#sure it can be lighthearted and fun when making it fiction

[kristalldroppar]

Did people like, forget that you have to kill a selkidomus and a stonesleeper (sentient, conscious and feeling species) To make a grimwalker........?

Oh and you also need to acquire a galdorstone, which is a rare, powerful, magical,protected and ancient relic thats.... Guarded for a reason.

It's necromancy and cloning. The show made it hard to do because of its problematic nature and removing that literally takes away a part of why belos doing this is so wrong. (It's not only about him using his brother's corpse, but the importance of a sense of self, these people have to go through. Complex identity issues and probably feelings of being a copy of someone else, which necessarily doesn't need to be the case, but something the show itself, imo is trying to bring up plenty of times)

if it was easy, belos wouldn't go to such lengths to achieve it. He would simply have more grimwalkers than what he already had, (and he had a lot already. When harvesting the ingredients, he literally destroyed eco-systems, eating Palismen and harvesting the trees.)

The galdorstones themselves had to be protected because of their strong magical abilities being used for selfish reasons, and letting them be harvested and used by specific few, would for sure cause societal problems. It is also hinted (not specified) that the ones that exists today are those protected by the graveyard (which is a very old one and created for again, said reason above)

Ethical dilemmas indeed

[temis-de-leon]

When they don't know you as well as they thought they did

Characters: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub and Belphegor (x reader, separately)

Main Masterlist

C/W: the boys are crushing on MC and it's implied MC is crushing as well, but there isn't any established relationship. Just friends feeling things for their friend, very common. Self-insert, perhaps?

A/N: this is just fluff, very silly, a little ooc maybe, but I'm not sure. I just wanted to make something fun and lighthearted after the recent news.

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No one is surprised anymore at the firmness the brothers speak with when they call you part of the family. Between the pacts and the unsolicited free therapy, it’s only fair, and only an idiot wouldn’t be able to see the affection running through the House of Lamentation.

Still, there are instances every once in a while where, although it’s difficult at the beginning, the boys have no other choice but to accept the fact that you have a completely different life back in the human world and they may not know you as good as they would like.

It starts with the small things; embarrassing conversations where their ignorance gets you to laugh like a maniac more than a couple of times. There they are, blushing in self-consciousness while you cackle uncontrollably because they believed some urban legend about a faceless suited man with freakishly long arms.

Then, slowly, but surely, it turns into more personal things about you, like your irrational, downright, phobia of lizards or the fictional characters you’re surprisingly attracted to.

(Some of those aren’t human, which makes them all feel a strong sense of hope, but you don’t need to know that).

The brothers learn about your studies, favourite subjects and what you’d like to do with your future, even if it sounds hopeless or unlikely. They also keep every bit of information about your friends and family; little comments that you let go here and there and help them understand why you are someone they love so much.

The whole situation evolves in such a way that inviting them to your birthday party in the human realm seems to be the obvious next step.

‘It’s so I can celebrate it with all my loved ones’ you say, and they really can’t deny your offer after that.

So, after a few awkward introductions and half-truths about their origin, everyone is happily talking to each other and eagerly waiting for their turn to be with you.

.

Lucifer, who has had a special interest in your family for a while, finds himself chuckling in understanding when your mother complains about the occasional mess in your room. In your defence, he feels obligated to partially throw his brothers under the bus and blame them for keeping you in a constant state of disarray, but then she says something that… perplexes him.

You don’t like perfection? His eyes open wide at the revelation and your mother chuckles, misinterpreting his expression. She doesn’t know who he really is or what he represents, after all.

Just how vast is the veracity of that statement? Does it refer only to a state of mind or do you apply it to everything else?

Thankfully, he doesn’t have time to feel too anxious before he remembers the little details. When your triumphal smile shone in the dimness of his room that time he made a silly mistake in chess, ultimately granting you the win; or when the Anti-Lucifer League managed to leave his hair unkempt for an entire day, which got you to shamelessly look at him for longer than any of his younger brothers would’ve ever liked.

Not being perfect isn’t something he would ever do consciously and he had always found solace in the fact that you like him despite his mistakes. However, knowing you actually like him because of those mistakes? Perhaps letting those cracks show in his façade isn’t so bad as long as it is for you.

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Not far from him, Mammon chats with your human best friend. There’s an air of competitiveness between them, both wanting to be the ultimate best friend, but it all stays light-hearted. There’s no real threat when Mammon gets to be your first demon, you know? It’s a unique position!

But he still makes sure to assert dominance by stating he would’ve made the perfect party for you, better than the one you’re currently enjoying; with food and decorations from the Devildom and the Celestial realm included, matching outfits and, of course, keeping everything hidden so you can have the best surprise of your life. He had thrown a lot of those with Asmo’s help back home, so he knows you love them!

Or he thinks you do, at least.

Your friend sniggers harmlessly when they hear that last part, pointing at him with an infuriating smartass attitude, and immediately shatters Mammon’s reality.

What the heck do they mean, you don’t like surprise parties? He’d done a lot of those back at the Devildom and you’d never complained, appreciative as you are, even helping him do the same for other’s birthday parties!

Sure, you had always looked dumbfounded by the loud cheering and the confetti after stepping through the door, but that was part of the fun… right? You would tell him if you wanted him to stop, wouldn’t you?

He feels a pang in his heart when the idea of you being uncomfortable for his sake appears in his mind, but it doesn’t make sense. While you undeniably treat him better than anyone else in all of the realms, you still correct him when you see fit and him making you unhappy on your own birthday would be one of those occasions.

He trusts you to confide in him when things are wrong just as much as you trust him to do his best. That’s what friends are for, after all.

.

And where else would Levi be if not hidden in a corner playing with his DDD?

He had tried mingling with people at the party, or at least tried hanging around them, he swears, but conversations became repetitive and boring and then he received a notification for a daily reward from one of his apps, so, of course, he had to sit down to collect it. Then minutes passed as he completed minigames to power up his cards and… you get the idea.

So when a friend of yours walked towards him, complimenting the pins and badges on his bag and the faint music coming out of his headphones, sure, the evening started going way smoother.

He talks enthusiastically, just like any other time his interests are mentioned, wildly gesturing with his hands and letting the little bubble around them be full of their eager exchange. However, a casual lament from his companion stops him right in his tracks.

It’s a shame you don’t like anime…? His first reaction is to laugh, enumerating everything you’d watched, and later commented on, with him under a blanket in the tranquillity of his room, but the utter surprise in your friend’s face leaves him speechless.

You really don’t like it? But… But he’s made you see so many things! Did you like any of them? Did you lie to his face when you said you enjoyed them? He would’ve never chosen a best friend like that; you were not like that and he refused to believe the contrary.

Also, would a liar buy merch on their own like you did? Would they watch the best episodes again or listen to the soundtrack on repeat when they had a bad day? This new revelation only makes him aware he was the one to change your perspective of the fine arts and he’s damn proud of that.

You are still getting an earful when you get back home, though.

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Satan thinks the kid is a young cousin of yours, but he really hasn’t been paying attention to anything in a long while. How could he, when the enthusiastic toddler had taken their mother’s phone just to show him the family cat’s pictures and videos?

A Mackerel tabby cat, too chubby for his own good but not enough to be actually concerning; playing with feathers, blinking slowly, bumping his head against legs and shoulders, meowing sweetly and, basically, opening his heart in half and making it roam inside his chest like a butterfly.

What a good party.

He mentions all the stray cats behind his house, obviously leaving behind the name of the House of Lamentation and the Devildom, and all the times you’ve gone with him to feed them and play. Satan even shows pictures on his DDD and stops with an adoring expression when you appear on the screen, sitting on your toes with a kitty on your knees and smiling past the camera, straight at Satan.

However, what he hears next takes the air right out of his lungs. He sits down and clutches his pearls and the kid stares at him in anxious confusion, clearly witnessing but not understanding the severity of his distress.

Who, in their right mind, doesn’t like cats?

He remembers the first few times you had accompanied him to his route, intimidated and slightly lingering behind. Initially, he had assumed it was due to the novelty of your friendship or a possible fear of Devildom fauna, but nothing against cats!

Were you afraid of them or just plain uninterested? Why keep going with him if you weren’t as fond of them as he thought you were? Wouldn’t it be because of him, would it?

A warm feeling covers him like a blanket, makes him search for you with his eyes and then immediately blush when you excitedly wave at him, point at the kid and mouth ‘Cute cat!’

Yeah. Very cute.

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On the other hand, Asmo hangs out with the people responsible for the decorations of the party and compliments them on their work. The colours are well-coordinated, there’s nothing out of place and the distribution was thought with all the guests in mind.

Although he hasn’t been able to help in that regard, he’s made sure you would be the centre of attention that evening; a complicated feature coming from him, but he had never minded sharing the main spot just as long as you were the one by his side; and everyone knows that.

You look cute and pretty and hot in your outfit, a style that both compliments and pleases you. You also worked together in your makeup for hours before getting to the party.

However, taking that much time might have been due to scrolling through social media and gossiping so much, but never mind that. Everyone agrees you look incredible and that is more than enough for him.

It isn’t until one of your friends mentions how weird it is to see you wearing makeup that he dares take his eyes away from you to stare at them in disbelief.

He would’ve never guessed that given that one of your favourite pastimes together is makeup as a whole: going shopping, watching tutorials, following trends, doing your own next to each other, doing each other’s… And, even if he wants to use it, his charming power is useless against you, so he knows you do your makeup because you want to and not because you feel forced by him.

Whether it’s something you share because you enjoy it or something you enjoy because you share it with him, he isn’t sure, but he can swear on his precious damned soul that makeup isn’t a need for you.

It’s just a bonus to your beauty.

.

Sitting at one of the tables, Beel is simultaneously talking to your older sibling while gulping down an entire plate of bite-sized snacks; thankfully, whatever apprehension anyone felt at his hunger died hours ago and now the conversation flowed more naturally, mainly centred around you.

As much as he loves having you near him and his brothers in the House of Lamentation and thinking of you as another member of the family, he is very interested in knowing how your human family is, especially your siblings. It’s another way of relating to you and making him feel closer.

Plus, he gets to know stories from your childhood you may never tell him on your own; anecdotes that will stay at the table he is currently sharing with your sibling.

Unfortunately, they reach a point where, although he wants to keep asking questions about you, doing so with a mouth full of food might end up with Lucifer’s scolding of the year. Also, he really wants to make a good impression.

So your sibling begins asking the questions. Surprisingly, they start with his tattoo; dark red curling around his muscles and almost going unnoticed under the colours of dusk. Beel smiles without giving it any importance because it really doesn’t have it, but forces himself to stop gulping down food when your sibling throws a fun fact about you.

You find tattoos attractive?

He feels an instant burning on his cheeks followed by the rapid beating of his heart and a knot in his stomach, but there’s also a faint unpleasant sour taste in his mouth.

You’ve never asked him about his tattoo, barely sparing a glance at it when you worked out together or he took off his jacket.

He wonders if you don’t like it or if you think it doesn’t look good on him because all he can remember is the focused look in your eyes while looking at his and the curve of your smile growing bigger as you listen to whatever he says, even when it is entirely about food, and…

You know what? He doesn’t really mind. He is fine with things as they are.

.

As both a friend of yours and a fellow younger brother, Belphie respects your sibling’s decision to spill your darkest secrets and thoroughly enjoys the air of comradery between them.

Don’t worry, he won’t let it go past actual serious matters; if you want him to know any of that, he’d rather have you telling him yourself when you’re ready and not get betrayed by your sibling. Silly and harmless pieces of information, however? Those are more than welcome.

And he already has a favourite.

You need to hug plushies to sleep? Tell him more. He doesn’t judge you for feeling the need to hug toys or pillows while sleeping. Actually, he understands.

Do you have a favourite? Is it in the human realm or is it in your room back at the House of Lamentation? While he can recall seeing that ugly zombie iguana on your bed, he’s never seen you cuddling it while sleeping and, other than that, he doesn’t remember seeing one, so he wonders if you hide it somewhere when you know he’s going to your room; but what about those times he enters uninvited?

Does that mean you left your preferred plushie in your room in the human realm? Does that mean that you don’t actually need to hug anything to sleep?

Whenever you share a bed, which is pretty frequent, Belphie can sense an invisible barrier between you that he’s dying to break. It’s nothing physical, given that only he knows how truly comfortable your lap and your chest are, but it’s obvious in the way your hands hesitate to bring him closer.

Shy and indecisive, while you don’t reject his advances, he’s still unsure what your feelings on the matter are. He’d initially thought you weren’t used to having anything so close to you while sleeping, but… now… Maybe he has to assure you that you can hug him as hard as you want.

Belphie is just as good as any plushie, after all; if not better.

.

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Taglist: @ilovecandys2010  @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @whimsybloom

[changbunnies]

Coy (18+)

♡ Pairing: Inexperienced!Bang Chan x Experienced Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: fluff and smut with a lil plot :)

♡ Word Count: 7.7k

♡ Summary: What occurs when joking about sex with your roommate leads to a shocking discovery about his lack of experience in the bedroom. 

♡ Smut Warnings: not intended to have overt dom/sub dynamics but you can infer vibes if you want lol, chan is rlly insecure but reader is here to help!!, nipple play, handjob, oral (m rec), fingering (f rec), protected piv

♡ Notes: hey yall, i wanted to write something small and fun before my next big fic so here we are :’) honestly i was torn between writing this for chan or bin and ended up choosing chan but lmk if you'd want to see a fic like this for binnie! i went super perfectionist mode and rewrote this several times…. like at least 7 fsdgdsfg but i don't want it in my drafts anymore !! just take it !!

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

All you said was a lighthearted joke– something said in jest to make your roommate-turned-best friend’s face flush red and burn all the way to the tips of his ears.

That was always the reaction Chan had when you brought up having had sex, you noticed; cheeks flushed red, eyes darting away from yours to look anywhere else, thumbs nervously twiddling where his hands rested in his lap. You assumed he had plenty of experience, but was more of a “heat of the moment” kind of guy– where you imagined he’d be confident and sure of himself with his partner, but talking about sex outside of the moment turned him into a shy, stuttering mess. 

And it’s not that you purposely went out of your way to imagine what Chan was like during sex, but your mind would often wander there on its own. He was attractive, to put it lightly– devoted to fine-tuning his muscles with diligently followed routines and strictly maintained effort. You were witness to his toned body on more than one occasion, as he often wandered around the apartment shirtless while having just woken up or doing his laundry.

It was a treat for the eyes for sure, but you were respectful. You never drooled over him– at least not anywhere but in the privacy of your bedroom. But it wasn’t just his body that you adored; he had the absolute cutest smile you’d ever seen, eyes crinkling into the prettiest crescent moons as dimples showed on his cheeks. You loved his fluffy, natural hair, and the deep brown color of his eyes, and the way warmth radiated off him when he pulled you into a hug.

So maybe you have a crush on him– but you aren’t going to act on it. You live together in a careful balance, in which you are close enough to him to become good friends while also hiding your attraction to him to maintain the peace. God forbid he doesn't return your attraction, or he does and down the line it makes things complicated. The last thing you need is to scramble for a new place to live after things between you don’t work out– you’d never be able to afford it, and you’ll gladly swallow your feelings for home security. 

But just because you couldn’t have sex with Chan, didn’t mean you couldn’t talk about it with him.

Chan is shy– that much you knew for certain. And sex, while a natural and fun part of life, is something that some people are embarrassed to be open about despite the normality. That's what you saw Chan as; a shy, easily embarrassed person. You thought it was so cute, and just a teensy bit funny; and with all that in mind, it was fun to tease him– to watch his eyes widen in surprise before he let out an awkward cough and looked away, hoping to hide the red forming on his cheeks.

So today, after bringing up how your last date ended, and seeing how brightly Chan’s face burned when you talked about the way they touched you, you couldn’t help but joke around with him. “Oh, c’mon Channie, don’t be coy. I know you’re drowning in pussy when I’m not here,” you teased him with a smirk. Considering your crush on him, you didn’t like to think about it too hard, but you did believe it– surely he brings people back to the apartment while you’re out on your dates.

“O-Oh, no, I’m not– I don’t–” he started to stutter out, and you giggled, because really, how could you believe anything else? He’s perfect– intelligent, funny, talented, as adorable as he is devastatingly hot; obviously he can get whoever he wants, and you believe he does– because Chan is certainly a fucking catch. But still, he continues to stammer and shake his head, blush spreading down his neck as he refutes your statement.

He isn’t a virgin, you have that much right; but he also isn’t some smooth operator hitting hookups with the classic “my roommate isn’t home 👀” text like you seem to think. He doesn’t even know why you think he’s secretly so cool– he’s only ever shown you the most embarrassing version of himself, much to his own chagrin. He’d like to be the person you think he is, but that’s simply not reality.

And as your giggling comes to a stop, and you really look at Chan and take in his expression, you can tell– he's being serious. "Oh," you blink in surprise, smacked with the realization that all your assumptions about him may have been entirely off base.

You frown, wondering if you've actually been making him uncomfortable this entire time. It was always meant to be in good fun, as you thought his bashful reactions were incredibly cute and endearing; but now you realize the truth. Chan isn’t shy about sex because he’s a private person– he’s shy about sex because he isn't having any.

Suddenly, you feel really embarrassed about all the times you talked about yourself; maybe it's karma for all the times you've subtly teased him. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable or crossed a line or anything, I didn't mean to, really–" You start to apologize, but Chan interjects, quickly shaking his head.

"N-No, no, you're fine! I just, uh–" he nervously stumbles on his words again, not even sure what he’s doing at this point. He doesn't even know why he refuted your joke so strongly– sure, it wasn’t true, but wouldn’t it be better for him if you believed it? 

Chan likes you– like, really likes you; but he can't imagine someone as experienced and confident as you will go for a guy like him. Because while he isn't a virgin, his past experiences have been woefully cringe-inducing to even recall.

He was always so eager and clumsy, with trembling hands and face so red he was sure he looked like a tomato. He was embarrassingly sensitive, every touch feeling so overwhelmingly good that he could hardly contain all the noises threatening to leave his throat. He came so fast that he didn’t even know what to do with himself when it was all said and done, hiding his face beneath his arm while he muttered a string of low apologies. 

And subjecting you to all of that? No thanks, falling off the face of the earth would be more preferable. You're the most sex positive person he's ever met, and you won’t make fun of him, he logically knows, but there’s part of him that fears it anyways. On top of that, apparently you had an extremely positive perception of his skills, and now he's ruined it.

While he's unsure what about him led you to believe he's desirable enough to have people biting at the chance to be with him, that impression, for better or worse, will never come back. So should he just be honest? Admit that he's actually really down bad for you but nowhere near confident enough to think he's enough for you?

That sounds like a bad idea. Terrible, even. Chan swallows as he looks at you, doing his best to ignore the way anxiety builds from deep in his gut. You're looking at him so patiently, caringly, that it makes his heart squeeze in his chest. Fuck it– he doesn't have to be completely honest and bear his heart on his sleeve, but he can trust you enough to admit a little bit of what he feels, right? If he can't confide in you then who else can he confide in?

