roars, halting his anxious movement. “That’s rich considering the secrets you’re keeping!”

Your brain buzzes with confusion and anger. You rewind the conversation, trying to form connections that would lead to this accusation. 

“Are you serious? Wh-Do you think I’m cheating or s-something? Jungkook who the fuck do you think–” Your voice cracks, and you heft a heavy sob from your chest. 

Never in your relationship have you two ever suspected the other of cheating. You’ve always been so certain of each other, that you two would never stray, that your connection and the very nature of your relationship demonstrated a type of bond that didn’t present anyone else as an option simply because you never wanted anyone else. 

But given how things have been going, how Jungkook has been hiding things from you, you are starting to wonder if that’s not the case, if him pulling away isn’t to try to protect himself from getting hurt. 

You’ve also tried not to notice how this month, when you counted the inventory of the blood bags stashed in the back of the freezer, it wasn’t nearly as empty as it usually was. You considered that maybe Jungkook just wasn’t thirsty, that maybe some of the bags you’d snagged from work, one of them being plasma, were satiating his hunger more than usual. With how Jungkook is looking at you now, eyes wide with the shock of your address, you can see you were wrong, the faint circles of thirst tugging under his eyelids. 

You pull your shirt sleeve up to wipe your dripping nose, only to see it’s stained blue from some mysterious breakfast ingredient. 

“I’m not saying you’re cheating, Y/N! God why would you think that! Fuck, no, this.” He produces a folded up envelope from his back pocket and shoves it toward you. 

You sniffle and take the envelope, noticing it’s addressed to you. From your work. 

Your stomach sinks. You know exactly what that is. “You know what? I’m going to take a shower,” you mumble, and you see in your periphery Jungkook’s head snap toward you. 

“What?” he says exasperated. “Now? We–”.

You nod, choosing not to look at him now as you cut down the hall and shut the bathroom door firmly behind you.

You and Jungkook met, ironically, at a blood drive. 

You were both volunteering to hand out snacks and mini water bottles to donors at the drive. This was a few months before Jungkook had gone on his Eurotrip, a few months before he would never again be able to volunteer with clinics to help patients. 

While you’d met back then, and certainly had some chemistry that resulted in one really sexy car makeout ending with his hand down your scrub pants and you panting into his neck, it wasn’t until a few years later you’d reunited. 

Jungkook had been pacing around the clinic near closing time, his thirst becoming far more unbearable by the hour. He had been trying desperately to avoid consuming human blood, but the various city rats or injured birds he was drinking from were still racking him with unfavorable guilt and an almost hazy sickness you remember sinking his features. 

When you went to leave that night, you’d spotted Jungkook propped up against one of the glass doors, pale, with heavy bruise-like markings under his eyes. He was conscious, you’d noted, despite the fact that you couldn’t detect a pulse and his skin felt harder and icy to the touch. When you grabbed your phone to call an ambulance, he knocked it from your hand, instead begging you for a bag of blood. 

“I can’t do transfusions, Jungkook, not here. That’s why we need to get you the hospital, so we can you look you over and–”

“No, Y’N, that’s not what I mean.” He’d laughed and flashed you a weak smile. “I don’t need a transfusion.”

“Then, what––.”

And that’s when you saw them: his fangs. 

When you’d heard about Jungkook going missing in Paris, randomly disappearing in the night and showing back up months later with no story to share, there were rumors circulating that he’d started doing drugs and lost his job at the record store because in Europe he got hooked on opiates. 

And you’d so easily believed that lie, though it soured your stomach. What other explanation was there for someone disappearing and coming back more pale, less human? You simply continued on with your work, finishing school in between and finding a more permanent presence at the clinic as a phlebotomist.

Feeling guilty, you turned around and headed back into the building, emerging with two bags of warm blood that you watched him practically shotgun in the passenger seat of your car. You didn’t tell him it was your blood, but as he told you later, he knew anyway. He could smell your particular flavor dotting the bandage. 

Slowly, you and Jungkook became closer, you swiped a blood bag here and there from the clinic when no one was looking, sitting with him as he told you the story of him turning or the first time he fed. It seemed too surreal to be true, but as the dark circles under his eyes began to fade over the weeks, and his laugh started sounding more round and full, you felt like there was no way you could deny who he was, or more importantly, how he made you feel. 

Being around Jungkook was addicting, which was evident in how easy it became for you to steal blood from the clinic without thinking twice. At first, you felt awful, knowing that each bag you were taking could very well be taking away someone else’s chance at life. But the more you thought about Jungkook, how he was just as alive as any human– how he feathered his fingers through his hair or how just a few years ago he breathed and moaned before you in the backseat of your car– what really was the difference between giving him blood versus some other person? Didn’t both bodies need it to survive? 

The months ran on, and the crisp fall days that welcomed Jungkook back into your life were becoming tender, warmer as the early blooms of spring replaced them. Jungkook, too, was warmer, his body full and flushed with blood as he finally returned to as much of a human as he can be, reaching for your hand when you two walked through the park together, or falling asleep on your stomach while watching a movie. 

Vampires sleep, you learned, though it’s not so much necessary as it is habitual, as Jungkook explained. He once tested himself to see how long he could go without sleeping, and as it turned out, the answer was evidently forever, for he managed three weeks not feeling groggy in the slightest. But sleeping helped time pass. Nights were lonely when the only people he wanted to interact with weren’t around, and grappling with being some shade of immortal often led Jungkook into a spiral as he processed time passing. 

Therefore, sleep was welcome when it came. Especially with you, who he could tuck himself close to, and the soft beat of your heart served as his lullaby.

That’s when you knew that you loved him: when he told you that he went to sleep for you, that otherwise, he waited for you to wake up so he could see you again. 

You’d become just as addicting to be around as he was for you, and you trusted it wasn’t just because you were his favorite teller at the blood bank who snuck him a withdrawal. 

It was because he loved you too.

The fog on the bathroom mirror doesn’t show your reflection currently, but if it did, you know you’d see Jungkook standing behind you silently as you brush your teeth. Despite his stillness and his ability to appear without making a sound when he wants, your body reacts to Jungkook like a magnet pulled toward metal. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks finally, and you rinse your mouth. 

“Because, I didn’t want you to feel guilty,” you say and reach for the envelope you left on the bathroom counter before your shower. 

After a year of sneaking blood from the clinic, one year of popping plastic bags your into pockets after writing them off under a sealing failure or manufacturing issue or recording less volume in the official donation records or claiming a miscount in inventory, you were finally caught last week with a warm bag of blood in your possession.

Stupidly, you’d popped it into your purse right before an end-of-day meeting and in the rush to make it on time, you didn’t zip everything closed securely. When you inevitably knocked your knee onto the table while shifting to get more comfortable, your purse tumbled to the floor, exposing the vermillion contents within, and issuing you an immediate suspension. 

Suspension, instead of fire only for the singular fact that the bag of cooling blood was your own. 

You had known for a while that the clinic’s director of operations was becoming suspicious. The entire team had been subject to instances of recertification and retraining to try to address whatever issues that were leading to so many mishaps. It would only be a matter of time before the records kept showing your name attached to these transgressions, though you were almost relieved when you’d learned there were other various cases of blood loss occurring for factors you weren’t responsible for, most notably some interns who kept forgetting to put the bags containing red blood cells in the refrigerator, or who were not filling the entire bags, disqualifying the entire sample. 

Overall, it would be safer to divest from your current plan, but finding an alternative to feed Jungkook was more difficult than you thought. You knew given the shortage of blood donations, you could no longer keep gleaning from work or other affiliates as resources. 

But you also couldn’t convince Jungkook to feed from you. 

You’d tried many times in the last year when he was dizzy or grumpy from thirst. And every time without fail, he refused. 

“I haven’t even bitten anyone before,” he admitted one day, the dark circles under his eyes especially purple. His stubborn refusal slurred his speech into a lisp. “And I don’t intend to start now! Especially not with you!” 

You’d dropped the subject, rooting around in the freezer until you found a blocky pint underneath a tub of freezer-burned ice cream. 

But Jungkook had drunk your blood before on that first night at the clinic. And maybe if you executed things carefully, you could supplement some packets of your own blood in to help him get by. That way, he wouldn't have to bite you, but at least he would be fed. And you wouldn’t be at risk of imprisonment for medical theft. 

So that’s what you started to do, slowly introducing him to your blood by creating fake donor names with the label machine and reprinting the same barcode as you filled bag after bag over the weeks. 

And then last week, you got caught, your only assurance that you might only be suspended rooted in the fact that you hadn’t had the time to issue a fake label for the bag before the meeting. 

And, because the blood was still warm in its pouch, because your arm had only just stopped bleeding, your case that you made of the blood being yours wasn’t entirely unreasonable. But what no one could understand was why you needed a bag of your own blood in the first place, much less why you were doing your own draw of it. 

They confiscated the bag, as well as a small sample you offered for lab comparison to confirm it was yours, and they sent you home with the letter almost like you were a kid who was in trouble at school. 

Your suspension is in effect until the board meets later this week to discuss your case, at which time you’ll be informed if you’re terminated or if you’ll be put on probation. 

You’ve accepted that you might be fired, but what you couldn’t  accept is the idea that Jungkook would definitely blame himself if he found out. Which is why you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him when it happened. If you did, you knew you would also have to admit to him that you have been non-consensually feeding him your blood instead of others’, which was a conversation you’d hoped to avoid until you were sure he would understand. Instead, you fucked up, and it’s all the more apparent as Jungkook frowns at you in the bathroom.

You rinse your mouth of the toothpaste, feeling a huge shard of guilt pierce your stomach. 

“I wouldn’t have let you keep doing this if I’d known you were at risk of losing your job,” he mutters. “You already know I feel shitty even relying on you like this.”

“That’s exactly my point! That’s why I didn’t tell you! Because I knew we would end up here!”

“And that’s why this is a problem! You are failing to see how fucked up it is for me to have to depend on you to feed me!”

“Why?” You snap, and you immediately regret it, giving him an apologetic frown. “Sorry, I mean. Why do you feel so shitty relying on me? We’re partners, Jungkook.” 

“Yeah, Y/N, we’re partners. Which means we are supposed to communicate with each other about things. That doesn’t mean you risk your entire career for me.” 

“But doesn’t it, though?” You argue. 

Jungkook groans and then wets his lips with his tongue before speaking. “No, baby. You’re not supposed to be making sacrifices like this! Not for me! Fuck, you shouldn’t be doing shit like this at all! You should be going to work, kicking ass, and then coming home to eat real food with your real boyfriend before you have incredible sex and then fall asleep!”

You cock your head at him, confused. “But, Jungkook, we already do that stuff.”

“No, we don’t, Y/N. You go to work, orchestrate some grand scheme to basically illegally harvest strangers’ blood during a national shortage, you come home and you eat. But I don’t. I leech off of someone else’s platelets. And then we have sex, and you fall asleep. And sometimes I do. But sometimes, I can’t. Because all I want to do is dream of you and I can’t do that anymore. Because I’m not real, Y/N, I’m literally a monster.” 

You shake your head furiously and step toward him. “Listen. I made the choice to do this. Ever since the first day when you showed up at the clinic. I could have left you behind, I could have insisted to take you to the hospital anyway or put you in a headlock or something–”

“You are way too weak to put me in a headlock, even on that day,” he chuckles. 

“I would have figured it out! But I had a choice in this Jungkook, just as much as you did for showing up, for asking me to help you. You could have gone somewhere else, or broken into the clinic after I left. You could have continued to live a half-life with a diet of rats and the occasional squirrel. But you chose this. You made choices, too.”

You push your toweled body into him, desperate for his touch. This is how you often are with him, needing him to ground you, to make sure you don’t spin out of control. He sighs, and you feel him circle his arms around you, his nose nuzzling into your wet hair. You shiver at the contact. Your shower must’ve been hotter than normal, because Jungkook feels almost like ice against your skin, much colder than his normal, albeit cooler temperature. 

“Fuck, Jungkook, when was the last time you ate?” you ask. 

He stiffens, then withdraws from the embrace.

“Get dressed,” he says, ignoring your question, before opening the door to the bathroom, the draft of the apartment, of his absence, leaving goosebumps on your skin in its wake.

The kitchen is clean, any and all evidence of this morning’s tirade gone. Jungkook has changed out of his jeans and button-down for a black hoodie and basketball shorts, solidifying the idea that he has no intention of leaving the apartment for the rest of the day. 

You dress down similarly, throwing on a large ratty t-shirt and some sweats, very similar to the pajamas you’d been wearing for most of the day. 

There’s a fresh pot of coffee brewing, but you ignore it, your stomach feeling sour over the idea of putting anything into it right now. 

You lead Jungkook into the living room, and both of you sit on the couch, legs folded as you face one another. 

“I know you’re not eating.” You try to say it softly, like an observation, but as the words leave your mouth, you hear them sound accusatory, tense. 

“I know you know I’m not eating,” he responds, his tone even and cool. “I’ve seen you doing inventory checks daily.” 

“You have to eat,” you urge. “You can’t just starve like this.”

“I’m not starving,” he says, still composed, distant. 

“Bun, you’ve significantly curbed your consumption. You used to throw back two pints a day, easily.” 

“Yes, well, that was before I found out my girlfriend was suspended from work for smuggling me those two pints, jeopardizing her entire future.”

“I don’t understand why you’re making this a bigger deal than it is.”

His eyebrows rise. “I don’t understand why you’re not making it the bigger deal that it is!” 

“Because it’s not! Not really! I have it under control!”

“And how exactly do you have this under control? Getting fired? Ruining your life isn’t control!”

“I don’t think I’ll be fired. Put on probation maybe, but not fired.”

“And why are you so sure about that?”

“Because…because I didn’t steal someone else’s blood. And that’s a criminal offense. But the laws are muddier when it’s your own blood.”

“Your…your own blood. You were caught with your own blood.” Jungkook looks at you quizzically. And then you see it register. His pupils blow wide. 

“I fucking knew it,” he says. “I knew I was tasting you. I thought maybe it was just because you were on your period for a little longer than usual this month, and that maybe I was catching something in the air and just mixing up the scent with the taste of the blood. But, fuck! Goddamn it Y/N! I told you I didn’t want to feed from you and you just went and did it anyway?” 

“I’m sorry,” you admit, your cheeks burning with guilt. “I just wanted to help you.” 

“By taking away my choice in the matter? By hurting yourself? Shit!” 

“No. I–I know you said you didn’t want to bite me, so I thought maybe if I did it this way that it wouldn’t be so bad and you wouldn’t have to feel so bad about it! And then I wouldn’t be as likely to be caught at work. It gave me some protection too in this! The board is meeting later this week to talk about my case and because the blood results proved to be mine, they just have to decide an appropriate punishment. I’m not going to go to jail over this, and if I lose my job, I’ll figure something out. But, I really didn’t mean to take away your choice, and I see now that I did.” You feel your throat close as you begin to cry.. 

Jungkook is right, you took away his choice by doing this, and no matter your intention, he has the right to know. 

“I’m really sorry. I completely fucked up doing this.”

“Yeah, you did. But not in the way you’re seeing this. God. It’s not about biting or not biting, it’s how easily you did it for me. How you keep putting yourself, your own health, at risk for me! You don’t get it! You stole blood for me for almost a year. And then when you started to realize your future was at stake, you took it from your own body. Which you shouldn’t have to do!”

