#I REFUSE TO TYPE THIS INTO A GODDAMN TRANSLATOR | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

albatmobile · 7 months

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a conundrum of redheaded proportions pt. 2

the second and final part of this ask!

𓅪 Rated: E | 6.5k includes: misunderstandings, confessions, selectively mute!reader, blow jobs, vaginal sex, deep throating, praise kink, spitroasting, begging, lots of smut y'all ur welcome, voyeurism, jealousy, Justice league AU

𓅪 previous hookup fem!reader x jason todd, eventual fem!reader x roy harper, eventual fem!reader x jason todd x roy harper

my Hero OC! Cardinal comes from this series: tumblr [1] [2] || ao3

It seems like fate that not even three days later Batman’s listing you off with Jason and him to lead a low-stakes mission with some of the younger, noob League members.

“Seems like we keep bumping into each other,” Roy teases you lightly before your squad’s debrief.

You quirk your head questioningly and make to apologize as if you’ve actually bumped into him.

“No, I just meant the other night,” he trails off unsurely, wondering if it’s too taboo to bring up you seeing him naked and hard in the hallway.

You don’t say anything, obviously, but you hardly even move.

Shit, he fucked up. Again.

“Er,” Roy clears his throat subconsciously, “anyway, sounds like it should be a pretty easy in-and-out type of deal, right?”

You nod bashfully and give a lame thumbs up.

Roy watches Jason sign something to you with a cheeky tinge to his movements and you respond with a flurry of sharp motions. None of it being anything Roy comes remotely close to understanding.

Roy clears his throat and both of you stop with your hands mid-sign, faces nearly touching through the armor of your masks.

It’s Roy’s turn to quirk his head.

“She said she,” Jason starts out in an obvious lie that has you instantly flicking him off. “I didn’t even say anything yet, beautiful.”

Put aside that Jason and you had just completely left Roy out of the conversation, now Jason’s giving you nicknames?

Fuck this.

“Uh,” Roy barely contains the urge to punch Jason in the stomach, knowing it’d only be in vain with Jason’s insanely padded bulletproof vest.

You huff in aggravation, looking from Jason to Roy.

“Fine, I won’t say anything.”

Okay, now Roy really feels like punching Jason. He’s supposed to be helping Roy hook up with you, not trying to steal you away for himself.

Roy’s feeling the second-hand heat from the glare you’re undoubtedly shooting Jason’s way. He can’t help but feel like you’re talking about him and he really wants to know why Jason would be refusing to tell him.

You smack at his arm and clearly sign something before motioning your head toward Roy.

“What’d she say?”

You shake your head in your hand.

Jason pats Roy on the back. “First off, just because someone’s translating doesn’t mean you talk to her through me, dumbass,” Jason says as he motions to you. Roy gulps as he follows the movement. “Second of all, she said she doesn’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

Consider it gotten.

“Yeah, no,” Roy lies, sheepishly tugging his trucker hat lower. “No wrong idea from me, that’s for sure. Nada, baby.” God, can he shut the fuck up? “Sorry,” he says finally.

You shake your head hesitantly and look down at your hands like you’re unsure of something. When your head pops back up, you look to Jason before reaching over and squeezing Roy’s hand like a reassurance that you aren’t mad.

“Shit babe, you should already know you can squeeze more than that,” Roy spews. He slaps a freckled hand over his mouth as soon as his word vomit catches up to him, but by then, it’s too late.

If you weren’t mad before, you definitely seem upset now.

It’s as if his words electrocute you back to reality, jolting the realization that you’d actually gone ahead with the action.

“Jesus,” Jason shakes his head like he can’t believe either of you, “it’s like watching a goddamned train wreck in slow motion.”

Roy, personally, can’t believe he keeps fucking up so tremendously with you.

It comes as a relief to all three of you when your ride shows up and the mission begins, preventing any further awkward mishaps.

𓅪𓅪𓅪

Jason takes control of the ship, sitting in the pilot’s seat before discreetly signing something to you.