"I just, uhm, I'm not very confident, I guess," he says after a careful breath, nervously scratching at the back of his neck as he darts his eyes away, "like.. in myself, or.. my skills, you know. So I just, uh.. don't have sex." You don't respond right away, simply blinking as you process the information, and regret starts to flood over the anxiety as Chan begins to overthink everything he’s admitted to you.

Really, you’re just shocked; Chan is sexy– like, really sexy. So the revelation that he isn’t confident in himself enough to enjoy sex to its fullest extent is baffling. He has such effortless charisma in other aspects of his life despite his shy nature, and you always assumed it carried over into his sex life; where his bashful looks and timid grins would melt away into someone confident and assured once the moment kicked off. 

“I could help you,” you finally offer once the initial surprise wears off, and instantly his brain is short circuiting, not even realizing that his astounded “huh?” left him audibly. You didn't really plan on confessing your attraction to Chan this way, if ever, but well.. here you are.

"It's just– you're like, the hottest person I know. Seriously. And I don't care if you lack experience, I'd have sex with you regardless," you explain, a rare blush of your own beginning to heat your face, "So, yeah, you know– if you want me like I want you, then.." You start to trail off, but you think he gets what you were intending to say.

It's a bit embarrassing to be blushing yourself considering all the casual sex you have, but it's not your fault– Chan is the only person you've caught feelings for in years, so you can't help but blush a little. Chan, meanwhile, is still stunned; you're attracted to him? You want to have sex with him? Really?

On one hand, it's exciting– you want him, he wants you, and you don't care that he's inexperienced. But still, on the other hand.. With all the experience you have, don’t you want to sleep with someone who matches your energy? He can't imagine that you'd enjoy watching him fumble his way through your time together, or that he’d bring you any pleasure with his lackluster skills.

And what would your relationship be afterwards? Just friends and roommates who happened to fuck once, or something more? Will the mutual attraction die off the moment you realize his insecurities are way more than you signed on for?

“You don’t have to answer right now,” you assure him, offering all the time he may need to think about your proposition. Maybe it won’t be the most casual of your experiences considering your massive crush on him, but how could you pass up the chance to help him? Especially when helping means having sex with the guy of your dreams– because really, that’s what Chan is.

He wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans, swallows the lump in his throat, and takes a breath– because despite all his fears, he really likes you, and of course he wants to fuck you. Chan always figured he’d never have a chance with you unless you experienced a huge lapse in judgment; and maybe this is one and done, maybe it doesn't mean as much for you as it does for him, but he’ll still take that chance, insecurities be damned; he’d be a fool not to.

“I want to,” he tells you, soft and timid, but certain. You smile, equally as soft, as you inch closer to him on the sofa. “Can I kiss you?” you ask him, giggling when he quickly nods. It’s cute– equally as cute as the small, involuntary noise he makes from the back of his throat when your lips touch his. You start slow, pressing long, lingering kisses to his plush lips– as soft as you always imagined.

His breath hitches when you crawl onto his lap, pulling away to look at you with widened eyes. “Too much?” you ask, ready to pull yourself off of him but he quickly shakes his head. “You’re just–” he pauses, licks his lips as his face flushes a deeper pink, but continues “..so pretty. Really pretty. Can't believe this is really happening."

It feels a bit silly being so shy to tell you how pretty you are to him when you’ve been kissing him and are quite literally sitting on top of his dick, but he can’t help the way you make him feel. It’s a simple compliment too, one that normally wouldn’t affect you very much, but makes your heart pick up ever so slightly in speed regardless; you suppose because Chan is the one saying it.

You can tell he doesn’t know what to do with his hands when you kiss him again, keeping them clenched and firmly stuck to his side. You take them in your hands, guiding them to your body and resting them on your hips. “Touch me, Channie,” you breathe against his lips, “anywhere you want.” 

“Anywhere..?” he questions with a shaky exhale, hands trembling where they rest on your body. “Mhm, want to feel you,” you tell him sweetly, and God, he already feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest before he’s even really begun. But he listens, hands carefully traveling up and down your body as you lean back in to continue kissing him.

You let your own hands wander as well– over his arms, across his chest, down the toned abs you can distinctly feel even beneath his sweater. You lick his bottom lip, feeling his body shiver beneath the tips of your fingers as he opens his mouth for you, letting your tongue inside.

He brings his hands to your chest, palming your breasts before he carefully squeezes them. You bring one of your hands to hover over his, encouraging him to continue by squeezing your hand atop his. He’s only touching you over your clothes, but he already feels impossibly dizzy from the excitement– he can’t even focus on how pathetic that would normally make him feel either, because your tongue in his mouth fogs his brain. 

The next time you pull away, it’s to grab the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head so swiftly that Chan barely even has time to process what he’s about to see. He sucks in a breath as he looks at your tits; it doesn’t even matter that they’re still contained by a bra– it’s still more than enough to send him reeling. Pretty, pretty, pretty, is all he can think, his mind unable to conjure a thought any more complex than simple words.

You move your hands behind your back, ready to unhook your bra and expose yourself to him entirely, but he briefly stops you. “Can I– Can I try..?” he asks, clearly nervous but eager to try and prove himself in whatever way you’ll let him. “Course, Channie,” you smile at him as you let your arms fall back to your side, “go ahead.” You lean closer to him, bringing your hands to his shoulders as he brings his own to your back. 

You press kisses to his jaw as you wait for him to act, eventually trailing down to his neck. It makes him gasp and bite his lip, the skin of his neck evidently more sensitive than he ever even realized. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, trying his best not to get too distracted by the feeling of your lips on the sensitive spots of his neck before he continues.

His fingers fumble with the hooks of your bra, his trembling hands causing his grip to slip more than once. It’s embarrassing how badly he’s failing at this simple task, but you pay no mind to it, continuing to kiss him as he takes his time to figure it out. You caress his arms, pulling away to reassure him when his shaking fingers mess up for the third time.

“Relax, baby, you’ve got it,” you tell him, the affectionate term unintentionally slipping out– but Chan seems to welcome it, offering you a soft smile and nod as he timidly tries again. He lets out the breath he was unconsciously holding when he finally succeeds, watching attentively as you bring your hands to the now loose straps, sliding them down your arms.

You toss your bra aside when your arms are freed from the straps, and Chan can’t help but stare at your now bare chest. He can count on a single hand the amount of tits he’s seen, so his thoughts may be a bit biased in your favor, but he firmly believes yours are the prettiest he’s ever looked at. Chewing on his bottom lip, he looks to you for permission to touch them again, which you easily grant him. 

The soft noise you let out when his thumbs brush over your nipples both surprises him and makes his cock throb; he can still hardly even believe you’re really letting him touch you. “Is that good?” he asks as he does it again, intoxicated by the way you whimper and squirm. “Mhm, feels good. Feels better when they’re wet, though,” you tell him, watching as the gears turn in his brain. 

He licks his lips and leans down, bringing his face to your chest. He sticks out his tongue, slowly swiping it against one of your hardened nipples, eyes glued to your face as he does. “This what you want?” he asks, repeating the action when you gasp and nod. You thread your fingers through his hair, another whimper leaving you as he wraps his lips around your nipple and swirls his tongue around it.

You reach for his other hand and bring his fingers to your mouth, licking and coating them in your saliva. He whines at the feeling of your tongue sliding against his fingers, his imagination running wild with images of what it’d feel like on different parts of his body. Once satisfied with the wetness of his fingers, you take them from your mouth and bring them back down to the nipple currently not in his mouth. “Use them to touch me, please–” 

Chan wastes no time in doing what you ask, a soft whine escaping him when you gently tug on his hair. His cock is painfully hard and straining against his jeans that are now uncomfortably tight around him. You can feel it pressing against your ass, his eyes fluttering shut when his treatment of your nipples cause you to squirm and rub against his erection. The friction is overwhelming, your noises are intoxicating, the combination makes him dizzy with need for more. 

More of your touch on his skin, more of your pretty whimpers in his ear, more of anything and everything you’re willing to give him, he wants it all. Soon you’re reaching for the hem of Chan’s sweater, and he separates from you, allowing you to pull it up and over his head, discarding it to the floor with the rest of your clothing. You admire him, trace his pecs and his abs with your fingers, smiling at him sweetly when he shivers beneath your touch. 

“You’re so handsome, Channie,” you tell him as you continue to run your fingers along his torso, “so hot, you have no idea how bad I’ve wanted you.” He whines and turns his face away, a vain attempt to hide the heat that rises to it. “That’s– I-I.. didn’t know..” he mumbles shyly, hesitant to meet your gaze again– mostly because he thinks his heart will burst if he looks at you while you’re saying things like that to him.

He doesn’t know how he’s ever going to be able to look at you without going red in the face after this, or how he’s going to be able to hear your voice again without his cock getting hard. Better yet, how is he going to look at you without thinking about how bad he wants you to be his, or for him to be yours? Either way, that’s a problem for the future– because your hands and lips are all over him, and that’s what he wants to focus on now. 

Chan sucks in a breath when your hand brushes his erection over his jeans, bites his lip when you start to undo the button, lets out a shaky exhale as you begin to pull down the zipper. He’s not sure what you’ll think of his length, but he hopes you like it, prays that it’s enough to satisfy you. “You should have more confidence in yourself, Channie,” is the first thing you say as you take it in your hand, “you’ve got the prettiest cock I’ve ever seen.” 

“W-What? No way, that’s– you’re just saying that,” he pouts, the blush covering his face and ears becoming unbearably hot. You can’t mean that– he almost refuses to believe it; because he simply can’t comprehend that you would prefer him to anyone else. “I’m not, baby. I mean it,” you tell him, and the way he throbs in your hand gives away that he likes the compliment, even if he doesn’t entirely believe it’s true. 

You really are being honest; it’s not the longest you’ve ever had, but it’s among the thickest, with pretty veins that accentuate it. You want to trace them– with your fingers, your lips, your tongue, everything. And then there’s the way his pre-cum leaks from the tip, steadily dripping and pooling where it falls-–all you can say is that it’s mouth-watering. The look in your eyes makes Chan feel impossibly shy, and it takes everything within him not to cover his face when your eyes meet again. 

He never imagined that look would be for him; that he would ever be deserving of your touch and affectionate words. And the sweet smile you offer him when you start to earnestly stroke his cock– he’s done for, absolutely done for. He’ll never be able to hide how bad he wants you after this– maybe he should listen to you and gain some confidence, ask you to be his before someone else steals you away. 

Chan quickly loses his ability to form coherent thought once you start picking up your pace however, your hand having quickly become slick from his pre-cum. His head falls back against the sofa, breaths growing more and more labored with each stroke of your soft, warm, wet hand. You can feel his thighs twitch beneath you, and the way his hips jolt up to try to seek further friction from your hand, though your weight atop his legs prevents him doing so. 

“Want you in my mouth,” you tell him, pleased with the way the words make him gasp and squirm, “You want that, Channie? Will you let me suck you off?” Fuck, do you even have to ask? As if there is any reality in which he would ever say no; you can have him, all of him, he doesn’t care as long as it’s you– he’ll never deny you any part of him. “Yeah, yeah, want that, please,” he breathes, an almost shameless plea for you to do whatever you want with him. 

You offer him a pretty smile, placing a quick but affectionate kiss to his lips before you remove yourself from his lap. Sinking to your knees, you pull Chan’s jeans and boxers down his legs and to his ankles, and wait for him to step out of them and spread his legs wide enough for you to fit between them. There’s an apprehensive look in his eye when you scoot closer to him, and you pause, looking up at him with concern. “Are you nervous?” you ask, ready to stop at a moment’s notice if he needs you to.

“Ah, yeah, sorry, I just–” he pauses, an awkward, nervous laugh leaving him as he averts his gaze away from yours, “I just.. ‘m worried I’m gonna cum too fast when you.. Uh, yeah, you know.” He feels a bit pathetic admitting it, and he keeps his eyes locked on a random corner of the room, still holding onto the irrational fear that you’ll judge or laugh at him. Of course, you do neither– you simply lean forward on your knees, reaching a hand up to touch his face and bring his eyes back to yours. 

“Don’t worry about that, I won’t mind if you cum fast, okay? It won’t bother me, and I won’t be mad. Just enjoy yourself,” you tell him earnestly, smiling sweetly at him when he slowly nods. You want to show him that you’re more than happy to take care of him until he gets the confidence in himself he needs, that there’s no shame in feeling so good that he can’t help but let go, that you’ll want him regardless. 

You settle back on your knees, rubbing your hands up and down his thighs until you feel like his nerves have settled. He nods to you when he’s ready, and you give him one last smile before you bring your face directly to his waiting cock. The kisses you place to the tip are already enough to have him gasping and squirming in his seat– soft, delicate, and wet. Your fingers hold him at the base, keeping it held in place even as it twitches in response to every kiss you leave behind. 

You stick out your tongue, let spit dribble down and further wet his leaking tip, and it’s positively the most erotic thing Chan has ever witnessed; he has to cover his face to stop himself from losing his mind. Head fallen back against the sofa with his arm thrown over his face, he gasps once more when he feels your tongue press against his skin. You lick slowly– whether to savor the taste or prolong the moment, Chan is unsure, but he welcomes it either way. 

He can’t suppress the throaty groan that leaves him when you drag your tongue across the entirety of his length, tracing the veins with it just as you wished to. “O-Oh my god, baby–” he gasps when you finally start to take his cock into your mouth, too far gone to realize that he too let the pet name slip out. You don’t seem to mind, at least; after all, despite this “casual” encounter, you’ve already done the same, and been more affectionate than he ever anticipated.

Chan wants to believe you’re affectionate just with him; that none of your other casual partners have ever been looked at the way you’ve looked at him, that you never called them sweet names or given them such caring glances. Maybe he’s feeding himself a delusion, but he wants to believe you want him as bad as he wants you– beyond just the physical. He wants to believe this isn’t just a one time thing, and most of all he wants to believe that you’ll fall in love with him. 

Is it normal to think about love when your cock is deep down your crush's throat? He doesn’t know– but all he can think about, apart from how amazing your mouth feels, is how much he loves and adores you. Letting his arm fall back to his side, he lifts his head from the sofa to look at you once more, and fuck, what a site you are. Eyes glassy and pretty as you gaze up at him through your lashes, cheeks flushed red, saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth.

The sounds you make as you bob your head are so salacious it makes his head spin, his thighs tremble with each motion of your tongue on the underside of his length, and every time his tip touches the back of your throat he can’t help but let out a moan. His fingers struggle to find purchase on the sofa’s cushion, so instead he clenches his fist, knuckles quickly turning white. You notice, of course, so you bring one of your hands to his, intertwining your fingers and letting him squeeze your hand instead. 

God, that fucks with his heart– but he hardly has any time to dwell on it. He’s barely been holding back his orgasm, and he’s not sure how much longer he can last. “Babe, baby, feels so good, I can’t– o-oh, please, ‘m gonna cum–” he babbles his warning, whimpering when you hum in response and continue to take him as deep into your mouth as he can go. His eyes roll back, cock throbbing and entire body trembling– and one more swipe of your tongue and swallow around his length is all it takes to have him cumming.

“O-Oh my– fuck, fuck, sorry, ‘m cumming, baby–” he rambles, thankfully too far gone to be embarrassed by all the things he’s saying to you. You swallow all he has to give you, not pulling off him until he starts to come down from his high and cock begins to soften. He’s dazed and breathless as he looks at you, chest heaving as his brain tries to recalibrate itself after how good you just made him feel.

You rise from your knees and set yourself back on the sofa, leaning towards Chan to kiss him after he’s caught his breath. He can taste himself on your lips, but he doesn’t hate it; there’s a strange part of him that even enjoys it. “‘m sorry,” he mumbles with a nervous pout when you pull away, “I tried to hold it back, but..” 

“Channie, I told you not to worry about that. It felt good, right? That’s all that matters,” you tell him, directing him to look at you when he tries to avert his gaze again. He swallows the anxiety down, trying to look at you without feeling like disappearing into a void. But he can tell after just a moment how sincere you’re being, and it spreads relief through his veins. It’s not that he really doubted you, but his internal dialogue is far from rational.

You’ve been so good to him since the start, and though he’s incredibly shy and equally as nervous, there’s nothing more he wants now than to return the favor. He still doubts he’s good enough to give you what you deserve, to skillfully make you cum and cry out for him, but he’ll try– God, he’ll fucking try. 

It takes all the confidence he can muster to speak what he wants to say, but he thankfully manages alright. “I want, uh– ..w-want to make you cum too,” he admits, doing his best to hold your gaze despite the way shyness claws at him and his blush burns his face. “Yeah?” you smile, honestly pretty eager to let Chan touch you more. 

While you were more than ready to keep taking the lead, to guide him along and take care of him, you’re happy to see a surge of confidence in him– even if it’s a small one. “Touch me then, Channie. Make me cum,” you tell him as you beckon him closer, letting out a soft, content hum when he kisses you. You let him guide you back until your back is flat against the sofa, spreading your legs so that he can nestle between them. 

You can feel his hands trembling again as they travel your body, but Chan doesn’t let the nerves prevent him from hooking his fingers into your pants. He continues to kiss you as he slides them down your legs, along with your panties– not just because he loves kissing you, but also because he’s not quite ready to look at your bare pussy; he genuinely thinks his heart will give out if he doesn’t mentally prepare himself first.

Pretty soon though, he does have to separate from you so he can let you slip your feet out of your clothes, and subsequently toss them to the floor with all the rest of your discarded clothing. He tries to keep his eyes locked on your face, but he can’t help but let his eyes trail down and roam over the rest of your exposed body. He’s mesmerized in an instant; you’re so impossibly pretty, every inch of you breathtaking and beautiful and– God, just perfect.

He knows his words will fail him, so he hopes his lips on yours will do enough of the talking for him, hopes that he can show how bad he adores and desires you with actions alone. You intended initially to let him take his time, but you’ve been impossibly wet and worked up this entire time; and besides, doesn’t he need a little push? 

So you take one of his hands, guiding it to your dripping center. Chan lets out an involuntary whine from the back of his throat, body shivering in response. “Y-You’re so– oh my god, how are you so wet?” he asks, as in awe of you as he is surprised. “You, baby,” you answer, voice growing shakier now that he’s rubbing his fingers between your folds, “I told you, you– you’re so handsome, you know? Get me so hot, ‘ve wanted you so bad.” 

God, he still can’t believe it– how is it possible that you’ve wanted him as bad as he’s wanted you? And there’s no way his insecurities can make him believe you’re just saying it to make him feel good about himself anymore, because he can feel the proof of your words with his fingers. “Tell me– tell me what you like, what you want, please,” he softly pleads, “need to make you feel good.”

“Inside, want your pretty fingers inside me,” you tell him, shivering when you feel the tips of his fingers pressing against your hole. He starts slow and careful, gently pushing one of his fingers inside, alternating between watching his hand and looking up to your face. You’re so slick and warm, and the way you squeeze around even just one of his fingers makes his head spin– because he can’t help but imagine how you’d feel on his cock.

“Another, add another, please,” you all but beg once you’re adjusted to how one feels, and he wastes no time in obliging you, delighting in the way it makes your eyes flutter closed. You bite your lip when he starts to instinctively move his fingers faster, little whimpers escaping as your breaths become heavier. “You sound so pretty,” he says, gasping when he realizes it caused you to clench harder around his fingers. 

