#{ I mean like yeah I know it was a lot of people being manipulated by Kisaki and Akkun did so out of pure fear but still }

[princess-of-the-corner]

https://www.tumblr.com/princess-of-the-corner/762387533769408512/reminder-that-one-of-the-main-differences-between?source=share

A recent discussion I had with @maestro04yayyy on this topic was pretty interesting. We didn't touch on Mr Lee, assuming he is like, in the picture at all.

Instead we went with Audrey's negligence and disinterest being like still bad, but also comparatively survivable; while Andre's interest is like a subtle poison.

Basically, Audrey is a careless monster, she'll hurt her kids if they happen to cross her vision and by forgetting about them, but that's where it begins and ends as she is otherwise disinterested.

Andre is a monster who cares very much, just about what he wants. & will try to shape, guide & manipulate his child into being that while still seeing him as doting & loving.

He's a lot more like Gabriel than is obvious, but where Gabriel's more of a deluded "I know what's best and what's best just happens to be what I want", with a strong undercurrent of "Respect my authority!"

Andre's actually got the people skills to make people do what he wants and is less interested in even a deluded version of "What's best for my child" and more into what he gets out of the relationship.

Status symbol, substitute for Audrey, an ego boost, or amusing dress up doll, ETC. One that when he's not in the mood to play with or utilize he shoves in a glass box.

When that's happening he only engages with said child when she makes a sufficient racket. Though whether said racket gets her anything is entirely down to his whims.

In this regard, Zoe was shaped mostly by neglect and the boarding school. The former of which is obviously bad, and the latter of which is not really a substitute for a loving family, but did in this case provide a degree of community, structure, support & guidance.

It still led to Zoe being a social chameleon who seeks to blend in with whoever seems to be at the top of the food chain, but she does have limits on how much she can take. Hence the break with mean girls.

Chloe was shaped by Andre to be a mini Audrey, a symbol of his status as a family man, & emotional crutch for him & his ego.

None of which led to a healthy head-space or good understanding of societal norms, morals, empathy, emotions, or healthy boundaries & relationships.

& when not being shaped Chloe just left in an isolating suite she lives in by herself which she's done since she was seemingly like, 3, with only Adrien, the staff & Mr Cuddly for company & later Sabrina.

Sorry I know we've gone over this before, but yeah that's my take on why Zoe is generally more deft socially and less prone to destructive behaviors. There's definitely a huge void where familial love should be; she just wasn't guided into trying to fill it with false victories & lashing out like Chloe was. They could easily have swapped places.

exactly!

[murkystarlight]

It's time I finally say it- *sigh*

I don't think. The Ocelots were friends.

Yeah- wow. What?! How could you say that?? Where did you even get that idea from? Huh? It makes no sense!!?!

I know. I know. But I have my own thoughts. My brain- doesn't like how they are friends. Because they don't seem like friends. Like for starters, Aiden, Maya and Gill were literal bullies. Lukas, didn't give a crap when he saw them bullying us. If you are a friend, and your friends are bullying someone, you tell them not to do that. Not just stand there and go "well, that's none of my business".

And even if he was just too scared to confront them, he's the leader apperantly? Also, if he's getting manipulated... Lukas probably would've said or done something about it(or left them even. Though this one probably ain't the case). We know Lukas is a coward at the beginning. But he isn't that much of a coward. And he is not someone who wouldn't not stand up to himself. He stood up to Axel. Why not Aiden??

He couldn't stop them, because they aren't his friends.

But- Lukas literally calls them his friends? You're just saying stuff

Yes. He does call the Ocelots his friends. And yes, I agree. They are a team. How could they not be friends?? What I mean to say is... they aren't really close friends. They weren't childhood friends or.. something like that. That's what I'm trying to say. (And that probably crosses out the- Aiden and Lukas ex-boyfriends thing too-)

They met, for the purpose of winning the building completion. Nothing more. Nothing less. That's my theory. My headcanon. That's just what I think.

Now if you think about it, no one. And I mean no one, other than the Ocelots, have 'matching jackets' or 'a secret handshake'. Because they don't need that to prove they're a team. But the Ocelots- they do. They need something to remind themselves that- 'we are a team. We're in this... together.'

Maybe Aiden, Maya and Gill was a team. But they needed more people, new ideas. And Lukas joined in after? Got... recruited? But I don't think Lukas could have been friends with the Ocelots to the point they were "close"

But they won the building compation like... 9 years in a row. So they must've known eachother for some time. Right? But. In that part where you make a slime block? Lukas mentions something about "you guys seem like close friends" and Axel replies with "what. You jealous?" He is jealous. Of course he is. He also wants to have teammates that care for each other and are close friends. Sure the other Ocelots are friends with him, but not to the point where they go visit each others houses and eat a meal together. The only time they meet is during Endercon. And they decided what to build, and how to get rescoreses and getting the resources. So they never really were that close.

During the Wither storm, we know how the group kept talking about Petra. Hoping she's alive and finding her way here. Lukas mentions it too. Quite a lot actually. But does he ever mention the Ocelots? Nope! Only on the fourth episode when Petra or Gabriel says "I recognize that jacket! When I was getting thrown from that monster" only then does he think about them and remember them. I'm not really overstepping here. He kept mentioning Petra previously, and not only when the others talk about it. He brings it up first in conversations a few times too. Like when he decides to stay behind at the temple and rebuild while waiting for Petra. Hoping she'd come. And in the later sixth episode with the White Pumpkin. Before they find the 'invitation' Lukas mentions Axel amd Olivia. Being worried about them. And- I'll be honest here. I didn't even think about how they could follow us and get stuck in Sky city that is currently in shambles! He cares a lot! But he only remembered the Ocelots after Petra/Gabriel mentions it?? And you could say

The others hate Lukas. And the rest of the Ocelots. Wouldn't it be weird if he talks about them?

Maybe. But no. There are.. a lot of random dialogues in this game as you all know. And Lukas mentioning his teammates/friends? In a subtle way during a conversation? Or maybe just slip it in while talking about finding Petra? It wouldn't be that weird at all! Just a simple "I know you aren't fond of them.. but I hope the other Ocelots are okay.." would have worked perfectly! It isn't weird! He could have easily mentioned his dear dear friends, but no. Not once. Because he isn't that close with them. He just thinks "they're probably doing fine-" and is okay with that.

Now- if we talk about Sky city...

Aiden doesn't seem too unhappy or sad that Lukas isn't on the team. In fact, he ditched Lukas himself!

And Lukas, also doesn't seem so sad about being kicked out. He seems more upset that there's no longer 'the Ocelots'. The team itself. Not the members of it.

In fact- it's almost hilarious, cause Petra seems more pissed off than Lukas is! All Lukas says about Aiden is "he's gotten meaner." Or "Something is happening. He's planning something" nothing about how he got ditched. Maybe he didn't want to talk about it. But it never comes up??! Not even after a while!

And in later scenes, Aiden doesn't care if Lukas dies or not. Just push him off a cliff and oops- is all.

And near the ending of it. If Aiden decides to redeem himself, he says sorry to Jesse. Not a word to Lukas? Not a word with Lukas? LUKAS DIDN'T REALLY GIVE CRAP ABOUT IT EITHER?? ....are you really friends? I mean' just the fact that Aiden ditched Lukas because he seemed to be sniffing around Jesse's gang is weird. If you're such good friends, why don't you try talk it through? It's not even that bad- I know there's a rivalry, but still! Maybe a bit over reacting??

But apparently, Lukas never mentions how he feels about the situation. Like- not once? C'mon. You can't say they were close friends without- Lukas doesn't saying a thing about Aiden or the other Blazerods. Although we do know Lukas is mad at them. But for what? He seemed fine before, or was he just hiding all his anger? It just- it just doesn't sit right with me. I'm sorry- but that's what I think

I'm not saying they weren't friends at all. I'm saying they weren't close friends. Or childhood friends.

I mean I'm just rambling so... just ignore it if you don't like it. And I would gladly ramble more about this if anyone wants me to-.

If you ask me questions about the stuff I said, I will happily (try my best to) answer! And maybe share stuff about why you think the Ocelots were close friends to make me open up more to it.

I mean... I am open to it. But i just like this opinion too much-

[archivalofsins]

Addendum (September 23, 2024 5:03pm )- It was brought to my attention by a concerned friend inquiring if something had happened yesterday that this post can come off as complaining about a fandom issue of some sort. Because of how often "Don't be like x" (in particularly Futa) has been used in regards to ongoing Milgram fandom incidents.

It was not my intention to invoke those sort of alarming past experiences for anyone that may have come across this post. My intentions when writing this were to interrogate the prevalence of that phrasing when it came to Futa as a character while including the prisoner paired with him known for bullying as well.

To put it in a plain and jovial way- These are my feelings in regards to this topic in a meme format,

Since I have now been informed of how emotionally disruptive this phrasing can be given the things it's been associated with in the past at least within the tumblr Milgram community I will be putting it under a cut with one more addendum further down that uses the same phrasing.

Once again saying to not be like Mu.

It's easy for individuals to understand why they shouldn't be like Futa. In a lot of ways, not many people would see their actions as being similar to his even when they are. This is why I stress not to be like Mu either.

Because it seems to me that a lot of people are comfortable with being bullies as long as they convince themselves they were the victim first.

A trait that's present throughout both Futa and Mu's narratives. Even if not many people recognize how emotionally manipulative, insidious, and abusive this sort of behavior is socially.

Because just like with these two, some will convince themselves it's the other parties fault for doing something wrong first.

That the person who did something wrong should just,

"You apologize if you do something wrong, you learn that even before words, don't you?"

Q.09 Do you want to apologise to the person you killed?

Mu: I think the person who did something wrong first should apologise first.

These two are simply not as different as some fans like to tell themselves. They are both reactionary bullies. Just because one goes on offense (attacks) and the other defense (cries/deflects) doesn't make one any better than the other. That's why they both got into codependent relationships with another prisoner over the first trial intermission.

Both Amane and Haruka provide them with something. Giving Futa and Mu hope and help in a difficult situation. Along with something to do with themselves to prove their own worth. They also both took on a naturing and protective role in Amane and Haruka's lives. Making the other their main priorities as of the second trial.

23/07/05 (Mu’s Birthday)

Futa: Oi, you. Is he ok? He’s not even left his room lately.

Mu: You mean Haruka-kun? Hmm. Yeah, probably. I’ve been bringing all his meals to him so he should be fine. Isn’t that great of me?

Futa: Hah? Who the hell says that sort of thing about themself. ……ah, no, well, right now I understand a bit. When you’re feeling down, it’s nice to have someone who relies on you and accepts you. The rest of us can’t really understand you from where we’re standing. But well, if you’re Haruka’s “salvation” then I guess it really is great.

Mu: Salvation……? I don’t know what you mean. Futa-kun, you don’t sound like yourself. Did you hit your head or something? Oh, wait, you actually did, didn’t you. Ahaha. Ah, putting that aside though, did you know it’s my birthday today?

Q.02 What do you think of Haruka?

Futa: I can’t afford to be worrying about other people at the moment. Anyway, he’s not a little kid.

This is also why one of my first posts discussed them together. They were both even abandoned by their groups,

"Everyone else was having fun, weren't they? What about them?! Why is it just me?!"

Q.18 Do you regret anything?

Mu: I think maybe I should have chosen my friends a bit more carefully.

Q.11 Who do you want to see right now?

Mu: I miss my friends too. But most of all, Papa and Mama.

Yeah, don't be like either of them, actually.

This is not a healthy thing to strive for. The only difference between them is that Futa takes the orders, and Mu gives them. Aptly portrayed in the relationships they've formed over the course of Milgram.

Also, a bully is a bully regardless of if they cry about it. Women have been weaponizing crying for decades. Stop pretending like this is a brand new undiscovered form of manipulation it's not.

Addendum (September 23, 2024 5:03pm ) continued: Also it was not intent to specifically call to attention Mu's characters flaws or take any digs at people who relate to her. Saying things like don't be like x character can be inconsiderate towards individuals who relate to that character a lot especially if it's something done on a consistent enough basis.

These are once again my feelings on that in meme format.

[anxiously-sidequesting]

So I don't know if it was ever revealed how Duncan felt when we killed Malistaire all three times but I'm wondering if maybe some part of him could hate us for that too. Like you hear that and you go "but why. Malistaire was terrible and even Duncan knew that(?). Why would he hate you for getting rid of him."