Roy hears you ‘tch’ before you sign something that Jason doesn’t need to translate for him. Without another word, well, sign, you saunter out of the cockpit, throwing one last look over your shoulder at Roy before walking to the back of the vessel.

It’s not fair.

It’s really not when your waist goes in so perfectly and your ass flares out unmistakably. Each sway comes with the cruel reminder he can’t touch it. He can’t touch you.

“God, she fucking hates me,” Roy sighs, slumping over in the jump seat. “God, I keep fucking up. I keep acting like a fucking pervert in front of her. It’s not fucking like me. I don’t know what’s going on,” he groans in frustration. “It’s like I’ve got zero fucking game around her and it’s really starting to piss me off. I can pick up any girl, but her? She’s seriously fucking me up, like, in the head and stuff, dude,” Roy cements his statement by jamming his index finger against his skull psychotically.

Jason clicks on the autopilot and gets up to shut the cockpit door, looking around to make sure no one’s overhearing them as he does so. When he sits back down, he removes Roy’s finger, which still remains against his forehead.

“You look and sound like you’re on fucking crack again, Roy.”

“It was heroin, but thanks. Always a class act to joke about addiction,” he mutters.

Jason can barely contain his eye roll. “Is it so hard to just, I don’t know,” Jason opens his arms dramatically like it should be the most obvious thing in the world to him, “be yourself? Don’t you think maybe, at the very least, that being yourself is a bit better than this weird, lame shit you’re pulling now?”

Roy sits there, definitely not pouting, as he takes in his best friend’s words.

Jason knows the real him and still lets him hit, so maybe…

“You’re right,” Roy sighs. He slumps back in his seat, exhaling dramatically enough for Jason to roll his eyes again. “If anyone’s gonna help me understand her, it’s you.” As much as he hates to admit it, Jason’s the only one who can offer him any sort of sage advice right now. “What should I do?” he asks.

Roy’s expectant puppy-dog-look has Jason milliseconds away from clicking the eject button and leaving Roy to figure shit out on his own. While he does eye the button, his hands remain on his knees as he takes in his friend’s desperate demeanor.

“Consider this a mitzvah,” Jason says monotonously, finally deciding to divulge Roy. “I can tell you straight up that if all you want to do is fuck her, you’re going to keep fucking up because she’s not like that.”

Well, Roy definitely hadn’t been expecting that.

“All the two of you did is fuck,” Roy points out saltily. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten how you ditched me to go get your dick sucked.”

“Roy,” Jason rubs at the tension steadily forming between his brows, “what did we just talk about?”

Roy puts up his hands in surrender easily. “I swear, it’s not my fault. It’s like my filter’s completely gone,” he complains.

“You’ve never had one to begin with,” Jason states plainly.

“Fine,” Roy gives in, motioning for Jason to continue.

“So, it wasn’t just a one-time thing like I told you. It’s a bit more complicated,” Jason says, leaving Roy’s eyes to bulge. “We’d been talking ever since her split with Kate, but I didn’t want to take advantage of her. She told me she rushed into things with Kate, so she wanted to take things slow.” Jason shrugs. “You know, not like jumping into something right away. Anyway, I understood, so, in the end, I just got to know her.”

Roy shoots a knowing brow but doesn’t take the bait this time. “You seem to be forgetting I’ve also known her for years.”

“Knowing someone and knowing of someone are two different things. You and I both know that, Roy,” Jason points out. “When the time finally came that she was ready, probably like a year later, that’s the day I ditched you.”

“What happened after that?” Roy asks curiously.

“It was a one-time thing in the sense that it was only one day,” Jason says. His attention shifts to the closed cockpit door as if it might somehow magically open. “After that, I never pushed and she never reached out like that again. We both got consumed in missions. When we’d finally get around to catching up, she’d act all shy again with me.”

Jason almost sounds embarrassed about the whole ordeal. He clears his throat, moving to busy himself with the controls, seemingly to signal the conversation was officially over with.

Roy can’t help but think back to how the two of you acted earlier… like you guys were close.

Fuck.

He mentally berates himself for getting in the middle of his friend’s… uh, what exactly are you to Jason? His friend with benefits?