You swipe at the tears pooling from your eyes. “You keep saying that. Why do you keep saying that?”

“Because it’s true, baby! You shouldn’t be in this weird supernatural chaos! It’s Valentine’s Day! You should be feeding your boyfriend chocolates or eating breakfast in bed. Exchanging presents and going on dates to dinner or the movies. Having sex! And not just sex, making love, making babies!” 

“But you said you didn’t want to do any of that! Jungkook, I’m so confused. What is it that you want? If you want to celebrate Valentine’s Day, I have a present for you wrapped up that I’ve been dying to give you for months. And we can go to the movies. We can have sex… I don’t even want a baby!”

You pull a pillow into your lap like a shield. 

“You do want a baby,” he accuses. You snap your head up. 

“What? No, I–”

“You do. You told me on Christmas Eve, when we were watching that movie on the couch. You were falling asleep during it, but in that scene when he comes home after saying no to that deal, she says ‘I want my baby to look like you’ and you looked up at me so sleepy and warm and alive, and you repeated it back to me. You said ‘I want my baby to look like you.’” 

You think back to that night, when you and Jungkook were cuddled up together watching It’s A Wonderful Life since he’d never seen it, and between sips of a very strong eggnog, you kept studying his face, almost overwhelmed by the idea that you could ever love him more than you did in this moment. When Mary told George she was pregnant, something just felt right about that phrase, and in your tipsy, sleepy, haze, you must have recited that part back to him. 

Honestly, you do want your baby to look like him. You can’t imagine anyone else in the world whose features you would want to see copied into another human, one that you make together. 

“It’s okay, Y/N. I’m not mad that you said it. I’m honored. Because if I could have children, I would want them to look like you.” His voice is tight. “But I can’t give you that. I think if I could, we would currently be arguing over paint swatches and baby names while I rub your swollen feet, not this. Because fuck we have definitely not been careful,” he chuckles. 

Despite the sadness in his voice, you feel yourself smirk. 

“And even if we adopted, that doesn’t solve one of the biggest issues out of all of this. Which is that you will grow older and more beautiful and our children would grow older and more beautiful, and I don’t know if I will. I don’t know if I’m going to be doomed by the stereotypical vampire life because I don’t know who turned me. He didn’t give me anything to go off of. Maybe I age but I do it slower. Maybe I will never age. Maybe I live forever or just a little longer than you. Or fuck, maybe instead of living forever, vampires actually have an insanely short life span because we are just another type of mosquito derivative!”

You laugh at that, though you still feel the tears staining your cheeks, making no effort to stop. 

“The point is, I can’t promise you anything human. I can’t promise you a normal life with me. Babies that we make, us growing old together. If I could do one thing different, I kinda wish I put a baby into you the first time we fucked around in that car. God knows I was hard enough.” 

“Jungkook,” you choke, ignoring his attempt at deflecting. “I don’t care about any of that. I know I said that stuff on Christmas, but I didn’t mean it like that. Maybe you can have kids! Like you said, you don’t know. For all we know, my freakishly long periods might be a sign I’m infertile. I don’t know either, I haven’t gone to the doctor or taken tests because I haven’t been too worried about it. That or aging or any of this! My job even.”

“Wait, hold on, back up. You might be infertile?” He looks almost offended by his own use of the term. 

You nod. “Maybe, but I haven’t really been thinking about it lately. I’ve been more worried about you, more focused on you.”

He squints. “Why?”

“Because you’ve been evasive and bratty and honestly just fucking awful. And I can see why. You’re thirsty. You stopped eating again. You started screaming about heart themed things being for vampires. You’ve been avoiding me…is that why you haven’t told me anything? Because of my work thing?”

“I still can’t understand why you are this nonchalant about your career,” he says and you shrug. 

“Bunny,” you warn, and Jungkook crosses his arms across his chest.

“Okay, yes,” he concedes. “Part of this is due to that. Because you didn’t tell me. But also I feel like I’m ruining your life. And if that’s the case, if I’m taking so much from you, I want to take less. I want to be less.”

“I’m a parasite. A leech. I consume human blood to carry on living my nonexistent life. I sleep but I don’t dream. I can’t enjoy things the same way. I can’t be normal and that’s what you deserve. What you need. So if I’m going to be a parasite and dependent on you, I want to make things easier. You mentioned that gift under the bed…and, I don’t know that started it all. Got me thinking about all the things I can’t give you. All the experiences you’ll never have because of me. But how much you want it. Valentine’s Day. Baby, I know it’s a holiday you like. I see your eyes sparkle every time you pass the decorations and candy at the store. Of course you have had a present for me wrapped and ready since Christmas, because that’s you and how incredible you are. And I wanted to give you some of that back, but the more I thought about it, the angrier I got that I can never be good enough for you. I can’t give you everything. And then this morning, I don’t know, I snapped. I tried to cook you something I normally can do with my eyes blindfolded and walking backwards but everything came toppling down around me and I got overwhelmed and ended up fucking it all up.” 

Jungkook reaches across the couch, taking your hand in his, tracing his thumb across your knuckles. 

“You’re so dramatic,” you accuse, and roll your eyes. 

Jungkook retracts his hand and pouts. “I don’t know what you mean by that.”

“You’re being dramatic and over the top with this broody Edward Cullen shit. I’m sick of it.” You toss the pillow to the side and sit up on the couch, edging your body closer. 

“For starters, you’re punishing yourself by not eating. Your hands are like ice, and that means you’re extremely underfed because very little blood is in you. Second, you refuse to eat because at first  it was someone else’s blood and I could get in trouble so that justified not doing it. But now that it’s freely available, because it’s mine you have some moral conniption preventing you from nourishing your body. And all of this is circling around the same problem. Which is you deciding for me what you think I want and need.” You hover just above him now, your knees digging into the cushions on either side of him as you trap him under you. 

“You decided wrong, by the way. You based what I want not on who I am, but on your own insecurities and fears about me, Jungkook. And that’s not fair to me.” 

You plant yourself down on him, straddling your weight across his chest. Jungkook gazes up at you, a frown still etched on his face, though it’s grown softer. 

“It’s also not fair to me that you are trying to control my decision about feeding from you or not. If you were a vegetarian, how would you feel if I had replaced your veggie burgers with meat patties just because I thought you needed the protein?” He asks.

You hadn’t thought about that. Your shoulders sag as you sit with the realization. 

“I need you to trust that I won’t ever go back to feeling the way I did when we first met. Look at me, are the marks under my eyes as dark? Am I as hard or pale?” You shake your head, and Jungkook reaches up to your face, touching his palm to your cheek. “I am thirsty, baby. But I also know how to control myself. I have spent months with you, around your blood, smelling you when you do something as little as get a paper cut or have a large blood clot pass during your period. Don’t look at me like that, it’s literally just blood from your body, you as a phlebotomist know better than to find that weird or gross.” You giggle, trying to ward away the flush of your cheeks. “And yes, it hurts, but kind of like when you smell something really good cooking in the kitchen and your stomach growls. But that’s the worst of it.”

“Is it though?” you ask gently, trying not to argue with him, but his eyes seem almost cloudy to you. 

His brows knit and he opens his mouth but then shuts it, nodding for you to continue. Instead, he strokes along your brow bone, then down the curves of your jaw, tracing your features with his index finger.

“Your eyes aren’t as clear as they are when you feed regularly,” you sigh sadly. “I don’t want to change you, at all. But you’re warmer then too. And on days like today, it would be nice to have you less frigid to cuddle up next to. But I don’t want to make you do something you don’t want to do. I was wrong to not tell you about my work stuff and my blood. Those are two big things that you deserve to know as my partner, and because they impact you directly. I’m sorry.” 

You take his hand in yours and bring it down over your chest. “If you don’t want to drink those blood packs, I understand. We’ll find some other way of getting you blood. But we need to make these decisions together. All of them. No more of us deciding we know what the other person needs best. That means I am not force feeding you my blood, I know. It also means you don’t get to decide if I want to have a biological baby or if I want to grow old with someone else.”

Jungkook contemplates this, and then nods in agreement. 

“Do you feel that?” You ask, glancing down to your chest, referring to your heart beat. 

“Yeah,” he whispers. 

“Good, because in all this, you keep saying you’re this monster and that can’t be further from the truth. Maybe I don’t need normal, because I don’t want normal. I want you. And I am alive and warm as a human is, sure. You insist you’re not alive. But what is life really? Do you need to be breathing and to have a beating heart like mine to experience love? Joy? The things that make up life? You feel me. Even if it’s all a habit now. The memory of your body, I don’t know. I don’t know how you work either but that doesn’t matter.”

“Do you need to have dreams or to eat chocolate or make babies to feel like you’re living, Jungkook? Because I don't think you do. I think your body and my body sitting here together, my heart pumping blood through me, more than I probably even need to keep me going, is more than enough for me. You loving me, I think that’s life. Is that not enough for you?”

Jungkook’s eyes are glassy, and he takes a deep breath, also probably out of habit more than necessity.  “No, it’s more than enough,” he says.  “I think this is life.”

You smile. “Okay, then let’s live. Let’s live like this. Whatever it is. And we can decide as we go what living looks like, alright?”

Jungkook releases his bottom lip from his fang. “Alright.”

You lean in, and Jungkook’s lips pull up into a smirk right before he kisses you, molding his body into yours with relief. 

You welcome his tongue into your mouth, surprised by how cold even that is. When you pull away to catch your breath, you pull yourself tightly against him. 

“We need to find you something to eat,” you say for what feels like the millionth time today, and Jungkook sighs. 

“Tomorrow, okay? I just want to be close to you right now.” He burrows deeper into your t-shirt and you hum in agreement, letting the soft animal of his body feel like home.

The rest of the day, the two of you drift back into the softer and more familiar patterns of your relationship that the last week has disrupted. 

Jungkook cooks you dinner, properly this time, a steak you wash down with a beer, the two of you discussing your friends and the latest episode of the show you finally have caught up watching, the tense air between you two perhaps not entirely diffused, but ultimately much more at ease than before. 

You choose to not address the moment in your peripheral vision when you see Jungkook gnawing on some bloody gristle that he trimmed off the steak, his brows set in dissatisfaction as he tries to replace some of the nutrients he’s craving. 

He’s thirstier than he’s admitting, you know, but you are trying to loosen the tight hold of control you are tempted to have. 

“Hey,” you say as you load your dirty dishes into the dishwasher. 

Jungkook, who is reading the beer founder’s story on the back of your empty can, perks up, curious.

“Do you want to open your present?” you ask, and can’t help but laugh at the way his face lights up at the suggestion. 

“Oh my god, yes! I've been dying to know what it is since Christmas!” He beams, and before you can even move to go get it from under your bed, he’s gone, shuffling around down the hallway and cooing to Buttercup, who has just finished her own dinner. 

When he reappears, he puts the gift on the counter and looks at you sheepishly. 

“Um,” he says, and you can tell he’s desperately trying to be polite and well behaved like a small child on their birthday. 

You snort. “Open it, bunny.” 

Jungkook rips right into the paper, his jaw dropping. “You! This?”

You watch as he takes off into the living room to disassemble the current turntable setup. 

“Goodbye Old Play, Fall Down Boy, and Alicia Broken Piano Keys,” he sing-songs. “Damn, when was the last time we had music around here?” 

You watch him putter around. 

This, you think, could be a good life. 

Lying in bed, you drift between a dreamstate and your overactive brain trying to process your reality. Thoughts of your job, more specifically what you’ll do if you actually are fired filter through your head. You suppose you’d change careers, but this job has always been the one thing you wanted in life, at least before you had Jungkook. 

Between a body heat barrier of blankets and pillows, you toss yourself around and sigh, finally coming to a state of being fully awake. Jungkook shifts across the pile to alert you that he, too, is awake. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” he asks gruffly, and you grunt as you roll over. 

“Can’t sleep,” you whine, and you move one of the pillows shoved between the two of you out of the way so you can see his face in the dark. 

The soft glow of the outside city lights shifts through the window, casting a hint of pale blue light across his face. Like this, he looks more wan, sallow, and your heart wrenches. God, it’s so hard to see him this way, starving himself, and you know you shouldn’t feel guilty, but with the day behind you, you feel the late-night flood of regret starting to taint your mind as you try to figure out how you let this all go so horribly wrong.

“Busy mind?” He asks, and you blink up at him, a little surprised by how it seems as though he’s reading your thoughts. 

“Yeah.”

“Me too,” he grumbles, and then reaches out to pull you into him, his cold hands in an even colder room sending a tremor through your body. 

“God, I’m sorry,” he says, and you clench your teeth. 

“ s’okay” you mumble, and you push your face into his chest to warm your nose in his hoodie, throwing your leg over him to bring you closer. 

Jungkook gently rubs your back, his touch light as his fingers trace up and down your spine. It tingles, sending a shiver that hardens your nipples. 

“What were you thinking about?” he asks after a long pause. 

You could lie, and then you wouldn’t have to worry that Jungkook would be awake all night carrying your baggage for you. But, you know how important this step of honesty is, so you take a deep breath. 

“I-I just keep thinking about work. What’s going to happen? I don’t regret it, please don’t think I do or misunderstand. But I love my job. I love you more. It just feels all convoluted and scary. If I get fired, how will we afford this apartment? Find your blood?”

You feel Jungkook take a steep inhale, and you know he’s doing this to steady you, that his lungs don’t really need to expand but to breathe next to him, with him, is what feels the most natural to you both. 

“Baby, I’m sorry,” he says, and you fight the urge to cry for the third time today. 

“I know it’ll be okay,” you assure him, “but I’m sad anyway.”

His fingers continue to strum along your spine, soothing you in the quiet winter night. At some point Buttercup gets up to go prowl around the apartment in her usual late-night zoomies, leaving you two alone in your little universe. 

“I’ve been thinking a lot tonight, too,” Jungkook mumbles into the dark. 

“About what,” you whisper. The wind outside kicks up, and you feel a sharp draft cut against your now-bare legs, beading you with goosebumps that make you shiver. 

Jungkook tuts, shifting you to his side momentarily so he can reach down and pull up your thick duvet. You relish the return to warmth and lay back down on him, resting your head onto his chest while letting out a satisfied sigh.

“Feeding,” he says casually, but you can still hear the hunger in the word as he pronounces every syllable sharply. A different kind of tremor rocks through you, and you feel a tug of arousal behind your belly button. 

“Oh,” you say, trying to be unaffected, but Jungkook sees right through you and chuckles. 

“The first time I tasted your blood, you don’t even know what it did to me, Y/N,” he groans.

“It felt like every single dead neuron in my body was firing all at once again. I’ve never experienced anything like it. You were so warm, your blood was so thick on my tongue. I knew I was going to crave you for the rest of my, well I guess, existence.” 

You squirm a little, trying to ignore the slight dampness you feel forming between your legs. 

“Then, god, I thought I was going crazy when you were feeding me those blood packs. That I had wanted the taste of you so badly that I was imagining it somehow from knowing the way you smell.” 

He continues. “I know I told you that I have control, but fuck, baby, you almost destroyed me with that little stunt of yours.” 

Jungkook shifts, and you can feel his hardening length brush against your stomach. His thigh butts up against you, and you know he can feel the effect he’s having on you. 