But like I think it's so....... interesting in a very, very, very sad way how Duncan so easily latches onto anyone who directly feeds into his delusions of grandeur. And that's no fault of his own that he was manipulated by the nasty Schism but when you think about how desperately clung to the idea that Malistaire, easily one of the greatest necromancers any of us had ever heard of (at that time), somehow actually recognized Duncan's talents (even when canon supports that Duncan wasn't all that talented, at least no more than the next necromancer) and then praised him for it so often that Duncan believed that he would be the next Death Professor is. I mean ☹️

So like with that mindset I unfortunately feel like it would be quite easy to twist even Malistaire's death as something that's horrible and awful and all our fault. ESPECIALLY if the Schism was feeding into Duncan's already broken mind and shattered ego and was constantly telling him that everything bad that ever happened to him ever in his life was Our Fault. That's like a realistic conclusion that someone like Duncan could come to

And like, at this point in time, are Malistaire's crimes even a factor in how he thinks????? Was Duncan ever able to separate Malistaire's talent and skills and prowess from the terrible and awful things he did? If Duncan wasn't able to consciously tell that distinction in the first place I can't imagine it would be any better during the years he was being manipulated and isolated and lied to

Like in Duncan's mind it probably isn't, "maybe I shouldn't idolize a national criminal, or idolize anyone at all for that matter, and aspire to be like someone so harmful when I can recognize my own talent and build from there" it's probably more like, "you (the wizard) permanently got rid of a brilliant mind, an innocent person who just made a few mistakes, and someone who believed in me no matter what just so that you could be the better than me and loved by everyone else" and that's! very sad actually!

[suffarustuffaru]

Just wanted to say thank you for the ottosuba posting you've done lately. The English speaking fandom is absolutely barren with Otto content, let alone ottosuba content. So to have someone as awesome about it as you post via Tumblr posts, fanfic, fanart, etc. on a good(-ish) website like Tumblr is like finding a diamond in the rough. Anyhow, looking forward to any future ottosuba content from you!

(｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

anon you made my day fr these are very high compliments T^T <3 i appreciate it a lot pfft a part of me is always like "I CANT REVEAL HOW MUCH MY BRAIN IS ROTTING OVER THESE CHARACTERS..." bc i get a little embarassed a little shy bc what if i am posting the same things too much...??? but then i simultaneously go "lol my blog my rules anyway im gonna make a gazillion billion content *clicks post*" which is how all the otto and ottosuba content gets churned out alsdflj. especially bc - like you said - the english speaking fandom is a BARREN DESERT when it comes to otto and ottosuba content T^TT ive been thinking about it lately bc they seem to be a lot more popular in the japanese speaking fandom i think, but theres next to Nothing with the english speaking fandom :o interesting difference there.

but regardless :o yeah i keep making otto and ottosuba content bc i am in Desperate need of it... its a desert and i gotta feed myself too HAH theyve always been interesting to me but in the years ive been into rezero that Interest has skyrocketed bc of all the interesting developments pfft (and also the lack of english fancontent for them HAH). i just think theyre so underrated in the english fandom.... thank you for liking my stuff anon <3 :DD

[vaugarde]

“oh it’s so hard to care about female characters because their writing is so misogynistic” ???? do you think that’s the character’s fault or??

[starjynx]

me: Akkun deserves the world and all the good things.

also me: But I want to explore all the angst and darker stuff with him. :)

[cicadas]

If ur so socially isolated then why are you talking to me lol

[tvslashers]

it is very clear that many people do not understand how the cycle of abuse works. im not trying to say people are dumb or be mean but it’s harmful to talk about the cycle of the thing when you fundamentally are missing major points about how it all works.

[lilislegacy]

idk if this is an unpopular opinion or not, because i’ve seen a lot of people say stuff like “percy knows better than to go against annabeth”

but see, most people - anyone with a brain, really - are way too scared to challenge annabeth. because 99% of the time, she’s right. she’s always the most intelligent person in the room. shes not only logical and strategic, but she’s sharp, cunning, and even manipulative if she has to be. (as we’ve seen when she’s faced monsters). no one goes against her. one wants to, no one dares.

expect percy. if there’s one thing he knows how to do, it’s argue with annabeth. it’s like breathing. but unlike when they were kids, they don’t truly fight over stupid things. sure, they bicker and squabble over little things, because that’s who they are as a couple. but percy is the only person who will actually challenge her on something real. something big. he doesn’t do it lightly, because he knows how smart she is. but if he truly believes there’s another angle to something, or that she’s wrong because maybe she doesn’t have all the information, or maybe his heart is just in a different place - he’ll go against her. we see it in mark of athena a couple times. (their face-off kinda puts hazel in a trance). in BotL, there’s an argument between them, and i remember it’s stated that watching them argue is like watching an intense tennis match. its heated and fast paced. people make fun of percy for being dumb, and yet percy is the only one that can keep up with annabeth. he knows her better than anyone. he doesn’t think the same as her, but he knows how she thinks. so yeah, he will call her out. he’ll tell her he disgrees. he’ll even tell her that she’s wrong. and people think he’s crazy when he does it.

but annabeth respects the hell out of him for it. and while she might dismiss anyone else immediately, she won’t with him. because she respects him tremendously, and knows if he’s challenging her, there’s something to it. it doesn’t mean she’s gonna let him win, or that she’s gonna back down, because they are both ridiculously stubborn and determined. but he’ll go head to head with her. he’ll have a screaming match with her. and she loves him for it. she respects him for it. and she finds it ridiculously attractive.

because percy and annabeth are equals.

[stevieschrodinger]

“I’m just saying it’s manipulative.”

“Manipulative? Eddie you can’t be serious.”

“I am, now, where’s the dish? It’s got to be around here somewhere.”

“Maybe in this box, clearly labelled ‘kitchen’?” Dustin snarks, “and I don’t see how you can say behaving in a way that’s been dictated by your very biology is...manipulative. That’s not fair, man.”

Eddie digs in the box, bringing out the baking dish he wants, and then heads back into the kitchen, swerving around clutter and open boxes as he goes, “yeah, I get that a lot of Omega act the way they do because of what they are, alright. I get that, I do. But all this...kind of, 'oh my oh my, can’t the big Alpha come and save me...I just need looking after and...and protecting'. And I get that it works, a lot of Alphas eat that shit right up, I’m just not one of them.” Eddie bangs around in the kitchen fixing Wayne’s famous corned beef hash casserole, “it’s just not for me, you know? I don’t want someone who’s just going to do as they’re told and roll over on everything, I want someone who is equal, not someone who wants looking after all the time. I will not be loosing my head over any Omega, no matter how pretty they are.”

“So you...wouldn’t look after your Omega?” Dustin squints at him.

“Firstly, not happening, not ever, I’m sticking to Beta’s and that is final...but, I mean, yeah, of course I’d look after my partner, but I’d do that for anyone. I don’t want this hormone driven need to...to I don’t know. It’s just not for me Henderson, okay? Now help me with the books.”

Dustin whines, “but there’s like, fifty million of them...and I still don’t agree that it’s manipulative. They’re just...playing to their strengths, or whatever.”

“Right, so an Omega bats their eyelashes and every Alpha in sniffing distance is falling over themselves to do whatever the Omega wants, and that’s not manipulative?”

“Welllll…no, especially since it only works because of the Alphas in the first place, if it’s anyone fault, it’s the Alphas, right?”

“Fucking...just shut up Henderson.”

Eddie’s just put their plates on the table when there’s a knock at the door, “I’m not waiting,” Dustin sits down and starts shoveling, and Eddie mutters curses all the way to the door, he’s absolutely starving-

“Hi, I am so sorry,” it’s an Omega. A ridiculously pretty one. A very, very pregnant one. “I’m from next door,” the very very pretty Omega is on tip toes, trying to look over Eddie’s shoulder. He’s clutching a plate to his chest, “I know you’ve just moved in and, again, I am so so sorry about this, but is there any chance I could try what you’re cooking? Please?”

He smells so good. Even better than a regular Omega; Eddie’s sure it’s because he’s pupped, probably some biological bullshit about protecting pups and whatever. But still, he’s...he’s cute, standing there with his plate, sniffing after Eddie’s cooking.

“I could smell it in the hall. It could just be the tiniest bit, but I just would really like to try it, I’m so sorry for interrupting your dinner but-”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Eddie says, taking the guys plate, “just hang there a second.” Eddie goes and...well, if he fills the plate of what was going to be tomorrows dinner, no one needs to know. Eddie might have opinions on gender, but he’s not a dick. The guy is very pregnant, plus he was being super polite about it. He even brought his own plate.

It’s another human being, pregnant and hungry; Eddie would do the same to help anyone out. This is absolutely nothing to do with the guy being the prettiest Omega Eddie’s ever seen in real life.

Eddie delivers the plate back, “oh my goodness,” oh okay, that’s adorable. Eddie’s pretty sure he’s never heard anyone say ‘oh my goodness’ in real life, like, ever. “Thank you so so much, is there anything I can do? I can contribute to the ingredients or-” and that’s when Eddie figures that not only is the guy very pretty, he’s actually a reasonable human being too, lots of people wouldn’t have even thought about that sort of thing.

“No, we’re good just, ah, let me know what you think.”

“I will, I will,” the guy is saying as he turns to leave, carefully carrying his laden plate. He’s big enough that he’s kind of waddling, and Eddie watches him long enough to see him go into the next apartment along the hall.

Eddie shuts the door, turning back to find Dustin watching him, both eyebrows raised, a very accusatory look on his face, “oh shut the fuck up.”

“Just let me know what you think,” Dustin mimics back, like a little bitch.

Part Two

[yestrday]

— YANDERE! MALEWIFE! GENSHIN AU part one | two | three | four

⇢ alhaitham, kaveh, tighnari, cyno

introducing ! at the altar decorated by the blooming lotus flowers, your wrist is bound to your husband with a red string and a promise of togetherness. while the people dance and sing in celebration of the newlywed, his eyes are on you and you only— possessive through and through, even in parabandhana.

[ surpriseeeeeeee yea you did not expect this did you yeah neither did I. i just sat on my computer and decided to be productive. also did not include baizhu and mika for now cuz I got lazy. ]

warning ! yandere behavior, drúgging, manipulation, mentions of locking you away and múrder

— ADMONISHING INSTRUCTION. alhaitham | الهيثم

[ “sure, sure, i’ll clean up after you go. hm? i’m not being lazy at all, just enjoying my peace and quiet.”] 

⇢ my boy is living the dream life. no nosy seniors, demanding bosses, and curious co-workers. just him and his hardworking partner and the freedom to do his research at his own time. when you’re around, he tends to slack off (though he denies it) but he does his part of the chores anyway, so you don’t really have any complaints. he’d already been living the cushy life before, but now this lifestyle is more than comfortable.

⇢ he helps you out with your work when he sees you struggling, and he lets you use him as a soundboard to work out solutions. sometimes even lets you complain. keyword: sometimes. most of the time he’ll distract you with a movie or just bring you to the bed so the two of you can read a book together. unfortunately, his tolerance towards whining is very low (reminds him too much of a certain blonde), but he still loves you enough that he’s willing to let your stress out through other means.

⇢ marriage seems to have made him a bit of a romantic, though he’ll tell you that he’s stayed the same as he was when he was still your boyfriend. whenever you’re squinting at your computer screen in frustration, you’ll be caught offguard when he presses a tender kiss to your temple and sets down a mug of coffee next to you. or while you’re talking about something or another as you eat, he’ll clasp your hands in his and press a chaste kiss to each knuckle. these gestures has you blushing and stammering all the time, reverting you back to the naive student you were when you met him. this makes him a bit smug, so you often hit him in embarrassment.

⇢ he would never look down at you. marrying you means he has acknowledged you his equal, and to be fair he doesn’t really have a habit of looking down on others. however, when he sees some pesky flies fly a bit too close, he often gets too full of himself. someone trying to smooth talk you at the cafe? haitham’s not one for pda, but he’ll wrap a sturdy bicep around your waist and watch as the poor thing trembles from his gaze. 

⇢ haitham doesn’t always tell you this, but he admires you for a lot of things. but sometimes you get a bit too… irrational, and he knows that he has to be the one to bring you down sometimes. you’re not a kid, so you should know better. besides, haitham’s always been the more rational between the two of you. sometimes bordering on…heartless, but you never tell him that. you don’t have the heart to.

⇢ he’s often the decision-maker, most of the time not even asking you what you want. he says it’s not about want, he has to take the rational decision for the both of you. you’ve always been a little… dull. it’s an endearing trait, but it’s something that has to go away as you both age. he sees the hurt flash in your eyes when he tells you this, and he thinks he can make up for it with a gentle kiss between your pretty eyes. he loves you like his equal, really, but sometimes (most of the time) you need a good talking down to.

“so you’ll continue to let your brother exploit you, despite everything he’s done to you in the past?” haitham shuts his book and stares at you with a seemingly bored gaze. “you know you don’t need to give them that solicitation, right? he’s not worth it.”

“it– it’s not about him, haitham, believe me!” you plead with him. “i’m, i’m doing this for his wife, okay? she doesn’t deserve to deliver a baby in his dingy apartment with no professionals around. it’s not fair! just because my brother was a díck doesn’t mean she deserves the cold shoulder too! have some compassion for once!” he rolls his eyes and gets up, towering above some good inches. his eyes look down at you, but his hand rests heavy on your shoulder as if trying to calm you down. “it’s not about compassion, dear. it’s about being rational. once your brother sees you softening, he’ll start asking for more and more and more and well, we know what kind of person you are.” you open your mouth to retort, but he shakes his head. “you’re too soft, [y. name]. chasing around the affection of others… you don’t have to do that anymore.”