No.

Love interest?

Roy chances a peak at Jason out of the corner of his eyes, but with his Red Hood mask on, it’s impossible to get a read on the stoic man.

This can’t be Jason’s way of telling Roy to back off, right?

“Tell me to back off and I will,” Roy says.

Jason’s helmet remains facing forward. “I could say the same for you.”

Just like that, the topic gets dropped for good and Roy’s no closer to any sort of clarity.

𓅪𓅪𓅪

Just like Batman had promised, the mission was get-in, get-out.

The swamps of Louisiana refused to be left behind as its grime sticks around long after the hostile info swap with Swamp Thing.

By the time you’re loading the dirty mutant teens back into the ship, Jason’s already calling dibs on the shower. You make sure everyone’s buckled securely into their seats before heading to the cockpit to let Jason know it’s safe for liftoff.

Your interrogating skills could use some work, Jason signs.

He can’t explicitly see it, but he knows your brow is quirked under your mask. You mean lighting him on fire wasn’t protocol? you sign back.

“The fuck are you two jabbering on about?”

Roy’s voice visibly startles you and your hands still defensively in front of your chest where they’d been signing.

“Just rehashing the mission,” Jason says. He shrugs, moving to flip a few switches on the control panel.

“You mean how she lit that oversized weed bush up like a Christmas tree?”

You snort.

He’s not usually like this. Jason looks at you before tilting his head Roy’s way. He’s trying, though, Jason signs.

You wave him off with a huff, You’re delusional.

If you’d just fucking talk to him, you’re expecting his usual response to your concern, so you’re definitely not expecting what he signs next, you’d see you’re both being delusional.

You flip him off for the second time on the mission before slipping back into your seat in the main cabin so Jason can take off.

“Women.” Is the only explanation Roy gets before the ship shoots off into the boggy, yellow sky.

Once the ship is set to fly on autopilot, Jason makes good on his dibs. His commanding boots stomp down the cabin aisle, shaking the entire aircraft as he does before coming to a halt in front of the bathroom.

“The Justice League requires an immediate debrief to be written once a mission's complete,” Red Hood's robotic voice warbles menacingly. “You have until we’re finished with this report to wash the mud from your acne-covered faces. Take any longer and your ass will be spending the ride back to base with shampoo in your hair.” His gaze shifts across the rows of seats to solidify his point to the scared prepubescent mutants who’ve yet to move. “Might wanna get a move on if you plan to rinse and repeat.”

His helmet snaps your way, gesturing you to join Roy and him up front.

You shouldn’t scare them like that, you berate him. It’s mean.

“Sorry,” he says, though he doesn’t sound it. “Thought I was, at the very least, being gentlemanly considering I just handed you private shower access.”

He doesn’t bother with signing once you’re both back in the cockpit, though you seem more focused on Roy. Even when Jason removes his helmet, you hardly react.

Truth be told, your attention is making Roy extremely nervous.

He’s already been overthinking, well, everything, but it’s worse now.

He keeps second-guessing every movement he makes. Every single word he says feels wrong no matter how long he languishes over the right thing to say.

Case in point:

“Private showers?” Roy wiggles in his seat, similarly to how Lian so often would in her highchair.

“Yeah,” is all Jason says, with a pointed look your way. “You’re welcome. Now let’s fill out this corporate bullshit so I can get Swamp Thing’s things out of my crevices.”

Roy snorts when you shiver distastefully at Jason’s choice of words.

To his surprise, Jason hands you a notepad and you begin furiously scribbling out your responses.

Meanwhile, Jason busies himself with recording Roy’s and his recollections of the mission. By the time they’re done recording, you’ve blown through six pages all filled to the brim with information. For some reason, he thinks it’s completely normal to give you a thumbs up because of this and mentally smacks himself when you respond by slamming the book shut before he can see it.

The debrief goes over smoothly, with Roy only managing to make somewhat of an ass of himself, which he considers a new personal best.

The ‘somewhat’ quickly turns to ‘a complete’ when he decides to say, “You know, for someone who doesn’t talk a lot, you sure have a lot to say.”