“How?” you ask weakly, and Jungkook flexes his thigh underneath you, putting a little pressure right onto your clit. The whine you’ve been suppressing escapes, needy and rich. 

“I almost caved. One night while you were sleeping, Thought about waking you up by fucking you with my tongue so I could finally taste you again.” Jungkook’s cock twitches underneath you and you rut against him in response, the heat in your core building. “Shit, you were even sleeping with your legs wide open for me, your panties and those tiny fucking things you call pajamas shifted and your pretty little pussy was right there for me to taste. Practically begging me for it.” 

You rock against Jungkook’s thigh, the broad grind of your wet panties against Jungkook’s thigh releasing some of the tension. 

“Oh,” you moan softly, but Jungkook isn’t done talking, and he ignores you as his hands come up to your ass, his cold touch on your cheeks causing you to squeak as he pulls them apart to force you to rut harder, deeper onto him. 

“I can smell you right now,” he says roughly. “You can’t hide it from me, you know. Your blood, your wet pussy, they’re equally delicious to me. Equally mine.” 

You moan as he forces you back and forth on his thigh. “You like that, don’t you? The idea of me devouring you like that? Waking you up with my mouth swirling around that hard clit, have you drooling and begging for my cock before you even know what day it is?”

“Shit, yes. Yes,” you pant, and Jungkook laughs, grasping your panties with his fingers and pulling tight. The fabric shifts, digging onto your swollen clit, blurring your vision from the sharp, deep wail.

“Such a dirty fucking girl, humping me like this. Letting me use you like this. What happened to my good girl, hm? Where’d my baby go?” 

You know the question is rhetorical, but you find yourself entering the familiar, delicious haze you often go to with Jungkook, one that has been trained to answer every question he asks. 

“Still your baby,” you whine, and Jungkook laughs. 

He reaches down, tearing your panties off of your body with a single tug, exposing your wet pussy to the chill of the air.

“Oh really? You’re my baby? I don’t know about that. My baby usually has her mouth around my cock by now.” 

Obediently, sit up, tugging your shirt over your head, your nipples hard and sensitive from your arousal. Jungkook groans as he takes in the view of your naked body, but before he can act, you hastily strip him of his hoodie and shorts to reveal his naked length. 

Jungkook’s cock stands tall and heavy, and as you take it into your hands, you don’t mention how that, too, has become incredibly cold from his thirst. Maybe this hunger could be soothing in summer, but in midwinter, it is going to drive you insane. 

You pull him into your mouth, determined to imprint some of your body heat onto him as you dribble your warm saliva down his shaft with a deep suck. 

Jungkook moans above you, tangling his fingers into your hair in approval. 

“Fuck, yes, Y/N. God.” 

You use one of your hands to cup his balls, enjoying the heft of how full they are before stroking up and down the parts of his cock that you can’t take into your mouth. 

“There she is,” Jungkook sighs, and you relax your jaw so you can take more of him in, edging his tip down your throat. He bucks up, and you gag, feeling the familiar tang of him spread across your tongue. Globs of saliva bubble out of your mouth as you attempt to fight the urge to gag more from his occasional thrusts. 

“There’s my baby. My little cockslut. Fuck, I missed this.” You hum in agreement and Jungkook gasps at the vibration. He grabs your head, stopping you from bobbing. 

“Shit…fuck baby, hold on. Stop. God, I almost just came,” he laughs, and your lips twitch as you slowly pull away from him, strings of spit still connecting you to his thick cock. 

You look up at him as he steadies himself, smiling up at him devilishly.

Feeling naughty, you lean forward, testing the waters as you tongue around the head, taking one final, deep suck. Jungkook’s eyes darken in warning and you giggle, sitting back on your heels as you smile at him with fake innocence. 

“Brat,” he mutters, and shoves you down onto the bed, his lips on yours before you can even breathe, tasting himself in the corners of your mouth with feral need. 

He pulls away, tapping your knees with instruction to open, and you do, propping your head up on a pillow so you can see everything. 

The curve of his nose rocks against your clitoris as he begins, and because Jungkook knows you so well, his hands clamp down on your legs to prevent you from squirming. You feel him dig one hand into your thigh, a warning not to try to take control, and you force yourself to relax as he begins exploring you, sucking one of your swollen labia into his mouth. 

You groan, the slow method of him licking and sucking, moving down and up between the inner corners of your thighs back to your center feels both like heaven and absolute hell. 

You have the urge to whine, to shove your hips up, maybe your neglected clit will get more attention, but you know better. Jungkook is testing you, trusting you in this moment not to fail him. 

His eyes meet yours as feasts, the bruises under his eyes more dark now than they were earlier. Between the maddening, erotic swishes of his tongue against your clitoral hood and smug look on his face, you’ve had just about enough.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to play with your food,” you snap, and surprised, Jungkook pulls back, his wet cheeks and wide smirk indicating how satisfied he is with his torture.

“No,” he says, licking his lips. His fangs peek out from under his lips. “But I think my food really likes it when she has to work for it.” 

You roll your eyes, and he brings his fingers to your clit, pinching it. You gasp.

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” He scolds, and again you lose the urge to disobey. 

You feign an apologetic look and buck your hips at him.

“Such a fucking bad girl today,” he chides. “If you’re not careful, I won’t let you cum. I’ll just use you like my little cumdump and you’ll have to figure out how to get off on your own.” 

You shudder at his words and his shoulders straighten, satisfied with his apparent win. 

“What do you say?” he asks, tracing one finger along your ridges. 

You feel yourself trembling as his soft touch swirls around where you need it most, a frustrating, dizzy fury building in you.

“Jungkook, please.” 

“That’s not the word I’m looking for.” His voice is dark, heavy in the cold of the room. Desperation is blinding you, only allowing you to think in fragmented sentences. 

“I don’t know,” you whine, and you feel a hard slap hit directly onto your clit, sending a shock of pain and delicious pleasure through your body. 

“Liar,” he snorts, and then rubs your wetness to soothe the ache. “You have a big girl brain, Y/N. I know you know what you need to say.” He dips a finger inside of you, you clench. “Or are you already too fucked out and needy to say it?” 

Heat shades your face in embarrassment. Any other day, maybe, you’d challenge this, let him chip away at you until you are babbling and a mess underneath him. But the swell of heat in your core is pulsing what feels like everywhere in your body, including your head, and you rack your brain for the one word you know he’s looking for. 

You pull a sharp breath between your teeth. “I’m sorry.”  

“Good girl, I knew you could do it,” he says, and then he shoves his face into your cunt, more fingers dipping into your entrance. He begins to stretch you, pulling his fingers apart, urging more of your wetness to spill onto his tongue. “So sweet.” 

Your hips twitch in the air and you fight to keep them down now that one side of you is freed, so you concentrate on him, pushing his hair back from his forehead as he devours you. 

Jungkook’s eyes are so dark, pupils blown wide. And in them you see something more than just lust. 

I’m thirsty, he’s telling you, the lines faint, but still there. He sucks hard onto your clit, a low sound tearing through his throat. 

He’s asking you for permission, grazing his fangs along your inner lips, trying desperately to restrain himself as the hand still wrapped around your thigh tightens with a bruise-inducing pressure. 

Then eat, tell him mentally, your tongue darting out of your mouth to lip your lips as you watch him get lost in his instincts. You hum your approval, thrusting your hips forward and shoving his head further into you. 

“Yes,” you rasp, finding enough air in your lungs to puff out your consent. 

Jungkook moans and you watch the resolve break as he delivers one final satisfying lap over your clit before he bites.

Nothing In your life could ever prepare you for this.

That part of you, the very organ having the most nerve endings, is alive and electric, burning hot as if you are the sun, the center of the universe. And Jungkook is orbiting around you, grounded by the gravity of your blood as he feeds from your pussy, groaning and bucking his hips in pleasure against the bed. A whimper churns from the depths of your throat as you writhe under him. The heat, god it’s everywhere, from the slight sting of the bite melting away from your core to the heady, steady throb of your clit that makes you feel your pulse everywhere. 

Jungkook too, is warming underneath you, the chill of his body flushing away with each feverish gulp he takes. His cheeks are slightly pink again.

“So wet, so good,” he praises you as he swallows, and you see the blood smearing across his cheeks as he dips back into you. 

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you say shakily. His tattooed hand leaves your thigh, reaches up, searching for you in his feast. You don’t hesitate to lace it with yours, your hands a little clammy, but you’re afraid that if you don’t hold on to him, you might be lost among the stars. 

He drags one of his fangs along the edge of your clitoral hood, and flicks your swollen bud with his tongue, self assured in your destruction. Your legs begin to close, but he growls. 

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he warns. His fingers press deeper inside you, thrusting toward the burning in your core that feels like it’s just out of reach. “You asked for this, now take it.”

“I can’t,” you say. “I can’t.” You thrash your head to the side, gaze unfocused as you take in the shapes around your bedroom you know once were pieces of furniture, but the combination of blood loss and building ecstasy has you feeling like you’re almost drifting from your body. 

Jungkook clicks his tongue in dissatisfaction. “Look at me, Y/N,” he demands. 

You force your eyes to him, and he instructs you to take a deep breath. You inhale shakily, letting him come into focus. 

“You’re going to take my tongue. And then you’re going to take my fingers until you cum all over my face.” He makes his threat official, presses deep inside of you, thrusting deeper, toward the burning in your core that feels just out of reach. “And then you’re going to take my fat cock into my pretty little pussy and watch the cum drip out of it after I fuck you full of it, do you understand me?” 

You tremble as he claims you. “Yes,” you reply and he leans in closer, thrusting his fingers in harder as you rock your hips toward him. 

“Good,” he says. “Then give me what’s mine.” You feel him nip into you again, throwing you over with one deep suck.

You cry out, your hips twitching into the cold room, heaving deep broken gasps into your lungs, head spinning as you obey him. Your ears ring as you fall deeper under the wave, but you still feel Jungkook’s hand in yours, tender and encouraging as you force yourself back from beneath the current of your orgasm. 

You try to steady your breath as you feel his drinking slow, his tongue placing a few laps here and there around your vulva in a gentle motion as he pulls himself away. 

“Are you okay,” you hear him ask, though your eyes are trained on the ceiling as you try to stop yourself from seeing double. “Did I take too much?”

You’re not sure, to be honest, but you feel the warmth of Jungkook’s body cover you as he looks you over, feeling your pulse. 

“Your heart is starting to slow down,” he says softly. “Can I leave you for a second to get some water?” 

You make some kind of grunt of approval, and you feel him drape your covers back over you as he pads down the hall to sift through the kitchen. 

He returns only a few moments later, a bottle of water and bag of heart shaped chocolates in hand. 

You take the water from him and sip slowly, feeling the cool liquid soothing your hoarse throat, stabilizing you. You pop a chocolate into your mouth, the sugars melting your tongue tasting decadent. 

When you finally glance over at Jungkook, you erupt into laughter. 

“What?” he asks, his doe eyes going wide with panic. “Are you hurt? Are you okay?” 

You fail to collect yourself, wheezing your breaths as tears burn your eyes. Maybe you did lose a bit too much blood, because it shouldn’t be as funny as it is, but he looks so full and flushed and innocent in light of what might just be the kinkiest thing the two of you have ever done. 

His face is an utter mess, cheeks shiny and smeared with the faint pink of your mixed juices and blood. He looks like a child who just ate a cherry flavored popsicle.

“I-go look in the mirror,” you say between fits of laughter, and Jungkook looks at you confused before he obeys, standing and walking over to the full-length mirror in the corner of the room. 

“Oh shit,” he mumbles, then laughs. “Looks like I was saving myself a snack for later.” He reaches for a tissue from on top of his dresser and wipes his mouth. 

“How can you not feel that all over you?” you ask, coughing when you finally recover. 

“I don’t know! My brain isn’t focused on anything else right now but you! Well, you and…” he gestures down between his legs, where his cock is flushed from the blood, twitching as you give it attention. 

You feel a flutter in your core and let out a soft gasp.

“But really, are you okay?” he asks tenderly, sitting back onto the bed and rubbing your thigh. 

You scan over your body, checking in with yourself. You don’t feel woozy or nauseous, just loose, like how most large scale orgasms feel. Your thigh you know will be bruised tomorrow, but it’s nothing you can’t handle. And your clit, oh. 

Your clit is tingling, and your pussy is dripping wet. 

“Fuck,” you moan, and run your hand down between your legs and press your palm to your clit, enjoying the added pressure as it throbs under your touch. 

Jungkook raises an eyebrow, interested in your response.

You swipe your fingers through your folds and then pull them up. Surprisingly, the liquid is clear, meaning you’re not bleeding. Meaning that this dripping want is coming solely from you. 

“What did you do to me?” You ask, and Jungkook’s eyes flash with worry as he moves closer, pulling your thighs open to inspect you. 

“I hurt you?” he asks, panicking as he misunderstands. “God, I’m sorry Y/N.”

“No, no, baby, not like that,” you say, and you feel his hands fall from you as he moves to look at your face. 

He scrunches his nose in confusion. “Then what–.”

“My pussy is tingling, and fuck look at me. I’m drenched.”

His eyes blow wide and he dips to look back down, his tongue darting out over his lip piercings as he takes in the liquid spilling out of you and onto the sheets underneath. 

“Shit. I don’t know. Maybe my venom does that? I don’t even see a cut on you from where I bit.”

He sits back on his legs and his hand finds his cock, squeezing the base as he flits between looking at you and in between your legs. 

You clench around nothing and a low, tortured moan escapes from his throat as he draws his hand up the base, wrist flicking to pump himself up and down in slow, delicious tugs.

“Y/N,” he says, and the way he says your name is dripping with need. You feel his eyes burn into every inch of you as he touches himself, causing you to mimic the fluidity of his strokes as you rub your clit. 

“Please,” you respond. 

“Cum for me again,” he demands but you shake your head. 

“Don’t want to like this,” you say. “Want your cock in me. You promised you would let me watch your cum spill out of your pretty pussy, remember?”

His nostrils flare, and Jungkook jolts, flipping you over on the bed so you rest on top of him, his hard cock smearing with your wetness as he rocks your hips against him. 

“We need to do something about that filthy mouth of yours,” he says, and you pant as you grind against him with broad movements, coating him with your juices. “The only time you haven’t said something bratty today was when my cock was down your throat.”

You moan, raising your hips off of his and taking his cock in hand. “You love it,” you say, and sink yourself down onto his cock in one solid motion, his thick length stretching and filling you to the brim. 

He hisses and you begin to bounce, using him to curb some of the ache in your core. 

He reaches up and wraps a hand around your throat, squeezing. You squeak, feeling him pull you off of his cock, and leaving you devastatingly empty. 

“Did I say you could fuck me?”

You whine and he scoffs. “Maybe you don’t deserve my cum after all. Disobeying me like this. I told you earlier I wondered where my good girl went, and I think I was right. Didn’t know I traded her in for a disrespectful bitch.”

You feel your stomach flip with excitement at the new term and you clench around him. 

He laughs. “Oh? You like that, hmm? Well, if I traded away my good girl, I better see how much of a whore her replacement is.” 

He lightens his grip on your neck and the oxygen floods back, making your fingertips and nipples prickle with the heightened sensation. 

“Well? Get to it, slut.” and he takes your hips, slamming you back down onto his cock with one single stroke. 