[ “this is for the both of us. i’m sure you can’t tell now, but sooner or later, you’ll thank me.” ]

— EMPYREAN REFLECTION. kaveh | کاوه

[ “you’re the — hic!— the best thing’s that ever happened to me! of– of course i’m crying! i’m not heartless!” ] 

⇢ for kaveh, your marriage was both a blessing and a cause of distress to him. a blessing, of course, because what sane man would not want to get married to you! his darling, light of his life, the one who tolerates his flaws more than any other person on teyvat! but at the same time, he can’t just let you shoulder his burdens! he can’t give you the luxury you deserve to have, you don’t deserve to be saddled with his debt, it’s– it’s just not fair!

⇢ with kaveh’s sense of aesthetics and talent for architecture, you two will have the prettiest home around! it is a must for this architect to gift you with the prettiest home you’ve ever laid eyes on. sure, he can’t give you the grandiose mansion that you deserve even with both of your savings joined, but a master architect will make the most of what he has. this is the place where he’ll make memories with you, where you’ll grow a family and your chi… children (?!??!!!!) will live. it has to be as beautiful as you.

⇢ complains like you’d never believe. he’s always been chatty, but he gets even chattier after a disagreement with a client or a run-in with a certain someone or when he hears whispers of your horrendous workplace. to anyone else, his overdramatic flair might be a bit too much to handle, but you can’t help but listen with amusement as your husband drones on and on and on and embellishing his rants with over-the-top remarks. nevertheless, in the case that you do get weary, just press a kiss on his lips— it will surely leave him an incoherent mess in no time.

⇢ a bit too eager for your praise. it’s not like people don’t praise him all the time, but it’s only your approval that he cares for. when he makes a meal that he’s proud of, he’s squirming nervously in the seat across you as he watches you take bite after bite. when he finished his part of the chores, he tends to be a bit clingy with you as he tries to fish for compliments. it’s your choice to cave in so easily or play around with him, but when you do utter a compliment, know that you’ll be left with a gooey pile of mush cuddling into you.

⇢ on the other hand, kaveh absolutely cannot handle fights with you. fighting is a normal thing between couples, but he gets so absolutely wrecked it’s unreal. your look of disappointment, the glare you gave him, the fed-up sigh when you push him away and say that you need some time away from him… they all drive him insane. he curses himself, wondering why’d he have to go and open his stupid mouth and fuck everything up. you’re not wrong, never wrong, and it should be him to take the blame. the longer the fight, the more his wellness and self-confidence cracks. it’s a common sight to see him groveling on the ground, for your forgiveness, begging for you to notice him again. the sight is so pathetic that you can’t bear to look away.

⇢ the most insecure husband to ever exist and grows even worse with every fight you two might have had in the past. anyone who approaches you has him tensing up and tightening his grip on you, but a raised brow from you has him reluctantly loosening his grip and shamefully looking away. he’s plagued with thoughts of you leaving (because why would you stay with a wreck like him?) and overthinks every friendly gesture you give towards anyone who isn’t him (is that how you smile with someone who isn’t a complete fool?). he’s a pushover and craves your love and attention the most. if you love being an asshole and having someone completely around your finger, there’s no perfect husband to get more than kaveh.

“kaveh…” you start hesitantly, brows furrowed as you put a hand on his shoulder. “kaveh… there’s really no need for you to do all this.” but despite your gentle words, it only makes kaveh flinch and bury his weeping face even more into your chest. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry,” he keeps whispering with a voice ragged from the amount of apologies he’s repeated. “i won’t do it again. whatever i’ve done please just forgive me. i can’t, i can’t stand it!” he looks up at you and that pretty face of his is ruined with tears. “please come back to me. you don’t have to sleep at that inn anymore. i can’t handle you not being with me anymore.” your grip on his shoulder tightens, and your expression seems to twist between a grimace and guilt. the only reason you stayed at an inn was because you were a coward, and you couldn’t handle watching kaveh break down as he beats himself up for a mistake that you caused. this fight was your fault to begin with, but the only one ruined was the innocent one. “i… i forgive you, dear,” you hushedly whisper, with the audacity of a man who did nothing but take advantage. “i forgive you. no matter what you’ve done.” and when he brightens up and smiles so prettily, your heart squeezes in your chest as he pulls you into a kiss sweeter than you deserve.

[ “wh… what are you apologizing for…? there’s no need to look at me like that…! you can blame me all you like!” ]

— VERDANT STRIDER. tighnari | الطغنري

[ “once again, i told you not to eat your boss’ baking! no, i don’t care if they looked nice! they. are. poisonous!” ]

⇢ he’s more at ease now that he doesn’t have to tolerate idiots who think eating poisonous mushrooms recklessly count as experiments or co-workers who tell him stupid jokes all the time. it’s a less stressful environment now… at least, that’s what he thinks. so why do you keep coming home barely alive?! you’ll find tighnari fussing over you and nagging at your office’s poor working environment.

⇢you’ll have the prettiest garden in the whole neighborhood, if not the whole world! the research data he can acquire from the plants in his backyard is limited, so it’s mostly a hobby of his. of course, he doesn’t just grow whatever there! there’s tons of medicinal herbs growing there and there’s a shed you both built where he can experiment wherever he likes. whenn you’re off work, you like to idle the time away in the garden while tighnari is hard at work on another of his concoctions. simply admiring his focused face is enough to put the stress of work behind you, and you think it’d be prettier if you tucked a flower behind his ear. but you never learn, do you? he launches off to another lecture about why you shouldn’t pluck flowers thoughtlessly while you daydream about his pretty face.

⇢ please please please don’t bring him to any work parties, lest you want to see the entire world burn. he still has that dry sarcasm that you oh so love, but he’s ruthless when it comes to your boss and your more unpleasant co-workers. if any of them try to act chummy with you, he immediately raises a brow and gives them the side-eye. he combats whatever fake-ass comment they have with a dry retort, leaving you panicking and trying him to stop it. but no one stops tighnari in verbal combat, and before long he’s revealed your boss’ and co-workers' vulnerabilities and have them deflating like a balloon.

⇢ tighnari always knows how to make the perfect brew, his teas always the perfect blend of both taste and remedy. it’s too bad though, that you always fall asleep before you can manage to finish a single pot. whenever you awake from a tea-induced slumber, your body feels strangely heavy but you can’t complain about the sleep. your husband is always the first thing you see from these naps, his fluffy tail wrapped around your legs and his big eyes staring intently at your face.

⇢ whenever he mixes in the drugs in your food or tea, tighnari’s tail swishes back and forth as he begins thinking of your cute expressions while you’re half-sober. sometimes he doesn’t put the usual dose and instead just halves it, just to see you flailing to get a grip on your senses and reaching out to your oh-so-innocent husband for help. he often chastises himself for this… dirty behavior, but the devil in his mind gleefully reminds him that this counts as research. the test subject just happened to be his trusting partner for life.

⇢ tighnari isn’t above imprisonment. it’s less for the thought of protecting you and more for his personal benefit. he likes to tell himself this is strictly research, but he can’t deny the awestruck look on his face as he greedily eats up every expression of your drugged face. when you grasp onto his clothes and lean on him for support… it makes him shudder with delight. you’re so cute when your system is laced with drugs, and even cuter when you look at him like he’s your entire world. he wants you to rely on him… and in turn, he wants to abuse that over reliance.

“you look better like this,” he murmurs as he brushes your freshly bathed hair. your figure is slumped in your chair like a doll, which isn’t far from the truth from how he handles you like one. he holds you gently, like porcelain, but you don’t react. you are too knocked out from the dose he had slipped into your tea awhile ago. he leans into your face, tutting at the dark circles under your eyes. “look at this… clear neglect of your health. i keep telling you to sleep, but you never listen to me, do you?” he sighs before focusing his attention back to your hair. “you’re so stubborn sometimes, you know. i barely know what to do with you.” he spends the next few moments in silence, rubbing cream into and ointments into your face. you smell slightly of lemongrass now, thanks to the bath he’s given you. tomorrow when you wake up, you will marvel at the softness of your skin and the clearness of your mind, before you throw yourself into another week of overwork. like always. tighnari regrets giving you the sleeping drug now. maybe he should’ve added a dose of the aphrodisiac drug he’s just finished. with the way his feline eyes zero into your blissful face and the eager swaying of his tail, he can just barely hold himself back now.

[ “aaah, i’ve run out of your meds again. oh, don’t you worry, i’ll make you some more. it’s nice how your body is so… receptive to my medicine ♡” ]

— JUDICATOR OF SECRETS. cyno | κύων 

[ “... we’re married… …what? i honestly didn’t think i’d come this far.” ]

⇢while there’s no other man you could imagine to spend the rest of your life with, you’re inwardly groaning about the amount of dad jokes you have to put up with later on in life. sure, you love cyno’s goofy lil personality, but you think you can only take too many stupid jokes before you go crazy. you voice this concern to cyno, who just gives you a reassuring hand on your shoulder and says he can handle you just fine if you do. you’re not quite sure what this implies.

⇢ quite sulky, but he refuses to own up to the fact. sometimes you get a little distracted with one of the neighborhood children, start chatting up one of the kind neighbors, or meet one of your co-workers. you tend to get a little bit distracted by them, and while cyno believes that he’s not overly bothered by this, he admits that he is a little bit miffed about you not paying attention to them. he also gets pouty when work starts taking up of your time and you start to neglect him, so expect him to just shut the laptop close and demand you to eat dinner with him without rushing to get your job done. 

⇢ he used to scare the neighborhood kids away with just one look and you always had to comfort him and pat him on the back in sympathetic understanding. “maybe you’ll get them next time,” you had joked, handing him an ice cream as he sulked on the park’s bench. “one of your jokes should do the trick.” you really shouldn’t have suggested that, because after another trip to the park he stared those kids down with his same stoic expression and cracked one of the corniest jokes known to man. every kid looked at him like he was stupid. now no one takes him seriously. well, at least they like playing with him now???

⇢ overprotective, like over overprotective. he knows you can handle going outside the house on your own, and hell, he might have no qualms with your workplace. but the more you complain, the more paranoid he gets until he’s staking out the site for himself. touchy co-workers? cruel bosses? he could easily have their corpses fed to the dogs. he is a protector of justice, after all, and what is justice but not killing those who lay a hand on their partner?

⇢ it’s not very easy to just push him over the edge, but he can and has the will to lock you away. it’s the modern world, no one’s going to have it out for a salary worker slaving day in and out for a corporation, but still. he’s made plenty of enemies when he was still in the force and there’s a paranoia eating at him whenever you go out of the front door. when he does lock you away, he’s as gentle as he can be, even with the stench of blood all over him. this is all for your sake after all, and he couldn’t bear to see you hurt when he had the power of protecting you.

“cy,” you huff in exasperation, looking up from your laptop as he glares down at you from behind it. “what in the world are you talking about? they’re my co-worker, my superior. you can’t just tell me to stop talking to them. i need their help!” “what help could you possibly need from them when you have me?” he huffs back, crossing his arms. “i’m telling you. they’re dangerous. i… i just know it, okay?” “what could a retired general possibly know about handling excel sheets?” when his face falters, you sigh and shut the laptop closed. “look, i know you just want to protect me and i appreciate that, really. but come on, cy, don’t be unreasonable.” the pressed line of his lips tells you that he has something against being called that, but you press on. “the company does background checks on their employees. it’s safe, i promise.” you press a kiss on his cheek and smile at him. “sit here and calm yourself down, okay? i’ll handle dinner tonight.” he watches your back as you disappear into the kitchen, humming a bright tune that offsets the stormy look in his eyes. he could tell you all about his time in the workforce— the violations he’s made, the blood on his hands, and the enemies he’s made— but he won’t. not if it means breaking this beautiful life he’s created with you. but that’s okay, that’s fine. he’s been trained to adapt to the situation and to work with the shadows.

[ “even if you don’t have a care in the world… i’ll be right behind you. wherever. whenever.” ]

[shooting-love-arrows]

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐘 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐄 — 𝐒𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄

SYNOPSIS: 𝐕𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬!𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 characters and their yandere tendencies. PAIRING: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 (!aged up to be a legal adult!) x reader [romantic]; 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐄𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 x reader [romantic]; 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐧 x reader [romantic]; 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 x reader [romantic]; 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐃𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐟𝐬 x reader [platonic]; readers gender isn't impiled/mentioned/specified Tw. delusion, delulu is the solulu, obsessive thoughts/behavior, possessive thoughts/behavior, witchcraft/dark magic, mention of love making, manipulations, controlling behavior, tyranny (?), concent? what is it?, stalking, worshiping, creepy behavior, creepy people, hunting, mention of m*rder, punishments, yeah… A/N: I hold Snow White close to my heart. However, as much as I adore the animated version, I find the book more interesting. So this is based on German fairy tale or folk tale, [Snow White] written by the Brothers Grimm (Jacob Ludwig Karl Grimm and Wilhelm Karl Grimm). Snow White is AGED UP!

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 who thinks of you as her first, last and only love. She, just like most women her age, believes in soulmates. It's just so...romantic.

It happens that in her opinion, you're the one. Since the moment she lays her doe like eyes on you, she just knows that your souls are tied and destined to be one.