Jason makes a hasty ‘abort’ gesture, but it’s too late.

Roy’s fucked up for the fucking gazillionth time with you.

You don’t even react. Instead, you gesture for your phone from the ship’s safe. Jason hands it over easily enough, though he’s obviously not exactly sure where this is going.

Roy swallows heavily, focusing his attention on the setting sun, which casts a golden sheen on the clouds that pass by. He tries to block out your loud typing, but the fingertips of your costume tap thunderously against your screen until it’s all he hears.

He thinks you’ll ignore him the rest of the way back until you’re suddenly flipping the screen around his way.

Jason makes a face at Roy as if to say, ‘I told you she’s into you.’

After chatting back and forth, Roy notices you shifting uncomfortably.

Jason seems to understand immediately. “Roy, show her how to turn on the showers,” Jason insists. Roy gawks at his best friend, not missing the hidden meaning. Roy’s about to protest, not wanting to make you uncomfortable, but you’re already up and nodding to the back of the plane. “And, for fuck’s sake,” Jason huffs under his breath to Roy, “don’t make me wait too long.”

On the shower, or…?

Roy shakes his head, placing a delicate hand on your back to guide you into the pretty clean ship bathroom, considering how many people had just used it.

Before he loses the courage, Roy strips and turns to give you a full view of his bobbing, pink-tipped cock. He watches you hesitate to remove your mask as if it’d been a secondhand reaction. Ultimately, you do pull it off, shyly biting your lip as he drinks in your godly beauty as if it’s the first time.

You slink out of the rest of your costume at a tantalizingly slow pace as you step closer and closer to Roy.

“Think we should turn on the showers to drown this out?”

You nod with half-lidded eyes as your hands slowly descend down his chest.

The faucet squeaks as Roy fiddles with a good temperature, but you seem completely preoccupied with studying his cock. Your legs obscenely spread into a squat as you come face-to-face with his bobbing erection.

Roy has to restrain himself from smacking you in the face with his dick and forcing it down your fuckable throat for fear of scaring you off.

You seem content to stroke him at a gentle pace, with your firm grip exposing and concealing his tip as his foreskin stretches around each stroke. You draw a dribble of precome and curiously flick at it with the tip of your tongue. Roy suddenly surges forward, grabbing a fist full of your hair to cushion your head as he pushes you completely out of the spray and against the shower wall.

You release a small gasp before you’re back on his cock, this time with more fervor. Your tongue teases along his length, audibly slurping up the mess of spit you’ve left behind as you retreat.

“God, this is so embarrassing,” Roy whimpers, hips sputtering against your swollen lips. You quirk a brow at him as you pull off a move that leaves his knees shaky. “You’re so good to me, baby. There’s no way I’m gonna last, fuck.” You’ve started to deep throat him again and it’s all too much.

You’re too pretty and his one-off session with Jason did nothing to increase his rusty stamina. After a minute, he pulls out of your wet, hot mouth and spurts loads of thick come across your face and expectant tongue.

Absolutely sinful.

Once he’s breathing normally, he helps you stand up and begins babbling the moment your hand slips into his.

“I never thanked you for saving me from Enchantress of all villains, by the way,” he says when he finally comes down from the high. He’s not expecting you to respond. He just wants to get it off his chest.

You short-circuit, staring at him with an owlish gaze that leaves him mesmerized.

Roy thinks he’ll never get used to looking into your eyes. The stunning mix of colors so unique to you, private to only him and, well, the rest of the redheads in the tower, but it’s something Roy can deal with if it means he gets to hold you close again.

Your mouth quivers and he thinks he’s said something wrong until you speak.

“I’ve had the biggest crush on you since we met,” you say. Roy’s mouth goes dry as a blush steadily creeps across your plump cheeks. He watches as you subconsciously tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. “I thought you hated me, though,” you admit. Suddenly, your eyes flick down to where his dick is still twitching in the aftermath and add, “Okay, well. Yeah, I just sucked you off, but still.”

Your voice is sweet, soft and understated; everything Roy never knew he needed and more.