“FUCK,” you scream, and your hips buck, overstimulated as Jungkook doesn’t even give you the chance to have control, his hands clamping down on your sides as his fucks you onto him. 

“That’s it,” he rasps. “That’s it, take my cock like a good little slut.” 

You cry out, clamping your arms around him and pulling his face into your neck. 

“Jungkook,” you say, and he grunts in response, pounding into you with a rhythm so that when you come down, he pushes up, hitting you deeper with each thrust. 

“You like that, huh? Being like little fleshlight? Me using you like this to fuck all my cum into?”

You clench around him, slightly light headed from where he’s targeting you, trying to hit your g-spot dead on. 

It’s so good, so primal, and you know you’re almost there, but you need something more. 

“Please,” you whisper, shoving his head into your neck. “Bite me.” 

And that’s when you feel it, the tiny prick of his fangs as Jungkook pierces your skin and begins to feed. 

Sharp cold pleasure is immediately replaced with a silky, scorching wave of pleasure as his venom delivers that addicting tingle through your neck.

Jungkook, too, seems to be affected, his cock twitches in you as the blood fills his body, somehow making him feel thicker and a little longer. 

“Oh,” you gasp as you feel the fingers of one of Jungkook’s hands reach down to your clit, rubbing it hard and fast. 

He detaches himself from your neck and laps up the excess blood before he holds you steady and adjusts your position, placing you on your back as he hovers above you. 

The cloudiness in his eyes is gone, the markings underneath have faded. He settles into slow, deep strokes, his eyes ghosting over your body. 

“I love you,” he says. Your heart swells. 

“I love you too,” you respond, and you look down at where the two of you are connected, your pussy making a vulgar squelching sound as he drags himself in and out, his cockhead glossy.

“More,” you beg. “Please I’m so close”. He obeys, picks up his pace. 

He bends over you, pulling a nipple into his mouth and releasing it with a pop. 

“Should I bite you here next?” he mumbles and you squirm in delight.

Each thrust is now jutting Jungkook right against your cervix, and you feel the wet mess of your pussy trying and failing to take more of his cock inside, relishing the warmth that now reaches every corner of you. 

As you flutter around him, the mounting tension drawing you closer to orgasm, Jungkook dips down again, this time laving over your nipple, plucking it between his teeth and delivering a soft bite.

This sends you over the edge, a stream of white hot pleasure rocketing through your core as you gasp on top of him, your pussy clamping down and trying desperately to take him with you. 

But Jungkook has better control than that, and instead of letting you rest, he sets a deadly, relentless pace, fucking you into overstimulation. 

“One more,” he breathes between thrusts.

“Hurts,” you pout, but he knows you. Knows your limit.

“One more. I know your messy little cunt can take more than this, baby.”

He spreads you wider, hooking your legs back so he's deeper in you than before, the wet slap of his balls against your pussy echoing through your bedroom as you are coated with your wetness. 

You groan and he keeps going, his fingers ghosting over your clit once but not staying. You huff in frustration. 

“Words,” Jungkook demands and you take a deep breath, trying to rack your brain for something other than moans. 

“Yeah,” is all you can manage, and with a dark laugh, he accepts it, placing his fingers back on your clit and finally, finally putting you back on track. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he utters, and this is how you know he’s getting close. The praise flowing from his mouth betrays his cold, dominating facade. “Such a warm, wet pussy. Just for me to fuck my cum into.” He pulls his bottom lip into his mouth, sucking on his lip rings.

You moan, matching his thrusts with your hips, slamming yourself together harder, deeper. “God, Jungkook, please.”

“You gonna be good for me this time?” His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he swallows. The tone of his voice is slightly higher, straining. “Gonna let me fill you up?”

“Yes,” you pant. “I need it.” His fingers circle faster, desperately working to make you cum before him. “Need to be full of your cum.”

You pull him into you, needing him closer, needing to feel the distance between your bodies to be smaller as you get closer. His fingers keep working, his thrusts hard and deep, hitting you exactly where you need it. 

“Right there. Fuck your pussy, Jungkook. Take what’s yours.”

His hips falter. You place your teeth onto his neck and bite. Hard.

“Fuck,” Jungkook moans and erupts, his cock twitching as he spurts load after load of warm cum into you, giving you the last bit you need to send you off one last time. Your pussy spasms, greedily taking in everything he gives you. 

“That’s it, baby,” he says, his voice shaky as he continues to anchor both of you to your bodies, to the sensation of being full and satisfied.

He kisses your temple, then your cheek, rocking his hips slowly against you as you come down, flushed and overwhelmed. 

You feel almost weightless, untethered to the joints in your arms and legs. If you weren’t being held by him right now, you might think you were out in space, floating around without gravity. In the haze of it all, you feel Jungkook shift you onto your side, his body still linked to yours as his erection deflates, cum leaking onto the bedding below you. 

You don’t care enough to do anything about it, instead clinging to his forearm, needing to feel him everywhere so you don’t disappear. 

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” he says, and you’re confused by this, and then you realize you’re crying, wet tears stinging your cheeks as you shake against him. He runs his hands through your hair and down the length of your back softly. “I got you.”

You breathe a shaky breath as he wraps the blankets around the two of you, gently humming a song, sighing when he feels you wiggle your toes next to him and finally steady yourself. 

You look up at him and he’s smiling softly, his eyes warm and brown like they were when you first met him. 

“That was intense, huh?” he asks and you nod. 

“But really good,” you add and he beams. 

“Yeah,” he agrees. “I…”

He sits thoughtfully for a moment and you let him, trying to gain the courage to detach yourself and venture into the cold apartment to pee. 

“I wish we did that sooner. I mean, I guess I should ask how that was for you. For me to, you know, feed from you.”

You wince as you shift away from him, feeling him slip out of you as you leak onto the sheets. Your sticky, damp legs beg for a shower, but you ignore it. 

“I…it was a lot. But…but I liked it. The first bite, shit. You explained earlier how it felt when you first tasted my blood? About it being like how everything fired off in your body at once, right?” He nods. “It was like that for me, too.”

Jungkook smiles, pulling you in tightly against him.  

“Do you think we can do that more often?” you ask shyly, and he laughs. 

“Damn, once is all it takes for you to get addicted?”

You smack his arm. “Hey! No kink shaming! I didn’t judge you for wanting to go down on me during my period! While I was asleep!” 

He sputters. “I’m not kink shaming! But you sound like you’re judging me now for it! We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to I’m sorry but I was caught up in the moment and the bloodlust and I was–”

You choke out a laugh, kissing him on his bare chest. “I’m teasing you...it sounds kind of hot actually.” 

He hums in approval. 

“I think we still have a lot of stuff to talk about,” he says after a pause. You sigh. 

“Yeah. The great job reckoning is coming.” 

“Yes, and not just that. I do want to talk more about you…your body. The…infertility thing. I want to go with you to the appointment, I mean if that’s okay? Even if everything is fine, or that you don’t end up wanting kids or whatever, I just want to be there for you through any of it, okay?”

You bristle a bit, feeling yourself starting to cry again. But after the day you’ve had, the intense, passionate sex, all of the things you will still be dealing with in the morning, you let the release guide you as your tears fall. 

“Okay,” you say. You think about your conversations with Jungkook today, how he’s right. There are so many things you both don’t know about what you want or don’t want, about your own bodies. 

“Um,” you say, and you pull back from him, rubbing up and down his forearms. “I want you to know something, too. I know that being a vampire wasn’t really in your life plans, and that there’s a lot of unknowns about it too. Not just about fertility, but like, it would have probably been nice for you to know you had magical tingly, healing venom that turns you into a sex god.”

“Hey! Was I not a sex god without the venom?” He scoffs, pretending to be offended. 

You snort. “Okay fine, healing venom that turns you from a sex god to even more of a sex god. But you know what I mean. There are things that would be so helpful for you to know. To maybe take away some of the worry and those terrifying unknowns. And if you ever want to know, if you want to try to find your creator, I’ll support you in that choice. It would be hard, and maybe we wouldn’t find him, but I’m with you in this.” 

Jungkook takes your cheek in his hand, his warm thumb rubbing across the skin. 

“Thank you,” he says, and leans in to give you a soft kiss. 

The world outside plunges deeper into the night, and after you clean yourselves up and change the sheets, you lie closely against each other. So many things remain unknown, but one thing you’re sure of as you watch Jungkook sleep: you have time to figure it all out. 

©2024 by jooniperbonsai

ending a/n:

Thank you again for reading! While doing research about blood donations for this story, I was reminded that there’s currently a national shortage for blood donors in the US, and it’s safe to assume that this isn’t unique to just us. Right now, with the ongoing genocide in Gaza, blood shortages are extreme, and with the stonewalling happening preventing aid to enter the strip and Rafah, supplies, including blood for life saving transfusions, cannot make it through. 

The Red Crescent/American Red Cross issued this statement in January:

“​​During emergencies, the American Red Cross will ship blood products outside of the U.S. following a specific request from the U. S. State Department for U.S. citizens overseas, at the request of the United Nations, or at the request of the affected Red Cross or Red Crescent society abroad. We have not received blood product requests for Israel or Gaza at this time.

For those interested in learning more about international humanitarian law and its vital role in protecting the innocent during armed conflict, please visit www.redcross.org/ihl. The American Red Cross has a duty to fulfill the Geneva Conventions’ purpose of reducing suffering during armed conflict. As part of our duty, the American Red Cross leads the effort to ensure Americans are informed of these laws and the humanitarian principles they reflect.”

While it’s not yet being asked for, I cannot recommend enough donating blood if you are eligible. There are many different qualifications for blood donations (if you’re not sure about your eligibility, please look at your Red Cross/Crescent website depending on your country). Your donation can help not just your local communities, but ultimately a population of people you might be unsure how to help. And if not, monetary donations are also accepted.

I’m not affiliated with this organization in any way, but I felt like it would be wrong to ignore this issue just in favor of a fun fanfic. 

#bts smut #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #vampire jungkook #bts fanfic

[kelcemenow]

Call Her Daddy.

Pairing Travis Kelce x Reader

Words 829

Warnings Sexual references, fluff and strong language...obviously.

I hope I've done this one right! I've never heard of the podcast, nor have I listened to it but I did a some research and just went for it! "Hello first of all I’m a huge fan of your work, I have an idea in mind hope you like it. Y/n and travis have been dating for a bit just there close friends know about the relationship and Alex copper a close friend of the reader invites them on her podcast call her daddy where they talk about there relationship/sex life"

"Okay, next question. What is your favourite sexual position?"

You hummed in thought, "I love being on top." You smiled at Alex who nodded in agreement, "There's something about being on top that gives me a sense of power, isn't there? It's a bit dominating."

"Would you say that you like being in the more dominant role in the bedroom?" Alex questioned.

"Sometimes." You giggled, "But on the flipside, I really like being thrown around, you know? Like...lifted up, thrown onto the bed, pushed up against the wall, carried around...that's what I want."

Alex fanned her face with her hand, "Phew, you're speaking the truth here Y/N. So, I promised an exclusive scoop earlier to everybody and I think it's about time that we get to that. Y/N is not my only guest on this episode, we have someone joining us, don't we?"

You laughed, "Yeah, I've been seeing some rumours flying around regarding my dating life and I gotta be honest, a lot of people are getting it all wrong!"

"Gotta love those rumours!"

"So, when Alex asked me to come on Call Her Daddy, I thought it was the perfect time to set the record straight. Plus, I'm going on tour soon and he'll be at quite a few shows so everyone will figure it out eventually anyway."

"So, our guest is someone that you're dating?"

You smiled and adjusted your headphones, "Yeah, we've been dating for a while now and so far, it's only family and close friends that have known about it but we agreed that it's probably time to let everyone else know."

Alex leaned into her microphone, "Just for full transparency, I knew!"

"Yeah you were one of the first people that I told, I couldn't keep that secret from you!"

"Id' have gotten it out of you eventually, I'm good at that!" Alex cleared her throat, "Right, let's not keep everyone waiting for much longer. Daddy Gang, our extra special guest on today's episode is none other than...Travis Kelce!"

You both gave Travis a round of applause as he placed headphones over his ears and smiled into the microphone, "Alright now!"

You grinned and placed your hand on his leg, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Alex took a sip from her water, "Okay, now Travis, you're not new to the podcast scene, we all know that."

Travis snickered, "Nah, I feel at home like this! But I gotta say, New Heights is completely different. You know, me and Jason don't talk about what I think we're going to be talking about here!"

"Yeah, that would be weird!" You laughed.

"Right, let's get straight to it. What's the sexiest thing about Y/N?"

"Oh wow, no messing around here, baby!" He rubbed his beard, "The sexiest thing about my girl?"

"You can only pick one!" Alex lifted an eyebrow.

"That's not easy. Honestly, I think she's the sexiest woman in the world. She could be folding laundry and I'm still mesmerised by her! But the sexist thing about her is definitely how ambitious she is. She has worked her fucking ass off to get what she has got and what makes it even better, is that she did it all herself. I love watching her perform, because I can see what it means to her and how much she has sacrificed to be able to do it. It's amazing, man."

Your lips curled into a huge smile, a wave of happiness washing over you.

"Aww guys, you're going to make me cry! And that's not the vibe I was going for! We want the juicy details!"

Travis mumbled, "Oh...umm...her ass?"

You and Alex both laughed loudly.

"Is that's what you wanted?" Travis looked to Alex who was clutching at her stomach.

"I liked your first answer, baby." You placed your arm gently around his shoulders and traced circles on the back of his neck with your finger.

"I'm sure a lot of people will want to know how you two manage to date with your busy schedules."

You clasped your hands together, "It's difficult, it really is. But we make sure that we keep some time aside for each other. Even if it is just sitting down to have breakfast together or an hour long phone call."

"Technology helps. We like Facetime, we use that one a lot." Travis agreed.

Alex grinned a mischievous smile, "Do the Facetime calls ever get a bit heated...a bit explicit?"

You glanced at Travis with a knowing look, "If I said no-"

"She's be lying." He said loudly.

Your mouth flew open in shock and Alex clapped her hands together, "I knew it!"

"Oh, come on" We're all adults here, we know how those calls can end up sometimes. If Travis calls me shirtless, chances are I'm gonna get a bit...distracted. I Facetimed him from the shower last week." Your cheeks were beginning to deepen in colour, "My God, how do you get this information out of people?!"

______________________________________________________________

I hope that was okay! As always, your comments and messages are always appreciated! You're all too kind! I'll be working through some more requests this week (whenever I have some spare time) and if you want to be added to my Taglist, just let me know!

Taglist @rd14 @dandelionwrites8 @keiva1000 @fantasywritersstuff @caelipartem @anacarangel @she-lives-in-her-dreams @kkrenae @kristencochefski1125 @countrygirl120983 @killatravtramp @charmed2000 @nouis-bum @cixrosie @delicateearthquakellama @wordsaresimple-imnot @amylouwho9 @queenisa17 @talicat713 @luvvtrent @purecinnamonextract @savaneafricaine @caelipartem @beyxgrande @caitdaniels @ezgirl1108 @vir-tual @lightsoutstyles

#travis kelce x reader #travis kelce imagine #kelce x reader #nfl imagine #original story #travis kelce fic #travis kelce #nfl fluff #travis kelce fluff #kelcemenow requests

[cryptotheism]

Hi, curious as to how you feel about the interpretation of the tetragrammaton vs the pentagrammaton where instead of the demiurge interpretation of things it's supposed to be that IHVH enacts their wrath through the use of the four elements, represented by the four letters until the Holy Light/Spirit (Hebrew letter Shin) is introduced forming the pentagrammaton IHShVH which is when the more wrathful edges are softened. Idk I think it makes more sense than the whole "oh the old testament God is just a false evil God" idea and find it fascinating from a linguistic standpoint but I'm curious to know how you feel about it and if it's come up much in your research.