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 fantasies about you. A lot. At first, those are innocent fantasies. Scenarios about you running around each other, playfully starting your courtship. Then your feelings shall grow deeper, the roots growing deep into your heart and so your courtship becomes more prominent and serious. Those playful touches become more affectionate. Holding a deeper meaning and reaching down into your essence of being. Then, you'll propose to her, in the most dreamy way one can imagine. Fret not, she'll (shout) say yes. Wedding preparations will follow soon after, then a grand, royal wedding itself and finally, you'll spend your first night together. Ah yes, the moment your bond will materialize in the form of a night full of passionate love making. The spiral goes on deep and each time 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 starts the imaginary movie roll over, her daydreams take a darker turn. 

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 becomes very needy for your attention. She's just so touch starved to be noticed by her object of affection that she's just about to do something to make you see her as your potential wife. She'll dress up for you, looking like a princess that she is, otherwordly beautiful and charming; make sure to sing when she knows you're near acting like a siren who is ready to catch you in her net of love; showing off her many talents especially those she knows will catch your attention and let her start a conversation with you. And every time you do talk, it's like the whole world disappears, leaving only you. You find it a little concerning with how much 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 sighs and flutters her long eyelashes. Sometimes you wonder if she even pays attention to what your saying (or worse, that you bore her), since she seems to be stuck in her head. And her eyes seemed to have that strange glint that appears only when she looks at you…

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 starts being interested in witchcraft. It is an unexpected turn but I feel like she searched for something deeper. Knowing that your soulmates (it's her opinion) just isn't enough. She must be sure. A way to truly bind you together. So…uh…like mother, like (step) daughter?

Don't get me started on what she writes in her diaries…

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐄𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 who commands you to be her lover. Simple as that. She doesn't wait, nor ask for your opinion in that matter. After the (not so) mysterious disappearance of her husband – the King and Snow's White father – she'll have absolute power in the Queendom. And since she's the Queen and the most entitled person around, you'll have to comply with her wishes. Otherwise, she won't hesitate to force you to via poisons and dark magic.

She'll force feed you all sorts of aphrodisiacs, make voodoo dolls either of you or someone from your surroundings and in the end reduce you to being her puppet. 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐄𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 doesn't need you to think. Just look pretty (but not as her) and submit to her entirely. Be her best and most treasured accessory, hm?

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐄𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 often uses a spying mirror to stalk you. Whenever she's not busy leading the Queendom or simply desires to see you, she'll sit in her lavish chambers and command her mirror to show you. She knows it can only tell her the truth and only the truth, so additionally she'll ask all sorts of questions about you. Are you loyal to her? Do you have a family she shuld take care of? Do you have feelings for someone? If she finds out that you do have and it's not for her, the very next day a public execution is made for your crush. 

You're not safe from her wrath and mood swings either. Like mentioned before, 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐄𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 isn't afraid to punish those who are against her in any way. She won't kill you but your punishments will be severe. Whipping and isolation are her way to go. Scars shall be your reminder to not cross her and loneliness borderlining to madness will thrust you right in her arms. Just like she didn't hesitate to assassinate Snow White, she'll make sure you understand your place and take your role as her lover seriously. 

She's all you need now and in the future. Your family, close friends and anyone you had connection with were taken care of. You're her loyal subject, made to worship her and serve her by giving her your never ending supply of love and affection.

She'll make you see that.

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐧 who is your devoted worshiper. He sees you as some sort of higher being, who graced this dirty Earth with your pure presence. Who has graced him and his hard life with a drop of your soothing presence. The moment you showed him some kindness, even unintentionally, he's ready to carve his heart out of his chest and be at your every beck and call.

Although he is no knight by no means, definitely lacking those virtues, he's skilled within his field of work. It means that whoever dares to bother you (even if they don't) or worse, taint you (start courting you) is automatically a threat he needs to eliminate. Just like 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐧 does to his prey, he'll haunt them deep in the great forest by shooting arrows at their running form. But unlike his usual ethics to make it as painless as possible to the animals, he’ll deliberately make sure to make this person suffer as much as possible. He's ruthless. 

Don't be surprised when you'll find some ‘gifts’ from him. He's a man of a few words, not a drop of romance and hardened by life. Plus his yandere tendencies. So 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐧 gifts tend to be…disturbing. More often than not, you'll find already prepared quarries of his. You get furs, meat and even polished antlers/horns to hand in your chambers. 

Of course, he'll remain anonymous through this whole time, because he doesn't feel worthy enough to officially make contact with you. 

In the dark of the night, when he lays in his cot, he'll pray to you. That you'll allow him, a sinner, to be by your side. He doesn't dare (but secretly wishes) to be your lover, perhaps even your...husband? Whatever you'll pick, he'll agree on anything. He's that desperate for you.

One day…one day he'll overcome his insecurities and will speak to you…

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 who is a lovesick puppy, ready to marry you right then and there when his eyes fell on you for the first time. He's hopeless, really. 

He's always there when you're out of the castle. Lurking just around the corner, ready to start luring you into coming with him. At first, 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 offers are subtle but slowly and surely, they become bold. From promises to give you safety, stable life to making you his Queen and offering to conquer the Queendom as a wedding gift from him to you. He doesn't understand why you wouldn't want to come with him. He's the crown prince, only heir to a prosperous kingdom and a future king, ready to shower you in gold, gifts and power before you could even think of it.

He's a gifted singer and poet. He'll use that to his advantage to catch your attention, especially when you're in the castle where 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 obviously can't go. If it's possible, he'll stop his horse just under your window, hop down and that's when the performance starts. He'll sing ballads about your beauty, recites all sorts of poetry also related to love, sometimes even pray for you to come and grace him with your presence. His words are easily pouring out of his mouth in abundance. They're all about how he deeply feels towards you or about you. And he sincerely hopes they'll trap your heart.

In the dark of the night, he'll look at the portrait of you he had commissioned shortly after meeting you. Of course it didn't do your justice at all but it was just to pass the time until he'll have the real you by his side. He'll sigh dreamily at the canvas, whispering words of pure adoration for you.

His patience is running thin and the wedding day is nearing so fast...!

✿ BONUS ✿

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐃𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐟𝐬 [platonic] who are fiercely overprotective of you. They are greedy and dangerous beings by nature. They’ve killed before and they have no problem doing that again. Especially when some pathetic excuse of a pests seemed to be lurking around their hut, where they were keeping you locked in. There are seven of them, ripped with muscles because of a daily work in the mines and without any remorse in them. The opponent stands no chance. 

All of the published posts on this account/blog belongs to @shooting-love-arrows. I do not consent to my works being: translated, stolen, published or reposted on this and other sites. Likes, reblogs, comments are highly appreaciated. Thank you.

[agustdiv1ne]

telepathy (m) — cbg

pairing: choi beomgyu x fem!reader

genre: smut, strangers to ???, mind reader/telepathist!beomgyu, funeral home employee!beomgyu (it's for the plot ok???)

wc: 11.7k

synopsis: most people would abhor a packed subway car — but beomgyu, telepathist extraordinaire, relishes in it. with a career in the funeral business, he finds his morning commute to be the only thing that keeps him relatively sane. reading the mundane thoughts of mundane people maintains his tether to his humanity, but when he goes to read your mind...oh, things get a whole lot more interesting.

warnings: mdni!! 18+ only, ageless blogs dni!!!, mentions of dead bodies, embalming, and funerals (though not very descriptive — it's only bc of gyu's profession), reader is a freak that listens to nsfw audios on her way to work!, gyu is a perv so it's a match made in heaven (hell?), gyu's honestly a little strange + obsessive in this...anyways, dom!gyu, sub!mc, solo male masturbation, on my big cock beomgyu agenda, very brief mentions of daddy/sir/master kinks, explicit consent is given before anything happens bc consent is sexy <3, mind manipulation (he makes it feel like he's touching her), exhibitionism in a way (it will all make sense, trust 🙏), degradation, praise, pseudo-fingering (idk how to explain it, f receiving), gyu calls mc: pretty girl, sweetheart, slut, whore, princess, mc calls gyu sir like once...whew! that was a lot, lmk if i should add anything!

note: you know i have a terrible bout of brainrot when the warnings are all nsfw related...yeah. Yeah. *presses post and runs away*

☆ playlist ☆

masterlist

beomgyu’s commute to work is, by all means, uneventful. 

the train is packed as per usual, filled to the brim with businessmen and office workers and other miscellaneous passengers on their way to whatever the hell their destination is. like most days, he finds himself towards the middle of the passenger car, snatching a rare open seat between a stone-faced man adorned in a suit — his head buried in a newspaper — and a slumped over college student nursing a cup of coffee. the poor kid almost looks like death itself, sporting dark under eyes, rumpled clothes, and a prominent slouch to his spine. not that beomgyu could really blame him; he remembers how easily college living (if you could call it living) can chip away at a person’s mental well-being. 

people-watching like this is what keeps him sane, he thinks. being surrounded by corpses all day, every day is more than draining — it sucks the soul out of him, really, being the only person on shift most of the time that he’s working, having to embalm and clean and pretty up all those cold, gray bodies so that their loved ones can say one last goodbye. it’s quiet in their minds and it’s all too quiet in the funeral home, the only sounds being the clanking of the embalming tools he’s been trained to use, his footsteps echoing down the tiled halls, his sighs of contempt when something small goes wrong — yet the living, breathing, warm people on the train provide a sense of normalcy, something to look forward to every day. to hear their thoughts, as prosaic as they are, has become a sort of saving grace from the lifeless, cold building that he finds himself in five out of the seven days of the week. honestly, if he can maintain a little bit of his humanity via strangers among the subway, even if it’s just by hearing their thoughts, then he’ll take what he can get. 

yeah, that’s the thing: beomgyu is a mind-reader, a pretty talented one at that. not that anyone knew, of course — he wouldn’t risk the government finding out. beomgyu is not usually one for promises, but he has promised himself one thing: there’s no way in hell that he will ever become one of the government’s sick little science experiments, even if his life ever hits rock bottom. he has no idea how his powers work — just that they do, and he would like to keep it that way. it’s bad enough that he doesn’t know where he got such abilities; his parents never mentioned anything about it and only ever grew worried whenever he read back their thoughts to them, so obviously the existence of his powers is some statistical anomaly in the universe. normal people can’t read others’ minds. he was forced to learn that at a very young age in order to keep himself safe. 

“how do you know that?” he remembers his mother’s alarmed tone when he first did it unknowingly, repeating back her own thoughts to her without realizing that’s what he had done. he was maybe six at the time — innocent, curious, plagued by voices in his head that he didn’t quite understand. those voices weren’t his. rather, they were his friends’, his family’s, his dentist’s and his doctor’s and his soccer coach’s voices that ricocheted about his mind uncontrollably;it was overwhelming for the young boy’s mind. the day he first admitted that he could hear them was the first day he heard his parents argue, their yelling from downstairs colliding with their internal voices in beomgyu’s mind, their terribly poignant concern for him and this development louder than any of the venomous words that they spat at each other in the living room. all he remembers from that day was himself crying, unable to block out anything that they thought, let alone his own thoughts. too much for his young mind to handle.

he heard their fear when they took him to the doctor for the first time of many, their heartache when the doctor came back and said that he might have psychosis, but more testing was needed. he heard how they started to deny it — their little boy couldn’t have that, could he? no, no he couldn’t. there’s no way he could. 

although beomgyu was young at the time, guilt ate at him. he was the one hurting his parents, he was the one making them worry. despite his official diagnosis when he was seven, something inside him knew that the doctors were wrong. those voices weren’t just the result of the machinations of his mind at work — they were voices of the people he knew, strangers who passed him on the street. what they said wasn’t evil, it wasn’t out of the ordinary. usually, it was quite mundane. at some point, he started to practice with it, trying focus on one certain voice out of the buzzing hive in his mind, blocking out the others, switching and focusing and blocking out until the action was as natural as breathing. it took him about five years before he reached that point, and after nearly two decades of living with his abilities, he’s gotten quite used to it. his mind is usually quiet — besides his own stream of consciousness — unless he allows others in. or, rather, they allow him in, which they always do. he sees it like a set of doors; open one, and you can hear that one person’s thoughts. close it, and he no longer hears them. and none of them are ever locked since no one expects to their thoughts to be read, which simply makes his life that much easier.

if he’s being honest, he didn’t used to read minds as often as he does now, but there isn’t much he can do about that now lest he go insane. beomgyu could admit that his habit was a little creepy…okay scratch that, extremely fucking creepy. these people had no idea that their minds were being infiltrated, their mental walls bypassed and their privacy violated like a computer infected with a malicious virus. it’s borderline depraved, how nonchalantly he robs these strangers of their utmost privacy, sometimes of their deepest, darkest secrets that they would never want anyone to find out about. he could sequester quite a bit of money out of some of these people, now that he thinks about it.

and sure, that may sound immoral, but beomgyu has never considered himself to be of particularly virtuous character.

without a second thought, beomgyu taps into the mind of the kid next to him. he’s thinking about how he’s failing his statistics class because he just bombed his midterm. no, now his mind is full of what he’s going to eat after his 8 a.m. class. he shifts his focus on the businessman to his right. stocks, his cheating wife, how he’s considering leaving with his mistress in the coming days…

”what a prick,” beomgyu thinks to himself, smirking a bit. just a few more stops until he gets off, now. 