Do you like when he talks to you? He doesn’t know if it’s his voice you like, or what he said in particular, but if you like it then he won’t stop. “F-Feels so amazing, I can’t– can’t stop thinking about what you’d feel like around me, want it so bad, want to be inside you,” he starts to ramble, doing his best to voice everything that comes to his mind, anything he thinks you’ll like and will have you clenching again, even if it embarrasses him to say it.

He experiments with his fingers as he talks to you– changing angles and curling his fingers, trying to find what you like the best. You gasp when he finds your spot with the tips of his fingers, body trembling and back arching. “R-Right there, fuck, feels so good, Channie, your fingers feel so good,” you tell him breathlessly, and he can’t help the way he stiffens and throbs once more in response. 

And really, how is he supposed to look at the way you shake beneath him, hear your pretty voice praise the way he’s touching you, and not get hard again? He wants nothing more than to make you cum– to make you cry and writhe in pleasure for him, because of him; almost desperate for it, he hits your spot over and over again, hoping to bring you closer and closer to the release you both crave. 

He’s mesmerized by the way your eyes roll back, by the rise and fall of your chest and tremble of your thighs; addicted to the way your moans and whimpers grow higher in pitch, and the messy, wet sounds his fingers create between your legs. Chan glances down to your pussy, taking notice of your puffy, neglected clit. 

He wants to taste it, to wrap his lips around and let his tongue lavish it, but he doesn’t trust himself to be able to get down smoothly or without messing up his rhythm; so instead, he brings his thumb to it– something he’s seen done in porn that woman always seemed to like (and he desperately hopes you like it too.) Thankfully, he gets the effect he was hoping for– you let out a whimper and squirm, nails digging into his skin. 

Chan doesn’t let up even when his wrist begins to grow sore, running purely on desire and instinct. “F-Fuck, Channie, baby, ‘m gonna cum, you’re gonna make me cum,” you gasp out, voice whiny and strained, but still oh so pretty in his ears. He can’t believe he’s actually going to make you cum, can’t believe how lucky he is; and he's utterly transfixed on the way your body moves, drunk on the sounds that freely spill from you. 

He gasps when you reach out and unexpectedly pull him closer, letting out a soft, surprised whine when you eagerly crash your lips into his. It’s the messiest kiss he’s ever had, tongues dancing and drool falling from the corners of your mouth, hot and heavy breaths passed between each other. Your thighs squeeze his hand as your orgasm takes you, entire body shaking as your back arches off the sofa, arousal gushing and further coating his fingers.

Chan slowly slides his fingers out of you as you catch your breath, meeting your gaze shyly when you open your eyes to look at him once more. He’s so fucking hard, again, and you instantly notice, much to his embarrassment. He wants to fuck you, there’s no denying it– but he can’t help but continue to feel self-conscious, even now. 

You sit up and kiss him once more, as if to dispel all doubts and worries from his racing mind. “Want you, Channie,” you tell him, voice soft, sweet, and reassuring, “do you still want me? Wanna fuck me?” He whines from deep in his throat, knowing he’d never be able to deny it, even if he wanted to. 

“Yes, God, yes, wanna fuck you,” he answers honestly, nervously chewing on his bottom lip, “b-but I– I just.. don’t want to disappoint you.” He’ll never forgive himself if he fucks this up and leaves you wanting and unsatisfied; he wants to be nothing less than perfect for you and he already knows that he isn’t. 

“Channie, baby, look at me,” you say as you reach a hand to his cheek, urging him to meet your eyes again, “you won’t disappoint me, you could never.” You place soft, comforting pecks to his lips, holding his hands and rubbing soothing circles with your thumbs until you feel him start to lose his tension. “Remember what I said? Don’t worry about anything but feeling good. I want you to cum again,” you tell him, smiling as he nods, his face flushing a deeper red. 

Leaning towards the coffee table, you reach for where you dropped your purse before sitting down with Chan, digging around inside until you find one of the spare condoms you make sure to keep for your dates. He swallows as he watches you pull it out, beyond nervous but equally as excited to finally feel you wrapped around him. 

Even just watching you tear open the packaging is enough to have him trembling, and when you glance at him to make sure he’s ready, he ignores his insecurities the best he can to offer you a timid smile. You return the smile, taking his cock in your hand and giving it a few slow pumps to make sure he’s ready. He squirms and softly whines, still sensitive from his previous orgasm, but there’s no way he’s going to let that stop him from having this moment with you. 

He shivers when you easily roll the condom down his length, biting his lip as you crawl back onto his lap after you’ve finished. His heart is beating fast and erratic, and he wonders if you can hear how loudly it’s thumping against his chest. He lies half propped up by one of the sofa’s cushions, looking up at you with eyes akin to a puppy, watching your every move with bated breath. 

You reach between your bodies to hold his cock at the base, angling it with your still soaked entrance. You let go once you start to sink down on it, moving your hand to his chest to support yourself as his cock pushes inside. “Oh, fuck–” Chan lets out a choked gasp, already overwhelmed by the sensation even before you’re fully sat on his length. 

Even with a condom on, he can still feel how warm and wet you are, your walls squeezing him so tight it takes his breath away. “Fuck, baby, oh my god, it already feels so good, what the fuck–” he gasps again once your hips are flush together. He doesn’t remember it feeling this amazing the last time he had sex; is it because he’s more sensitive from before? Or is it because it’s you? 

No matter the answer, he’s certain of one thing– and that’s that he’s definitely going to cum fast; he just hopes you meant it when you said it’s okay. He lets out an obscenely loud moan when you start to lift and drop your hips– one that would normally make him extremely embarrassed, but he feels way too good to even focus on it; all he can think about is how fucking good you feel. 

His hands squeeze your hips, and he looks at you with stars in his eyes. How can you be so pretty, so beautiful? How can you feel this good? The way he’s looking at you makes your heart stutter and pussy clench, an act that makes Chan’s head fall back against the cushion as he moans. He’s so handsome, with the way his curly hair clings to his forehead with sweat, his bitten lips and flushed cheeks– it's insane that he can't see how crazy for him you are. 

You lean forward to kiss him, bringing one of your hands up to thread your fingers through his hair as your tongue slips past his parted lips. He feels dizzy with pleasure, each of his loud moans and whines muffled only by your lips on his. You’re both panting by the time you separate, with you falling forward and burying your face into his neck. 

Your legs and knees quickly begin to scream at you, but you ignore it as best you can in favor of chasing pleasure, bouncing on his cock with all the energy you can muster. You know he won’t last much longer– he was already sensitive to start, and you can feel him twitching and throbbing more and more with each additional motion of your hips. 

“Baby, ‘m so close–” Chan whimpers, eyes rolling back when you clench around him harder. “Yeah? Gonna cum again for me, Channie? Gonna cum with me?” you ask as you snake your hand between your bodies, rubbing your clit in quick circles so that you can cum together. He quickly nods and bites his lip, hands squeezing you tighter and hips rising to chase you every time you lift off him. 

It only takes a couple more rolls of your hips to have him cumming again, white, hot pleasure coursing through his veins and overwhelming every inch of his body, filling the condom with all he has to give. You follow quickly behind, hips stuttering and losing all sense of rhythm as you ride out your release. 

You collapse against his chest with a heavy sigh once you’re done, utterly exhausted from all the effort, but completely satisfied. You’re both breathless, eyes closed as you collect yourselves and racing hearts start to return to normal speed. Well, in Chan’s case it doesn’t completely return to normal; because you’re still naked on top of him, and even after having just had sex, he still can’t believe you’re here with him right now like this.

You lift your hips and let his softening cock slide out of you, laying on Chan’s side with his arm as support so you don’t fall off the sofa. You carefully remove the condom, tying it off and preparing it to be thrown away once you’re ready to get up– for now, you’re too tired to move, and you just want to stay next to Chan for as long as you can. 

You lay your leg across his body, cuddling close to him while he continues to support your weight with his arm. “How was it? Fun?” you ask him, smiling when he blushes and looks away, still unable to help being shy even after all you just did together. “Of course, you’re.. incredible,” he answers honestly, chewing on his lip before he continues, “But, were you– ..was I good enough for you..?”

“Channie, are you kidding? You were perfect, I promise,” you assure him, giggling softly when he breathes a sigh of relief. “You get stuck in your head too much, baby,” you continue, absentmindedly tracing circles in his skin as you speak, “I promise you, you could have anyone you want. I mean it when I say you’re perfect.” He still doesn’t quite believe what you’re saying is true, but he can at least accept that you believe it. 

But he wonders if you know– it’s not just anyone he wants, but you. He was only able to do this because it was you that offered-–anyone else, and he would’ve instantly turned them down, or wouldn't have been able to enjoy himself if he did accept. Looking at you now reaffirms what he’s long since thought– you’re the only one for him. 

“Baby, I want you to be mine-–want you to be my girlfriend,” is what he wants to say– but Chan is much too shy, and can’t bring himself to do it. “C-Can we– can we do this again sometime..?” is what he ends up saying insead. And you smile as you nod, sweetly running your fingers through his messy curls before you give him another kiss, “Course, baby. Anytime you want me, I’m yours.”

network tags: @skzstarnet @ksmutsociety

[knoepfl]

Scary Movies and Stu

Characters: Stu Macher, Reader (You)

Trigger Warnings: Mild mentions of horror movie violence, slight teasing about fear

Masterlist

Words: 890

Author’s Note:

This fanfiction features a cozy, playful night in with Stu Macher, where the two of you watch scary movies together. It’s lighthearted with some romantic moments and a bit of teasing. Enjoy!

---

It was late on a chilly October evening when you found yourself curled up on Stu Macher’s couch, the glow of the TV casting flickering shadows across the dim living room. Halloween decorations littered the space—fake cobwebs, plastic skeletons, and a few jack-o’-lanterns grinning from the windowsill.

“You ready for some real horror?” Stu asked, his signature mischievous grin spreading across his face. He sat beside you, one arm draped lazily over the back of the couch.

You gave him a wary glance. “Depends. Are we talking fun horror or traumatizing horror?”

Stu let out a dramatic laugh. “Come on, babe! What’s the fun in scary movies if they don’t make you scream?” He popped open a bag of popcorn, tossing a handful into his mouth. “Trust me, this one’s a classic.”

You shot him a playful glare. "Yeah, well, I don’t like jumping out of my skin every five minutes."

Stu leaned closer, bumping his shoulder against yours. “That’s the whole point, babe! It’s not scary if you know what’s coming.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. There was something infectious about Stu’s enthusiasm, even if his taste in movies was… questionable at best. He always had that boyish energy—like he was constantly in on some joke only he knew. It made him frustrating, sure, but also kind of irresistible.

Stu picked up the remote and pressed play, the familiar intro music of Halloween filling the room.

“Oh, great,” you muttered. “The one with the creepy guy in the mask.”

Stu gave you a sly grin. “You mean Michael Myers? The OG slasher? Come on, babe, you gotta give it a chance!”

You sighed, nestling deeper into the cushions as the opening scenes began to play. Stu adjusted himself, shifting closer to you until his leg pressed against yours. His arm, still draped over the back of the couch, slipped down to rest across your shoulders.

“You’re not scared already, are you?” he teased, his voice dropping into a playful whisper.

“No,” you said, though the way you clutched the edge of the blanket betrayed your nerves.

Stu noticed, of course. He always did.

“Aw, don’t worry,” he said with a grin. “I’ll protect you.”

You gave him a skeptical look. “From a fictional serial killer?”

“Damn right,” Stu said with mock seriousness. “If Michael Myers comes through that door, I’ll take him down myself.”

You laughed despite yourself, the sound soft and warm in the dim room. Stu smiled, clearly pleased to have gotten that reaction from you.

The movie rolled on, and soon enough, the tension in the scenes started to build. You tried your best to stay calm, but every jump scare had your heart racing a little faster.

“Jeez, babe,” Stu said after one particularly loud scare made you flinch. “You’re wound up tighter than a spring.”

“Shut up,” you muttered, embarrassed. “It’s the music! It’s creepy.”

Stu chuckled, squeezing your shoulder gently. “Want me to cover your eyes?”

“No!” you protested quickly. “I can handle it.”

Stu gave you a knowing look, clearly enjoying your discomfort. But instead of teasing you further, he pulled you closer against him, his arm wrapping around you protectively.

“There,” he said. “Now you’ve got Stu Security. No masked killers getting through me.”

You rolled your eyes again but leaned into him, grateful for the warmth and the comfort of his presence.

The movie continued, and you found yourself relaxing bit by bit. With Stu beside you—his goofy comments breaking the tension—you felt safe, even when the music swelled and the on-screen terror reached its peak.

At one point, he leaned down, his breath warm against your ear. “Babe, if we were in a horror movie, you’d totally be the Final Girl.”

You snorted. “Right. The slow one who trips over everything?”

Stu grinned, unfazed by your sarcasm. “Nah. The badass who outsmarts everyone and makes it out alive. And you know what?”

“What?”

“If anyone tried to mess with you,” he whispered, his tone playful but with just the faintest edge of something more serious, “I’d make sure they regretted it.”

You looked up at him, the flickering TV light catching the mischief in his eyes, and for a moment, the playful banter fell away. There was something genuine in his words, something that made your heart squeeze just a little.

“Thanks, Stu,” you said softly.

He smirked, and before you could say anything else, he leaned in and pressed a quick, unexpected kiss to your temple.

Your heart skipped a beat.

“See?” he said with a grin, his voice light again. “Told you I’d keep you safe.”

You tried to play it cool, but your cheeks were warm, and the way Stu smiled told you he knew exactly what effect he had on you.

The movie ended eventually, but neither of you moved. You stayed curled up against him, his arm still draped around your shoulders, the warmth of his kiss lingering on your skin.

“Wanna watch another one?” Stu asked, his voice low and content.

You smiled, feeling safe and warm despite the spooky night outside.

“Only if you promise not to make fun of me.”

“No promises,” he said with a laugh, but his arm tightened around you just a little more.

And for once, you didn’t mind.

---

Author’s Note:

Thank you for reading! Stu Macher is such a chaotic and fun character, and I wanted to capture that playful side of him while also showing how he can be protective in his own weird way. I hope you enjoyed this cozy moment with him!

[mingi-s-dimples]

Study buddy or... fuck buddy? - Yeosang

KINKTOBER DAY 8- REQ. BY anon

~"yeosang x reader; please add squirt and virgin reader?"

pairing: yeosang x fem!reader

genre: 18+, college au

summary: anatomy lessons weren't this.. practical in the past.

wc: 2.7k

warnings: college au, friends with benefits, protected sex (we cheered !), cumming, squirting, first time sex, yeosang is a lil gentle boi at first, gets a lil bit rougher throughout the moment, he's a damn tease, aftercare, unedited, completely consensual, making out, for sure forgot something.

Author's Note: Hm. I liked writing this one. Was a lil bit harder at first cause I didn't quite have ideas for the plot but.. the ironic situation was that I got this idea while actually studying anatomy... sigh, to be fucked senseless while in break from studying... slams desk. Anyways! My loves, hope you like it!! 🙂‍↕️💖

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the member in any way.

The soft hum of fluorescent lights filled the classroom, the buzz faintly drowned by the chatter of students packing up their bags. Another long day of classes had come to an end, and the weight of exhaustion was heavy in the air. You let out a slow sigh, stretching your arms over your head as you leaned back in the chair. Mind buzzed with information from the anatomy lecture—complex structures, nerves, and muscles all swirling together in a chaotic mess.

Being a medical student was no joke. Between the countless hours of lectures, labs, and the never-ending stream of exams, it felt like there was hardly time to breathe, let alone focus on anything outside of school. Relationships? That was out of the question. Who had time for the emotional rollercoaster of commitment when you could barely keep up with the textbooks?

"Hey," came a familiar voice from beside you.

You turned your head to see Yeosang slipping into the seat next to you, his expression as calm and composed as ever. His light blonde hair fell just slightly into his eyes, and he pushed it back with an absent-minded flick of his hand. Even after hours of classes, he still looked effortlessly put together, which was more than you could say for yourself.

"You surviving?" he asked, his lips quirking into a small smile as he dropped his bag onto the floor.

"Barely," you chuckled, rubbing your temples. "Today was brutal."

Yeosang nodded in agreement, leaning back in his chair. "Tell me about it. Anatomy’s kicking my ass. I don’t know how you’re managing to keep up with all of this."

You shrugged, trying to play it off even though you knew the material was just as hard for you. "You just do what you can, I guess. It’s not like we have a choice. We’re all drowning in the same boat."

He smirked, his eyes drifting toward me. "Lucky I have you to help me stay afloat."

It was a lighthearted comment, but it carried the familiar tone of your casual dynamic. Yeosang and you had developed this strange, unspoken arrangement over the past few months. Friends with benefits, no strings attached, no drama. You both agreed early on that neither of you wanted anything serious. Medical school was already overwhelming; the idea of adding the complications of a relationship into the mix felt like an unnecessary distraction. And honestly, it worked. You kept things simple, fun—just two people who got along well, enjoyed each other's company, and let off steam when the stress of school became too much. You never had sex with him tho. With no one. You thought it would interfere with the feelings between two people, hence you and Yeosang only had make out sessions for now. And he was okay with it. Tho, it was about to tkae a 180 degree turn..

"Yeah, I guess you’re lucky," you teased, nudging him with your elbow.

His grin widened, and he gave you a playful nudge back. "Speaking of which, I was wondering if you were free tonight. You need help with some of this anatomy stuff. We’ve got that exam coming up, and I’m seriously struggling."

"Anatomy?" you raised an eyebrow. "That’s not exactly light studying."

"I know, I know," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "But if I don’t get this stuff down, I’m screwed. You’re better at this than I am, and I could use the help."

You hesitated for a moment, considering your options. It had been a long day, and you were tempted to just go home and crash, but the thought of studying alone didn’t sound appealing either. Plus, you knew Yeosang needed the help. And, if you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t mind spending time with him—especially in a more relaxed setting.

"Fine," you finally agreed, gathering your things and standing up. "But you owe me coffee or something for this."

"Deal," he said, standing up as well, his smile genuine. "I’ll make sure to have some at my place. You’ll need it."

---

Yeosang’s apartment wasn’t far from campus, and the walk there was peaceful, the evening air cool and crisp as you made your way through the quiet streets. When you arrived, he unlocked the door and ushered you inside, the familiar scent of his place hitting you immediately. It was clean, minimalist, the kind of space that felt uncluttered and calm—perfect for someone like him, who always managed to maintain that same composed demeanor no matter how stressful school became.

"Make yourself at home," he said, tossing his bag onto the couch as he headed toward the kitchen. "I’ll grab us some coffee."

You dropped your things on the dining table, already pulling out the anatomy textbook and notes. It was a massive textbook, the kind that seemed to weigh as much as all your collective stress, but you flipped it open, scanning through the sections you knew you'd be covering.

Yeosang returned a few moments later, setting two mugs of coffee on the table before sliding into the seat besides you. He leaned back casually, watching as you flipped through the pages, his eyes following the movement of your hands.