Oh man I just studied this. Tldr: "I find it academically interesting but morally repugnant."

Let me preface this by saying that I'm not Jewish, and I don't want to portray myself as an authority on Kabbalah. Its not my lane. My lane is all the bootleg knockoff derivations. So while I'm happy to discuss this corner of Christian esoterica, I wouldn't really consider this conversation complete without input from my Jewish colleagues.

SO

The Pentagrammaton comes from Johannes Reuchlin, from his book De Verbo Merifico. For some background on Reuchlin: He was the founder of Christian Hebrew studies. He's notable in that he was the first renaissance esotericist who could genuinely, read, and write, Hebrew. Like, Gershom Scholem calls him "first great Christian scholar of Hebrew" which is something. When you hear people talk about "Christian Cabbala" they're probably referring to something Reuchlin wrote.

I'm gonna be over-summarizing a complex concept here. The central idea of De Verbo is that through the use of esoteric techniques like gematria, one can derive the secret, esoteric name of Christ from the Tanakh, adding the letter "shin" to the center, thus proving that Jesus was secretly in the Tanakh the whole time, thus "completing" Judaism.

The idea behind all of this is that it was supposed to be a tool of conversion. The pentagrammaton was supposed to be this big mic drop conclusion that would totally convert them with facts and logic. It was just supersessionism, the Pugio Fidei in a slightly more verbose package. Personally, I find it academically interesting but morally repugnant.

[blossomthepinkbunny]

The sins not being really sinful and how I would rewrite them

So we have met four of the seven deadly sins so far and I feel like three of them were pretty mishandled.

I have seen a lot of people talk about how the sins were really undermined and don't really present each of their sins well. We know Asmodeus as the sin of Lust, Beelzebub for Gluttony, Mammon for Greed and Lucifer as the leader of hell and the sin of Pride. And in my opinion the only one who makes sense as one of the seven deadly sins is Mammon.

He might be one of my favourite characters from either show because he is genuinely entertaining and is the only sin we've seen so far who fits the description. Lucifer has nothing that says pride about him (though that might not be explored in HH as the sins are more relevant in HB). And for Beelzebub and Asmodeus the scenes people often refer to when talking about them not fitting their sin are the one were Beelzebub worries about Blitzø when hes partying too hard and the one were Asmodeus talks about lust not being about force and agreeing with consent.

It seems to not make sense as to why the embodiments of gluttony and lust would care about someones well being or consent. Because a lot of people argue that the inherent idea of a sin is to be hurtful and not good. Which makes sense because someone partying and indulging in wild behaviour occasionally or someone following their desires and acting on them aren't things that are necessarily bad. It only becomes bad when it becomes too much and one starts hurting others and affecting them negatively.

That is why most people would agree that Mammon is the best written sin, because he actually gets to be an asshole and we get to see the negativity of his Greed. But to me there is more to it than that.

One thing I saw being brought up is that the sins would obviously want people to want to indulge in them. That's why Beelzebub wanted Blitzø out of her party, because he was ruining the vibe for the others with his obnoxious behaviour. And also why Asmodeus wouldn't want sexual assault to happen, since then only one person would want to experience lust. So while this makes sense it still ignores the fact that sinning is something bad you shouldn't do.

For me it should be shown as something you would wanna do, but also as something you shouldn't because you either hurt others or yourself. This is why I liked how Mammon was presented. He encapsulated the ideas of both sides. We got to see why someone would want to be like him, through seeing that he makes people happy with his shows and the obviously wealthy lifestyle he lives which is desirable for others to have. But we also got to see the side of his character that qualifies him as a sin, when we see how he treats Fizzarolli and we get to understand why one shouldn't be all Greedy like him, because it hurts others.

Mammons writing (wether intentional or not in that regard) is very good at showing us the good and bad sides to being Greedy. And while some people might say that the sins should only be presented as negative (which is also fine), I think it would also be good to show us why someone would want to be involved with the sin in the first place.

For Beelzebub and Asmodeus the issue is mainly that we don't really dive into the bad sides of their sin. That is mostly because these are characters Vivzepop doesn't want to present as negative which isn't necessarily bad in theory but it then makes no real sense as to why they would be sins.

Gluttony is all about overindulgence. It's something being too much. And the partying presents that well, but when Beelzebub starts to tell Blitzø to stop it stops feeling genuine, because he is basically doing what her sin is all about and she has a problem with it. Beelzebub's situation was pretty easy to fix as well. I would've just written it so that she doesn't care about Blitzø when he gets all drunk. It would be clear why Gluttony is something a Demon would want to indulge in, with partying of course being fun and sometimes you just needing to let loose. But the excessive drinking and the chaos that Blitzø causes while he obviously isn't okay would show why you should never be gluttonous like her, because it's destructive and unhealthy.

The Demons at the party and Beelzebub should hype Blitzø up and encourage him to keep going, while Loona realizes that this isn't good and would force Blitzø to leave for his own well being.

In Ozzies case it's a bit more difficult because what some people take issue with is the fact that he cares about consent. And im not going to say that they have to make him agree with rape for him to represent Lust. But we also never get to see bad sides of his sin. I feel like that is something that could be solved with the show acknowledging that Lust isn't just about sex. While it is often purely associated with that it's actually more about satisfying your desires and acting on your needs without care for others. That can also be in regard to money, possessions or status.

They could've made Asmodeus purely care for what he desires (for which they wouldn't necessarily have to focus on sex) and show how that might be affecting Fizz. Then we could see that the good sides to Lust include satisfying your needs and experiencing pleasure, which is why someone would want to indulge in it. But also that just taking what you want isn't good for other people, which is why you wouldn't want to do that.

And Lucifer is just not representing his sin at all. Atleast I didn't recognize anything that has to do with pride from how he was characterized. In my opinion they could have just gone full out bad for how he presents his sin. Because pride is often interpreted as the original and therefore worst sin Lucifers reason for not being active with leading hell or interacting with his daughter could just be that he is too prideful to do that.

Otherwise I wouldn't mind giving him the same treatment as how the other sins sould be treated in my opinion. Maybe the good thing about him is that due to his pride the demons view him as a worthy and strong leader who they respect, while his pride is also what causes him to not interact with Charlie since he sees himself as too good for that.

Though I get that this would basically change his whole character and that that would involve showing him to be flawed and not just the silly little guy Viv wants him to be (I would prefer it like that but idk).

That's why I think the sins we have been introduced to so far don't really work and how I would rewrite the them so that they would be more like my love Mammon.

#helluva boss critical #vivzepop critical #hazbin hotel critical #helluva boss critique #helluva boss criticism

[flanpucci]

Hello and welcome to my TED talk today I have decided to write a wall of text about why portraying Dio and Pucci’s relationship as manipulation is actually taking a lot out of Pucci’s agency and character, and diminishing him. Disclaimer that this is not shipping discourse, this is media analysis. I don’t want to talk about whether it is moral or not that they get along, I don’t care, I only want to comment on the media.

So someone sent me a DM telling me that Dio was manipulating an emotionally distraught and vulnerable Pucci into following his plan, and that he exploited him to do all sorts of crimes (framing Jolyne, killing people, stealing discs) by presenting himself as a trustworthy, God-like figure, and called the Heaven plan ‘Heaven’ to get Pucci to follow it by exploiting his religious beliefs.

First of all Dio met Pucci before he was distraught about his sister's situation. After the situation occurred, it is Pucci who seeked him for answers as to why he was alive and not his sibling/s, like he seeked answers from God a few years before by becoming a priest student. Dio left a door open, nothing more. Of course Dio was seeking to be admired, he was also seeking companionship as he has always done ever since he was young, and someone to carry his plan. Pucci was looking for answers, for self-growth, for someone to push him towards the top, towards what he believes is the destiny that was designed for him (the reason he’s alive and not his twin).

Is it forbidden to look for something in someone? Does it make it not genuine? No, we all look for something in a friendship. And this seemed like a fair deal for both. One needs a trusted friend, an ally, but not a blind follower, and as we’ll see later, he needs someone to help him transcend his human? vampire? condition again. The other one needs a reason to live, a quest to fulfill, and hope that he could one day obtain the ‘happiness’ and ‘peace of mind’ that Dio wants so much too. He’s also someone who strives for greatness, who wants to ‘step outside human boundaries’.

Not forgetting that Pucci is someone fueled by a profound curiosity and rationality, it is only natural that he’d side with someone who has the abilities and ambition Dio has. Framing Jolyne, killing people, stealing discs, it is all out of Pucci's agency, long after the death of Dio. He's actually the one who suggested he could store and use Survivor, and he’s the one who asked for it! Dio thought Survivor was useless, that it was only a weakness, and Pucci convinced him with the idea that it could be prove itself useful.

Pucci is shown to have ‘lost’ faith in Christianity very early on, maybe not really having true religious belief at all (as in, the actually believing there’s a God sense.) He got into priesthood for philosophical reasons (seeking answers to an existential question). He seems to be a very pragmatic christian with interests in science that contradicts some of the scripture’s theories.

I don't think calling the plan ‘Heaven’ was a bait based on Pucci's religious beliefs. Over Heaven isn't canon, but it shows Dio having a very Christian mother. He's an intelligent man, born in a very christian time and place, and thought ‘Heaven’ was the name of the kingdom promised to the legitimate ruler of the world, himself. If anything the first time they meet he makes it very clear they're not striving for anything Bible related but for realizing their full potential and finding happiness.

Dio saw very early on that Pucci was not a very faithful catholic, judging by the book he's reading when they meet in the ossuary, and then Pucci commiting crimes even before seeing Dio again (hiring someone to beat up his brother, leaving his brother as dead). He then commits blasphemy by calling him King of Kings and comparing his love to the one he has for God. Pucci does not think of Dio as God, he loves him as he loves God, but he's not blind and mistaken. He refers to him with proximity terms all throughout the manga (even when he's young), never used honorifics like the hunchmen do, calls him 'kimi' (casual/informal ‘you’), 'my close friend'.

Even Dio uses ‘kimi’ instead of the ‘omae’ that shows inferiority that he uses with Vanilla for example. All throughout their scenes Dio is shown slightly seductive at first, then not as overtly seducing as he usually is, he’s talking about the plan, and strategy (even though he still maintains physical contact, I mean, it’s still Dio), and then seems to relax progressively by doing activities and chit-chatting, to the point of becoming paranoid that his weaknesses is known. Yes, Dio was pretty nice and not as big an asshole as usual because he needed someone for the plan, but what did he need? A "friend that he can trust from the bottom of his heart" (信頼できる友), so he tried to make one by not being an asshole, and guess what? He did! And he got scared that he managed to do so, because it's freaking Dio lol. Dio’s life has only been him trying to show dominance, and facing rejection. Heck he was rejected and degraded even when he won that chess game against an adult in the first minutes of the show. But everyone wants friends for a reason! Be it not to be alone, to be loved, to have someone to talk to about certain topics... And we all make efforts and try to be nice to make friends. That's not manipulation that's called not being a dysfunctional piece of shit like Dio usually was shown to be before he met Pucci. Why was he different with Pucci? I'm bringing up the parallel with the Jonadio scene which really show that Dio hasn't changed and is acting the way he always has, testing people, he just has never been met with trust and acceptance, only with rejection, unlike what Pucci has done from their first meeting and after :

Scene plays out very similarly at first, except that this time Dio who hasn’t done anything wrong, but he was expecting to be betrayed and wasn’t, which led him to get paranoid and set up Pucci so that he’d attack him, which he didn’t. And what did Dio do? Apologize and give him a part of what's literally the most important thing he has, 'his' body.

The fact that Pucci kept his 'sentimentality' towards his friend (I quote), his obsessive affection for Dio, and hope in his plan for such a long time is easily understandable, he had everything to win from Dio's plan (which is very different from nothing to lose, he has quite a lot to lose!). He could be cleansed from his sin, or at least put everyone on his level, be granted the reward of unconditional love, he could grow to a close to godly status or be a messiah carrying god's will (be special, push the boundaries of being human), and maybe, just maybe revive his loved ones too! He could rewrite his destiny at best, and at worst, obtain peace of mind. If anything helping Dio might even have been an excuse for Pucci to lie to himself about his real intentions with this plan (unconsciously : finally accomplishing his destiny of being special over his sibling and basically everyone else, consciously : giving everyone the chance to prepare for tragedy + opening everyone's eyes to the fact that what he did, cause his sister's death, was not really his fault since it was written by fate all along.)

Now if you really have a high esteem of Dio's intelligence you can argue that he did it all on purpose, he gave out his weakness on purpose to mellow Pucci, he called the plan Heaven to cater to Pucci's faith, he talked him into doing crimes, pretended to feel equal/inferior so that Pucci would give him his trust... But 1) Dio's not that good at it, has too big trust issues himself and has other means for submitting people to his will (as seen with Kakyoin, Polna...), 2) it's literally written this has to be built on trust which in my opinion completely disqualifies a manipulation aspect to it. Of course there are many other sources that further the idea that they were really friends, I'm thinking about how their relationship is described in interviews or the Jojo Mag, but I wanted this post to focus on canon interpretation.

Thank you for reading my essay, I’m always happy to chat and comment on the dynamics between characters in the material. I am not willing to talk about morality or shipping discourse here so please refrain from sending me such comments.

#jjba #jojos bizarre adventure #pucci #enrico pucci #dio #dio brando #stone ocean #analysis

[i-sneezed]

Some Elriel evidence that doesn't get much attention.

First of all, if you're just having fun with your ships, you do you, man. I'm not here to rain on your parade.

However, there are so many people out there that are CONVINCED of Elucien/Gwynriel that I can't take it anymore and I have to throw in my two cents, so here we go. I'm gonna break it down by ship.

Elucien

There's no way, bro. And we can set aside the fact that if that ship were to sail it would be the same sort of love story as Nessian (reluctant mates).

The most obvious thing to discuss here is that Elain is clearly not interested. And neither, to some extent, is Lucien.

Let's look back to ACOWAR when Lucien talks to Elain in the library. He thinks about Jesminda. "[She] had loved him without question, without hesitation. She had chosen him. Elain had been...thrown at him."

Like Azriel, Lucien wants to be chosen. He's had it before and he sees the value in it. Unfortunately, he's a fae male and he has a hard time ignoring his instincts where his mate is concerned, so he keeps trying. Even though he can hardly stand to be in the same room as her. Whereas Vassa...

Elain, on the other hand, has absolutely no interest in a mating bond. After Graysen breaks her heart in ACOWAR, Feyre says, "Some sliver of hope had been shattered today. That Graysen would still love her, marry her--and that love would trump even a mating bond."

Obviously, that quote is in direct reference to her ex-fiance, but we see Elain reconfirm that desire in ACOFAS when she tells Feyre explicitly that she doesn't want a mate. I don't think it's personal to Lucien, I think she rejects the idea of being told who she should be with. Of being robbed of choice.