he pulls his phone from his jacket pocket, scrolling aimlessly just to keep his eyes busy. sitting on the opposite side of the college student, an elderly lady walks herself through the stew that she’s going to make for her grandchildren tonight, excitement coloring her words. it’s cute — he loves hearing things like that. wholesome thoughts are not easy to come by nowadays, given the state of the world. exhibit a: a teenager standing on the other side of the train car worries himself into a frenzy over whether the girl that he has a crush on likes him back. exhibit b: a middle aged man contemplates if he should quit his job. for a second, beomgyu thinks that he might be in the same boat as him, before realizing that he has nothing else to fall back on — exhibit c. he could keep going.

a clear, robotic voice overhead announces the subway’s arrival to the next station — his station. sighing, he sits up a little taller, slipping his phone into the pocket of his slacks. a vague sense of dread weighs down his shoulders, knowing that he has a service to set up for the moment he clocks in.

he’s not looking forward to today, and yet the train still slows to a stop, the doors still slide open, and he still grabs his work briefcase from the spot between his feet. like clockwork, beomgyu maneuvers through the crowd, out the doors, and climbs the stairs up to the chilly streets of seoul.

decompressing after a slow-moving shift can take beomgyu’s night in many directions. sometimes, he simply returns home and hops into bed after a long, scalding hot shower that removes the invisible layer of grime that lays heavy on his skin. other times — typically on fridays — he’ll stop by a bar and catch up with his friends, occasionally leaving with a woman hanging off of his arm if he drinks enough to lower his inhibitions. more often than not, however, his excursions at the underground bar that taehyun is partial to end in him stumbling home alone and waking up the next morning with a raging headache. nursing a hangover alone, eating breakfast alone, bathing alone…he has never really become acclimated to it. the monster that festers inside beomgyu’s chest craves for love, for connection, for somebody to hold when the nights are too dark and his thoughts match the shade of the sky. the lack of connection is slowly getting to him. is this what insanity feels like? he wouldn’t know, nor would he like to find out. he’s sane. he’s perfectly sane. 

beomgyu understands that his profession can be off-putting to potential lovers, but it’s not as if he had much of a choice in the matter — not when his one shot at the career of his dreams crumbled below his feet when the company filed bankruptcy, sending him tumbling back down to earth, to the reality that his college degree meant little to nothing to the vast majority of employers nowadays. though he applied to dozens of jobs, the only one he ever heard back from was from the listing titled “mortuary assistant,” and in desperation, he accepted the position without much thought. maybe if he had tried a little harder to find a different company where he could apply his skills, maybe if he had pushed himself to make connections in the industry when he had the resources to do so, maybe if he had pursued music production a little harder, had not given up so readily when things grew difficult…maybe things would be different. 

beomgyu often thinks about the maybes.

this particular night, he finds himself leaned over a bar counter, a glass of amber-hued beer in hand. he half-listens to yeonjun’s slurred account of his dance crew’s latest win while he stares down at the mahogany tabletop. some condensation has gathered on the wood, and he swipes a finger through it. a slap to his shoulder brings his focus back to his surroundings.

“gyu, dude, y’should totally try out,’’ yeonjun pitches as he sloppily swings an arm over beomgyu’s shoulders. “get out of that. that—” he stumbles over his words for a moment, expression warping into a confused grimace. “that gross ass dead people building.”

beomgyu exhales a laugh as yeonjun’s head lolls against his shoulder, quietly whining about how his head hurts. while yeonjun is substantially gone already, beomgyu is only on his second beer. scanning the spacious, dim-lit room, he shakes his head. it’s times like these where he does not feel the need to slip into people’s minds — being surrounded by his friends is enough. “nah, man. i don’t think i could keep up. it’s been a while.”

“sure y’could! you’re like th’second best dancer here!” yeonjun says as his torso slumps down against the table. the bartender eyes him from further down the bar top with concern, but beomgyu sates the employee with an apologetic smile, ensuring that he turns away before setting his attention back on his friend.

beomgyu scoffs. “and i’m assuming you’re the first best?”

“uh, obviously. i literally run th’thing,” yeonjun retorts as he glares at him with a single eye open, an ear now resting on top of his crossed arms on the counter.

“yeonjun’s right,” taehyun butts in from the other side of yeonjun’s collapsed body. though his glazed over eyes give away his inebriated state, taehyun’s tolerance tends to lean much higher than yeonjun’s; this fact is confirmed by the crystal clear enunciation of his words as he continues, “you’ve been acting differently ever since you started working there. it wouldn’t hurt to try something new.”

great, even his friends have noticed. exhaling deeply, beomgyu nods.

“yeah, i’ll think about it.” 

as the conversation meanders off into other topics, beomgyu sinks back into his own little world. curse taehyun and his acute perceptiveness. he knows that he’s been acting off, but maybe his friends are right; he once dreamed of being a choreographer, back when he was a teen, before he discovered his love for music production. perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to try.

unintentionally, he meets the gaze of a girl sitting at a booth with her friends. he quickly averts his gaze, and by the time he looks back up, she has been roped into what seems like a shot-taking contest. six other girls circle the table, one joining the first girl in taking rapid-fire shots, four others egging them on, and one laser-focused on her phone, occasionally sipping water through a straw. from what he can gather, she’s likely the group’s designated driver — though it seems her role has morphed into more of a babysitter. she’s pretty, he’ll admit. just his type. if he was on his third or fourth beer, he’d probably be over there trying to strike up a conversation with her, rather than any of her drunk friends. 

as she looks up and throws a cursory glance around the bar, she catches him staring, her kohl-lined eyes meeting his own. an eyebrow raises as her gloss-coated lips twist, as if to say “don’t even try it.”

oh, how terribly he wishes to slip into her mind and let her know that he has no intention to. 

the ear-piercing screech of yeonjun’s barstool to his right tears his gaze away from her. yeonjun now stands, one arm around taehyun and the other around soobin, the latter sporting a borderline disgusted grimace directed at the older boy hanging off of him while kai simply stands behind the trio of men. yeonjun’s head hangs low below his shoulders, chin nearly touching his chest, as he emits a pathetic groan. at least he’s not puking this time.

“we’re about to go grab some food. this one,” taehyun’s head nods to yeonjun’s sagging frame. “definitely needs it. you coming?”

unwilling to allow the night to end quite yet, beomgyu hums, quickly pays his tab, and allows the brief, silent encounter with the woman to fade away into the back of his mind.

the rest of the weekend passes without fanfare, and monday returns to rear its ugly head once again. monday is beomgyu’s least favorite day of the week; it brings a raging headache from his 5 a.m. alarm, a bone-deep fatigue that lingers for the rest of the day. it brings grumpy commuters whose knees and elbows uncomfortably bump against his own. it brings people who think that he should give up his seat, and silently tell him so with narrowed eyes and furrowed eyebrows. how selfish, they all think whenever he actually bothers to read their thoughts. what a fucking dick, some of them even snarl within the so-called impenetrable walls of their minds, walls he so easily breaks down. he levels those ones with a half-awake glare, pupils gloomy and lifeless. internally, their uneasy reactions make him want to laugh, hysterically cackle in their faces because wow, is he really that scary? he shouldn’t be, but maybe the dark under eyes are doing something for him.

surprisingly, the subway car he frequents is less crowded than usual. not as many people stand in front of him, and he’s actually able to see directly across the car for the first time in a while. doors shut, and he’s left to look around at the regulars and the new patrons that often don’t show up again. they’re easily less interesting than the regulars. really, what can he say? the daily life updates satisfy his nosy tendencies. 

still, he hates mondays. mondays suck. mondays make him want to crawl into a hole and eventually join the bodies at his workplace. they bring out the worst in his mind. all they do is remind him of the neverending cycle that he has trapped himself in — wake up, work, go to sleep, and do it all over again the next day.

mondays bring a lot of things he fundamentally dislikes, but this particular monday also brings you. 

it’s split-second eye contact. nothing more, nothing less. your eyes grow wide, your lips parting just the slightest bit in surprise. though he has not invaded your mind (yet), he can already tell what you are thinking. fuck, he isn’t blind — he knows that he is handsome.

your eyes shoot downward, your head hanging low with your phone clenched between your fingers. one of his eyebrows raises while a small smirk plays on his lips — you’re new, and even better, you’re cute. his dark, seemingly bored gaze trails over to the earbuds nestled in your ears, then to your crossed legs. you glance up at him again, eyes blowing wide again as your thighs press together just enough for him to notice the movement. his own eyes narrow slightly, evaluating the sight. 

you seem...interesting. prim, proper, sitting in a modest-length skirt and a plain blouse and coat that paint you as an unassuming character, just another random person in this sardine can of a train car. yet there’s this glint in your eyes that tells him there is so, so much more to you than what meets the eye — that the innocent, put-together little front that you display to the world is a complete and utter lie. it’s intriguing. new patrons come and go from this particular subway car every day, but you and your fresh face have caught his interest — and so has your odd behavior. 

then, without warning, realization punches him square in the gut.

you were there the other night, with those girls at the bar. the one sitting at the end of the table with the small glass of water as you scrolled through your phone. the one who shot a piercing glare at him as you looked out for your inebriated friends. your current behavior is a far cry from the strong front he first encountered that night, small and oh-so meek and lacking the sharp, piercing edge to your gaze that initially piqued his interest in you. the change, for some reason, intrigues him more. what happened to that feisty glare, that confident air to your posture? he wants to know why you seem so meek, so he taps in to your mind and—

“you’re my dumb little slut, aren’t you? fuckin’ say it—”

beomgyu flinches in his seat, the door to your mind slamming shut as he sits there in shock. did he really just hear that? are you listening to fucking porn on the subway? what the fuck?

he’s never had this happen to him before. he’s accidentally stumbled upon the occasional horny thought before, sure, but listening to porn on the subway? that’s a new one. he decides to give you another glance; your lips are pressed together now, eyes pointed towards the floor as you further shrink into yourself. fuck, you’re so cute, but now he knows you’re also awfully perverted — and for some reason, he feels himself getting hard in his trousers at the thought of entering your mind again. 

he should do something about this little development, shouldn’t he?

yeah, he thinks that he should. a sick sort of curiosity wins over the more logical side of his brain, the side that tells him that he should feel guilty for even thinking about what he’s about to do. he can’t, can he? no, he can — he wants to, he really fucking wants to. opportunities like this don’t just present themselves on a silver platter like this on the regular. if he doesn’t take this chance, then he’d be an absolute fool. 

the subway slows to a stop, the weirdly cheery, robotic voice calling out another stop. not his, thank god. he takes this opportunity to open that pesky little door to your mind again, now fully expecting the depravity echoing in your brain — and rather than do anything drastic too quickly, he simply sits there and listens. he listens through an entire audio alongside you, ignoring the twitch of his cock as he listens to the woman be degraded and praised, in missionary and in doggy, her moans mixing with the man's in a cacophony of pleasure — he loves the way you jump when the sound of a hand striking flesh sounds through your mind. your fleeting sigh of “god, i wish that were me,” causes him to bite his lip. you like being treated like a slut, huh? like a stupid little whore only made to take cock? that’s music to his ears, really — because he likes treating girls like that too. 

as sick and disgusting as it is, he continues to listen as if mindlessly tuning in to a podcast, subtly adjusting himself in his pants as he fights off a raging boner. he wants to be the one to do those things to you. he wants to make you scream and sob and beg for mercy as he completely ravages your body, fuck you until you’re brainless, perfect little slut for him. you’d love that, according to the audios you consume for the remainder of his commute — to be fucked so hard you legs give out from under you, to be owned, fully and completely. he likes that sound of that as well.

a few minutes into the second audio, you take another glance at him, eyes squeezing shut right away once you catch his gaze — and suddenly, your thoughts are full of him. he’s encountered countless strangers who can perfectly visualize their streams of consciousness, and you seem to be yet another one of them. images of you on your knees between his thighs and sucking his cock in the middle of this subway car flood his own mind, switching to one of him fucking you from behind against the wall while everyone else watches, then to him finger fucking you with a hand around your throat…what the fuck. what the fuck? how do you just do that? how do you think of such terribly shameless things while looking so pretty and demure, as if you’re a shy little thing rather than some fucking whore? he shifts his briefcase over his lap again. fuck, he’s so hard it’s starting to hurt. shit, fuck. 

he should be appalled by you, but fiery, ardent lust is the sole emotion that floods his veins. would it be a bad idea to talk to you? no, you want it. you want it so fucking bad. just look at your mind — and he can make all your dirty little fantasies come true, if you would let him. 

just as he’s about to actually do something about you, the subway slows to a stop once again, the same cheery voice announcing his stop. god dammit. pushing himself up to his feet, he finds that you’re doing the same, wide eyes flitting around nervously as you move towards the door and stop nearly right next to him, those earbuds that hide your biggest secret in plain sight still stuck in your ears. he can still hear those degrading words and moans and slapping sounds that still echo through your mind, loud and clear as if those white earbuds are sitting snug in his own ears. 