"So, where do we start?" he asked.

You took a sip of the coffee, the warmth of it soothing after a long day. "Let’s go over the musculoskeletal system first. I know that’s usually where people get tripped up."

For the next hour or so, you worked through the material, explaining the finer points while Yeosang asked questions here and there. Despite the subject matter being dense, the atmosphere between you was relaxed, easy. It was always like this with Yeosang—no pressure, no tension. Just a comfortable rhythm.

But as you moved through the material, you couldn’t help but notice the way his gaze lingered on you a little longer than usual, the way his hand would brush against yours when he reached for his pen or the way his knee pressed lightly against yours beneath the table. It was subtle, but it was there. Familiar.

Eventually, you leaned back, stretching your arms above your head and letting out a long sigh. "Okay, I think we’ve covered enough for now. You should be good for the exam."

Yeosang didn’t respond right away. Instead, he shifted in his seat, his eyes watching you with that same quiet intensity you'd seen before—when the interactions had veered into something less academic, something more physical.

"You’re a lifesaver," he finally said, his voice lower, softer than before. He leaned in just a little, his arm brushing against yours as his eyes locked onto you. "I really don’t know how I’d get through this without you."

There it was—that shift, that unspoken tension that had always existed between the two of you, just beneath the surface. You felt it too, the pull between, the way your casual arrangement had always felt so effortless, so natural. No strings, no complications. Just the two of you, in moments like this, where the lines blurred between study partners and something more.

You met his gaze, heart rate picking up slightly as you saw the way his expression had changed. His hand, warm and sure, moved to rest on your thigh, fingers gently tracing small, lazy circles there. It wasn’t aggressive, just a quiet, deliberate touch that sent a shiver through your body.

"Yeosang," you began, voice trailing off as his hand moved a little higher, his touch firm but not demanding.

"We’ve been studying for a while," he murmured, his voice low and smooth as his thumb grazed the inside of your thigh. "Maybe we should take a break."

"I-" you stuttered, not knowing what to do. You wanted to.. have sex with him, that's for sure. He was a good guy, whom could be even better in bed, you thought. But was it ethical? to fuck your.. best friend? Without being in a serious relationship? Well, in reality, friends with benefits is known for exactly that thing but at first you omitted that detail.. You loved how good you get along with him, all the intimate moments you had, without the proper sexual part. You were a virgin after all..

and you always thought that you'd never fuck him. But was it the same today...?

You never told him this, yes.. You remembered. You never told him you never had sex, either. The reason you were still "friends with benefits" if you could even call making out that, was that he was damn patient with you. You loved that about him.

"W-what do you wanna do?" you asked, seemingly confused but you knew where this was going.

"I mean.. just the usual, if you don't want something more" he said.

There it was. His patience running thin but never actually doing something about it. He was patient. Now, it was up to you. He was contently looking into your eyes, waiting for any sign from you.

Your hand went for his biceps, looking in his eyes. Then, he slowly went in for a kiss, not wanting to startle you. The kiss was needy, lustful, like it has always been. Tongues interlocking and touching, his hands were all over you.

He'd always get turned on from kissing and touching you. It was partly sexual, after all. And he always also got slightly hard, but he'd take care of it by himself later that day. It was.. sketchy, how patient he was. Seconds later you acted on instinct and impulse, but where did the action come from? Your right hand went from his biceps to his thigh, dangerously close to his crotch.

Yeosang stopped for a moment and looked at you, surprised. "Hm? Tell me sweetie, what do you wanna do?" he said, cupping your face. "Tell me" he murmured in a soft tone.

"I-uh" you stuttered.

"Hm?"

You didn't continue your words but you still answered his question. Your hand rode up his thigh, even closer to his crotch. Then, almost acting on instinct, your hand unbuckled his pants. He smirked at your action and leaned in for a slower, sloppier kiss. He smiled against your lips, sending shivers down your spine. He took you in his embrace and placed you in his lap, still kissing you. His hands went traveling, slowly making their way up to your breasts, to which you flinched for a short second.

He stopped.

"Hey, we don't have to do this if you don't feel comfortable with it. We can do the usual" he said in a reassuring tone.

"N-no" you said. "I wanna do this."

"Then.. may I?" he asked.

"Yes " you firmly said, kinda excited for what was gonna happen next.

You went in for a kiss again, your hands carresing his back softly. As you embraced him you started taking off his shirt, his muscles leaving you speechless. He saw your expression and giggled, finding you cute. He also took off your shirt, then he nodded, asking you if he can also take your bra off. You nodded affirmative and he left your chest bare in front of him.

Yeosang embraced you and put you on the desk, pushing away all the anatomy books you were supposed to have started studying by now. He took off your scrubs slowly. Yes, you had a practical that day and you were too damn lazy to go home and change yoursekf befoee going over at Yeosang and you also went right after classes. On the other note, he was wearing jeans cause he had only anatomy classes today. As soon as he took care of your clothes he also took care of his, both of you being left in only your underwear. His cock was already straining against the briefs, where your eyes spent a little too much time to stare at. He didn't say anything, even tho he probably saw you.

He took of your panties and threw them on the floor and looked contently at you. His rifht hand rode up your thigh and went for your folds, being really patient wirh you. He was looking you in your eyes to see any discomfort or sometning. But as soon as he saw that you were okay with it, he used two of his fingers to thrust them in. You moaned softly at the sensation, arching your back in response.

After he prepped you for a couple of minutes, basically already making your legs slightly tremble, he took you in his embrace and took you to his room where he put you on the bed. He softly pushed you back as he kneeled halfway on the edge of the bed. He took his briefs off and his cock sprung out, leaving you agape. He climbed on tbe bed right between you, feeling his length right against your folds.

"WAIT, wait." you suddenly shouted.

"Hm? what happened?" he said confused.

"I have to tell you something-"

What? Tell me" he sounded a bit worried avout what you'd say.

"It's just that, uh- Ah fuck it. I haven't had sex... never." you finally told him. "So please.. be gentle with me...?" you whispered.

Yeosang giggled. "Seriously? This is what you've been stressed about? Don't worry, I'll take good care of you, silly." he giggled and continued.. "May I? I want to make sure you're comfortable and all.." he whispered.

"Y-yes." you shyly said.

He looked at you and observed your expression. He knew you were turned the fuck on. Your folds literally dripping on the mattress, legs slightly shaking from only his fingers and eyes wide to see what he eas about to do.

"You don't know just how much I've wated this... but I care too damn much about you to have pushed the note or make you do something. Thanks.. for trusting me" he smiled against your thigh.

Yeosang stroked his length for a couple of times, then opened the drawer besides the bed. He took a condom out and put it on, making you feel even safer with him. He looked you in the eyes and nodded, to which you nodded back and he slowly pushed himself in. Your back slightly arched under his action, eyes teary and your hands holding onto his hands. He started slowly thrusting, watching you contently.

"Does it feel good to you?" he asked, hands holding your waist thightly.

"Y-yes!" you soflty shouted.

"Then.. mind if I go a little.. rough?" he bottomed down. "You gotta get a taste of how you'll be fucked in the future, sweetie"

You smiled. The little.. joke? you thought of it as a joke, yes, made you smile. He took that as a yes and as soon as he started thrusting a little bit faster, your chest rose up, soft muffled moans could be heard. You started to feel your core getting thighter and thigtber, you kinda new what that feeling was. To be true to yourself.. you haven't had sex with anyone but.. you fingered yourself at least twice since the semester started.

"Yeosang I-" you stuttered.

"Hm?" he was out of it.

"I'm.. c-close" you finally said.

"Me too" and as soon as he finished his words he raised your back up and took you in his embrace. You were now on your fours, back arching against his chest with every thrust. Kisses started trailing along your spine and shoulders, sending shivers down your spine. Within a couple more thrusts you finished, clenching onto him harshly. Surprised, he stopped for a short moment then started fucking you again, even more forcefully. It hurt but oh god... you were right when you told yourself he might be goon in bed. All sort of thoughts were running through your head, your chest slowly falling on the mattress.

He lifted you up.

"I'm not done... yet" his thrusts became sloppier and heavier, panting softly in thr nape of your neck, leaving kisses all over. As soon as his hands found their way to your breasts and pinched your nipples, you moaned loudly and.... squirted all over the place. Yeosang found that damn hot and came as soon as your moan revebrated through his body. He softly fucked you through his high, then came to a stop.

He slowly put you down and pulled out, throwing the condom away. He covered you with the weighted blanket he'd always had in his bed and hugged you thightly.

"...hey. How was.... it?" he spoke first in a soft tone.

"..A-amazing" you said, head still dizzy. "Though.." you continued.

"Hm?"

"I didn't quite expect to.. you know. Squirt..?" you giggled. "You're really something, Yeosang"

A smile rose on his face, "and this is not even everything that I can do" he laughed, teasingly.

"I bet"

"Hah, come on now. Let's get you washed up." he lifted you up and carried you to the bathroom.

NETWORKS:

@blossomnet

@illusionnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @gong-fourz @arki-sha @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03

[hollaforlyla]

HIIIII your sonic prime fiction are so cutee!! Can I pleasesssds request prime sonic x fem mobian reader who, like shadow(expect she can enter each dimension)didn't like get separted into different dimensions but being in that shatter space is making her really sick.. Like sonic at the end of it. . I think it would be really sweet with how selfless he is and how much he caresᵕ̈

Thank you! :3

" SHATTERED AND FADING " ── prime!sonic x fem!reader

he is such a cutie, he would care so hard! he'd feel blamed, like it was all his fault that you are in this situation in the first place! this was fun to write/edit, tysm for the request! 🫶🏻 please enjoy!!

pairing: sonic x fem!reader

genre: fluff

The Shatterspace was an eerie void of shifting light and swirling energy, a place not meant for anyone to linger in for too long. Sonic had learned that the hard way, feeling his own strength dwindle the longer he stayed. But he wasn’t alone in his suffering.

You were there too.

Like Shadow, you hadn't been split across dimensions. Instead, you could travel freely between them, but at a terrible cost. The unstable energy of the Shatterverse was wearing you down—your body wasn’t built for this, and it showed.

Sonic noticed it almost immediately.

At first, it was subtle—the way you took deeper breaths, the heaviness in your steps. Then, the exhaustion became impossible to hide. Your legs trembled, your eyelids fluttered with weakness, and your normally warm smile faded into something thin and strained.

And Sonic? He was worried. Deeply, profoundly worried.

"Whoa, hey, you okay?" His voice was lighthearted, but the concern in his eyes betrayed him. He caught your arm when you stumbled, steadying you with a firm grip.

You managed a weak chuckle, waving him off. "I’m fine, Sonic. Just a little tired."

He didn’t buy it.

"Uh-huh, sure," he said, narrowing his eyes. "And I’m just ‘a little’ slow."

He tried to keep things upbeat—he always did—but the truth was written all over his face. He had already seen what this place was doing to him, how it drained his speed and his strength. But you? You didn’t have his endurance. And the way your body leaned into his, the way you barely kept your footing—it scared him.

Sonic wasn’t one to panic, but seeing you like this made his heart race.

You pressed a hand to your temple, wobbling slightly. "I just… I need a second."

That was it. That was the last straw.

Without a word, Sonic scooped you up into his arms.

"Whoa—Sonic!" You gasped, clinging to his chest as he held you close.

"Yeah, nope, not letting you collapse on my watch," he said, voice firm. "You’re burning up, Y/N."

You blinked at him, startled. It was true. Your body felt feverish, overwhelmed by the instability of this space. Every second here was draining you, and Sonic knew it.

His grip tightened. "We need to get you out of here. Fast."

You sighed, exhaustion creeping into your voice. "Sonic… I don’t know if I can make it."

The way you said it—so quiet, so unsure—made his chest ache. Sonic wasn’t used to feeling helpless, but right now, he hated the fact that he couldn’t just fix this with a burst of speed.

He pressed his forehead against yours, his voice dropping to a gentle murmur. "Hey, don’t say that. I got you, okay? We’re getting out of here together. You just gotta hang on."

You closed your eyes, breathing in his warmth, the steadiness of his heartbeat. "You’re always so… selfless," you whispered, a faint smile on your lips. "Always looking out for everyone else…"

Sonic chuckled softly, brushing his nose against yours. "Yeah, well, you make it easy to care."

He adjusted his hold on you, determination blazing in his eyes. "Now hold tight. I’m getting us outta here, no matter what it takes."

And with that, he ran—pushing past the weight dragging him down, pushing past the ache in his own limbs. Because nothing mattered more than you.

Nothing.

runs away.

[luckyroll3]

Quid Pro Quo: Chapter 1

Masterlist and Summary

Warnings: This work of fiction is intended for 18+ audiences only. Includes explicit sexual content, graphic language, some violence, etc. Author chooses to not extensively tag in order to preserve some elements of storytelling.

Word Count: 9,558

You sit at your usual table in the bustling student center, absentmindedly twirling a pen as you wait for your new tutee to arrive. You glance at your watch for the third time in as many minutes. You look back over to your floormates Jess and Sam sitting across from you. 

"Did you hear about Sarah hooking up with Matt at the party on Friday?" Jess leans in conspiratorially, her voice a dramatic whisper. "Apparently they were all over each other on the dance floor."

Sam rolls her eyes good-naturedly. "Knowing Matt, he probably sweet-talked her with some cheesy pickup lines. That boy is shameless."

You chuckle at their antics, enjoying the lighthearted gossip session. Jess launches into another scandalous tale about someone called Josh from the Business School.

"I'm telling you, he's slept with half the cheerleading team already," Jess whispers conspiratorially, her eyes wide with gossip. "Lisa said he's got some special move that drives the girls wild."

You roll your eyes, suppressing a grin. "And I'm sure Lisa has firsthand experience, right?"

"Well, no, but—" 

"Don't encourage her," Sam interjects with a knowing smirk. "You know how Jess loves to embellish."

The three of you dissolve into giggles, the easy banter a welcome distraction from your waiting. The person you were supposed to be tutoring was already 5 minutes late. 

Suddenly, a smooth voice cuts through your laughter. "Excuse me, I'm looking for my tutor. Any chance you lovely ladies can point me in the right direction?”

You look up, the words dying on your lips as you take in the sight before you. Tousled bleached blonde hair frames a face that belongs on a magazine cover, complete with deep dimples, a broad nose, thick pink lips, and warm brown eyes that crinkle at the corners. The casual jeans and black hoodie hug his athletic frame in all the right places. You’ve seen him around campus and at parties – he’s kind of hard to miss – but you’ve never actually spoken to him before. He holds his phone out to you, and points at a name. Your name.  

"That’s me," you say, clearing your throat. "I'm your tutor. You must be Chan?"

You notice Jess and Sam exchanging meaningful glances, eyebrows raised. They clearly recognize him too and must have gossip about him like they do about everyone. Interesting.

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise as he takes you in, a slow dimpled grin spreading across his face. He clearly had not envisioned someone who looked like you. "Wow, I wasn't expecting... I mean, you're not exactly what I pictured when they said, 'best math tutor on campus.'" 

Funny how the men always seemed to be caught off guard. And you're never sure whether to be flattered or offended. "And what exactly did you picture?" You propped your fist up under your chin.

Chan's grin widens, revealing perfect white teeth. "Honestly? Some nerdy chick with thick glasses, a pocket protector, and maybe corrective shoes." He shrugs as he pulls the chair out and sits next to you. “And certainly not stylish.” His eyes take in your pink crop top and dark gray wide legged jeans that hugged your hips.

You can't help but laugh. "Sorry to disappoint. My pocket protector’s in the wash. I’ll be sure to have it with me next time if that makes you feel more comfortable." Chan smirks at your joke, his eyes never leaving yours. “This is Jess and Sam,” you say, pointing towards your friends. 

“Hey Jess and Sam,” he says, flashing them his smile before turning back to you.

“Hi Chan. Uh, we should get going,” Sam says hastily. “We were just keeping her company while she waited…” She and Jess hurriedly gather their things. 

“Have fun studying,” Jess calls over her shoulder as they scurry off, leaving you alone with the blonde bombshell.  

You watch your friends as they walk away, whispering between the two of them as they continue to glance back at Chan. Turning back to him, you clear your throat. "So, shall we get started?"

Chan's cocky demeanor falters slightly as he lets out a frustrated sigh. "I have to admit, I’m really struggling in differential equations. I kind of bombed my first exam. Like, spectacularly. I’ve never failed anything before. I’ve never even gotten below an A- in any of my courses! My professor suggested I get some extra help."

You nod understandingly. "That's why I'm here," you reassure him. “Let me give you a quick rundown of how I tutor and my rates, then we can dive in."

For the next hour, you pour over Chan's exam, dissecting each problem he got wrong. Your passion for the subject shines through as you enthusiastically explain the underlying concepts, using real-world examples to make the material come alive.

To your pleasant surprise, Chan listens attentively, absorbing your words. As Chan explains his frustrations with the material, you find yourself impressed by his intelligence despite this particular academic setback. He asks thoughtful questions, determined to grasp the ideas fully. His brow furrows adorably as he works through a particularly tricky concept. He seems to genuinely care about improving his understanding. Plus, the intense focus in his captivating brown eyes is rather attractive.

"Okay, let's break this down step by step," you say, leaning in closer to guide him through one of the problems. The subtle scent of his cologne teases your senses, and you silently chastise yourself for noticing. 

Over the next hour, you lose yourself in the elegant dance of numbers and variables, your voice growing more animated as you explain the intricacies of differential equations. Chan proves to be an attentive student, his initial bravado melting away to reveal genuine curiosity and a quick mind.

But your session is interrupted several times. A perky brunette approaches your table, her eyes fixed on your tutee. "Hey Chan," she coos, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "I didn't know you studied here."

Chan's demeanor shifts instantly, his smile widening as he leans back in his chair. "Only when I have a beautiful tutor," he says with a wink in your direction.

You roll your eyes, but can't help the small smile that tugs at your lips. "Flattery will get you nowhere, especially not in differential equations, sir," you quip as you tap your pencil on his textbook, earning a laugh from Chan.

Twenty minutes later, two more girls stop by, batting their eyelashes at him. You observe with amusement as he effortlessly juggles their attention, his charm cranked up to a thousand.

"Ladies, ladies," he says after a few minutes, "As much as I’d love to continue our chat, I'm in the middle of a very important tutoring session."

You snort. "Oh, now it's important?"

Chan grins at you, his eyes twinkling. "Always has been. How else will I impress you with my mathematical prowess?"

As the girls reluctantly drift away, you can't help but admire Chan's ability to navigate social situations with such ease. It's like watching a performance, and despite yourself, you're entertained.

"Wow," he says as he finishes working through a complex problem at the end of the session. "You really know your stuff. I think I actually understand some of this now."

You flash Chan a warm smile as you gather up your notes. "That's great! I'm glad I could help. If we keep meeting regularly and you keep putting in the same effort you showed today, we'll have you acing these exams in no time."

Chan leans back in his chair, giving you a smoldering look. "With a tutor as brilliant and stunning as you, how could I not be motivated to give it my all?"

He winks flirtatiously and you can't help but chuckle. Throughout the session, you noticed how Chan turned on the charm anytime a cute girl walked by your table, making them blush and giggle. But you see right through his player persona.