We learn from Nesta in ACOSF that their mother always said Elain would marry for "love and beauty". I think for Elain, a mating bond is not the same as love. Also, small aside, but who is constantly regarded as the most beautiful of the bat boys?

We haven't seen them have a conversation about their mating bond yet because why would we? That will happen in Elain's book (which is most likely next).

Gwynriel

I feel like this one is more dangerous to get into so I'll tread lightly.

Firstly, the majority of evidence for this ship comes from a bonus chapter that the majority of the fandom doesn't even know exists. Anyone who listens to the audiobooks doesn't know about it unless they poke around ACOTAR stuff online.

It doesn't make sense for an author to essentially change the entire trajectory of a story in a bonus chapter that most people don't know about.

Also, I think a big problem with the BC is that people read it after they finish the book, so it can feel like the most recent thing to happen in the story, but it's not. It happens about 2/3 of the way through ACOSF and a lot happens after that.

But before we get into that, let's talk about the shadows. People lose their damn minds that Az's shadows dance for Gwyn and vanish for Elain. The truth of it is that we don't know what dancing shadows actually mean, though. It's the first time we've seen it happen. However, we have seen his shadows vanish for someone other than Elain.

In ACOMAF, when Feyre meets the IC for the first time, they vanish for Mor. "Mor patted Azriel on the shoulder as she dodged his outstretched wing...The lurking shadows vanished entirely as Azriel's head dipped a bit."

So we know that the shadows vanish in the presence of someone Azriel has romantic feelings for, but we don't know what makes them dance.

Then, at the end of the BC (after he said he didn't even consider Gwyn to be a friend) he feels a spark of joy in his chest. Good. My shadow man deserves happiness.

But we know that it doesn't last because at the very next training right after Solstice, Neta comments that Az is "More aloof than usual" which clearly shows us that he is far more hung up on what happened with Elain than whatever may or may not be going on with Gwyn.

For her part, Gwyn becomes more comfortable around Azriel after Solstice. We love to see it because the poor girl has been so traumatized and, like Az, she deserves to be happy.

However, at no point does Nesta or Cassian suspect there to be any romantic connection between them. Not like how Nesta did with Az and Elain. ("His secret to tell. Never hers.").

And then at the climax of the book, Gwyn is thrown into the Blood Rite. At no point is Az even half as frantic as Cassian (which a mate would be) and he is way more preoccupied with whatever's going on with Eris.

At the end, when Nesta is getting ready for her mating ceremony, Gwyn tells her that she's not ready to leave the House of Wind again. Poor thing has been re-traumatized because of what happens in the BR and can't stand to leave the House. And y'all think she's ready for any kind of romantic relationship??

Nah, let Gwyn heal without the influence of a male.

Elriel

So I'm got gonna talk about the rescue, him figuring out she's a seer, giving her Truth Teller, or any of the usual stuff because that's been said and said and I have nothing to add to it.

Instead, I want to talk about what I believe their trope will be and share my evidence with the class. Cool? Cool.

Okay, so, I think we all know that if Elriel is endgame then their trope will be forbidden lovers.

Personally, I am of the opinion that the purpose of Az's bonus chapter was to confirm that for us, not suddenly change the entire trajectory of the story.

But forbidden lovers makes so much sense for Elriel because of what we've seen in the books, not just the BC.

Looking at ACOMAF again, Mor tells Feyre, "'Azriel's got no shortage of lovers, though, don't worry. He's just better at keeping them secret than we are.'"

Then, in ACOSF, when Feyre's talking about how Elain figured out she was pregnant first, she says to Azriel, "'I think she's got you beat for secret-keeping'".

So it's already in-canon that Azriel can keep his lovers secret very well and that Elain is just good at secrets in general.

BUT WAIT THERE'S MORE

A moment I never see anyone talk about is something that Cassian observes at a family dinner. "Elain had already departed with Feyre, claiming she had to be up with the dawn to tend to an elderly faerie's garden. Cassian didn't know why he suspected this wasn't true. There had been some tightness in Elain's face when she said it. Normally when she made such excuses, Lucien was around, but the male remained in the human lands with Jurian and Vassa."

Elain already has secrets the IC aren't privy to. So what's one more?

#elriel #elain x azriel #elain archeron #azriel #lucien vanserra #gwyneth berdara #acotar #fandom ships

[our-destiny]

Happy Birthday

It's Bucky's birthday, and he knows exactly what present he wants.

Content / Trigger Warnings: Kidnapping, bondage, reference to past stalking, forced blowjob, male masturbation, facial, threat of violence, he calls reader "darling", readers gender is not mentioned, if I missed any please let me know

I suck at summaries and I hate this, but I wanted to write something for his birthday so here it is.

I am not responsible for the media you consume, read the warnings, minors DNI

Want to read more of my work? Check out my Masterlist

Word Count: 1231

. ☪︎* ☁︎. . * ✰ .· ☁︎ . *  ✯. ☪︎* ☁︎. . * ✰ .· ☁︎ .

The only thing you could see was darkness, a piece of fabric tied over your eyes obscuring your vision. Your entire body felt heavy, head pounding, but despite how terrible your body felt you could tell you were laying down on something soft and comfortable, what feels like a pillow resting beneath your head. Your wrists were tied together, hands resting on your stomach, and after trying to move your legs you found out your ankles were tied together too, by the same smooth fabric that's tied over your eyes. You were still fully clothed which gave you some sense of comfort. Using what little strength you had you wiggled around, trying to get some sense on what was happening. Your movement alerted your captor, the silence of the room suddenly filled with a voice.

"You're awake. Good." It was a man. You could hear the smirk on his face when he said the last word, he almost sounded... excited? Amused? Either way you froze, waiting for him to do something else. Slow footsteps filled the room as he made his way over to you, panic seeped through your veins as you started moving around again.

"I was beginning to think I hit you too hard, I wouldn't put it past me." The way he talked was calculated, he was in control and knew it. "Now, stop moving around darling, I'm not gonna hurt you too bad." The mysterious voice was getting closer, the subtle promise of what was gonna happen made you shiver, fear making it hard to breathe properly. The footsteps stopped at your right, you could only imagine what he looked like standing above you, you tied up on his bed, or at least you guess it's his bed, completely at his mercy.

"You look good like this," his voice sounded deeper than before, as his fingers trailed a path from your right cheek down your body, his touch ghosting gently over your skin as if afraid to apply too much pressure, stopping at the restraints on your ankles. He started rubbing the fabric between his fingers as he spoke again, "I waited so long, watching you, waiting for the right moment to take you." You got more scared by the minute, every breathe feeding the panic bubbling inside you, fighting the urge to scream, the idea that this man has been stalking you, watching you while you weren't aware only adding to the terror. "And I decided tonight was perfect. Tonight on this special occasion I'd finally let myself have you. I deserve it after all. Do you know what today is?" You weren't sure if he wanted an answer, but you shook your head anyway. March 10th. Nothing special was happening today, at least not to your knowledge. At that he gave a slight chuckle, "Of course you don't know, you don't even know who I am. Well, might as well introduce myself." He lifted up your blindfold before taking it all the way off. The dim lighting hurt your eyes for a second, and you barely registered the burgundy walls before you focused on the man who had kidnapped you. Long hair framed his chiselled face, there was a hint of stubble along his sharp jawline, and piercing blue eyes looked down at you almost fondly. But the thing that scared you most was how big he was, he towered over you, he looked like he could crush you without breaking a sweat.

Then you saw it. The sleeves of his red Henley were rolled up to his elbows exposing the silver plates that made up his left arm. If you were scared of him before, you were terrified now.

"Mm. There's those pretty eyes. So full of fear. It's adorable really." Despite what he was saying you couldn't take your eyes off of his arm. It was only when he leaned down over you, hands planted either side of your head, that you could look him in his eyes again. He stared down at you with such intensity, like he wanted to devour you and cherish you and destroy you all at once. His warm breath fanned across your face as he spoke again, "My name is Bucky, and today... is my birthday."

He leaned back up to his full height, his gaze shifting down to your restraints. When you follow his eyes you see that he tied you up with red silk, like you were some kind of fucked up birthday present, wrapped up nicely just for him.

"After all the shit I've been through I deserve something nice for a change." He spoke as if this was normal, still keeping his cold, blue eyes fixed on the silk rendering you defenceless, "I figured you'd make the perfect gift. Just for me. I don't have to share anymore, I own you, once and for all. You're mine, to do whatever I please with."

At that he reached down to unbutton his jeans, the sound of a zipper reaching your ears as you start to panic, but all the words died in your throat when Bucky straddled your chest, the bulge in his pants now right in front of your face. In this position you were even more restrained, only able to kick your bound legs around blindly. He pulled down his boxers just enough to take out his cock, the tip leaking precum, angling it at your mouth using his left hand, the flesh one holding onto the headboard.

"Open wide, I'd hate to break your jaw this early on." You don't doubt that he could snap your jaw before you could blink, and seeing his metal hand up close made submitting seem like the easiest choice. So you licked your lips, and hesitantly opened your mouth, but before you could wrap your lips around the head of his cock, Bucky snapped his hips forward until his cock hit the back of your throat.

"If I feel teeth I'll knock them out," he lets out a low groan as he slides out of your mouth, his metal hand joining the flesh one on the headboard as he starts a brutal pace. His cock hits the back of your throat with every thrust, his thighs surrounding you till he was the only thing you could focus on. You were struggling to breathe, unable to focus on the words tumbling from his lips in a lustful haze, though you could slightly make out some praises about how perfect you were and how good you were taking him. You stopped trying to understand him after hearing that.

After what felt like hours, but was only a few minutes, Bucky pulled out of mouth to start stroking his cock, the mix of saliva and precum making it easy for him to glide his flesh hand up and down his length. You laid there beneath him, gasping for breath while he jerked himself off above you, and after a few more strokes he threw his head back as he came, thick ropes of cum coating your face and landing in your mouth. Bucky kept stroking himself, looking down at your cum covered face, until he slowed to a stop. He caught his breath for a few more seconds before speaking again.

"Oh this was just the beginning, darling. I'm gonna make sure I have a very happy birthday."

. ☪︎* ☁︎. . * ✰ .· ☁︎ . *  ✯. ☪︎* ☁︎. . * ✰ .· ☁︎ .

Reblog if you liked it plz <33

#dark mcu #dark marvel #dark bucky x you #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!buckybarnes #yandere marvel #yandere bucky x reader #yandere bucky barnes #yandere bucky #dark bucky x reader #dark bucky smut #bucky smut #bucky barnes #bucky x you

[a-d-nox]

web of wyrd: your tertiary karmic lesson, what you have to overcome in order to find love, and the sacral chakra

the number we are focusing on today is based on the SUM OF YOUR PRIMARY KARMIC LESSON NUMBER AND YOUR COMFORT ZONE NUMBER - ex: my number is 9 (21 + 6 = 27 -> 2 + 7 = 9 (as always, remember to reduce numbers that total more than 22).

but what does this number mean?

as this number is still part of the karmic tail, it is one of the karmic lessons we must overcome in this lifetime. more specifically, this is the tertiary lesson we will need to learn - it's not the primary one (which we spoke about perviously) but it is still important for our lifetime. particularly because this is the first number in what is referred to as the relationship channel. this first number is about what we must overcome to find love in this lifetime - because this a karmic number as well, this typically is something in a past life that cause our relationships to fail and thus this lifetime we must overcome this obstacle in order to find true love. this number also represents the sacral chakra - which is about creativity, sensuality, and sexuality. given the other meanings of this number discussed, this makes sense. when unblocked a person is sensual, creative, emotionally healthy, a divine feminine, and at peace/balanced. when blocked this number has emotional wounds that are uncared for, they have a lot of secrets, they fear judgement, they repress their feelings, they are unable/unwilling to experience emotional or sexual intimacy, they feel lonely, and/or lack creative inspiration.

let's talk examples:

6 - the lovers

click here for the card description of the lovers found in a prior wyrd web post.

6s in a past life may have been in a relationship in which there was a lack of balance - one person had more power than the other and they likely abused this power. they could have been this person or they could have been the other person and struggled with codependency or even they worshiped power abusive person and were too submissive in the relationship. the point is they relied too heavily on their significant other to do what they wanted them to or did too much for their partner without compromise. they likely stayed in dissatisfying relationships because they were afraid to be alone.

in this lifetime 6s must overcome instant gratification (they are often victims of insta-love tropes and are involved in love-bombing) and external pleasure. they have to chose healthy divine love over codependency and complacency - just because it is a relationship they are comfortable in does not mean they should stay in it. the universe is literally asking them to leave the relationships they know are unbalanced and trust that the universe will bring them a relationship in which both they and the other person are emotionally available. they must realize that they can't or shouldn't rely on a partner to fulfill their needs (they may have high and unrealistic ideas about love and partnerships) and that true happiness is an inside job.

blocked 6s rely too heavily on their partners and push unfair and high expectation on to them (some may have little to no expectations - which is also not good). they are often unhappy with themselves and look for others to validate them instead of doing internal work. they may rely too heavily on their masculine (needing to be in control, being a provider, asking others out, etc.) or feminine (submission, waiting for the other party to make a move, etc.) energy instead of balancing the two. they may not know their values and beliefs in what a relationship should be. they may be the type who believes everyone is their soulmate - this too has a way of holding people back in their journey to finding a true relationship.

unblocked 6s are romantically and emotionally available. like the image on the card they are willing to be vulnerable - they don't have anything to hide from those they are in a connection with. they don't keep secrets in their connections as they believe in transparency between parties. they don't force connections with the person they are in a connection with instead they love the person as they are in that moment. they do not rely on a partner to fulfill their needs; they do things for themselves. they neither have unrealistically high nor low/nonexistent expectations within a relationship. they are okay with being alone - they trust the universe is bring them the person they need most in this lifetime.

9 - the hermit

click here for the card description of the hermit found in a prior wyrd web post.

9s in a past life were likely afraid of relying on or trusting those around them - they had the tendency to isolate themselves from others. they relied too much on themselves and likely had a biased outlook on life believing they were the only ones to see the world as it truly is. they feared abandonment so they abandoned others before they could be abandoned themselves. they were unwilling to be supported by others.

in this lifetime 9s must overcome isolation. it is likely they have attachment issues and fear connecting with others so they tend to avoid putting themselves out there to possibly receive love. while time alone is good for healing - even that shouldn't be done alone by them, they should have a therapist - there is such thing as too much time spent alone. on the other end of the spectrum, they may fear being alone and stay in unhealthy relationships to avoid being alone with themselves. they need to abandon the relationships they stay in simply so they aren't alone and do internal work so they can have healthier connections in the future. that isn't to say they aren't in the correct relationship now - if it is the right person / right relationship, their partner should not mind spending time apart so they can come back together stronger than they were before. the right person compromises with those they love.

blocked 9s fear loneliness and don't understand the differences between being alone, lonely, and in solitude. they refuse to look inwardly and have the tendancy to look to others for answers. for some, they have isolated for too long and believe that they are the only ones with the correct answers in connections/relationships. they refuse to ask for help and struggle to connect with those around them.

unblocked 9s know when and when not to be alone - "no man is an island". they don't fear being alone but they also don't isolate themselves from the world around them. they ask for help from others yet know when to listen to their own inner truth. they take space when they feel drained in a connection or as though they may snap at those around them unnecessarily. they know that "distance makes the heart grow fonder" - so they aren't clingy in a connection.