the doors slide open, and soon enough, he loses sight of you in the surging crowd. stepping out of the subway, he looks around once, twice. you have completely disappeared; nowhere to be found, your mind has grown too far from his own for him to locate nor access, the tether between the two of you frayed to the point of snapping in half. with a brief purse of his lips, he sets off up the stairs. it’s fine, there’s always another day. it’s fine, he tells himself over and over again. there’s nothing he could have done in such a short time, anyway. 

the sun sits high in the sky today, but the bone-chilling air cuts through his puffy coat like tiny needles puncturing his skin, or millions of scalpels slicing open flesh nearly to the bone, cold and sterile and far from comforting. autumn shouldn’t be this cold, and his slightly soured mood isn’t helping his case right now. he should have done something back there, he should’ve opened up the channel between the two of you and taken the plunge. it wouldn’t have hurt to try, but no. no, he let that opportunity go like every other one he’s had in his life. with his jaw set, he promises himself that it won’t happen again. it won’t, because if he keeps living like this — allowing all these opportunities slip through his fingers like grains of sand — he’ll never be able to forgive himself.

and honestly, beomgyu is no clairvoyant, and he should brush off the tickle in his brain as a stupid, naive hunch…but he has a compelling feeling that he’ll be seeing you again tomorrow. 

when beomgyu returns home, the sun slowly sinking towards the horizon, he doesn’t unwind like he usually does. today’s shift was a slow one, with no bodies to preen and primp and no services to set up for, so most of his time was taken up with cleaning, filing documents, and sitting around aimlessly. no matter how much he tried to fend them off, thoughts of you bounced around in his brain for the entire eight hours he was on shift. fuck, he doesn’t even know your name, much less anything else about you, yet he wishes he could travel back in time and redo this morning all over again. he’s not sure how it would have panned out, exactly, but he has a few tricks up his sleeve that would’ve made it exciting.

he shakes his head. the current moment presents much more pressing matters than ruminating on this morning’s terrible decisions; the strain in his trousers proves to be a pertinent issue, a tent formed in the black fabric and aching to be touched. now that the public eye no longer holds his gaze, his apartment door locked shut behind him, he allows himself to give in to his most base instincts. a hand comes down to cup his hardness as he imagines his fingers as yours, you on your knees below him, those adorably wide eyes staring up at him in desperation. you’d wait for permission, right? you’d beg so prettily like a good little slut should? fuck yeah, you would. you’d be good, you’d take what he would give you — and you would love it. 

groaning, he crashes onto his couch, head throwing back against the back cushion as he gropes his cock harder. he’s forgone slipping off his dress shoes and has barely even slipped his coat off before he’s giving in to the pulsing ache in his groin that’s nearly unbearable, the white hot need swirling in his stomach that demands his immediate attention. his belt quickly unbuckled and his trousers pulled halfway down his thighs, he slips his cock from his boxers, gasping at how sensitive he has become. 

“oh fuck,” he breathes out into the quiet air, a shuddered sigh following when his thumb swipes over the angry red head, the bead of precum that has gathered there spreading across his skin. he brings his hand up to his lips, gathering some spit beneath his tongue before letting in loll into his palm. bringing it back down, he drags his hand up and down his shaft, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as pleasure rushes through his veins. he pumps his cock steadily, hips rolling up into his hand as if fucking your throat. eyes fluttering closed, his free hand grips the couch, fingernails digging into the worn leather and leaving half-moon indents in their wake. “fuck. god, fuck.”

would you be able to take him? he’s been told he’s big, most women barely able to take him even after extensive prep. he imagines how you’d keen as he enters you, your back arching so prettily and your walls stretching to their limits to accommodate his size. how you’d choke and gag on his cock if he decided to use your throat, tears streaming down your cheeks as you peer up at him pathetically, fingers digging into your thighs as you resist the urge to touch yourself. would you like to be slapped around a little, punished with spankings and little taps to your cheek? 

“focus,” he mumbles to no one. to you. “focus, slut. be good for me.” 

he’s delirious at this point, has dived so deep into his fantasies that he barely registers that he’s fucking his fist and not your mouth or sweet little cunt. that doesn’t stop his fingers from tightening their grip, squeezing the head before gliding back down again, then back up, the rhythm of his hips growing frenzied as his high inches closer. his free hand smooths up his stomach, taking his button-up with it as he clenches it with desperate fingers. he bites down on the fabric, pumping himself once, twice, three times before his high hits him, his cum spurting out in staccato ribbons. he’s making a mess, but he can’t bring himself to care when this is the best orgasm he’s had in months. the shirt falls from his mouth as he moans unabashedly. 

“take it,” he groans, his hips canting upward. “fuckin’— fuckin’ take it. shit. such a perfect little whore for me.”

he cums and he cums, spilling all over himself until he’s milked dry. eyes closed, his contracted muscles melt into the couch, hot pants replacing his moans and groans. a few minutes pass before he fully comes down from his headspace and returns back to earth, only for him to realize just how much he came, staining his clothes and coating his skin in creamy white. he blinks. 

reality crashes down on his head. 

he just…jerked off to you. he just came so hard he saw stars just from the mere thought of you. oh, he’s in deeper than he first thought. too deep, too quickly, he can barely breathe. 

“fuck,” beomgyu murmurs as he stares down at his cum-covered abdomen, his sticky hand. “fuck.”

beomgyu was right: you do come back the next day. and the next. and the next.

over the remainder of the work week, he watches you — well, more so listens to you, but he can’t deny himself the little glimpses he allows himself to take, drinking in how you worry your bottom lip, how the muscles in your throat contract each time you gulp. the poker face that you don crumbles oh so easily whenever he meets your stray gaze. it’s exhilarating, knowing the power he, a complete stranger, has over you. your microscopic slips in expression remain undetected to the rest of the passengers, but he sees every single one. they’re a perfectly entertaining backdrop for your explicit musings. 

he knows he could approach you like a normal human being would, but where’s the fun in that? he’s not quite a normal person in his own right, anyway. instead, he’s decided to keep you in his sights, learning what exactly you enjoy, what you like to hear, preparing for the day where he again gathers the courage to toy with you within the walls of your mind. he’s in deep, and at this point, he’s accepted it if only to justify his sadistic obsession with you. actually, on second thought, he wouldn’t quite call it an obsession, perhaps a morbid curiosity more than anything. yeah, that’s all it can be.

it’s almost as if the universe has sent him a little present in the form of you, an apology for the trials and tribulations that whatever is above has rained down on him this past year or so. of course he’s going to savor it. who wouldn’t? so he sticks to his plan, and keeps watching you, listening to you, observing you, identifying your little quirks and deepest, darkest desires. they’ll be quite useful later, he’s sure. 

over his…research period, he’s found out a lot about you. you like to be bullied, to be called a slut, a whore, but you also enjoy a little praise mixed in: good slut, good whore, pretty girl is so obedient for sir, for daddy, for master. you’re also not too picky in what you listen to, as long as it contains a male dominant in some capacity. couple’s content, threesomes, gangbangs are all on the table, as are solo audios that usually have some sort of plot to them — coworkers to lovers' first date that ends in sex? check. hot librarian who fucks over a table you after closing? that too. he could go on about what he’s heard in just the solo audios you consume, but even that list would be exhaustive. 

by the time friday rolls around, he doesn’t even have to try to search for your mind; call him crazy, but it’s almost as if you, on some subconscious level, know that he wants in and are more than willing to let him. as if you keep the door cracked open just for him. 

at least, he likes to think that you do. 

staying close, but not too close, to you proves to be difficult today. fridays bring with them a surge of new faces that crowd the subway car, which is generally quite annoying, but at the moment, he also finds it to be frustrating. no seats are open when he boards, he can’t even see you through the dense crowd, but you’re there. your mind is there, open and waiting for him to enter.

though he won’t be able to see your cute little reactions, he steps through that mental threshold. 

“it’s okay, baby. shh, don’t cry, you can cum. cum for me, just let go,” a gentle voice coos. aw, you must be having a rough morning, how sad. the only other day you listened to these kinds of audios, you looked absolutely miserable, the corners of your lips pulled down and a deep, pathetic furrow to your brows — it was wednesday, that’s right. two days ago, when you seemed frazzled and completely out of it. a little digging resulted in him learning that you had spilled your coffee all over the concrete on the way here, you thought your hair didn’t look right (even though, to him, it did, it looked perfect — he wished he could’ve told you that), and worst of all, your boss emailed you late the previous night to admonish you for your performance, demanding a meeting first thing that morning. 

still, he wishes he could take care of your boss, eliminate that weight off of your shoulders. if it were up to him, your boss would be sitting in the morgue at his place of work, gray and comatose and unable to admonish you for things that beomgyu is sure you had no control over. because that’s how offices work, right? sink or swim, big fish eat the little ones, blaming those below them for everything they should be taking responsibility for. your boss has to be one of those. he was pig-nosed and donning a constant sneer when you pictured the verbal berating you’d be getting once you got to your workplace. 

that day, he found himself thinking about how he’s become pretty talented with a scalpel. 

“good girl. doing so well for me, pretty girl,” the same voice soothes, soft cries and sniffles from the submissive mixing with the gentle words. he could treat you all sweet too. he could be anything you want, if only you knew him. 

he wants you to know him — needs you to, really.

there’s no clear cut reason for your current sour mood, your thoughts too jumbled together for him to properly decipher. are you picking apart your appearance? did you wake up late? is this all because of your boss again? he might just kill the bastard if that’s the case…if only he could approach you, tell you that everything will be okay, but he doesn’t want to knock down the house of cards he’s spent such precious time building over the course of the week. you’re too special for that. it’s the very reason why he tries to blend into the crowd, why he tries to keep eye contact to a minimum. the last thing he needs is for you to run away from him when you’re one of the only things holding him together.

when the car slows to his and your stop, disappointment nips at the space between his eyebrows. he didn’t even get to see you today, and the end of the work week means that he won’t be seeing you for two entire days. sighing, he falls into his typical routine: move towards the doors, wait for them to open, and follow the other exiting passengers out. where could you be? you’re still here, he knows that much since he’s still connected to you, still hears those soft words and moans, but where the fuck are you? you, as in your body. that you.

with a single cursory glance around, he swears he catches a glimpse of your figure before the crowd swallows you whole. as he’s shoved towards the stairs by the crowd, his chest grows heavy.

friday has just begun, but monday couldn’t come any faster. 

“so, are you gonna try out?”

yeonjun is far more sober compared to last friday night, his eyes lacking that fatigued droop they always get whenever he’s had too much. beomgyu tears his glazed-over gaze away from the television screen to look at the yeonjun, sinking further into the couch below him. he points to himself. “me?”

yeonjun rolls his eyes, a knee swinging over the arm of the armchair he sits in. “who the fuck else would i be talking to?”

scoffing, beomgyu shoots him a glare. “i don’t know, man. y’don’t have to be a dick about it.”

the open bottle of beer in beomgyu’s hand chills his fingertips, so he switches it to his other hand before taking another sip. meanwhile, soobin plops down next to him with an already open bag of chips, offering some to him. he shakes his head, and soobin shrugs, beginning to munch on them by himself. 

“i’m serious though,” yeonjun continues. “you should really try out. there’s not much to it, just dance to one song and you’re done. i’d probably pass you even if you sucked.”

“that’s nepotism,” taehyun chimes in from the floor, eyes trained on the screen as he shoots a player down in the game him and kai are currently obsessed with. the sound of gunfire fills the living room of soobin and yeonjun’s apartment, the murmurs of the two boys a low drone beneath it as they figure out their best strategy to win. 

he almost wishes he lived here with soobin and yeonjun, or with the other two. yeonjun and soobin, taehyun and kai — only beomgyu lives alone. alone doesn’t necessarily mean lonely, but in beomgyu’s case, it does. maybe that’s why he’s latched onto you so hard: to cure his loneliness. he swats that thought away like one would a pesky mosquito. he hasn’t latched onto you, he admonishes himself, he’s simply curious. yeah, curious. 

just a little innocent curiosity. 

disregarding taehyun’s comment, yeonjun raises an eyebrow towards beomgyu. “i know i was drunk when i said that shit last week, but you really have been acting weird since you started at that job. we’ve all noticed.”

“yeah, it’s like you’ve gotten more reserved, or something,” soobin says, words muffled by his chewing. beomgyu grimaces, shifting closer to the arm of the couch. 

“you’re the most introverted one here, you can’t say shit,” kai snorts. soobin throws a chip at his head.

“anyway,” yeonjun butts in with a scalding glare before an argument can begin. soobin and kai blanch, mouths closing. “we’re just…concerned about you.”

“is this some kind of intervention?” beomgyu laughs, disbelief apparent in his tone. he’s fine. he has you now.

“no, we just want you to know that there’s other things you could do that would make you happier than work at a fucking funeral home,” taehyun says, eyes still not straying from the tv. 

“like joining my dance crew,” yeonjun tacks on. 

beomgyu sighs. they’re kind of right, if he’s being honest with himself, but is he ready to put himself out there again? is he ready to face the potential of rejection, of failure? he’s had his life fall apart in front of his eyes once already, what if it happens again?

“...i guess.”

“c’mon.” yeonjun shifts around until he’s leaning on his elbows, focus solely on beomgyu. “tryouts are next saturday. i know how fast you can learn choreography. hell, you could probably learn something in a couple hours and be fine.”