"You should save your cheesy pick-up lines for the girls over there eyeing you," you tease, nodding your head towards a group of freshmen near the cafe counter who keep glancing your way and whispering. "I don't mix business with pleasure."

"Pity," Chan sighs dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. "And here I thought my devilish good looks and witty remarks were winning you over."

"Keep dreaming, Casanova." 

“Unlike Casanova, I’m 100% clean. I get tested monthly,” he says, cocking his head to the side with a sly smirk. “Hey! Did you call my pick-up lines ‘cheesy’??” he asks, in mock offense, followed by a smile. “That’s certainly a first.”

“Yup!” You roll your eyes playfully as you slide the textbook back into your bag. "I will say, when you weren’t distracted by ass and tits, you were a very attentive student today. Here’s what you owe me.” You hand him the invoice.

Chan's eyebrows raise as he examines the total. “Ouch,” he says, but he pulls out his wallet without complaint. "But I'd say you're worth every penny... and more," he adds suggestively. 

You simply shake your head in amusement as you accept his payment, immune to his flirtations after years of dealing with cocky jocks, handsy frat brothers, and other self-assured fuck boys who became humbled when they needed your help to pass math and physics. Still, you have to admit there's something magnetic about Chan's presence, a spark of intelligence and humor beneath that bad boy exterior that intrigues you. And damn, he is cute. The problem is he knows it.

"Seriously though, thanks for being so patient with me. Same time next week?" he asks, flashing that dimpled smile that you're sure has broken countless hearts.

Shouldering your backpack, you give him one last appraising look. "Yup. Don't forget to do the practice problems I assigned."

"As you wish." He grins roguishly. "I await our next meeting with bated breath."

You laugh again, before turning and walking away, very aware of Chan's eyes following your every step. This is going to be an interesting semester, you think to yourself as you head to your next class. 

Later that evening, you're sprawled on your bed in your dorm room. Jess sits in your desk chair and Sam is on the floor eating chips. The two of them rehash the day’s events. The conversation soon turns to your new tutee. 

“I can’t believe you’re tutoring THE Bang Chan,” Jess says incredulously, pausing in the middle of painting her toenails a vivid red. 

“Do they really call him that? Bang Chan?” you ask curiously. You know his full name is Chan Bahng. 

Sam jumps in. “Yes, Bang Chan. As in the notorious fuck boy who’s probably slept with two-thirds of the girls on campus. 

The room erupts into giggles and excited chatter. "Oh honey," Jess says with a grin. "Everyone knows Bang Chan. He's only the biggest player on campus!"

Your eyebrows shoot up. "Really? I mean, I noticed he was flirty, but—"

"Flirty?" Sam snorts as she sets down her bag of Ruffles, leaning forward with a conspiratorial grin. "Girl, you have no idea. That boy is trouble, with a capital T. Fuck, all the letters are screaming at you! He’s broken more hearts than I've had hot dinners. They call him the 'One Night Stand King'. He never hooks up with someone more than once."

“You would know this if you didn’t spend all your time in the physics building or with your boyfriend at the Phi Theta Nu house,” Jess says as she points the nail polish brush in your direction. 

“That’s why I hang out with you bitches! So you can catch me up on all the campus drama and gossip I miss.” Jess and Sam laugh at you. 

As your friends launch into increasingly outrageous stories about Chan's exploits, you feel a strange mix of fascination and disbelief. Could the attentive student you tutored really be the same person they're describing?

“I heard he slept with three of the sorors from KEK in one week, and not one of them knew about the others!” Sam continues. “And they all lived on the same floor!"

"Oh, and get this," Jess leans in, her voice dropping to a whisper as if the three of you weren’t alone. "I heard from my friend who fucked him freshman year that he's absolutely mind-blowing in bed. Like, earth-shattering good." She tightens the cap on the nail polish bottle and sets it on the desk. 

Sam nodded her head vigorously as she popped another chip into her mouth. “I’ve heard that too. That he works hard to get each girl off. That’s a miracle in and of itself, given how awful and selfish most of these guys are when it comes to our pleasure.”

"That part! And apparently, he has a magical tongue, if you know what I mean," Jess adds with a salacious wink.

The three of you devolve into loud laughter. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t noticed Chan’s devilish smile and the sinful way he bit his plush lower lip. You're about to ask for more details when a knock at the door interrupts the gossip session. The scent of yummy food wafts in as your boyfriend Changbin enters, bags of takeout in hand. His handsome face breaks into a sweet smile at the sight of you.

"Hey babe," he greets, pecking you on the lips before holding up the food. "I brought dinner.” Changbin's eyes sweep over the room, taking in your friends and the remnants of your gossip session. “I didn’t realize you two would still be here, but there’s enough for everyone," he offers.

“Best boyfriend ever,” you declare as you move to help him with the food. 

"Mind if I join the party?"

Your friends eagerly accept, and soon you're all sprawled across the floor, plates balanced on laps as the conversation flows. The aroma of spicy chicken and savory noodles fills the air, mingling with laughter and playful banter.

After a few minutes of catching up, Changbin raises an eyebrow. "So, what were you all talking about before I got here? I could hear you laughing down the hall!"

Sam giggles, swallowing a mouthful of food. "Oh, we were just filling her in on Bang Chan's reputation."

Changbin's expression shifts, a flicker of recognition in his eyes. "Chan? I know him. We play soccer together sometimes in the pickup games on Saturdays."

You lean in, curious. "Really? What do you think of him?"

Changbin shrugs, his muscular shoulders rolling beneath his fitted shirt. "He's actually a pretty nice guy. Killer on the field, but always fair. I’ve also heard from a couple of my frat bothers who are also engineering majors that he’s really fucking smart. Why? What have you ladies heard?" Changbin turns his attention to Sam and Jess, fully aware of their gossip queen reputations.

As your friends launch into a recap of Chan's notorious exploits, you find yourself torn between their salacious stories and your own experience. "He was my tutoring student today," you interject. "And yeah, he was flirty, but he was also polite and seemed genuinely interested in learning. I could tell he was also very intelligent."

Changbin nods, a thoughtful look on his face. "That tracks. He's got quite the reputation, but I've never seen him be disrespectful or mean. Just... very popular with the ladies." He ticks his head to the side and smirks before shoving a forkful of noodles into his mouth. 

“Does it make him a bad guy that he likes fucking around?” you ask sincerely. “He’s apparently single; from what you all have shared he offers nothing more than sex, then moves on. As long as he’s not tricking or forcing anyone, I don’t get why it’s a big deal.”

“True, true,” Sam agrees. 

Jess doesn’t look too sure. “It’s probably more about the volume and that he also fucks friends,” she adds after thinking about your comment for a few seconds. 

Changbin doesn’t really care and just continues eating, grabbing an eggroll from your plate with a cute smirk. You make a face at him. “What,” he says after taking a bite. “You know you’re not gonna eat it.”

As the conversation shifts to other topics, you can't help but ponder the complexities of Chan's character. Your mind wanders, comparing him to Changbin, wondering about the different types of men and relationships that exist in this world, especially considering the whirlwind of rumors surrounding Chan. You push the thoughts aside, focusing on the moment at hand, but a small part of you remains curious about the enigma that is the ‘Bang Chan’.

Later, after your friends have left and your dorm room is quiet once more, you and Changbin settle onto your bed. His strong arms encircle you, pulling you close as you cuddle together. Having a single this semester means that the two of you get to spend a lot more alone time together. The familiar scent of his cologne envelops you, comforting and enticing all at once. You rest your head on his sturdy chest as his fingers trail gentle patterns along your back. 

"Can you believe it's almost our one-year anniversary?" Changbin muses, his deep voice vibrating beneath your cheek. "Time flies when you're with someone as amazing as you."

You tilt your head up to meet his warm gaze, your heart fluttering at the open affection shining in his eyes. "I feel the same way. Being with you has been the best part of this whole college experience."

Changbin's hand comes up to tenderly brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "I want to make our anniversary special, baby. Is there anything in particular you want to do to celebrate?"

Nibbling your lower lip, you contemplate his question. In truth, all you really want is to spend uninterrupted quality time with the man you’ve been falling for over the past 10 months. No distractions, no studying, no gossip about cocky fuck boys with sinful smirks...

Just you and Changbin, savoring each other's presence, and maybe… something more.

You snuggle closer, relishing the feel of him. "Just spending time with you is enough," you reply softly. “I don’t need anything fancy. I just honestly want to disconnect from everything and everyone but you.” 

Changbin's pink lips curve into a soft smile. "That sounds perfect.”

He leans in, capturing your mouth in a tender kiss. Your eyes flutter shut as you melt into him, relishing the gentle pressure of his lips on yours. It's chaste and sweet, just like most of the kisses you've shared over the past year.

And yet...

A tiny, secret part of you can't help but yearn for more. To feel the heat of desire, the intensity of passion, the urgency of wandering hands and fervent kisses. Your thoughts stray to the erotic stories your friends shared earlier, of Chan's alleged prowess in the bedroom....

Mentally chastising yourself, you force those illicit musings away, focusing instead on the warm solidity of your boyfriend's frame against yours. Changbin is perfect – caring, respectful, patient. He deserves your full attention and devotion.

As his fingers continue to trace lazy patterns along your spine, a shiver runs through you. You can't help but wonder if Changbin wants more from your relationship. Over the past year, your physical intimacy has been limited to these chaste kisses and some gentle petting, and you're acutely aware of how accommodating he's been to your general lack of interest in intimacy, despite having sex with his previous partners. A perfect gentleman.

Gathering your courage, you tilt your head back up to meet his gaze again. "Binnie... do you want more from our relationship?"

His dark eyes soften as he looks at you, a mix of tenderness and desire in their depths. "I only want what you want," he says sincerely. "My priority is making sure you're happy and feel safe. We can take things at whatever pace you're comfortable with. There’s no need to rush anything."

“Okay,” you whisper.

His words fill you with a comforting warmth, like slipping into a hot bath on a cold night. In that moment, you make a decision, one that feels both monumental and inevitable. Silently, you promise yourself that for your anniversary in two months, you'll take things to the next level with Changbin. He deserves it, and if you're honest with yourself, you want it, or rather him, too. You want his touch, his closeness, the deeper connection that comes with truly giving yourselves to one another emotionally and physically.

No more holding back, you tell yourself. You have just over two months to prepare, to get comfortable with the idea. As a sign of this new commitment to yourself and your relationship, you gently slide Changbin’s hands from your lower back to your ass. The movement is slow and deliberate. “That’s better,” you whisper. Your breath catches in your throat as you wait for his reaction.

Changbin lets out a low, appreciative chuckle, the sound vibrating through his chest and into your body. He squeezes gently, testing the waters, and you feel a spark of arousal shoot through you. His lips find your neck, and he begins to pepper it with light, teasing kisses, each one sending a tingling wave of sensation down your spine.

You close your eyes, savoring the moment, the feel of his strong hands and warm lips. This is what you want. To be closer to him, to experience the physical side of your feelings for him. As you lay there in his arms, your mind drifts to thoughts of what that next level might entail. You try to imagine what it will be like when you finally cross that line: the heat of his skin against yours, the weight of his body, the mingling of your breaths. It’s a tantalizing thought, and a mix of excitement and nervousness flutters in your stomach.

****

The library hums with quiet activity as you settle into a table towards the back. You’re looking forward to seeing Chan again. Despite his reputation, you enjoyed talking to Chan, and he was a fun and attentive student last time. Maybe there’s more to him than meets the eye. 

Speaking of the “fuck boy” in question, you see Chan approaching, his blonde hair slightly tousled and a grin playing on his lips as he struts towards the table like he owns the place. Which, let’s be honest, he might as well. Every woman in the building, young and old, cast him longing glances as he passes by, but his eyes are only on you. 

“Hey tutor,” he drawls, flashing that alluring grin, “ready to help a desperate man?” As he slides into the seat across from you, you catch a whiff of his cologne – a subtle, woodsy scent that's oddly enticing. “Oh, and before you say it, I know I’m irresistible. I just can’t help it.”

"Hello, Chan," you say, feigning exasperation, but you can't help the little upturn of your lips. "I'll help you, but only if you promise to behave yourself."

"Scout's honor," he says, holding three fingers up playfully. 

"Heh, good. Ready to tackle some more concepts?"

Chan's eyes light up with a mix of enthusiasm and mischief. "Absolutely. I've been practicing, you know. Might even impress you today."

You raise an eyebrow playfully. "Oh really? Let's see what you've got, blondie."

As you dive into the session, you're pleasantly surprised by Chan's progress. He's quick to grasp concepts that stumped him before, and you find yourself laughing at his clever quips between problem sets.

The next two hours fly by in a flurry of notes, examples, and Chan's near-constant, yet surprisingly endearing, banter. He's actually put in the effort and it’s clear he’s been studying.

"See? Told you I'd impress you," he says with a wink as you wrap up.

You roll your eyes but can't suppress a grin. "Alright, alright. Don't let it go to your head."

As Chan reaches for his wallet, his expression shifts, turning serious for once. "Hey, um... about the payment," he starts, his usual confidence faltering, a flicker of discomfort crossing his features. He hands over the bills in his hand. "I hate to ask this, but... is there any chance I could get a discount?” An uncharacteristic blush creeps up his cheeks.

"Chan, if you can't pay today, it's fine," you assure him, offering the cash back. "We can work something out; you can get it to me next week. We also don’t have to do two hours every time."

He shakes his head. “No, that’s yours. You earned it.” He meets your gaze. “I… I can’t pay for any more sessions at this rate after our next session.” Chan runs a hand through his hair, clearly embarrassed. "Yeah, it's just... I'm here on scholarship, you know? Most of what I make from my campus job goes back home to help my family. I totally get it if you can't give me a discount, though." 

His admission catches you off guard; you’re surprised by this sudden vulnerability. So, the infamous "fuck boy" may have a heart after all.

As he speaks, you notice how he's trying to maintain his cocky demeanor, but there's a genuine worry in his eyes that tugs at your heart. Suddenly, an idea strikes you – one that makes your pulse quicken with both nervousness and excitement.

"Actually," you begin, your voice lowering conspiratorially, "I might have a proposition for you." You pause, thinking about the best way to phrase your question. "But first, I have to ask... what's the deal with your reputation as the campus 'fuck boy'? I heard they call you ‘Bang Chan’?"

Chan's eyebrows shoot up, clearly not expecting this turn in the conversation. Then he lets out a laugh, his dimples deepening. "Wow, straight to the point, huh? I like that." He leans back in his chair, a glint in his eye. "Well, I won't deny it. The rumors are true. I am, for lack of a better term, a fuck boy.”

"And you're okay with that label?" you press, genuinely curious.

He shrugs, still smiling. "Look, I don't think there's anything wrong with it as long as I'm upfront about my intentions. No false promises, no declarations of relationships or love, no repeat customers, no broken hearts – just fun between consenting adults. I’ve never seen the point in stringing women along or pursuing those who aren’t interested when there are so many who are willing to hook up with no attachments if you just come right out and ask."

As he speaks, you feel a mix of admiration for his honesty and a flutter of anticipation in your stomach. 

“I like how practical you are about it. And you’re right. Despite what society tries to tell us, women’s sexual drives are just as high, if not higher than most men’s.” He nods in agreement, clearly impressed with your non judgemental take. You take a deep breath, preparing to make your unconventional offer. You lean in towards him. “How about we… negotiate?”

His interest piqued, Chan leans in too. "I'm listening."

You lower your voice. "Okay, here's my proposition. I'll waive your tutoring fees for the rest of the semester if..." You pause, your heart racing. "If you agree to teach me about… intimacy."

Chan's eyes widen, his usual cocky demeanor faltering for a moment. "Wait, what?" He searches your face, as if trying to determine if you're joking. You’ve shocked him for the second time in less than 5 minutes. 

"Well, here's the thing," you say, biting your lower lip. "I need to... gain some... experience."

Realization dawns on Chan's face, and a sly grin spreads across his lips. “Really?!? Not sure what I was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t that!”

"I'm serious," you say, surprised by how taken aback he seems by your request. "I want to take things to the next level with my boyfriend, but I have zero experience. Who better to learn from than the campus expert?"

Silence settles between the two of you. Chan runs a hand through his tousled blonde hair, his expression a mix of surprise and interest. He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "This is... unexpected," he says finally. "But I’m intrigued. Give me a minute to think about this."

As he considers, you find yourself holding your breath. You anxiously twirl your pencil as your mind races with thoughts of Changbin, of your upcoming anniversary, of the potential benefits and consequences of this deal. You turn your focus back out externally to notice Chan's eyes roaming over your body. He just smirks when you catch him.

After what feels like an eternity, Chan leans forward, his brown eyes locking with yours. "Alright, I'm in. But we need to set some strict terms."

You nod eagerly. "Of course. What did you have in mind?"

"First," he begins, his tone suddenly businesslike, "this is purely transactional. No catching feelings, no strings attached. I’m assuming you’re a virgin?” 

“Yes,” you say, unashamed. “Will that be a problem?” 

He sighs. “I usually don’t fuck virgins because they tend to get…”

“Clingy?” You finish for him. 

“Yes. They tend to get clingy. If either of us starts developing feelings, we end it immediately. Agreed?" And by ‘either of us’, you assume he means you and your clingy virginity. 

"Agreed," you say without hesitation. "I have no interest in complicating things. This is just about learning. No clinginess, no drama. It’s simply not my style. I’m coming at this from a completely practical perspective. Just mutual… assistance."

Chan nods approvingly. "Good. So, in exchange for diff eq tutoring, I'll teach you about sex – from kissing to... well, everything I guess." He smirks, his confidence returning. "That means we’ll spend time alone together, and we’ll have to touch and other things, building our way up to fucking, if that works for you."

You feel a blush creeping up your neck, but you maintain eye contact, determined to convince him that it’s not a big deal. Because it’s not in your mind. Simply a quid pro quo – your services for his. You talk about sex all the time; you’re just not having it and it’s finally time to rectify that. "Understood. You get what you need from me to pass your class and I get what I need from you to confidently seduce my boyfriend. Shake on it?"

Chan extends his hand, and you take it, feeling a small thrill at the contact. "Deal," he says, his signature charming smile returning. "Now, let's figure out our schedules. One diff eq session and one... ‘intimacy’ session per week?" You nod.

As you pull out your phone to compare calendars, you can't help but wonder what you've just gotten yourself into. But the thought of surprising Changbin on your anniversary pushes any doubts aside.

****

The following week, you meet Chan at the house he shares with 3 other guys to continue your tutoring.  

You stand on the porch, your heart racing with a mix of anticipation and nervousness. You take a deep breath to steady yourself before knocking on the door.

Chan answers almost immediately. The door swings open, revealing him in a fitted black t-shirt and jeans that hug his muscular thighs. His blonde hair is slightly damp, as if he just showered. The scent of his soap, a minty eucalyptus smell, washes over you.

"Hey tutor," he greets with that signature dimpled grin. "Come on in."

You follow him inside, taking in the typical college guy decor – mismatched furniture, video game systems, posters. But you can’t help but notice how tidy the place is; everything is surprisingly clean and organized. It’s the opposite of what you’d expect in a place where 4 college-aged boys live. 