15 - the devil

click here for the card description of the devil found in a prior wyrd web post.

15s in a past life must not have been "good" individuals (from my experience they are almost always punished even when they are doing something good for those around them) - but they weren't "evil" because this is the third and most minor of the lessons they must learn - they likely stole things for a living, they could have hurt others (no killing though), they could have been an abusive alcoholic, etc. the point is that they likely presented with destructive behaviors to those around them. there unhealthy habits likely destroyed those around them but did very little to them.

in this lifetime 15s must overcome self-destructive patterns, unhealthy habits, and self-sabotaging behaviors. after they do this for themselves, they often have to help others with these issues as well. a lot of these individuals have to let go of control in order to find love in this lifetime - it tend to be the reason others can't be with them, they don't want anyone to them help or they control the situation too much and it is unbearable for those that love them. they often have to overcome the struggle of love versus lust - these are not the same thing; they hunger for romance but often participate in hookup culture. they can also be too codependent on partners and stay in relationships that no longer serve them. they must let go and admit they have these struggles in romance in order to receive true love.

blocked 15s self sabotage relationships so they don't end up getting hurt by those around them. they don't get into emotionally intimate relationships fearing that the other person won't be able to handle their baggage. they seek power over others and dominance in a relationship. they are in denial of their unhealthy habits / coping mechanisms though they know that they exist. they fear many things judgement, trusting others, etc. but are unwilling to talk it through with their partner.

unblocked 15s are hopeful in new relationships - they don't look for an automatic out - they believe this time will be different from the last. they learned, grew, and reevaluated their situation so they could have a better outcome and healthier relationship(s) than the last. they don't try to get into relationships similar to the last - they search for something new they have never experienced in order to get rid of destructive patterns.

that's all for today. the next number we will be looking at is the other blocking number on the other end of the channel regarding money!

like what you read? leave a tip and state what post it is for! please use my "suggest a post topic." button if you want to see a specific pac/pile next. if you'd like my input on how i read a specific card or what i like to ask my deck, feel free to use the ask button for that as well.

click here for the masterlist

click here for more web of wyrd related posts

want a personal reading? click here to check out my reading options and prices!

© a-d-nox 2023 all rights reserved

#astrology #astro community #astro placements #astro chart #astrology tumblr #tarot #tarotscope #tarot cards #tarot witch #daily tarot #tarotcommunity #tarot reading #tarotblr #tarot deck #tarotdaily #tarot art #web of wyrd #wyrd web #matrix of destiny #the devil #the hermit #the lovers

[to-thelakes]

I'm watching Moon Knight (again) to help me go to sleep and I've rewatched episode 1 so so many times on nights like tonight but I still absolutely adore all the little details.

Like, okay so when Steven wakes up in the Alps (I think that's where it is), Khonshu says "go to sleep, worm" and okay, first watch and without knowing the context of Jake existing, that makes sense. Khonshu doesn't like Steven which we learn more and more as the series goes on but then he says a few lines later "the idiot's in control" in that same scene in the Alps.

There is such a clear shift in attitude between 'go to sleep, worm' and 'The idiot's in control' and it's so obvious on a rewatch that Khonshu is talking to two different people with each line.

He's referring to Jake as 'worm' and he thinks that telling him to simply 'go back to sleep' would work because Jake is aware of the alters and their situation. Although from the brief glimpses we get of Jake, we know that he is an... interesting guy yet we can gather that he at least has some sort of alliance/respect/something going on with Khonshu. However, when he realises it's Steven, it's not hostility in the same way. It's more exasperated frustration. He's mad at Marc for letting Steven suddenly appear rather than being annoyed at Jake for making a random appearance. The way that the dialogue is written just exposes so much on a rewatch.

But going back to Jake/Khonshu even if they do have some respect, it's also pretty obvious that Khonshu does not want Jake around. I'd speculate that that's probably because if Marc loses time when he knows that he's not in London as Steven, that would create suspicion. Suspicion that Khonshu wouldn't want because that would put their avatar/God relationship at risk.

Though, I also suspect that Khonshu and Jake probably were working together but Marc never became aware because Jake worked at nights (maybe why Steven is so goddamn tired) or simply took over while Marc thought that Steven was in control.

I know that the Moon Knight portrayal is not the most accurate DiD portrayal but from my research, there's this whole idea of like different levels of awareness. Like the blackouts for Steven are because he initially has no awareness of the other alters. Then when Steven and Marc black-out, it's because neither of them are aware that there is a third alter aka Jake. Which means that Jake can do things for Khonshu while Marc believes that he is in London and neither Marc nor Steven would be aware.

I'm kind of just rambling about the show at this point but also, what I find really interesting every time I rewatch is the date thing. So, right, if Marc was the one that set-up the date why would he let Steven stand her up without saying anything to her? Marc isn't exactly the best guy when it comes to romance but he is incredibly protective over Steven because he wants to protect him from Khonshu. So, why in the world would he let the whole date rejection thing happen?

Because it wasn't Marc. It was Jake. Jake asked out Steven's colleague and that also makes sense why they went to a steak place. Jake doesn't give a f*ck about Steven's veganism while Marc absolutely would. Marc wants to protect Steven so he wouldn't make such a silly mistake.

But Jake would. Honestly, at this point, convinced that Jake just wanted to fuck with the Moonboys and Khonshu just played along.

I don't know.

I always find the dynamics of the Moonboys so interesting and I love how even when you rewatch it, there are new little discoveries that you can make. Like there was so much love, thought and attention put into this show?? It makes me SO SO happy.

This show honestly means the world to me and excuse the ramble/rant but I just love talking about my Moonboys and I never really get to speculate or discuss the show. I talk about it with my dad but being at uni means that I do not get to ramble at him as often. So, tumblr gets it instead.

But yeah, they're my (not very) astute observations about my beloved Moon Knight

#moon knight #marc spector #moonknight #moon boys #steven grant #jake lockley #ruby rambles #moon knight system #ramble post #moonknight is my comfort show <3 #i miss my moon boys #sleepless night with ruby <3

[eliyips]

HOW DO YOU MAKE X SO FRIENDSHAPED?!

But also genuinely curious about the design translation from the actual skins to your interpretations due to the small but mighty details added in

Infodump as hard as you want!

If i ever pass up an opportunity to talk about my X design, it will be because I am either dead, or dying!!! neither are true at time of posting, so here you go! I will be going over my ENTIRE design process for Xisuma, starting with my initial design:

My initial design for Xisuma wasn't anything special, in my opinion. Most of what I included was directly ripped from the classic Doomslayer. Though, the face scars were inherited from fanon, of course. :) The changes that I did make were in service of having things make more sense for Xisuma. Namely, the belt buckle, and the fabric covering the arms...

The belt buckle is simple - bullets didn't really make sense as a design motif, all considered - but the fabric is more complicated. I have a couple different ideas about why Xisuma wears the suit, but I haven't settled one way or the other on some of the specifics, so forgive me if I'm a bit vague. Ultimately, It is just my impression that X is not comfortable having his body visible more than it needs to be, whether that be for health-related reasons or for personal/emotional reasons. I don't intend to ever draw Xisuma with his helmet off, because of that. To me, it feels like a violation of boundaries. To be perfectly clear though, that's just for me - more power to other artists who draw him without the helmet/armor! :)

By the time I was full-on fixated on Xisuma, I realized I was unsatisfied with this first pass at his design. Mainly, in regards to the helmet. So I did more work on it!

I feel like my re-design process for the helmet is a good example of the importance of using reference. :) I did a lot of unsatisfactory sketches before pulling up pictures of real helmets, at which point I feel like I settled on something I was happy with very quickly.

Specifically, I referenced motocross helmets! My choice of reference was mostly driven by my passing interest in sports equipment design, though motocross helmets are similarly bulky and have the same distinct mouthpiece as X's helmet, so I think it was a good choice. I also feel like the pixels at the top of Xisuma's skin can be pretty easily read as the brim of a helmet, so it works out!

Other than the motocross helmet influence, I also made the choice to add tubing to the sides and back of the helmet. This rolls with my headcanons about the purpose of the helmet, connecting to air tanks on his back! I also think it helps to distinguish him from the doomslayer, in addition to the new helmet shape.

The only other changes I made were to the helmet's palette, added a few additional grey tones for contrast, and the positioning of his scars. I decided I wanted them to be a little off-center, leaning towards his left eye. I'm pretty inconsistent with how I draw the scars though, lol, so it changed again by the next time I drew him.

At this point my design is mostly settled for him, and I don't expect it to change very significantly any time soon. I don't have much else to say about it, but I listed the other iterative changes I made to the design above! I figure I will continue making small tweaks to his design every time I draw him :)

That said... I have yet to answer your initial question! So I will answer it now:

"HOW DO YOU MAKE X SO FRIENDSHAPED?!"

My answer is that it's (almost) all in the eyes!!! I have already talked pretty extensively about Xisuma's eyes. So I won't dwell for too long! In short, human facial recognition is very closely tied to the eyes. The ability to see the eyes of a character clearly affords you a lot of flexibility when it comes to making a design seem approachable, or "friend-shaped." I painted over a screenshot of doomguy to illustrate my point!

My drawings tend towards being a little cutesy, of course, so that helps :) but you can see that the bright, saturated color, big distinct eyes, and less harsh expression all contribute to making him seem like he is less of a threat, despite this literally just being the doomslayer.

Another thing that helps is, again, related to the style I draw in. My art is very "clean" looking, not gritty. I use a lot of soft shape language and don't texture things too heavily. With Xisuma specifically, I also make no effort to make him seem intimidating. I use very neutral angles when drawing him, I don't frame him in a way that makes him seem intimidating or imposing, I don't pose him too confidently or angrily. Because he's not that kind of guy! Though it would be an interesting challenge to try and make him look as intimidating as possible :) I certainly think he could be quite scary, if he wanted to be. Just a matter of what I'm trying to convey.

... I think that's all I have to say for now! Once again, blown away by all the nice things people have to say about my Xisuma design and my art. Everyone here has been so kind and encouraging, and I really appreciate that. Thanks for giving me the opportunity to yell about Xisuma! If you have follow up questions, by all means, I am ready to answer :)

#hermitcraft #hermitblr #xisumavoid #xisuma #character design #askeliyips #if you also can see the helmet brim on xisuma's skin please let me know #could be a mirage #mcyt

[meanbossart]

A long over-due ask compilation (Art & Music)

It's vaguely based on a short story from the book "The Consumer" by Michael Gira, specifically "The Boss". I think it came up in conversation with a friend or something when I was picking a new username, so that's how we arrived at it - this was almost a decade ago so, my memory on it is a little hazy!

{MORE UNDER THE CUT]

HAHA thank you so much!!! Glad you enjoy what I do 😎🍻

I BELIEVE this little guide I put together over here might be helpful to you, also! I touched on pretty much everything you brought up.

As for reference material when it comes to facial expressions, I have a mirror next to my desk which I glance at often and make weird faces at LOL and for consistency, it's really a matter of learning to dissect and remember facial structure. It's just something you end up developing an eye for when you've done it for long enough! Naturally, if we're talking about drawing existing characters, it's always helpful to just look at some pictures of their mugs and take a minute to define what features about them make their faces recognizable - I touch on this at the link above as well!

I do plan on making a "drowstarion" (love that, by the way LOL) playlist eventually, life's just been kicking my ass and I hardly have the time 😭and when I do, I just wanna draw.

Otherwise I don't have any other playlists floating around at the moment, BUT the one my boyfriend made for his Vellioth comic can be found here, and it might scratch a similar itch!

Thank you! I believe this was in reference to this post. Something like that takes me about... An hour??? If we're talking just the colors, at least. Though that's a really rough estimate because I take a lot of breaks, so my sense of time when I work ends up pretty skewed. Even if the application of the colors themselves took less than 20 minutes I probably spent 2 hours just staring at it LOL.

My friend, I have no idea. I'm in a constant battle between "I want to draw more realistically" and "I want to simplify my art so I can draw more/faster". What you see is the result of that ongoing brain-tug-of-war.

Also, just the way I assume everyone else develops theirs - they see stuff they like and emulate it until their art is Frankensteinish enough to be it's own unique thing!

I'm far from a Type O Negative buff, BUT I'm happy to share some of my favorites with you! They're quite scattered across a couple of their albums so I'm not sure I have a favorite, but I would say October Rust is a good starting point.

In no particular order, these are my most listened tracks of theirs: -Love You to Death -Black N.01 -Haunted -She Burned Me Down -Can't Lose You -I Don't Wanna Be Me -Be My Druidess -September Sun -Tripping A Blind Man

Alas, I was one of those people who was already drawing in kindergarten 😅 though I would say I only started taking it seriously when I was around 15-16 years old. As someone who has tried their hand at several other hobbies since reaching adulthood, I get what you're saying that it can kinda feel like... You missed the wagon? I've felt that way about all kind of things lol

That said, I've seen adults managing to develop their art skills extremely fast and effectively before. Understanding where and how you need to improve, and how to follow lessons/guides best is something that is vastly improved by maturity and knowing how to best hone your time, attention, and resources - and those are skills we completely lack as children. So, I sincerely believe that as long as you commit yourself, you can definitely get to a point that you're happy with in a couple of years if not less.

JUST DO IT BUDDY we are all just people looking through a screen and you won't ever see, talk, or meet 99% of the folks who ever clap eyes on what you post. Whenever you start getting nervous about sharing something, take a minute to ask yourself why you're nervous, and if none of the reasons have any genuine substance besides being afraid of what people "might think", just go ahead and post it. You're no mind-reader after all, and if you are, I doubt you can hear what a guy from Argentina or wherever is thinking about the art you made.

Point is, nobody online can touch you 🤷and if someone doesn't like what you do, they can simply choose to not interact with it, and if they do you can block and move on. There are zero reasons for you to feel "bad" about putting up a doodle when our experiences on the web are so easily curated nowadays.

#ask compilation

[vampsquerade]

Hi! hope you have a good day! Can you do a poly "Ghost x male reader x Soap" (if you comfortable writing poly relationship) with slow burn, angst and fluff at the end?

Where Ghost and Soap already in a relationship until the reader came into their team The two male thought the reader wasn't talkative around people but few weeks later, things change at first Ghost seems interesting in the male skill using gun and how fast he can run and Soap like the male sense of humour.

Both of them thought it only a friendship type of things. Until the male save Ghost from the enemy on the battlefield and him laughing at Soap jokes. That when the two males known what happen to them, they weren't sure if M/n would comfortable in a relationship with them, so they start doing small things for him like making coffee or helping training,..

And M/n notice it, he even started to fall for the both of them. But he keep denying the things they did for him because he thought that what friend do. and M/n don't think he is ready for a new relationship, he wasn't sure he is good enough for them (the male got trauma from the previous relationships) (more angst please, I would like to suffer for a little bit)

(・∀・)

After a while, the three of them got into a mission together, everything went good until the male got shot. He thought he going to be de@d soon (only to find out that he only got shot at his leg) so M/n confessed how he feel about the two of them which got him embarrassed when Ghost mention it when they got back to the base.