“honestly, you’ll never know if you don’t try,” soobin chimes in. “it might end in something good.”

“yeah,” beomgyu says before taking another large swig of beer. “yeah, i know.”

and so another weekend passes, and monday returns once again. 

soobin’s brief, sage advice plays through his mind again and again. although he understands that soobin meant for it to apply to his current career situation, beomgyu has adopted it for his situation with you instead. he should try, he’s going to try, eventually. 

it might end in something good, he tells himself over and over again. he has to try.

mondays are a bit less excruciating now that you’re around. he has only known you for a week, but it’s been long enough to know that you make his day-to-day routine bearable — hell, he’ll stay at his terrible job as long as you keep showing up each morning. the day that you don’t will be the nail in his coffin — he chuckles at his stupid joke. yeonjun is rubbing off on him too much.

the sky is overcast today, and endless expanse of gray that contrasts the warmth of the changing leaves that line the sidewalk. it might rain soon, he surmises, but he hopes that it won’t. he’s forgone an umbrella today. digging his hands further into his coat pockets, he ducks into the subway station, descending the stairs and weaving through the crowd until he finds his usual platform. when he gets there, you’ve already arrived, ears vacant of those white earbuds, but it’s not a foreign sight to him. you typically put them in once you sit down. the fact that you get on and get off at the same stop as him…he almost likes to think of all of this as fate. 

maybe the universe really is trying to apologize. 

the subway arrives at the platform a few minutes later — minutes in which he tries not to stare at you. he’s not a creep, he swears that he’s not. he’s not a creep, he’s not a creep — he repeats this to himself as he follows behind you into the subway car the two of you frequent, he finds a seat across from you a few feet to your left. he can’t be too obvious.

and most importantly, he’s not a creep. 

you dig around in your bag. ah, here come those infamous earbuds, he’s sure of it — but then they don’t, and then the digging through your bag grows a degree more frantic, your lips parting as you continue shoving whatever is in there aside in search of your most precious possession.

you feel like crying as panic surges through your veins. oh god, you forgot them. how could you have forgotten them? what are you going to do now? 

beomgyu decides to tap into your mind in that moment, finding you in an unbelievably frazzled state. his heart clenches in his chest, he wishes he could help somehow…

wait. he could…oh my god, he could. no, that’s sick, he’s not a creep — well, no, he could. he definitely fucking could, and you’d probably end up liking it…

he could be your temporary replacement for today — no, he could become your constant source, the one you need to get through the day. he could become your audios. he wants to. they’d be far more…interactive, if he did, after all. you’d love what he could do to your pretty fucking body just with access to your mind. reading thoughts isn’t the only thing he can do — and soobin’s right: he’ll never know if he doesn’t try. how could he sit here any longer and not give in to his burning desire to ravage you? you know what? fuck it. this is the perfect opportunity, served up once again on a silver platter, waiting for him to take. he’s not going to let it slip away again — and oh, you just look so devastated right now, how terrible would he be if he didn’t help you?

in a split-second moment, beomgyu decides that today is the day. deep breath. focus. okay, he can do this. one, two, three…

“hello, pretty girl.”

you flinch before you look up and around, only to find no one is looking at you — well, he is, but through his peripherals. wouldn’t want to get caught, would he? suppressing a smirk at your reaction, he shifts in his seat.

“was someone just talking to me?” you ask yourself, brows furrowing as your eyes continue to dart around. your hand comes up to your ear to see if you accidentally remembered your earbuds, your frown deepening when you register that they are, indeed, not in your ears. glancing around again, your eyes skirt over his form. he shivers at the thought of what’s to come, biting his lip as he avoids your gaze. “is this some sort of prank?”

“calm down, sweetheart, this isn’t a prank. now, stop looking around, you’re the only one who heard me.”

your brain flits from thought to thought so quick he can barely keep up, the volume of them rising as you panic. your fingers clench the strap of your purse as if to ground yourself. “am i hallucinating right now? what the fuck? this has to be a prank. should i go to the doctor’s? no, my boss would kill me if i called out, but fuck, i should really go if i’m hearing things—”

beomgyu chuckles, the sound echoing through your mind as well. freezing, your muscles lock up as you look around again. your distressed stream of consciousness stops for a moment, before resuming at a much more rapid pace. “what the fuck, i need to call out right now, where’s my phone—”

sighing, he leans back into his seat and closes his eyes. so cute, how easily you spiral. “quiet that pretty little head of yours, pretty girl. you’re not hallucinating, this is all real. very real.”

a few moments pass before your internal freakout quiets down. for once, silence fills your mind…and rather than him break it, it’s you: “someone’s…talking to me through my mind? this is real?”

“such a smart girl. you figured it out so quickly,” beomgyu taunts, resisting the urge to coo again. adrenaline rushes through his veins, urging him to continue. you need him. he can make you happy. he just needs to hear you say it.

your thighs press together at the praise, fingers digging into the trousers you had chosen to wear. you shouldn’t be feeling like this. this is strange, terribly strange, and even a little frightening, now that you are aware that someone — that a complete stranger, at that — has full reign over your conscious. yet, at the same time, you’re curious to see how this will play out.

“and you can speak to me, too, if you focus hard enough…” his voice trails off. okay, you can do that. allowing your eyelids to flutter shut, you begin to breathe deeply until even the mechanical noises of the subway and the murmurs of passengers vacate your senses. mind empty, you exhale a shaky breath. focus. stay focused. 

“hmm, impressive. you’re a natural at this.” god, he needs to quit praising you like that with his deep voice. by the way he laughs, you know he heard that too. fuck. 

“who are you and why the fuck are you in my brain?” you decide to ask. straight to the point, no fluff to it, it’s reminiscent of your attitude at the bar where he first laid eyes upon you. this is the wall you put up towards strangers and any other threat to your life, but little do you know, beomgyu’s breached that wall already. this is just a little front. “answer me, you fucking asshole—”

“woah, woah, watch the language. why would i tell you who i am? it’s much more exciting this way, don’t you think?” the smile in his voice is unmistakable, but he purses his lips to keep them from curling upward. 

you start to gnaw on your bottom lip, biting hard enough for pain to bloom across your nerve endings. this is stranger you’re talking to right now, a stranger who you’re talking to through your fucking thoughts. this is weird. you never signed up for this. “get the hell out of my mind before— before i—” 

“before you what? can’t kick me out, you don’t know how to do that, pretty girl.”

fuck, he’s right — wait, if he’s in your mind right now, can he also control it? is he going to hurt you? is he going to make you his puppet and go on a murder spree? is he in this car with you, or somewhere else? what if…what if…

beomgyu can almost feel your panic swelling in his own chest. fuck, he needs to put a stop to your spiraling before it gets out of control. if you freak out now, then all of his work over the past week will be for naught. after all, he’s not going to do anything without your permission. the last thing he wishes to do is scare you off completely before he can have his fun. with great urgency, he cuts off your ramblings, “hey, now, relax for me, princess. i’m not going to hurt you. i’m as human as you are, just a bit…different, i guess. and i am in the same car as you right now.”

rather than respond, you look around again, eyeing every single man around you with suspicion, even him. he stares at the floor, maintaining what he hopes to be a neutral, borderline bored, expression. he needs to keep it together. he’s gotten this far, he can’t ruin this. “looking around again, huh? if i were that easy to spot, then this game wouldn’t be very fun, would it?” 

“game? fucking with my mind is a game to you?” 

the corners of his lips twitch up before he’s forcing them back down. this is it, the moment he has been waiting oh so patiently for. keep it together.

“well, not really — i actually have a proposition for you, if you’d hear me out.”

scoffing, you urge him along. “just get on with it.”

“so impatient. that’s okay. i can work with that,” he smirks. “i know what you listen to every morning, you know.”

your heart drops to your stomach. he what? oh god, you think you’re going to be sick. your arms wrap around your stomach, squeezing hard. this is bad, this is really fucking bad. “do you want money, or something? are— are you trying to blackmail me right now? i’ll have you know, i’m actually kinda broke right now. i really don’t wanna end up homeless, can you just. pick someone else to fuck with? there’s like twelve different businessmen in this car, i’m sure they’re rich and corrupt—”

beomgyu’s brows raise imperceptibly. jesus, are you always this flighty? “woah, chill. i’m not here to judge you — or blackmail you, for that matter. i’m not evil. aw, don’t look all shameful now. i told you i’m not here to judge — i actually wanna help you, if you’d let me.”

“help me?” you dumbly echo. “help me how?”

“well,” he starts. “i noticed you forgot your earbuds today, and you just looked so sad and lost without them. how else are you going to get through your commute? and then i thought maybe i could do something about that. y’know, help you out, get you through the morning.”

“so you invaded my privacy just to tell me that you wanna dirty talk to me for the rest of my commute? is that what you mean? ‘cause if so, that’s pretty weird,” you reply, though your stray thoughts that dart around tell him that you’re actually considering his offer — it’s tempting, isn’t it? to give in, to let his deep voice get you all squirmy and needy, knowing he could be anyone in this subway car. still, your words make him laugh, because of course you’re deflecting right now. it’s okay, he hasn’t given you the full story quite yet.

“that’s only part of my offer, princess,” he starts. “i can read minds, yes, but i can also do…other things.”

oh, you’re really considering it now. maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to let him. his voice is nice, and maybe, just maybe, it’s kind of making you horny. after a deep, long breath, you gulp once, then, with curiosity dripping from your tone, you ask, “...like what?”

jackpot.

beomgyu’s high on a mix of adrenaline and dopamine, utterly giddy because he’s got you right where he wants you, where he needs you. he’s played his cards just right, shoved your worries to the side and drew out your curiosity enough that you’ve taken his bait. perfect, oh, this is perfect. he knew you’d be good for him.

“it would be much easier for me to show you.”

“then show me,” you immediately reply, heat flooding your cheeks at the sheer desperation in your voice. god, calm down. he hasn’t even done anything yet.

chuckling at your internal conflict, he decides not to comment. “tell me if you don’t like something. i’ll stop.” he watches as you slightly nod to yourself, a soft “okay,” echoing through your head and into his — thus, he sets his plan into action. 

something warm caresses your calf, but when you look down, there’s nothing there. your eyes widen — was that a hand? it definitely felt like one, the way it creeped up the back of your leg, calloused fingertips pressing into your skin. a shiver races down your spine. that had to have been him. 

“it was,” he confirms, then his voice is growing impossibly deeper, adopting that gruff edge that you love so much. “you want more, princess? i can give you more.”

another phantom hand skirts over your waist, dragging down over your hips to your right thigh, just to stop there. biting your bottom lip, you nod, hoping that whoever is in your head right now sees it, wherever he is. the hand moves to your inner thigh; despite how tightly pressed together they are, it skirts over your skin with ease, seemingly beneath your trousers. “i need words, pretty girl, or i might just stop right now. and we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

no, you wouldn’t, not at this point. the unbearable ache currently building in your core makes you want to cry; you haven’t felt this level of desperation in a while, and you need to be touched. you need it so fucking bad. 

“please.” the single word comes out meek, quiet. shame flushes your face, a fiery heat that spreads up to your ears and down your neck. 

you hear the way his breath shudders, causing your own hitch. “fuck, you’re so cute, but i need more than that. beg. beg for me to touch you.”

his voice — fuck, his voice is so deep, so dark and wanton. you wonder what he sounds like when he’s moaning, how he would sound if he fucked you, pounded you into the mattress so hard you saw stars. the image of a faceless stranger fucking you from behind, your back arched behind you and your face buried in the sheets, as he holds your wrists behind your back flits across the big screen of your mind. you shake it away, but the man in your head is already tutting. “use your words, sweetheart, not pictures — though i’d love to do that to you too. you’ve got quite the imagination on you.” 

beomgyu’s cock twitches in his boxers as you whine, frantic pleas bubbling up from the deepest, darkest recesses of your mind once he takes the sensation of his hand away from your thigh. you sound halfway dumb already, begging for his hands, his cock, his tongue — anything. you’ll take anything just, “please, sir. please touch me. need you to touch me so bad.”

you don’t even know who he is, yet you’re being so obedient, calling him sir, begging so sweetly for him — it’s like you’re begging straight into his ear. his heart swells at the thought, as does his cock. you sound so pretty, but he finds himself wishing he could hear these words come from your lips instead. 

“yeah? my little slut needs more?” he prods, laughing meanly when you whimper out a yes. “aw, ‘course she does. desperate whores always need more, don’t they? so greedy.”

you have to swallow down a whimper at that, focusing so intently on keeping quiet that your nails have dug into your palms deep enough to almost break skin. the pain seems to help keep you grounded — that is, until you feel the sting of a palm against your backside. you flinch in your seat, gasping sharply. the man sitting next to you glances over, but you only hang your head and shrink into yourself. he looks away. 