“Who’s your housekeeper,” you ask. 

"Impressed?" Chan asks, noticing your wandering gaze. "It’s me. My roommates are fucking slobs, but I think after a year, I’m finally rubbing off on them," Chan explains as he leads you to the kitchen.

“I wouldn’t have taken you for a Mr. Clean.”

“There were no housekeepers in my neighborhood. We all had to chip in at my house.”

“Same in mine,” you say as you take a seat at the kitchen table. “My friends all had housekeepers, but my parents didn’t believe in that shit. They both grew up poor and didn’t want my brother and me to think that having money meant other people did basic stuff for us. We washed dishes, we did our own laundry, we did lawn maintenance…”

“Damn, even we didn’t have to mow the lawn!” Chan laughed. “But that’s cool of your parents to keep you guys humble.”

The two of you dive into the session, reviewing his notes from this week. You're pleasantly surprised by how quickly Chan grasps the new concepts you introduce. His face scrunches adorably in concentration as he tackles each question, only occasionally glancing up to catch your approving nods. 

After returning from the bathroom, you lean over Chan's shoulder, pointing out an error in his calculations. "See here? You forgot to apply the chain rule."

Chan's brow furrows as he studies the problem. "Ah, I see it now, shit! Thanks.”

As you explain the correct approach, you're acutely aware of his proximity. You retake your seat and continue to watch him erase and scribble as he works out the problem.

"You've really been practicing," you comment, unable to keep the surprise from your voice.

Chan looks up, a hint of pride in his eyes. "Well, I've got a pretty great tutor motivating me," he says with a wink.

You roll your eyes playfully. "I told you, flattery will get you nowhere, mister."

"Oh really?" Chan leans in closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "Because it usually gets me everywhere." He smirks. 

"Alright, alright.” You flip a few pages in the textbook. “Try this next one on your own," you say, sliding the textbook towards him and pointing out a particularly tricky problem.

As Chan works through the equation, you can't help but notice the way his t-shirt stretches across his broad shoulders, or how his tongue darts out to wet his lips when he’s in deep concentration.

"Okay, I think I've got it," Chan says triumphantly after solving it. He looks up at you, his brown eyes sparkling, as he slides his notebook in front of you. You review it, nodding. 

“Nice work.”

“You’re impressed?” He leans back, placing his hands behind his head and quickly arching his eyebrows several times.

You can't help but smile. "I am. You've clearly been putting in the work." You hand him back his notebook and close the textbook. “Let’s call it.”

As you wrap up the math portion of your meeting, a nervous energy settles between you. Chan clears his throat, his cocky demeanor faltering slightly.

"So... I guess it's time for your lesson now?" he asks, his voice lower than usual.

You nod, your heart rate picking up. "I guess so."

Chan stands, looking at his watch. "Let's move somewhere more comfortable. Plus, I think a couple of my roommates will be home soon."

He leads you to his bedroom and motions for you to place your things on his desk. 

You stand awkwardly, your heart pounding. Chan leans against the wall, his brown eyes studying you intently.

"Don't look so nervous. I don’t bite... unless you ask me to.” His lips curve into a mischievous smile, causing you to shake your head at his ridiculousness. “We'll start slow." He walks over to stand directly in front of you. "So," he says, breaking the tension. "Show me how you usually kiss. Don't overthink it."

You take a deep breath and step closer, Chan's scent filling your senses. You place your hands on his shoulders and press your lips against his, holding them there for a few seconds before pulling away.

Chan's dimples appear as he smiles warmly. "That was... gentle. Sweet, even. But let's work on technique."

You feel your cheeks burn. "That bad, huh?"

He chuckles. "Not bad, just inexperienced. Here, let me show you."

Chan cups your face with one hand, his thumb grazing your cheek. "First, create anticipation," he murmurs. His eyes flick to your lips, then back to your eyes. You find yourself holding your breath. “Start exactly how you did before, soft and gentle, but then let it develop into something deeper by opening your mouth slightly, using your tongue to slightly tease, and when they part their mouth in response, slip your tongue in and massage theirs. Like this.”

As his lips meet yours, they are soft and gentle, yet determined. He moves slowly, deliberately, guiding your mouth to part slightly and tilting your head for a better angle. Your body instinctively leans into him, craving more. You feel the gentle probing of his tongue against your lips, and you respond by eagerly accepting it. His tongue explores every nook and cranny of your mouth, and you press yours back against his.

Changbin has kissed you like this before, but never for long. He never wants to seem like he’s pressuring you to do anything. But the way Chan is kissing you is so sensual, yet intense, you actually feel like your knees might buckle. You can see why all the girls on campus are so taken by him. 

After a moment, he pulls back. "See the difference?" 

You nod with your eyes closed, a bit dazed. "Definitely." He laughs at your response.

"Now you try," Chan instructs. "Remember, it's about connection, not just pressing lips together."

As you lean in again, you think, I can do this. It's just practice, like math. But when your lips meet his this time, it feels anything but clinical. You replicate what he just showed you. At the same time, you feel him clasp your hands, which are hanging lifelessly at your sides, and bring them behind his neck. You interlace your fingers in the new position. After a few moments, you pull your lips away. 

“Good. And remember to touch him. Rub his back, grab his ass, and if your hands are around his neck like they are now, run your fingers through the hair at the nape.”

You slip your fingers up into his hair, toying with the curls forming at the back of his neck. “Like this?”

“Just like that,” he whispers with a smile. “Now the functionality of this shifts with the position.” He retakes your hands in his and leads you to the bed. He sits and motions for you to get on him. His hands settle on your hips. “If you’re straddling your partner, it’s similar to standing. Wrap your arms and legs around me and go again.”

You bring your lips back to his. The kiss quickly deepens, and you sigh lightly when you feel Chan’s hands slide to your lower back, continuing on to your ass. Chan smiles against your lips at your reaction, which causes you to laugh and break the kiss. 

“Sorry,” you chuckle. “You just caught me off guard.”

“That’s okay. Just get comfortable with it.” He squeezes your ass playfully. “Your boyfriend doesn’t grab your ass? It’s a great ass.” 

“He’s pretty respectful. If I told him to grab it, he would.” You lazily twirl your thumbs on the back of his neck. 

“Keep doing that. That feels good.” He leans back in to continue the kiss. After a few minutes he leans back on the bed, pulling you on top of him. “Don’t stop,” he whispers against your lips. And you don’t. He eventually rolls so that you’re both on your sides, facing each other. “You’re a quick learner,” he says when he finally allows you to come up for air. 

"Well, I've got a pretty great tutor motivating me," you smirk with a wink, mimicking his comment from earlier. 

“Ha! Well, you do! I am the best.” He readjusts both of you, pulling your body closer to his, and repositioning your top leg over his hip. “Now when you’re lying down, kissing can get uncomfortable. But if both of you are into it, it shouldn’t matter. And rolling around usually helps. Got it?”

“Got it.” You don’t wait for him to tell you to try again, you just dive in. His positive feedback has helped you grow your confidence in a short period of time, and you’ve surprised yourself by how comfortable you feel making out with him, when you’ve never really done it with anyone before. 

****

That weekend, you and Changbin sit in his car after a tasty dinner at your favorite Italian bistro. The restaurant's neon sign casts a soft glow through the windshield, illuminating Changbin's face as he leans toward you. His eyes, warm and inviting, flick down to your lips before meeting your gaze again. Your heart races with anticipation.

"I had a great time tonight," Changbin says softly, his hand reaching for yours.

You smile, gathering your courage. "Me too."

As he leans in for what he expects to be his usual gentle peck, you surprise him by cupping his face with both hands. You hold him in place, tilting your head slightly as you deepen the kiss. Your tongue traces his lower lip before easing into his mouth.

Changbin makes a small sound of surprise, then leans into the kiss, his hand moving to the back of your neck. The console between you digs into your ribs, but you barely notice, lost in the sensation of his lips moving against yours.

When you finally pull away, both slightly breathless, Changbin's eyes are wide with pleasant surprise. "Wow," he breathes. "That was... unexpected. But amazing."

You can't help but grin, a mixture of pride and excitement coursing through you. "I've been practicing," you admit, then quickly add, "In my head, I mean. Imagining. And watching porn." You grin.

Changbin chuckles, his thumb caressing your cheek. "Well, your imagination is impressive. What else have you been imagining?" And after a beat he adds, “and what kind of porn???”

“Don’t you worry about that!” you laugh. “I don’t ask you about your porn, you don’t ask me about mine.” 

“Deal!” he says with a chuckle. “Cause some of my porn is pretty cringey!”

As he starts the car, you ask softy, "Hey, Changbin? Can you stay over tonight?"

He glances at you, his expression a mix of excitement and concern. "Are you sure? I thought you had to study."

"I'm sure," you nod, your heart pounding. "I can study tomorrow."

Changbin happily agrees, his face breaking into a wide grin. He’s slept over before, but usually, the two of you only cuddle. You want to do more tonight. 

After washing your face and changing into your PJs, you climb into bed with Changbin. He’s in his undershirt and boxers, his muscular arms and legs on display. He cuddles you like he’s done many times before. "So, what do you want to do?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

You take a deep breath. "I want... I want more," you say hesitantly.

Changbin raises an eyebrow in surprise. "What kind of ‘more’?"

You blush, feeling suddenly shy about voicing your desires out loud. "I want... to... make out with you," you say in a small voice. 

"Okay then," Changbin whispers before leaning in to kiss you again.

This kiss is deeper than the one in the car, filled with unspoken promises and longing. His hands roam over your back as yours tangle in his hair, drawing him closer. His hands wander slowly down your back. You gently guide one of his hands to your ass and encourage him to squeeze, like you did the week prior. He’s hesitant at first, but then he grabs two handfuls of flesh, making you yelp.

“Sorry,” he whispers against your lips.

“It’s okay. I liked it,” you whisper back with a smile before you playfully nip at his lip. He laughs and resumes kissing you. One of his hands moves to cup your breast through your shirt, making you moan into his mouth. It feels so good. You pull him on top of you, and the two of you spend a few hours making out heavily.  

As you wake the next morning, your lips throb and tingle delightfully from last night's passionate kissing. You're surprised by how much you enjoy the slight discomfort, not realizing that your lips could get sore. But it makes sense, you rationalize in your head, since there must be muscles there that help them to move and pucker. 

While you eat lunch, you can't stop smiling at the memory of Changbin's happy face as he left your dorm room. His gentle kiss goodbye still lingers on your lips and in your heart. If this is what you’ve been missing out on with him, you can’t wait to explore more.

**** 

You can barely contain your excitement as you settle into your usual table in the student center for your next session with Chan. As soon as he arrives, flashing that signature dimpled smile, you blurt out, "It worked!"

Chan's eyebrows shoot up as he slides into the seat across from you. "Someone's in a good mood," he teases. "What worked?"

"The kissing techniques," you whisper, leaning in conspiratorially. "Let's just say my boyfriend was very impressed."

Chan's laugh is warm and genuine. "Look at you, becoming a master seductress already." He winks, then adds, "I did pretty well too. Aced my last quiz."

"That's fantastic!" You hold up your hand for a high five, which he enthusiastically returns. 

As Chan starts on his homework, you can't help but notice biting his lower lip again when he's thinking hard. It's... distractingly cute.

The rest of the session flies by, the two of you falling into your easy rhythm of banter and problem-solving.

"So," Chan says, as you're both packing up. "Ready for your next lesson?" His voice drops an octave.

You nod, trying not to appear too excited. "Where to, professor?"

Chan grins at the nickname. "Um… let’s go to the Sandbar. It’s still early, so it will be pretty quiet before happy hour starts. Perfect for... practical demonstrations. Plus, my roommate is the bartender, and he’ll hook us up."

At the bar, Chan introduces you to one of his roommates, Minho, who drops off a pitcher of beer and two chilled pint glasses to your booth tucked away in a dimly lit corner towards the back. 

As Minho walks back to the bar, Chan moves to your side of the booth and leans in close. "Foreplay," he murmurs, his breath tickling your ear, "is all about building anticipation. It starts long before you hit the bedroom. It's in the way you look at your partner, the casual touches."

"Show me," you whisper.

"The key," he whispers in your ear, his voice a sensual purr, "is taking your time.” Chan's fingers trail lightly along your arm, barely touching. "It's also about suggestion," he explains. "Hinting at what's to come." His hand moves to your neck, fingertips grazing your skin. "Teasing them until they're aching for your touch. How does that feel?"

"Tingly," you admit, your voice slightly breathless. "Like little electric shocks."

He nods approvingly. “Explore every inch of your partner's body, paying special attention to their erogenous zones. Graze, nuzzle, kiss."

His skilled fingers move to your lips, brushing lightly against them before trailing down your chin to your sternum. Your breath catches as his hand grazes the exposed skin of your cleavage, followed by his thumb circling your sensitive nipple through the fabric of your tank top, which immediately hardens by arousal.

He smiles approvingly. "Moans are your best friend," he huskily informs you, his lips grazing your earlobe. "They let your partner know what you like."

As if on cue, a low moan escapes your lips when he pinches your nipple, spurring him on. His mouth follows his hand’s path, leaving a trail of feather-light kisses down your neck, over your sternum, and onto your cleavage, making your knees weak and pulling more sounds from you.

"See?" he murmurs against your skin, satisfaction lacing his voice. "Communication is key."

With that, he claims your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue invading your mouth. His hands slip beneath your tank top, his fingers teasingly brushing against the heated skin of your belly, sending sparks of pleasure straight to your core.

Over the next hour, Chan walks you through the finer points of foreplay – the art of the tease, the power of anticipation, the importance of paying attention to your partner's responses. He demonstrates each technique with a clinical detachment, but there's no denying the heat that simmers between you, the way your body responds to even his most innocent touches.

"Now, your turn. Show me what you've learned."

Emboldened by the beer coursing through your system and the heady rush of new knowledge, you slide closer to him. Taking a deep breath, you extend your hand towards him, feeling the heat emanating from his skin, letting your fingers dance along his forearm and trace his defined muscles. You lean in, nuzzling slightly against his neck, your lips barely brushing his skin as you whisper, "Like this?"

You feel rather than hear Chan's sharp intake of breath. His voice comes out husky when he responds, "Exactly like that." A small smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as you hear the approval in his tone. 

You pepper a few soft kisses on his neck as your hands tickle the skin around the waistband of his jeans, causing him to sigh. "Fuuuck.” His head falls back against the seat. “You catch on quickly."

“Thanks,” you say giddily. As you pull back, you catch a glimpse of something in Chan's eyes – a flash of heat, quickly masked. It makes your heart race, and you wonder if you're getting in over your head.

The moment passes, and Chan rotates his head lazily to stare at you while he leans back in the seat, his signature dimpled smile returning. "Not bad for a beginner," he teases, raising his glass in a mock toast.

You laugh, feeling the tension dissipate as you clink your glass against his.

As the weekday happy hour crowd starts to arrive, your conversation drifts away from the intimate lesson and into more casual territory. You find yourself genuinely enjoying Chan's company, surprised by how easy it is to talk to him. As you talk and laugh together, you’re also surprised at how much you’re opening up to him.

"So, what made you decide to go into mechanical engineering?" you ask, sipping your drink. "Was it always your dream?"

Chan shrugs, his fingers tracing idle patterns on the tabletop. "Not exactly. My parents always pushed me to excel academically, I've always been good at math and science, and I like to build things. Engineering just seemed like the logical choice."

"But is it what you want?"

He's quiet for a moment, considering. "I don't know," he admits finally. "I mean, I'm good at it and I’m interested in designing roller coasters. But sometimes I wonder if there's more out there for me, you know?"

You nod, understanding completely. "I feel the same way about my major sometimes. Like I'm just going through the motions, doing what's expected of me."

"Exactly." Chan's eyes meet yours, a spark of connection passing between you. "It's like, is this all there is? Studying and working and just... existing?"

"Right. There has to be more to life than that," you agree. "Yeah, I want to work for NASA, but I also want to travel, to experience new things… to fall in love." The words slip out before you can stop them, hanging in the air between you.

Chan's gaze softens a bit. “NASA huh?” He smiles and you’re appreciative of him ignoring your last comment. 

“You want to make roller coasters, I want to study black holes.”

“That’s pretty fucking cool! I’ve also thought about building rockets and spaceships, but it felt too far-fetched.”

“Not at all. Tons of mechanical engineers are hired by NASA. But only if they pass Diff Eq,” you tease with a smirk. 

“Ha, ha,” he says sarcastically as he refills your beer. 

As the night wears on, you find yourself losing track of time, too caught up in the thrill of deep conversation, shared dreams, and this apparent friendship you and Chan are developing. Around you, the bar begins to fill with folks interested in cheap beer and discounted food. Clusters of college students talk and flirt and dance to the music spilling from the jukebox.

You become increasingly aware of the looks you and Chan are getting – curiosity, envy, speculative whispers. A group of girls at the bar, in particular, keep glancing over, giggling behind their hands. Chan seems oblivious, his attention focused solely on you.

"Does it ever bother you?" you ask him, nodding towards the onlookers.

He follows your gaze and chuckles. "The attention? Nah, I'm used to it. It’s a burden looking like this," he adds with a wink, followed by a deep laugh. You roll your eyes but can't help smiling. "Besides, it's not like any of what they’re thinking is true tonight."

After the two of you finish a third pitcher, the pressure in your bladder becomes impossible to ignore. "I’ll be right back," you say, tapping him on the shoulder to let you out. “Bathroom break.” You slide out of the booth. 

He nods, his eyes crinkling with a smile. "You’re breaking the seal, lady! So dangerous,” he says with a laugh. “But, hurry back. I’ll be lonely without you," he coos as he sits back down.

As you wait in line for the ladies' room, you can't help but notice the girls a couple spots ahead of you in line. They're eyeing you with blatant curiosity, whispering.

Finally, one of them turns to you with a bright smile. "Hey, are you here with Chan?" she asks across several people, her eyes wide. 

You blink, caught off guard. "Oh, um. Yeah, kind of.” You stammer. “I'm his tutor, actually."

The girls exchange knowing looks, giggling. "His tutor, huh? Is that what he's calling it these days?"

“No, really,” you say with a smile. “I’m tutoring him for his differential equations class.”

She raises an eyebrow, looking skeptical. "Really? You don’t look like a tutor.” She shifts from one leg to another as she sizes you up.

“And yet, I am. Physics major; top of my class.” You’re always slightly irritated that people assume you can’t be cute AND smart.

“That's amazing!" the other girl gushes. You’re not sure if she’s being facetious or channeling some girl power energy.  

You nod and give them a fake smile. 

They turn back to their conversation and a couple seconds later they walk into the bathroom. After 5 more minutes it’s finally your turn and your bladder is fucking thankful. 

As you head back to the booth, you spot Chan standing next to the bar chatting with one of the girls who had just spoken to you. His charm is on full display, dimpled smile flashing as he leans in close, leaning his ear towards her to hear her over the music. Her hand rests on his arm as she laughs at something he says.