(andddd I don't know what to do with the ending cause I'm ran out of idea. I would want to see how the treated each other when got into a relationship. Sorry about the grammar, English isn't my first language)

hello anon! thanks so much for your request, i’m sorry for having taken so long to get to it because i will be honest, i rewrote this 29 fucking times…anyway, thank you for being as descriptive as possible because that really helped me out. and it’s okay! if you would like, feel free to leave a request in your native language so it’s more comfortable for you, i can translate it easily!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ghost x Male!Reader x Soap: One’s Company, and Two’s a Crowd

Trigger Warnings: angst wth a happy ending, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, gunshot wounds, past abusive relationships, relationship trauma, accidental confessions, reference of domestic violence

Simon and Johnny had, despite their slight differences, found themselves in a relationship together. Behind closed doors, the relationship was as domestic as it could get with an angsty man who’s had the worst of the worst happen in his life and a golden retriever boyfriend whose purpose for his traumatized lover was to show him there is some good in this world. Though his biological family is gone, Simon’s found his place in the Task Force and SpecGru; and a new member was just about to join the family. You walked into the room where Simon and Johnny were sitting, and his eyes grew wide when he saw you do a double take once you saw them. “Hey—who the fuck are you? How the fuck’d you get in?” he asks, quickly standing up.

Johnny’s quick to do the same, grabbing Simon’s hand tightly to hold him back. “Easy, Simon—let’s give him a chance to explain himself,” he says. His ocean blue eyes are soft as he looks at you, meanwhile Simon’s dark brown eyes are glaring into you so hard you feel like you’ll suddenly feel the blade of an invisible knife ghost against your neck before digging into you. “I’m new around here, sorry. The main contractor was telling me to try and introduce myself to anyone who’s around,” you explain. Your voice is so soft and so gentle, despite your military build. You’ve even got your arms raised in the air as a form of surrender. Simon, still wary of you, walks over to you and begins to frisk you for weapons. Satisfied that he doesn’t find anything, Simon lets you lower your arms before walking back to Johnny.

“You should probably learn how to fucking knock,” he scolds, glaring at you hard still. “He doesn’t need to knock Bonnie, this is the common room,” Johnny says before shaking his head slightly. “Sorry about that—what’s yer name? I’m Johnny and this here is Ghost,” he asks in a more kind manner. “Ah, cool. Nice to meet you two, please call me Y/N whenever we’re not on a mission or anything,” you say, giving the two a more peaceful and gentle smile. “Y/N…very nice name, I’ll say. Glad to have you on our side, too. I’m sure all of us will make some real good memories now that you’re here,” Johnny says. You can’t help but smile, nodding your head a bit, “Can’t wait to see what the future holds for us—this is going to be really exciting. I’ll be out of your hair now, see you around,” you say.

The duo then watches you give them a little wave once you step back out of the common room. It makes Simon sigh deeply, looking back down at Johnny. “M’sorry, love. I didn’t mean to snap on the kid like that…you know how I am…” he apologizes. It makes Johnny laugh, leaning over and giving him a kiss on the cheek as he leads him back to the couch. “It’s okay, you’ll eventually warm up to him…I hope,” he says, wrapping his arms back around Simon. He does the same, holding onto Johnny once more and closing his eyes. “He seems…a bit promising, however. I’ll try my best to warm up to him…” Simon mumbles, nuzzling into Johnny’s chest. “Go at your own pace, alright?” Johnny reassures. Simon nods, sighing again as he closes his eyes. His lover’s embrace always seems to calm him for the better.

Time seems to fly, the more you spend time on base and out on missions, the more Simon and Johnny seem to notice you’re completely reserved to everyone else. The only time you ever speak is on missions, and even then, it’s only when you need to make call outs or call in a UAV. The two of them are impressed however, your ability to run and gun down enemies is something that they haven’t seen in quite some time. The way you carry yourself is with so much pride and a determination to do your job the best you could now that you’re in the big leagues, met only by the silence of someone who actively acknowledges just how good they are. It’s not arrogant or anything, as you tend to give everyone a thumbs up once you’re asked how you’re feeling before, during, and after a mission.

Outside the field, you’re even more isolated and really only hang around Johnny and Simon whenever they invite you to. You laugh at Johnny’s dumb jokes, picking up on some of his Scots and occasionally using it whenever the time is right. Johnny starts to feel drawn to you, and with your expertise in handling weaponry and staying cool in the field draws Simon closer to you too. It’s shocking, but it’s what draws the romantic duo closer to wanting to know you better. Johnny comes up with the idea to make you more comfortable, following Simon’s suggestion to get you closer to the two of them. It’s a big risk, he says, but Simon’s more than willing to make that risk for you.

You warm up to them both, talking more and more only when you’re with them. The prospect of potentially adding you to their relationship makes Johnny and Simon a bit excited. They begin to treat you nicely, waking you up whenever you’ve slept long enough, giving you coffee or tea if it’s too early in the morning, and treating you with a kindness you haven’t really felt in a long time. It almost feels…a little domestic. It’s a form of intimacy you didn’t even have in your last relationship, and in turn it makes you a bit wary. Still wanting to be friends with them, you just return the gestures whenever you can. Acts of service seems to be Johnny’s love language, and quality time seems to be Simon’s.

For you, it’s gift giving. You give them little trinkets and stuff you find—out in the field and in the cities you all travel to—showing them that you’re their friend and want them to know you appreciate them. It scares you, after a few months of doing this, as you eventually find yourself catching feelings for the both of them. It felt wrong, having such strong emotions for two men at the same time. It almost reminds you of your past relationship, except you were forced to share yourself with two different people who ended up forgetting you in the end. They’d exclude you and eventually started hurting you physically whenever you protested the relationship.

So once you wake up from a nightmare recounting that verg relationship while sleeping on the couch of the common room, Johnny and Simon are immediately alerted by this as they sit and talk seated at a table in the corner of the room. They see the cold sweat dripping off your forehead, your chest heaving slightly as you try to regain your breath and rush over. “Are you doing alright? What’s the matter?” Johnny asks, looking at you. “G-Get away…please…” you plead softly, shocking the duo slightly. “Bonnie, come on…we just want to help you…” Johnny says, reaching out for you. You crawl further back into the couch, as if scrambling to get away from them.

Simon, despite wearing his usual skull balaclava, is clearly distressed by your sudden behavior. “Do you…feel scared because of us…” he asks softly, trying to show his concern for you. Not a word comes out, however, a gentle nod of the head is the only answer given. “Do you feel comfortable enough to talk about it? We just want to understand…” Johnny says. You just remain silent, not even realizing that your body’s begun to tremble. “Please, let us understand…help us understand…” he continues to urge you. Feeling overwhelmed, you just push them away and quickly storm out of the common room.

The duo doesn’t move or go after you, opting to give you the space you clearly need right now. Weeks go by, and you’re sent back on another mission with Johnny and Simon. They could tell you’re still very much not willing to talk to them. The distance aches their hearts, as all they want to do is understand what’s hurting you. They don’t even realize that they’re the reason; you’d swiftly fallen in love with the two men, and you really don’t want to have a repeat of your previous relationship the more you fall. It hurt, and you didn’t want to see them hurt from it either. It’s distracting, especially on such an important mission like this. Suddenly, you can faintly hear your callsign being yelled.

“Liquid…”

“Liquid!”

“Liquid! Get the fuck down!”

You snap out of your thoughts once the disembodied voice yells at you, managing to hear a bullet whizz past your ear. Immediately you drop to the floor, clutching your TAQ-56 tightly in your hands. Not realizing the enemy’s become fully aware of your presence long before you started zoning out, the realization of three of you being pinned down where you were positioned really rang in your ears. Maybe it was just the bullet that whizzed past, or the thundering gunfire that surrounded you making your ears ring. Whatever it was, you forced yourself to wait for the enemies to call out to their own teammates when reloading to return fire.

The shootout lasts for a while and as a last ditch effort against the remaining 4 scattered enemies, one of them hurls an active frag grenade towards Simon. “Ghost, move!” you exclaim. Simon looks down and quickly moves back, firing at an enemy that appeared from the left of a different building. Running from your cover, fire is immediately opened on you as you grip the grenade and hurl it back to the one that threw it. A bullet pierces through you in an unknown area, pain immediately surging in your body as you fall to the floor. The grenade explodes on the enemy that tossed it, as well as his friend that happened to be unlucky enough to move forward. “Y/N! Streamin’ bloody Jesus!”

“I-I can’t go on anymore! Just know—I really love you guys!” you exclaim, not even paying attention where you had been shot at. Johnny comes out of his cover and fires at the remaining enemy before joining Simon at your side. Simon’s already removed your body armor and was in the middle of checking where the bullet hit you, and he seemed to have frozen in place at your confession. Johnny turns his attention to your leg before looking up at your face, “You uh…you’ll live, Liquid…you got shot in the meatier part of your calf,” he says a bit awkwardly. Instantaneously upon hearing you weren’t even dying, your heart dropped even further into the seemingly bottomless pit.

You just accidentally confessed.

The once talkative trio was now completely silent, being treated by medics and being moved to get further care for your gunshot wound. Simon and Johnny patiently wait to be allowed to see you and once they do, the tension in the room is just as heavy as it was back when you first joined the whole operation. “Y/N…we need to talk about what you said earlier,” Johnny urges gently. A deep sigh escapes you as you sit there in the infirmary cot. You’ve begun to play with the stitching to your jeans, huffing softly. “It was the heat of the moment…” you make an excuse for yourself, blaming it on the situation.

Simon raises his brow after, “You do know that that makes it all the more true. This isn’t something you can easily avoid,” he says, reminding you of the other side of the coin. Feeling defeated about this situation, your shoulders slump as you reluctantly look up at the couple. “Okay, fine—I’ve…I’ve had feelings for you two for quite some time but…ah…” You say, trailing off as different points come through your mind. Deciding to start on one, the look in your eyes becomes somber as the duo watches and patiently waits to hear what you have to say. “Can I first explain why I started pushing you guys away…?” you ask, hoping they’ll provide you a safe space to speak.

“‘Course ya can…go in and tell us, lad…we’re listening…” Johnny reassured you. Simon nods silently, waiting to understand why you began to act so distant in the first place. “Well…when my partner and I were dating, they decided to add another person to the mix…except, it was a blatant slap to the face,” you begin, feeling a bit overwhelmed as the story of your past relationship comes to light. Johnny and Simon both reach for your hands, gently holding onto and caressing them. They give you a moment to recollect yourself, clearly treating you much better than you had been treated. “It was only like that because it was basically a way for my partner to distance themselves and cheat on me.”

The last sentence makes Simon furious, and he squeezes at your hand a little tighter. You couldn’t help but keep going, “The two of them had degraded me and…sometimes they hit me…whenever I asked them to join or made a protest to the whole thing.” Johnny’s eyes, usually soft, looked immediately protective, “Oh bonnie…you didn’t deserve to be treated like rubbish like that. Is the ended relationship why you ended up joining the military, and eventually us?” he asks while reassuring you. A silent nod is your only response, as well as the quivers of pain and fear your body gives.

“I pushed myself away to keep myself from hurting like that again…from personal experience, I’ve become so afraid…” you say. Your own hands then hold onto Simon’s and Johnny’s a bit tighter, and they do the same. “We wouldn’t let that happen at all. Johnny and I here, well—the two of us have fallen in love with you at the same time. It’s completely understandable if you want to join or not,” Simon confesses, rubbing at the back of his still balaclava-covered head. “Promise we won’t ignore how you’re feeling…a relationship as big as ours relies heavily on trust so…” Johnny says, looking at Simon before you.

“Will you trust us?”

The question comes out of their mouths perfectly in sync, showing that giving you the move you’ve always deserved is something they both agreed on doing. A heavy and apprehensive silence filled the room, the 50/50 chance of you agreeing or not waiting to be flipped by a singular figurative scenario. “I’ll trust you…” eventually came out of your lips and confirmed your answer. Not even realizing they had been holding their breaths, Simon and Johnny sigh in relief. “Thank fucking God…” Simon says, putting a hand in his chest. Johnny chuckles as he leans forward and kisses your cheek.

“Best choice, Y/N…you’re going to be so loved…you’ve even got Simon all exasperated about this,” Johnny says, slightly joking with you. Simon grumbles, rolling his eyes as lifts his balaclava up before he leans forward and kisses your other cheek. “That’ll do…” he says, ruffling your sleeve a bit. “Thank you—I’m really hoping this could work out for us…” you mumble softly, kissing both Simon and Johnny’s cheeks. This was the staff of a new beginning, and the first step from healing what you’d experienced before. So much love was on its way to you, and you were just so happy.

#cod #call of duty #cod mw2 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw22 #call of duty modern warfare 2022 #cod ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley #cod soap #john soap mactavish #john mactavish #cod task force 141 #x male reader #ghost x soap x male reader

[transmutationisms]

Would you be willing to talk a little more on what you mean about us society not really being an individualistic one, rather a massified one? I guess I interpreted that as being a comment on how people flippantly refer to a society such as the us as being individualistic but I guess greater scrutiny breaks that down when you realise the amount of struggle that comes from not meeting the status quo ideal (and being deemed useful), and that really the power of being an 'individual' is given only to a select few. But I find this interesting because a lot of my leftie friends (and I have also been guilty of this and not previously realised) will definitely be like oh the UK is a super individualistic society when we're maybe really trying to make a point about something else ... Anyway, am I barking up the right tree at all and do you have any wider thoughts on the difference between those two ideas (often conflated) you'd be happy to share? Is the idea of the individual still helpful in terms of understanding the mythos of the US and also the UK in using it as a powerful idea larping at meritocracy at least in contrast to actual senses of community...

oh this is just something that irritates me in a lot of left and left-adjacent discourse—the slippage from a correct observation that capitalism denies us a lot of social support and connection, to the unfounded and frankly reactionary assertion that it in some way values or respects individuality or individuals' autonomy. i think this plagues a lot of discussions of 'egotism' & so forth. in truth i don't think we're facing some kind of epidemic of self-centredness or 'narcissism' (lmao) or whatever—i think , again, it's an economic context that is structured around the construct of the individual, and that's alienating and harmful. but at the same time—and particularly since the increasing use of population management, social statistics, state medical authority &c from the 18th century onward—we are also in an economic context that treats the population as a mass to be controlled and surveilled (hence 'massifying'—sorry to borrow an ugly term from an ugly foucault translation) & it's unhelpful to characterise this as any kind of genuine attention to individuality or the autonomous ego. it is certainly true that esp neoliberal discourse relies on the invocation of the self-sufficient individual (talking esp here about the post reaganite/thatcherite US/UK) but it's overly credulous to extrapolate from this that like, austerity politics actually has any interest in protecting individual rights, desires, &c. actually the entire 'individual rights' paradigm is kind of irksome imo because it presents the 'right' as something calcified and possessed by the individual rather than a social relation arising from a social context—but even leaving this aside for a second, like, it is just not viable to argue that the US or UK (to take the obvious examples again) genuinely are protecting or valuing individuals in any way lmao. like, what part of cutting benefits, extending work hours, breaking labour power, &c does that? ultimately i don't usually find "individualism" a particularly helpful schema for political / economic analysis. i think it's often a confusion of a few different things: a purely rhetorical analysis of reactionary liberal claims; a response to alienation that should be analysed as materially grounded; an openly reactionary response to a perceived loss of power for social institutions like the church or the family, &c.