“Cap,” Roy says, leaving your head to tilt comically in confusion. The redhead bursts into laughter at the action. “I mean, you’re lying, babe.”

He hears a quiet gasp from you before you dramatically shake your head no, then seem to remember you’ve already revealed your voice and speak, “You intimidated me.”

Roy laughs again, “Me? Intimidate you? Oh, damn. Babe, please, you’re like the definition of intimidating. I kept thinking I was fucking up and that you’d gotten the wrong impression of me.” When he finally catches his breath, he shakes his head like he finally understands what’s been going on. “I definitely should’a had Jason hook us up earlier.” He pulls you back under the spray, murmuring with your face between his hands, “I’ve wanted you for so long, beautiful. You have no idea.”

“I,” your ethereal voice cracks slightly from underuse. You clear your throat, “I always mistook your staring as you not liking me. Well, until the other night, then it finally clicked.”

He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to hearing you speak.

“You mean when I got a hard-on at the sight of you alone?”

He watches you swallow with greedy eyes.

“Yes.”

He groans at your answer, feeling his restraint slipping again with each passing moment under your spell. “You gonna keep talking to me when we fuck, or are we gonna need some hand signals?”

You bite at your lower lip, causing Roy’s dick to twitch back to life in response. “I could talk to you forever, Roy,” you respond honestly.

His hips buck helplessly into the small amount of air that lies between the two of you.

“Say my name again.”

It’s a command you give in to easily; over and over.

His gruff, gravelly voice is nothing like you’d ever heard on a mission before and it’s driving you crazy. Your clit twitches on command as his hands tighten into fists. It’s as if to hold himself back from taking you right here and now.

“Roy,” you tease, closing the remaining distance. Your chest squishes against his armor, eyes flicking up at him through your long lashes as if you don’t already have him completely wrapped around your finger. “I need you to fuck me.”

“You…” he trails off in a daze, searching your eyes for any signs of hesitation, “You need me to?”

In response, your eyes slide into slits and he still finds none. Your fingers trickle over his freckled shoulders, twirling around them tantalizingly slow like a promise that this is real.

“I can’t come on my fingers just by thinking about you anymore,” you breathe, shaking your head lightly. He watches as you bite at your lip again. You’re so fucking sexy, holy shit. “Not since I saw you that one night,” you admit. Roy’s dick twitches eagerly in anticipation of what’s to come. “It’s not enough anymore. I need you, I need the real thing, Roy,” you’re practically moaning as you breathe his name against his lips. “Please, don’t make me keep begging.”

“Oh?” Roy’s fiery eyebrow quirks upward as a dominating confidence settles over him. “I think that’s exactly what you’re going to keep doing, baby.” Another twitch as you gasp from his words alone. “I want you to beg me until you’re about to come,” your mouth parts as lust overcomes you, visibly filling your eyes, “then I want you to beg me to stick my cock back in your wet cunt because you’re such a needy slut for me, aren’t you?” You unwittingly nod, completely enraptured by his raw sexual energy. “I want you to rut against it like the fucking whore I know you are until I finally give in and fuck you. Then and only then, are you allowed to come. Got it, princess?”

Your eyes are wide, feeling slick already leaking out onto your inner thighs. “Yes, sir.”

“Oh,” he groans, allowing his hands to trickle down from the small of your waist to the dip right above your infamous ass, “you know exactly what you’re doing to me. Don’t you, baby?” Your fingers unclasp his remaining gear, stepping back slightly as it falls to the floor before closing the distance again. He feels your heart ramming up against your ribcage as you press into his now bare chest. “You’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” he asks. Roy watches as your wide eyes flicker between his, searching their verdant depths helplessly and chuckles darkly, “You don’t have to say anything, princess. I got you. I’ll take real good care of you, I promise.”

You seem shocked that he understood your nonverbal cue and, to be honest, so is Roy.

His dick is aching, practically humping your thick thigh with every movement of your swollen lips keeps causing it to bob up and down. Before he can stick it in, however, there’s a wiggle and twist on the bathroom doorknob.