You roll your eyes and snicker. You’ve been gone for less than 10 minutes and he’s already on the hunt. This is your signal that it’s time to go. You’ve already taken up a lot of his time tonight.  

You grab your bag and approach Chan at the bar. "Hey, Chan," you interrupt, "I'm heading out. Early class tomorrow."

Chan looks up at you in surprise, his brow furrowing, his smile faltering slightly. "What? Nooooo! Stay; have a couple more drinks," he pleads, those expressive brown eyes locking onto yours. He flashes you that charming, dimpled grin, the one that would make your knees melt if you were into him like that. 

You hesitate, tempted by his request since you were enjoying chatting with him. But then you catch the other girl's side-eye, clearly indicating that she wants him all to herself, and make up your mind. "No thanks,” you say with a smile. “I really do need to get some studying done. How much do I owe you for the pitchers?”

Chan opens his mouth as if to protest, but instead adds, “Don’t worry about. Min took care of it for us.”

“Cool,” you say nonchalantly. “Tell him I said thanks and I’ll see you at our session next week, okay?"

“Yeah, okay.” He watches you as you leave.

“Have fun,” you call out over your shoulder with a wink. 

“You too! And be careful not to give buddy a heart attack this weekend!” he replies with a chuckle before diving right back into his flirting.

As you walk away, you can't help but feel a little excited. You've learned so much tonight, and you can't wait to try it out with Changbin. The thought of his intense eyes softening as you put your new skills to use sends a shiver down your spine.

[darcytaylor]

When “Just Looking at the Evidence” Becomes a Problem

Before I get into this, I want to be clear - this is not directed at shippers who simply enjoy Luke and Nicola’s chemistry, those who appreciate them as people, or those who respect their private lives.

Shipping is a natural part of fandoms, and when done respectfully, I think it’s fine.

This post is directed at the people who have taken shipping to an extreme - those who have convinced themselves they are "just looking at the evidence" while weaving together wild, invasive, and often insensitive theories. At that point, it’s no longer shipping - it’s something entirely different.

Shipping vs. Fantasizing: Know the Difference

There’s a huge difference between harmlessly shipping people - whether fictional characters or even co-stars - and creating elaborate fantasies about real individuals. While shipping can be a fun way to engage with a story or fandom, projecting detailed, speculative narratives onto real people can cross into invasive territory.

Shipping: Enjoying the chemistry, friendship, or dynamic between people, often in a fictional or lighthearted context.

Fantasizing: Constructing speculative stories about real people’s private lives, often based on incomplete information (and flawed so-called "evidence") without regard for their boundaries.

Why Fantasizing About Real People Crosses the Line

When fans create elaborate narratives about real people, it can:

Blur the line between fiction and reality: Making it harder for others to separate speculation from truth.

Perpetuate false narratives: Leading to harassment or invasions of privacy.

Disrespect individuals: By reducing their lives to a storyline crafted for entertainment.

People are far more nuanced than the curated glimpses we get online or in public. Social media posts, photos, or even patterns of behaviour aren’t a roadmap to someone’s inner life or relationships. They’re just snapshots - fragments of a much larger, unseen picture. And often, those fragments don’t connect the way people want them to.

The Loophole That Isn't a Loophole

I’ve seen some people claim that Nicola saying "If you have an opinion about me, that's ok. I understand I'm on TV and people will have things to think and say, but I beg you not to send them to me directly" somehow gives them permission to speculate about things like pregnancy.

Let’s be real - that is absolutely not what she meant. She’s literally acknowledging that people will have opinions, but she’s also making it clear that things like that make her uncomfortable. Saying "Don’t bring it to me" doesn’t mean she’s fine with people debating her body - it means she knows shitty people exist, but she’d rather not be subjected to it.

And sure, maybe you’re not sending it to her directly - but you are still doing the exact thing that makes her uncomfortable. And by putting it out into public spaces, you’re making it far more likely that it gets back to her indirectly. So whatever justification people think they’ve found? It’s fucking moot. It’s still insensitive.

Belief Doesn’t Equal Truth

Believing you’ve pieced together the “truth” because some moments appear to align is misguided. It overlooks the unknowns - the context we’re missing and the layers that exist in people’s lives. Just because something can seem a certain way doesn’t mean it is that way.

Humility matters. Recognizing that no matter how much you think you know, you actually know very little. Taking a step back and saying, “I don’t know what’s really going on” is not only more truthful but also shows respect for the people involved.

It’s okay to want people to be together - innocent shipping of loving chemistry between people is okay - but it’s not okay to create wildly speculative stories that exist only in your own mind.

Humility in Speculation: Knowing What We Don’t Know

Here’s the truth - I don’t know the full picture. None of us do. I don’t know Luke and Nicola as people, and I don’t know the ins and outs of their personal lives. And that’s okay. I'm not going to piece together and come up with my own flawed story about other peoples lives.

What I do know is that certain theories and speculation can be harmful, even when people think they’re harmless. Just because something is being discussed publicly, or even “positively,” doesn’t mean it isn’t invasive. (Cough spreading invasive pregnancy rumors cough). It doesn't mean it is kind. The line between curiosity and intrusion is thinner than people think.

Even if you think you've “figured something out,” there is always so much more you will never see, hear, or understand. Just because an idea feels compelling or fits a certain pattern doesn’t mean it reflects the truth.

So before engaging in deep speculation, it’s worth asking:

Am I respecting their privacy?

Am I letting curiosity turn into entitlement?

Am I remembering that these are real people, not fictional characters?

On the Idea of “Being Duped”

I’ve also noticed some frustration in the fandom, with people feeling like Luke and Nicola somehow “duped” the public with their behaviour on tour.

What we saw on tour was not unusual for two people who:

Are comfortable with each other.

Work together (and especially in the acting world).

Have shared an intense, career-defining experience.

This kind of dynamic isn’t uncommon in the entertainment industry or in any field where people work closely together (I know from personal experience). Their bond is unique, but that doesn’t mean it has to be romantic. To me, it’s always read as a deep friendship, a strong professional partnership, and two people who genuinely enjoy working together. And it really is beautiful!

I think some people wanted their interactions to confirm a specific narrative, and now that things aren’t aligning with that, they feel misled. But that’s not on Luke or Nicola. It’s a reminder that interpretation is subjective, and that sometimes, we project our own expectations onto things rather than seeing them for what they are.

The Consequences of Unchecked Fantasies

Making up stories about real people and treating those stories as fact (even when you say that you are okay if you are wrong, or if you say that you are just speculating) adds to:

Noise and confusion: Amplifying drama and misinterpretation.

Unnecessary pressure: On the individuals involved, complicating their personal lives further.

Public harassment: Rumours often escalate, influencing others to unfairly judge or attack. Bringing it indirectly to the main people in your fantasies.

Sure, you can feel like you’ve pieced together a narrative in your mind that makes sense to you. But actors are human beings, not characters in a fan-fiction. They shouldn’t be stripped down to an idea of what you think they should or shouldn’t be doing.

I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again - people are nuanced. People are dimensional. If you don’t know them personally, you have no idea what goes on in their day-to-day lives. A few curated moments from interviews or social media will never give anyone the full picture.

I’ve seen a lot of people build theories around what they believe is evidence. But if you really looked at it critically, you would find that much of it is based on assumptions rather than actual confirmation. It’s worth asking - are you trying to make reality fit the story you want to believe?

Public speculation/fantasizing can have consequences that extend beyond the screen - impacting the real people you claim to support.

[creatingblackcharacters]

Hi! I know this has been said before but thank you so much for running this blog, you do a huge amount of work for free and make it available to everyone and it's a phenomenal resource.

I wanted to ask you for feedback on a couple of story details. I'm developing a fantasy story with supernatural creatures and such. One of the main characters is Black and a vampire. (If it matters - the story takes place in a semi-fantastical world, the characters don't really have real-world nationalities, so he isn't specifically Black American.)

All of my characters are on the move often and have fairly 'basic' low-maintenance clothes and hairstyles, including him. Additionally, (I haven't quite decided how yet but it's there) the being undead thing slows hair growth quite a lot. I decided to give him a short afro considering both of those things, do you think this is realistic? (...or as realistic as it can be, in terms of this fantasy story lol)

There's no bigotry directly about anything real-world (like skin color), but there is arguably a fictionalized version of police discrimination. The story has a supernatural creature hunting association and one character mentions having left it because it was corrupt, cruel, and used underhanded methods to excuse taking innocents captive. I didn't originally intend it as an allegory for real discrimination and police brutality but it very quickly became that. The rest of the story is pretty lighthearted, so I'm not sure how much I should lean into that aspect (I'm also white so there's probably a line to how in-depth I can get about it). Do you have advice?

How do I address the maybe awkward implications of him being admittedly dangerous to other people? He's sort of an antihero that the audience is supposed to root for, but if we're already going into symbolism, then it's awkward that supernatural hunters have a genuinely good reason for going after him (he DOES kill people, although the narrative doesn't really take murder super seriously when the main characters do it), even though they do so often unjustly. I'm already aware of cultural uses of supernatural monsters as allegories for 'undesirable' minorities, and I want the audience takeaway to be 'that was a fun supernatural story' and not 'this story is encouraging me to think of [insert minority] as dangerous parasites'.

Well, it doesn't change anything that it's a fantastical world bc the character is still what we know to be Black. I do that with my stories too, but that doesn't change context outside of your story, no 😅 sorry.

1. An afro is fine; I don't see why it wouldn't be.

2 & 3. These two tie together, unfortunately. You can't really say that this world has an equivalent of police brutality and that these people who enforce said police brutality and bigoted discrimination are hunting down your character... That is Black... That "deserves it"... But it's a "light hearted" story. Because as a Black person, I'm not just gonna forget you said that 😅 ESPECIALLY when another character used to work for em! It reminds me of Twilight, when Jasper used to be a whole Confederate and as Black readers we were supposed to just... Get over that 😅

The connection there is that this bigoted entity could very well do those things to this character, and so while we can root for him to not be caught, that will still hang over our heads. And then for the narrative to unironically say "he kind of deserves it" nah I'll pass, personally.

Is anyone else on your main team Black, or at least of color? Or are we looking at this one guy who is a target of some of the worse that the story can hold, while everyone else is just... Not? Because that doesn't look great, no, if you have that and then don't treat it as important.

I will say, lightheartedness amongst a serious topic has been done! As weird and questionable as Quentin Tarantino is, the scene of the Klan being fucking jokers is admittedly one of the only times I've ever laughed at hardcore bigots.

But the rest of Django also treats the story as quite serious; his revenge narrative against racists and their violence is central to the story. So I think that if you're gonna bring that part of the narrative up, you need to commit to what that means or let it go.

[atryoshka]

Frenchie and Izzy getting together would be genius and tbh I can't unsee it now

Love that Izzy and Frenchie actually have a lot in common on a deeper level that wasn't really apparent to me until s2 when we see how they deal with trauma in equal but opposite ways. We have Frenchie with his little box that allows him to straight up ignore the dark shit he's been through like it doesn't exist, happily eat some blood cake, and thinking that his death being given a clear deadline is a comfort. Then we have Izzy trying to stone face his way through having his body parts severed, just business as usual bc that's the pirate life and it won't change even though he's visibly holding back tears, and then accusing the crew of being too cowardly to kill him, actively inviting death bc he doesn't get why any of it even matters so keeping him alive is pointless.

What's interesting is that given the right circumstances, they could easily trade places, with Izzy being more lighthearted and Frenchie falling apart at the seams.

We've already seen signs of this with Izzy being much more chilled out after the crew made him the new unicorn, finding something in this terrible life that make him see them, and himself, in a more positive light. Like yeah, life is still filled with unimaginable horror, but now has a custom gold painted unicorn leg to trudge through it with, which is absolutely absurd but now he can't help but smile. So he decided his life is so unserious right now and you know what? A shark took his leg, end of story, here's a little wooden shark I made today just for fun lol. Frenchie on the other hand is still pretty relaxed despite everything that's happened so far, but I have a feeling that he was probably very similar to izzy in the past before he joined the crew of The Revenge. His past is pretty mysterious even with the little tidbits we get like him being in the service for bit. It doesn't sound like he was doing it for too long so the other things in his life that he doesn't talk about remain unknown, probably even to himself. The box exists so he can pretend any trauma he experiences doesn't even exist, unlike a fiction which still somewhat acknowledges that there was something that happened to him in a way he could accept. The truth is, he actually never moved on bc all the parts of his life that he's ignoring are still lurking inside him waiting to break out at anytime. I think when something accidentally triggers a memory he suppressed, we'll see a different side to him. Less chill, more shrewd survivalist, like when he and the others reunited with the revenge crew after being stranded at sea. He bounced back pretty fast after they got past the pinnata and cake standoff but it was interesting to see how ready he was to be violent and how untrusting he was of everyone's intentions in that context. He'd usually be much more chill and willing to fast talk his way out of a situation, even when he knows someone has bad intentions. (There's also probably something with religious trauma he's hiding but that's a whole other can of worms I won't get into. All I'll say is that combined with his very strong beliefs of the supernatural and grudging flippant way he does the cross symbol on himself when others do it, when they boarded the cursed ship, he was that only one to not step in the satanic circle before anyone even questioned what the strange lines even were. Did he immediately recognize it and consciously avoid it or was it gut reaction? Idk, but he sure as hell didn't speak up about it and just wearily watched the other step into it and draw their own conclusions. ) But getting back on track Honestly, their dynamic would be really interesting to explore in the show bc they could understand and care about each other in ways that would probably surprise them if given the opportunity to spend more time together on screen. tl;dr: All this to say that I fell down the rabbit hole after realizing that they are basically this meme, which has a lot of potential for so many hilarious and accidentally heartbreaking moments

[vryptidart]

twc book4 demo Thoughts (abt rebecca). prolly nothing groundbreaking or new, i just am in the mood to get my thoughts out

so i don't know exactly what we're basing the 'rebecca is going to die (maybe this book) off', if there's a For Sure Word Of Sera saying it'll happen But-

Good Lord if that is happening, the foreshadowing is There. the confusion over 'Agent <Lastname>' was a lighthearted moment but YANNO

and Rebecca's outburst. whuff. playing it through when she's the handler (which was my first experience) makes it Really Fucking Rich. it's entirely unfair for her to level at Unit Bravo, even if it happens to catch the Love Interest in the Feels.

even setting aside her blaming them for things out of their control- in this instance, they trust her to be a handler, and she lost it at them for doing that. she got to see all the interactions with Ostin that hinted at Something Weird (which your detective picks up on with sufficient People skills, i believe- haven't gone code diving yet to verify what level,haven't worked out how to on the new demo site). she either missed it entirely or also dismissed it. UB has very little reason to override her implied judgement there, even if the detective (using it even tho YAY WE'RE NO LONGER COPS) raised it as a Concern. so she's lashing out at them with the underlying knowledge that she was there and failed to see it- she's the one that failed, if anyone is going to take the blame here.

But I Get It. playing it with A as the handler, it helps emphasise the other side of it- she's terrified of losing her child the same way she lost Rook. the moment she eased off control, giving choice in their hands as to who their handler would be, they're hurt again. it's still infantalising as hell, but you can see the source of it.

but i find it fascinating that her reaction is still the same, regardless of if she had personal opportunity to intervene. interactive fiction is fun like that hehehehe

anyway- it does feel like this is setting up Rebecca's loss of control of Everything. as her worlds meld back together, she sees the 'fault' of Rook's death occurring again, as their child also cannot help but involve themselves, put themselves on the line. this is her trying to foretell, to warn before it's too late- but at best she's finding herself as Cassandra. disbelieved until it is too late.

and the detective/agent/protag- by rights of Thou Must storytelling, all versions that we Play In The Game are always going to be the sort to commit to this path. but it's not an unreasonable Thou Must to present, imo. whether you play as a romance or as a friendship (and with or without the villain romance), we're playing a person who finds close friends and new family in Unit Bravo. that support helps show that while there is danger, it's not without company that will love and support you, and it can be worth accepting loss in order to embrace what's next.

Rebecca walked away from a child and is now struggling with the fact that the child grew up past that point. this lashing out is trying to turn back time to when they could be controlled, could be isolated from reality. it's never going to work. but nostalgia gets a lot of us in different ways.

this is aimless, idk. i just really dig this little morsel of storytelling we've got here..

[onebedtorulethemall]

Hi! I love your fics, TWR is one of my favorite coworker AUs to this day and BO deserves all the flowers it gets. I find it hard to leave comments sometimes as I’m reading since I usually need to chew on what I’ve read for a while to really decide what I want to say (and I never want to sound pushy for updates or whatever!), but I went back to leave a comment on one of your oneshots and found it deleted so that’s why I’m here. It was called A Life We Never Lived or something along those lines? The conversation you wrote between D/Hr involving the ring theory for grief literally lives in my brain. When Draco says something like “only you could create a system for grief and mismanage it”, maybe it was just a passing joke/throwaway line, but it felt so genuinely in character for both of them and really got to the core of why I love the Dramione dynamic in fics so much. Specifically post war/post canon with Hermione tackling her emotions with pure logic and not putting herself first, and Draco being kind of an ass but offering his own brand of support by recognizing shes struggling too and their sort of awkward kinship/healing together. It also just made me laugh out loud, your humor always comes through so well and that’s such a hard skill to develop! I know it wasn’t going to be overall lighthearted/HEA, but I loved what you had posted so far and just wanted to make sure you knew. Was there a reason you decided not to finish it/to delete it?

Ahaha! I really thought I'd gotten away with hiding that unfinished one-shot. It had all of 230 hits. Never in my wildest dreams did I think anyone would notice, let alone quote a line to me. Thank you, I'm incredibly flattered!

That poor fic was doomed from the start by an uncommitted author. The concept was to write a snapshot of their meeting on the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts every year for a decade, with letters exchanged between meetings, a secret relationship, heartache, and an eventual painful breakup. Sort of a "right person, wrong time" quiet tragedy. I posted the first 3k and struggled through another unposted 5k before I called it quits.

Actually, I did a little mental postmortem on it when I took it down, because it confirmed some things about myself as a writer that I thought were good lessons. So, here you go:

1. I need a plot before I start. I mean, I knew this, but now I *extra* know it. I had only a rough idea of where I was going, and that is not enough for me. A pantser I am not.

2. I have to finish a fic before I post it. My fics are usually 95-100% complete before I post, and this was the exception that proves the rule. I'm not sure why the post-as-you-go method doesn't work for me, but writing became instantly 100x harder once I'd posted part of it (which I only did because of the fest deadline).

3. I'm not really in control of the plot. To me, creating an outline is the process of discovering the story, as though I'm documenting something that has already happened. I always feel as though there's really only one way a story can go, once I know the characters. Well, I figured out pretty quickly once I belatedly started plotting that this one does NOT have an unhappy ending, but rather an angsty yet ultimately happy one. And this was for the UHEA fest, so...

4. Just because I want to read it doesn't mean I want to write it. I could have finished it with a HEA and removed it from the fest, but once I realized it was a quiet story about the slow unfolding of a relationship over the course of a decade, I'm afraid that was the end of it. I think it would have been an understated, bittersweet, character-centric little relationship study, but none of those things light up my genre fiction-loving brain. Love to read it, but I just can't find the spark to write it. And thus died my dreams of ever writing literary fiction (kidding, I never had those).