“focus, whore. you’re drawing too much attention to yourself.”

two hands are touching you now. one cupping your pussy, the other wrapped around your throat, pressing into the sides of your neck so you start to grow dizzy. the hand on your throat releases its grip to slide down to your chest, circling around one of your nipples before a thumb swipes over the pebbled flesh. your back arches off of your seat when the sensation morphs into that of lips, plush warmth enveloping your tit before the sharp bite of teeth interrupts. you inhale a shaky breath from your nose as lips return to soothe the sting. despite the hard press of your thighs, the hand on your pussy drags up and down your folds, dipping down to your entrance before dragging up to your clit. a tiny squeak sneaks up your throat before you’re masking it with a cough. 

“aren’t you just a sensitive little thing? so wet too,” he coos, shifting his briefcase over his lap to gain some semblance of friction. his fingertips tingle as if your wetness coats them right now. fuck, he’s hard. if it were up to him, you’d be taking his cock right now, moaning so prettily as he presses you up against the wall and fucks up into you, your legs giving out from under you because he’s just making you feel so good, isn’t he? never mind that, he has a job to do. “how about i just…”

two lithe fingers breach your walls while a thumb continues to slowly circle your clit, barely brushing over the sensitive bundle of nerves. you feel like you’re going insane, trying your best to hold still as his fingers begin to move inside you, curling up into your walls. searching, he’s searching for that spot inside you that will get you crying—

then he finds it. 

your knee jerks up, your legs falling open slightly before you’re pressing them closed again as he abuses it over and over again, crooking his fingers just right to find it with each thrust. your hips roll up into the sensation, stilling as soon as you realize that you’re squirming too much, being too obvious. people are starting to stare, calm down. calm the fuck down.

god, you don’t think you can. it’s too difficult to keep still with the way he’s finger-fucking you right now. with the way there’s lips suddenly circling your clit, sucking the pearl in so that his tongue can play with it. little kitten licks that make you want to scream and cry and beg for mercy because you don’t know if you can keep up this front of normalcy with the way he’s touching you.

it’s like he’s speaking directly into your ear right now, warm breath fanning over your earlobe, your cheek. “wanna see you fall apart, wanna see you lose it in front of all of these people, baby. bet you wanna cum right now, yeah? just wanna feel good, don’t even care if you quake and cry in public? you’re that fucking desperate for it?” 

you nod to yourself, eyes squeezing shut. you’re so close. oh god, you’re going to cum. you’re going to cum like a brainless whore in the middle of a fucking subway car. you’re sick. you’re fucking sick for enjoying this.

you’re just as bad as him, beomgyu decides. he knew you’d like what he could give you, he knew you needed him. it was just a matter of time before you realized that fact. that’s okay, because he needs you just as badly. it’s a carnal need, white hot in the center of his stomach — fuck, he’s obsessed with you. he wants you to be his forever. 

and beomgyu knows you’re close, but he’s not quite ready to give you what you want. 

“please, oh god. please let me cum. fuckfuckfuck— no, please don’t stop!” you cry as he slows the pace of his fingers. “please no, ‘m so close! no no no—”

“you drive me crazy, it’s only fair if i return the favor. makes it more fun.” ripping the sensation away from you completely, he watches you bottom lip tremble as you blink back tears, your body melting into your seat as the pleasure fades away. “now, now, don’t cry, sweetheart. i have something even better for you.”

a few seconds pass before something breaches your entrance, your walls stretching to their limit, yet the sting of pain never arrives. filled to the brim, you throw your head back against the window behind you. to others, you seem to just be resting your eyes, but the way your mouth falls open is not lost on beomgyu. he knows you can feel him everywhere, knows you can feel the way the head of his cock nearly touches your cervix, how it presses into every single sensitive spot inside you. he knows he’s big, but you take it like a champ, your hips grinding down into the seat, as if to bring him deeper inside you. what a little whore, his little whore. 

“y’feel that, pretty girl? feel my big fucking cock inside you?” he asks as your chest heaves, a feeble attempt in holding yourself together. “calm down, now. i’m gonna start moving, okay?”

he doesn’t wait for your response before he’s spoon-feeding you the sensation of his cock pulling out until nothing but his cockhead remains within your walls. a few seconds pass, then your begging returns. tearful, this time, fucking pathetic. he basks in the power that rushes through his entire being. you need him. you need him in order to feel good, and he loves that you do. he brings a hand down to adjust himself in his pants, hissing quietly at the ache that the action brings. he needs to fuck you right now. physically fuck you, none of this thought manipulation bullshit — but no, he has to be patient. he can be patient as long as it’s you. 

the subway is slowing down again, and he comes to the gross realization that he only has a few minutes before both of you must depart. dammit, he has to make this quick. 

meanwhile, you’re already halfway to your high just at the mere feeling of him inside you. as soon as his cock begins to move again, you’re choking back moans, head hanging low as your muscles tense and your hands press into your lap. you can feel him in your throat each time he thrusts back in, his thrusts growing faster and faster until he’s pounding into you. 

“fuck fuck fuckkkkk!” you wail, encouraging him to continue. in reality, your walls clench around nothing, but your mind paints a different picture. you almost beg for him to cum inside, but you cant find the words, too fucked out to think about anything else but the knot in your stomach that grows tighter with each passing second. “fuck, please. please, fuck i’m, nghh—”

imaginary fingers swipe across your clit, and you’re a goner. 

thighs quaking, your release coats your panties, walls fluttering, but the movement of his cock doesn’t stop until you’re begging for mercy. beomgyu almost cums in his pants at the depraved wails you emit, half-baked sentences pleading for him to “s-slow down, please. i can’t, no, i can’t — shit!”

finally — finally — he grants you reprieve from the onslaught of pleasure. your body slumps into your seat, your eyes shut as you begin to float back down to earth. the clack-clack-clack of the subway slows until it stops completely. the usual robotic voice announces his stop, but you seem so out of it that you don’t even register that you need to get off. 

“good job, baby. you put on quite the show for me,” he praises as he rises to his feet. luckily, he decided on wearing a longer coat today which he uses to cover up his raging hard-on. this has to be fate.

no response. with an excited gleam in his eye, he disconnects from your mind and moves towards you. looming above you, he drinks in the beads of sweat that have formed along your hairline, the wrinkles in your trousers where you gripped the fabric a wee bit too hard, your dreamy eyes and how they blink down at his black loafers before raising to meet his own. concern has painted itself across his features, his head tilting as he holds your bleary gaze.

“are you alright, miss? you look a bit ill.”

you blink once. twice. god, how are you so cute even after getting fucked so hard? he can barely control himself from blurting out who he is.

“what—what stop is this?” you ask him, eyes wide and red-rimmed from your earlier tears. he tells you, and he watches those same eyes widen. “oh shit, this is my stop!”

attempting to stand, you stumble straight into his chest. he catches you with gentle hands before he’s helping you steady yourself. your legs tremble like those of a newborn fawn, sexy yet terribly adorable. he gulps at the image of you unable to walk, legs so sore that you’re forced to let him dote on you, that forms inside his mind. later. that can come later, don’t get too hasty. 

“oh, you’re a bit shaky there,” he murmurs, a hand curling around you elbow when you stumble again. “are you sure you’re alright?”

“i’m f-fine, sorry for the trouble,” you reply with a polite, yet jittery, smile, stepping away from him. he wants to tell you to come closer again, he wants to smell your sweet perfume again, feel your warm skin beneath his fingertips. 

but good things come to those who wait.

“no worries.” with a charming smile, he shuffles beside you, until the two of you have exited with the rest of the crowd. he catches your wrist before you can get too far, and you turn to face him once more. afterglow looks wonderful on you. “it looks like we’re getting off at the same stop today, so would you like me to walk with you until you’re feeling a bit better? i’m sure some fresh air will do you good.”

you pause for a moment, hesitating. have you seen him somewhere before? you feel like you have. “i…that would be great, actually. thank you.”

“of course,” he nods, holding back a smirk. he can’t help the words that escape him next.

“lead the way, then…pretty girl.”

the way you look back at him with alarmed realization — even a hint of fear — causes a grin to split open his lips. you begin to sputter as you back away, but he merely follows with light, casual steps. “w-what, who—who are you—”

his smile grows knife-sharp. the door opens — it always does. 

“aw, c’mon, sweetheart,” he coos inside your mind, biting his lip as he watches your knees buckle. “who else could it be?”

© to agustdiv1ne. do not copy, repost, steal, and/or translate.

[taylorman2274]

We Care About You (Part VI)

The Traveler finally gets to say what they wanted to say to [Y/N].

Content Warning(s): N/A

Notes: SAGAU; GN!Reader;

Word Count: 0.9k

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"You're still looking stressed, [Y/N]. Are you sure you're okay?"

You looked up to see the Traveler's concerned face. "Oh, I'm fine, I guess. Sorry. I just really wasn't expecting something like this to happen."

"Paimon understands. Paimon would be scared too if she found herself summoned to another world."

You slowly nodded. You found yourself to be a lot more calm than you were roughly three minutes ago, but that didn't mean you weren't nervous. After all, you were talking with two people who are only known to exist inside of a game. Purely pixels on a screen. And yet, here you were having a genuine conversation with them.

"Speaking of which, you said you wanted to talk to me about your future journey?"

"Not mine, ours," the Traveler shook their head. "It's our future journey."

"No, it is yours," you rebutted, confidence rising within you. "I'm not the one traveling around Teyvat, you are."

"But you are with me, are you not?" the Traveler calmly refuted, crossing their arms. "You're the one who's been guiding me and all the others, right?"

Aaaaaaaaaaand your confidence is gone.

You nervously rubbed your hands together and avoided looking at the Traveler. "Is that how you see it? I'm... guiding you?"

Paimon tilted their head. "Yeah...? What, you don't see it that way?"

You hesitated for a second before you finally shook your head.

"Then what do you see it as?"

You were now very afraid. You wanted to tell them your honest thoughts, but you worried how they would react to it. Would they be angry? Would they threaten you to stop? Would they start fighting you?

... ... ...

...Would they kill you? Was this all just an act to lower your guard?

You gulped, tugging at the neckline of your shirt. "I kind of see it as..." you sighed, looking back down at the stone table.

"...Possession."

You waited for a response but received none. The worst kind of response you can get.

"I felt like I was manipulating your actions without your consent," you continued, your voice barely audible over the sounds of the night. "That's why I tried to make things better. But even then, you still fought back. I thought that you hated me. I thought that you brought me here to get rid of me..."

"...But if you see my actions as 'guiding' you..." you looked up. "...Then what does that make me in your eyes?"

Both the Traveler and Paimon had concentrated expressions on their faces. You waited for either of their expressions to change, but you were also afraid of what the new one would become. Would they be satisfied with your answer? Would they be furious? You didn't want to know. So instead, you put your arms on the table and rested your forehead on top of them.

If you didn't want to use your eyes, you'd have to use your ears, instead. You thought of all the audible reactions you would expect to hear. A slam of fists or hands, yelling and shouting, the sound of a sword being drawn.

Or worse of all, silence. You can rarely tell what a person is thinking whenever they are silent.

...That's what scares you the most.

You waited with bated breath for a response and thankfully it wasn't long before you got one. First, you heard the sound of fabric scraping against stone. Next, you heard the shifting of sand. Lastly, you heard footsteps growing louder by the step.

The Traveler was walking over to you.

At this point, you wanted to do something instead of being vulnerable to a potential threat. But deep down, you knew that it was useless. You couldn't flee because it would take the Traveler mere seconds to catch up with you. You couldn't fight because you knew that you had no shot of going against someone who has gone toe-to-toe with gods.

You are vulnerable. You are weak. You are useless. You are worthless.

...You are going to die.

Tears began to well up in your eyes, but you fought the urge to cry. You probably looked pathetic to them already.

You heard a couple of more steps before they stopped. They were standing right behind you.

Silence.

...

... ...

... … …

*SHING*

...

... ...

... … …

*WHOOSH*

...

... ...

... … …

*CLANG*

...?

...You didn't expect that noise. It came from your left.

You turned towards the noise and spotted the Traveler's dull sword.

"...Huh?"

Suddenly, you felt their arms wrap loosely around your neck.

You immediately stiffened your spine and brought your hands on top of theirs. However, before you could throw them off your body, you felt their head rest on your shoulder. Then they stopped.

... ... …

...Now you were confused. What were they doing?

... ... …

...Wait...

... ... …

...Is this... a hug...?

Sure enough, the more you thought about it, the more you believed that the Traveler was hugging you.

...But why?

"To me... in my eyes..."

... ... …

"You're my friend..."

The Traveler slightly tightened their hug.

"And I wouldn't know what to do without you..."

... ... …

You've finally relaxed.

And now that you are, there's one thing that you'd like to do.

Slowly, to not startle the Traveler, you got up from your seat and turned towards them. You could tell that they were wondering why you got up.

They stopped wondering when you went up and hugged them back. It took a while, but they wrapped your arms around your back in a friendly embrace.

"I wouldn't know what to do without you either."

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THE END

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Author's Notes: And that's the end of that! Hope everybody enjoyed the ending!

New Author’s Notes: I added an epilogue to this series. You can either treat this as the ending or the latter. Whichever best fits your interests.

Thanks again for all who liked, reblogged, and/or commented on this little series. I appreciate each and every one of you!

[vaugarde]

havent read tbc but i think its so funny how shadowsight seems to be popular to the people i follow just because “the narrative treats him like all the female characters do so hes an honorary girlie”