You both panic, looking at each other with wide eyes, when you realize that neither of you had bothered to lock the door.

Roy scrambles to hide you, fully erect cock facing the intruder, only to sag in relief when he sees that it’s just Jason.

“It’s just me,” Jason says. The raven holds his hands up in faux-surrender. He hardly seems startled by your and Roy’s naked state. If anything, he looks pleased? “Was kind of hoping Roy’s shitty stamina would mean you’d be finished by now, but I refuse to sit in my sweat any longer,” he says nonchalantly, however his eyes flick to your bare face with the hints of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Shut up,” you say with no malice behind it. You find yourself blushing and duck in the safety of the junction of Roy’s freckle-spattered neck for solace.

Jason’s eyebrows shoot up briefly at your verbal response before he schools his surprise. “Well, don’t let me interrupt.”

Jason then begins the motions of sudsing up his body, brow quirking when he feels the continued weight of your eyes on his movements. Roy would be pissed if he weren’t busy staring, too.

Roy’s jaw nearly drops when you place your hands against the shower wall, partially under Jason’s spray, partially under the one that's already on next to it.

You arch into the wall, wiggling your hips teasingly for Roy to come closer.

Jason’s eyes flicker down out of the corner of his eyes, watching as Roy watches him. Whether for support or permission, Jason doesn’t know, but he holds Roy's gaze, nonetheless.

Roy’s cock bobs enthusiastically in response, wondering if this was all some fucked-up sex dream he was going to wake up from. Roy places gentle yet firm hands on your hips as he draws you backward against his erection. He paces himself, rubbing his tip against your slick entrance as his hands grope your ass in awe.

Jason's hard, spending a little too much time pumping his cock to spread his body wash for Roy not to notice. The way your head is pressed against the tiles keeps your face out of the spray but also means that you can see both Roy and Jason.

You huff, arching your back even further

“Talk to me, baby,” Roy practically purrs, grabbing a handful of your ass as his cock continues to rub against your slick folds. It’s enough friction to leave your legs shaking with want.

Your half-lidded eyes sear into Roy’s lower abdomen like a siren’s call and, boy, is Roy ready to go overboard.

“Please, Roy,” you moan as you press your ass against his hard cock. You wriggle backward, hoping to gain more traction, but he continues to taunt you with the promise of his heavy heat. “I want you to fuck me.”

“You need me to wreck that pretty little cunt of yours, baby?”

You nod, biting at the corner of your lip. Jason curses somewhere beside the two of you and it’s all the encouragement Roy needs to put on a show.

He drags his hands up your wet, lithe body as you perch so beautifully for him to take. He fondles your tits as he covers more and more your body with his own until his mouth is directly next to your left ear. On your right, Jason watches, emerald eyes lit with barely retrained want.

Roy smirks at his friend before turning his attention back to you. His deep voice rumbles lowly against the shell of your ear, “Beg.”

“Fuck,” you whimper, turning your head to the other side to capture his lips with yours. “I need you to fill me up, I’m so wet for you, Roy.” To prove it, you press backward into his erection- as if Roy wasn’t already restraining himself from fucking your cunt full of his come. “My pussy’s aching for you, please,” your sinful voice begs.

Jason’s remained entirely quiet up until this point. “Finger her,” he commands.

Roy barely holds himself back from shivering under Jason’s commanding tone, leaving him no choice but to obey. He teases you, tickling along your labia before briefly teasing your leaking entrance. Your mouth opens and produces a porn-worthy moan, only to remain open and empty when Roy finally reaches your clit.

Jason bites his lip, looking between you and Roy for permission to oblige to your body’s reaction. Roy looks down at you, but your tongue has already lulled out to accept Jason’s girthy cock.

Roy shifts the position so you’re all in between the two shower sprays. You’re bent over, in between the two muscular men, with your face eye-level with Jason’s bobbing cock. Meanwhile, Roy’s soft hands hold your hips steady as he lines himself back up with your entrance.

Once you’re all settled, you waste no time in surging forward to swallow around Jason’s impressive length. Spit trails down the sides of your mouth as you force him deeper down your throat.