So that's the story! I dug up the part you mentioned and had a fun time rereading. I liked it way more than I remembered, and I'm sorry it won't come to fruition. If I knew how to get myself to write something I wasn't wholly invested in, I would absolutely finish it for you.

From "Scenes From a Life We Never Lived":

Thank you so much for this ask. Sometimes if I'm having a bad writing day or if the imposter syndrome is hitting, I like to pretend someone out there is laughing at some stupid joke I wrote (or, since finishing my gothic, is having a pleasant nightmare). Usually my brain tries to convince me this is impossible. I stockpile your kind words as evidence.

[could-t-have-saved-him]

Rules and Guidelines

In an attempt to keep this blog fun and lighthearted, here are some guidelines to help you out, and Rule to keep things cool

Guidelines (Or Steps to Submissions)

Note: The submission form should hopefully be easy enough to walk through as well.

Step 1) Identify your Blorbo: This includes Name and what Media they are from. If multimedia, no need to list everything, just the franchise. (i.e. Black Widow from the Marvel franchise)

Step 2) Present your Propaganda: This can be any (respectful) reasoning at all, can be as short as a single word or as long as a master's thesis (though I may paraphrase if it is super long), or can be left completely blank. (If it is left blank, I may have some fun of my own and make up some propaganda. If you really want to leave the audience to think for themselves, tell me so! I'll leave it blank)

Step 3) Identify Yourself!!!: Or don't! This step is if you want to be associated with the submission and tagged, and completely optional. If you think the world is not ready for your big brained thoughts, and do not wish to receive backlash from the unenlightened, simply leave the question blank.

Step 4) Present Additional Notes: Also optional, but this is for anything you want to add. For example, I will default to transitioning your blorbo into a man with He/Him pronouns, but if you wish your blorbo to be a different identity or have different pronouns, here is where you would tell me. (Disclaimer: Some notes may not be accepted if they are disrespectful, NSFW, particularly political, etc. Please use discretion)

Rules

Rule 1) No canonically Transfeminine characters: Testosterone could not have saved her. It made her dysphoric. Not to mention, transfeminine people have very very little decent representation, and we don't want to detransition the rep they do have. We love our trans sisters and siblings <3

"Rule" 2) Canonically Transmasculine Character welcome!!: These posts may look a little different, given Testosterone has already saved him, but we are always on the lookout for good transmasc representation, and I would love to showcase them here!

Rule 3) No Real People: Speculating the identities of real people has a bad history, from outing people before they are ready, to entitlement from fans, I refuse to participate in these behaviors.

"Rule" 3.5) Fictionalized Depictions of Real People are Conditional: There is a difference between Submitting Hamilton from the musical, and Jeffery Dahmer from the Netflix series, for example. So submitting fictionalized real people may be touch and go. Generally, it depends on Time-distance, morality, if the real person is (and/or their possible victims are) still alive, etc. Your submission may be deleted based on my discretion. I'm sorry, but feel free to submit someone else!

Rule 4) No Discourse: The topic of transmasculinity in fandom is a touchy subject at times, especially when it comes to headcanoning female characters as transmasculine, given this can be seen as "taking rep away from women." This blog is not the place to debate this, especially since this talking point reflects anti-transmasculine Terf rhetoric that we are "lost women/lost lesbians." Comments along these lines will be deleted, especially if they express anti-transmasculine beliefs.

Rule 5) No Bigotry of any kind: Self explanatory, and will result in an immediate block/deletion of submission. This includes Zionism

Rule 6) No gratuitous NSFW: This is mainly for submissions. Discussions of a character's sexuality is fine, but nothing super explicit please.

Rule 7) Have fun: Don't take this blog too seriously. I'm just trying to have a good time here and experience that good old fashioned fandom silliness. I'm sure you are too.

Note: If you have concerns, comments, questions, or I have made a mistake in anyway, please send an ask. I will help if I can!

Thank you for reading! Have Fun

[knoepfl]

Heyy I don’t know if u still write for Tim LaFlour but I acc love your writing so so much so I’m begging u pls do more for him.

I was thinking u could do like him dating someone who’s a massive horror fan and she suggests watching a horror movie and obvi he doesn’t want her to think he’s a coward so he’s like oh yeah sure. So she is like super into it and this poor boy is absolutely terrified but doesn’t want to admit it and I was thinking he gets really embarrassed when she asks if he wants to watch something else and storms out pretending he’s upset or something when he acc just can’t stand all the blood or like whatever you want anywayyyysss I love your writing so much and have an amazing day ❤️❤️

Aww, that’s such a fun and adorable idea! Tim LaFlour trying to keep his cool while getting scared out of his mind is chef’s kiss comedy gold. I can already imagine his over-the-top reactions and chaotic energy. I'll make sure to capture his embarrassment and stubborn pride as well as the sweet dynamic with the horror-loving girlfriend.

I’m so glad you enjoy my writing — that seriously made my day! Thank you, and I hope you have an amazing day too ❤️

Scared?

Characters:

• Tim LaFlour: Loud, charismatic, and overconfident college student who struggles with maintaining his “tough guy” image but has a soft and endearing side. Despite his exaggerated bravado, he genuinely cares about impressing his girlfriend and is willing to be vulnerable in the right moments.

• Reader/Girlfriend: Horror-obsessed, confident, and playful. She’s compassionate yet teasing, appreciating Tim for who he is, even when he drops the act and shows his true, softer self.

Trigger Warnings:

• Mild Gore Descriptions: References to scenes from a horror movie involving blood, violence, and dismemberment (in a fictional on-screen context).

• Mild Anxiety Themes: Tim experiences discomfort and fear during horror movie scenes, which may be relatable or sensitive for readers who dislike fear-based situations.

• Humor Involving Emotional Vulnerability: Lighthearted teasing around masculinity, fear, and pride.

Masterlist

Words: 779

---

Tim LaFlour had never been one to back down from a challenge. Sure, he was loud, brash, and maybe a little too confident for his own good, but the guy had pride. So when his girlfriend—his amazing, gorgeous, horror-obsessed girlfriend—suggested they watch a scary movie together, there was no way he was going to say no.

“Horror’s my jam,” he lied, throwing an arm around her shoulders as they settled onto the couch. “Bring on the blood, guts, and creepy clowns. I’m basically immune to fear.”

She grinned, eyes sparkling with excitement. “Really? You’re not gonna wimp out like the last guy I dated, right? He couldn’t handle The Exorcist.”

“Please,” Tim scoffed, puffing out his chest. “I laugh in the face of demons and axe murderers.”

Big mistake, he realized about fifteen minutes into the movie when the first victim was violently hacked to bits.

His entire body tensed as the scene unfolded in gruesome detail. Blood sprayed across the screen, and the soundtrack swelled with bone-chilling screams. Tim’s face twisted into a mix of horror and nausea, but he fought to keep his cool.

He couldn’t let her think he was a coward.

“You okay?” she asked, glancing at him with a knowing smirk.

“Me? Oh yeah, totally,” he said, voice cracking just a bit. “This is, like, nothing. I’ve seen worse, you know? Like that time I had food poisoning during spring break.”

She bit back a laugh. “Sounds brutal.”

“You don’t even know,” he insisted, trying to drown out the gory sounds coming from the TV. “But, uh, yeah, this movie’s great. Love all the... creative uses of chainsaws.”

He was sweating now, gripping the couch cushion like it was his lifeline. His leg bounced nervously as the killer closed in on the next victim.

“Tim,” she said sweetly, “you sure you’re cool? We can watch something else if—”

“Nope!” he blurted out, shaking his head frantically. “I’m good. Totally good. Loving it. This is fun.”

The victim let out a final blood-curdling scream, and Tim physically flinched, nearly knocking the popcorn bowl to the floor. His heart raced, and his stomach churned. Get it together, LaFlour. You’re tougher than this.

Except he wasn’t.

When the killer returned for another round of carnage, Tim’s pride finally crumbled. He shot up from the couch like it was on fire.

“Alright! That’s it! I’m outta here,” he declared dramatically, pointing toward the door.

She blinked, surprised. “Wait, what? Are you mad or something?”

“Mad? Nah,” he said, pacing like a man on the edge. “I just remembered... uh... frat emergency! Yeah, gotta strategize for our next big beer pong tournament. Can’t let the guys down, you know?”

Her lips twitched with amusement. “Tim, you’re totally scared, aren’t you?”

“Scared?” He laughed—loud, awkward, and way too forced. “Me? No way, babe. I’m just... emotionally invested.”

She crossed her arms, grinning. “Right. And all that flinching and sweating was just your passion for cinema, huh?”

Tim groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Okay, fine! You caught me. Horror movies freak me out, alright? Happy now?”

Instead of teasing him further, she softened, her expression warm. “Why didn’t you just say so? We can watch something else.”

He hesitated. “You sure? I mean, you were really into it.”

“It’s okay,” she promised, taking his hand and pulling him back to the couch. “I like you even if you’re a big baby about horror movies.”

“Baby? Whoa, whoa, let’s not throw around harsh labels here,” he said, flopping down beside her. “I prefer... sensitive badass.”

She giggled, leaning into his side. “Whatever you say, sensitive badass.”

He wrapped an arm around her, his confidence slowly returning. “So, what are we watching now? Something romantic? Maybe a movie where nobody gets dismembered?”

“Deal,” she agreed, scrolling through the options.

As a cheesy rom-com filled the room with light-hearted music, Tim sighed in relief. “This is way better,” he admitted.

“Glad you’re not pretending to be tough anymore,” she teased, nuzzling into his chest.

“Hey,” he said, grinning, “I am tough. Just... not when it comes to chainsaws and creepy masks.”

“Noted,” she laughed. “But I still think you’re pretty cute.”

“Yeah?” he asked, heart swelling a little despite himself.

“Yeah,” she confirmed, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

Tim beamed. “You know what? I definitely won that trade. No more blood, and I get kisses? Best deal ever.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it.”

As the rom-com played on, Tim relaxed completely, realizing that maybe being a little scared wasn't so bad—especially when it came with cuddles and kisses from the girl of his dreams.

---

[m34gs]

For the fandom ask: 🧠🌂❄️!

Thanks for the ask friend!!!! (from this post)

This gets a bit long so under the cut she goes!\

🧠- What fictional character do you relate to the most?

Honestly, probably Jamil Viper from Twisted Wonderland. I get the whole "being told to put someone else ahead of you constantly" and being forced by parents to act like an adult at a young age. I'm an oldest daughter. I've been a caretaker since I was two and my sister was born. I was also raised in a Very Catholic household where I was taught to, as a girl, always anticipate the needs of others around me and plan ahead to take care of them. It's why, up until recent years, I was the friend with cough drops, tissues, granola bars, extra pads, napkins, and even possibly a bottle of water in my purse "just in case" someone else needed it. Not even for me. For the people I would be around, because I made sure my needs were met at home so that I *could* offer these things. Constantly feeling like you have to take care of someone else is exhausting and it's part of the reason I've hit burnout twice before the age of 30.

When I was younger, less experienced, and less aware of my own faults, attitudes like Kalim's in-game attitude that initially is very positive, very "things will work out", very "take things for granted because I've never had to experience what happens when they don't actually work out" came off as flippant and actually rude to me. People like that used to make me seethe silently. So, I get where Jamil was coming from. I'm much better at addressing my concerns and voicing my own needs and setting boundaries now, but it took me a lot of time to learn.

The need to feel wanted vs needed is another thing I share with him. Jamil is not used to being a First Choice. He's used to being Expected to Be There and Prepared. His brain does not, for a long time, believe when people say they *want* him there. He has to do things and he has to be reliable in order to maintain his presence in people's minds, or so he believes. He also has major fucking trust issues, which I also struggle with. I am the type to take on things on my own that could be a group effort simply because I don't trust people. I don't trust that people have my back in a lot of things. And yeah, I do have good reason for that. I've been burned metaphorically many times, and I've been betrayed by some of the people who are supposed to love me the most. But that doesn't mean everyone will abandon me or let me down, and that's something I've been working on realizing and internalizing since I graduated from my degree. It's a work in progress.

Jamil's character, plus the way Kalim acted when hypnotized, were so hard for me to face and so triggering to me that I couldn't do more than a couple chapters of book 4 at a time. It was a rough one for me, and I really think it's because I related so much to that particular story.

🌂- You have to choose three fiction characters to help you survive in the apocalypse, who are you picking?

Naofumi Iwatoni from The Rising of the Shield Hero: he's sarcastic and has dry humour, also a little dense at times so he'd be fun company. He knows how to work his ass off to get results and he refuses to let people pull one over on him. He *will* get his money's worth if he does a service for someone and he *does not* trust easily; so we're less likely to get conned by someone and more likely to manage resources well. He's also an Accidental Father and I love that so much. He can use his shield to analyze different plants/herbs/resources to figure out their components which can help with scavenging for foods and/or medicines. And then there's the fact his shield is a, well, a shield. he can protect.

Maki Oze from Fire Force: My strong girl! And she's super funny and kindhearted, but still works hard. She'd keep the mood lighthearted and be a big help with tasks like constructing shelter. She also has fire powers, which means there will be less issue of staying warm or figuring out how to cook things without electricity. Plus I just think she would be very fun to be around.

Nanashi (No Name) from Sword of the Stranger: Top tier fighter if you run into trouble. Smart and also very much will take money from a corpse or a thief who attempts to rob him, so resourceful. Also, will go on a solo mission to rescue you if you happen to get kidnapped to be sacrificed in a ritual for immortality. That's a Big Plus. And he's good with kids, in his own way.

❄️ - Character design that you admire

Gabriel from Malignant (2021), for more than a couple reasons. The first one is that they did such a good job convincing the audience that he was Separate from his sister, with the hair hiding his face and the bulky clothes and the way he moved he looked like a demon. The second is because he is literally *inside* his sister's skull. He literally cracks open her skull and moves the body backward when he's the one in control. Which is unnerving and so fucking cool to watch on screen. See, he was supposed to be removed as her conjoined twin because he was causing "issues" for the facility they were being studied in (read: he was a child who wanted to go home and be a family with his sister like other children but their mother gave them up and because he is physically different than most humans they treated the two of them like fucking lab rats) but they could not remove all of him without killing her so they took what they could and then sealed her skull over his part of the brain with his face inside (which is terrifying btw) and then proceeded to tell No One. This leads me into my next reason. Ok, so Garbriel and his sister, Madison, are *conjoined twins*. That would usually make them assigned the same gender at birth. *My* personal headcanon with this is that Gabriel is trans. "But Meags, they call Gabriel 'he/him' and Madison 'she/her' when they are just babies! Babies can't communicate pronouns when they are born!"; you are correct. For normal babies. Gabriel is canonically shown to not only be incredibly smart, but to also have some form of supernatural abilities (he can canonically manipulate electronic devices to communicate with words) likely due to the fact he was not able to do things on his own physically. Therefore, I believe that before he was even born he probably communicated to his mother in some telepathic form that he was a boy. I will slay anyone on this hill. You can pry Trans Gabriel from my cold dead hands.

[bossbutch]

umineko- between ch7 & 8

tw for sexual assault in this one again. long post. let's get Political! i wasn't aware umineko is 55 dollars on steam. i know its a lot of words and they've got music and voice acting and two sets of art but, thats a lot of fucking money for a fiction book. the steam release doesn't even include the side stories.

umineko has a lot of dubiously canon side content released at conventions and promos and such, and of course bundled in japanese Special Edition rereleases. the LP im reading puts all the side stories at the end (all the question arc ones together and all the answer arc ones together) even when they're set and released between episodes. i think they're all fan translated? in the question arcs, the side stories were pretty superfluous but still fun. there was a little interview with gohda, and a silly story about valentines day and white day so i read some of them now and. man.

there's one, "game master battler", set when he's preparing episode 6. the characters react to an out of universe character popularity poll and they're all asking battler to give them a good part in ep 6 so they become more popular. which is a fine premise, its very muppet show, and the same silly tone the valentines day story had. you can guess the conclusion of course, battler asks everyone for ridiculous favors but then he cant possibly make a story that highlights everyone at once. but like. when he asks for favors, he asks All of his aunts for sex acts. (as payment for both them And Their Families getting better parts.) and the seven sisters have to massage him or they wont be included at all. and six of them hold lucifer down while he assaults her. he doesn't explicitly rape her but the metaphor is clear. and like. what the hell!

when he perved on jessica it was one thing. he wasn't God Of The Setting at the time for starters. and yeah the seven sisters murdered him repeatedly in eroticized ways, but they're evil demons that were acting as extensions of beato. the idea that battler Would be a rapist or coerce people into sex if given the power is. not funny obviously, not matching the lighthearted tone they're going for, and most unfortunately, in character??? he's a rich boy who comes from a family where abuse and punching down are the rule, who grabs women's breasts so much it's a move in the fighting game. they make a lot of parallels between kinzo and battler and i guess Rapist is one of them. which is a Real Bummer! he's the protagonist! i think. they might decide in ep 8 that ange is the protagonist. i Want To Like Him and the titty grabbing previously had his Weird Maladjusted Logic that was so ridiculous it kinda softened the blow, and the erotic violence performed On him has the caveat of, in a non fantasy perspective all that happened in his imagination, and in a fantasy perspective its being done by Bad People

you could say "oh its just a side story its not canon" but like. everyone acts roughly in character, in an exaggerated comical way not unlike the valentine's day story. sure this event can be understood to "not really have happened" but it still says something About battler's character. the very next side story expands on ange's motives, it says that bernie made ange promise not to love or trust eva, and their Beef was entirely because of that. that's tragic and realistic (in an understanding where bernie isnt Real, she can represent a part of ange that blames eva using mystery-logic) and goes together with the ep 7 ending in a really nice way. i haven't had a place to talk about the Politics of umineko. kinzo and bici's connections to fascism aren't really remarked on by anyone else, but kinzo isn't really portrayed sympathetically. like he talks about how the main family didn't really believe in him and he went to war to die, but this is shown after six long chapters of him being pathetic and abusing Every Other Character. and he was already married with kids when he met bici... and the adults follow from him, right. like him abusing his kids is echoed throughout the family, yknow cycles of abuse. and someone like rosa is not /excused/ for abusing her kid, but we are still shown the circumstances that allow her to do it. so umineko is "anti family" if you want to be extremely reductive and that's so rare in Popular Media. umineko isn't really anti capitalist, but you could make an anticapitalist reading of it. like kinzo is a shithead and his treatment of workers is presented as Bad but this isn't shown as a systemic thing. well kyrie's family is also kinda awful. but like worlds where kinzo Isn't a shithead are happy healthy places. theres a lot of show of Ranks and Bureaucracy in Magic Land but its mostly like, flavor, nothing really comes of it. at least from my reading. another one of the side stories shows one of diana's minions being a hardass about The Law when she joins the magic cops. and trying to get the other cops to practice Law And Order by not drinking or smoking or going to the halloween party, and never using vernacular, which all goes poorly for her and its funny. its not deep social commentary or anything its kinda dilbert level. all that said... umineko Is, more than anything else, unambiguously pro autism!