Your muffled moans and sighs are all the encouragement Roy needs.

He whines pathetically when the tip of his cock finally breeches your tight entrance, waiting briefly as you become accustomed to his girth.

Your voice is godly, so it’s no wonder that the little pleased noises you make are heavenly. Your breathy moans echo across the small room as Roy finally takes what he’s always wanted.

The wet heat of your cunt draws the most pathetic noises out of Roy as he slowly fucks his tip into you with a fluid motion of his freckled hips. Each shallow thrust leaves you aching and pressing back into him to beg for more.

“So good for us, aren’t you, baby?” Roy bites his lip impishly as he meets Jason’s half-lucid gaze head-on. Roy’s tip catches deliciously against your twitching cunt, forcing out a wanton moan that vibrates up to the very base of Jason’s cock.

Without warning, Jason groans as he releases your hair.

Roy looks questioningly at him before he’s pulled forward by his fiery hair to meet Jason’s eager lips. Roy can tell when you’ve begun sucking again because Jason’s lips become sloppier and more aggressive as they mesh against Roy’s chapped ones. When they break apart for air, Jason’s hand remains firm in Roy’s long, fiery locks. He pants, leaning his forehead against Roy’s while you eagerly work your body in between them.

Jason takes it upon himself to punish your ass cheeks while Roy uses his free hand to tangle in your tresses and tug. All the while, the men remain connected by their violent clashing of spit and teeth above your pliant arch. You feel your inhibitions deliciously slipping with every passing moment.

For once, you’re not being quiet.

If anything, it seems like Jason knew the only way to shut up your sultry whines was with his cock. The thought alone nearly sends Roy over the edge again.

He breaks away from his raven-haired best friend to grab desperately for your swinging tits. His gentle hands squeeze and jiggle them with his thrusts slowing.

“Don’t wanna come again, baby,” he whimpers, flicking your nipples so that you unleash an equally pathetic noise.

Jason smirks. “Fuck that.”

You get no further warning before Jason’s calloused hand comes down on your ass cheek. His thick cock catches the majority of your pleasured scream, though not completely. Roy rubs the spot, completely hypnotized at the red shape forming across your skin, then quickly pulls away and motions for Jason to repeat the erotic action.

With each hit, your moan reverberates around his cock deliciously.

A particularly hard smack forces Jason deeper into your pliant throat until he’s forced to grab a fistful of your hair to control the pace.

You feel entirely filled. Your eyes roll to the back of your head at the realization as you allow your biggest crushes to use your body in the best way.

“Yeah,” Jason says darkly. At the same time, he grabs your chin, squishing your cheeks in the process as he ruthlessly fucks against your swollen lips. His voice is a dark timbre that shakes every particle of your being. “Take that shit, you fucking slut,” Jason hisses. He wraps his hand around your hair again as he reaches forward to smack your ass.

Your hips stutter as you whimper against the dominant pace of Jason’s hips against your mouth. “Fuck,” you whimper.

His eyes contain an emerald ire, as if he’s just barely restraining himself from pushing Roy aside and fucking you like he knows you like. You can’t help but stutter forward, body spasming in Roy’s secure grasp as your orgasm releases a euphoric, chilling heat all across your body.

Jason removes his dick, moving to support your weight with Roy as they savor every wrecked moan that crackles from your abused throat.

They only allow you to recover for so long before Jason smacks his veiny cock against the side of your mouth for you to open again. “Just like that,” he rumbles your name out lowly. “Good girl.” He nods at Roy who follows his lead and smacks your ass, reveling in how your abused cheeks jiggle salaciously in response.

Jason drags his cock in and out of your swollen, spit-covered lips a few more times before he maneuvers himself into a crouch.

“What are you-" you start, but his gentle fluttering against your clit cuts you off immediately.

His rough hand instantly stifles your wrecked moan. “I know you can come again,” Jason says, drawing another pathetic weep from you. “That’s right, you’re gonna show Roy what a slut you are, aren’t you?” Your thighs unwittingly snap shut around Jason’s skillful fingers, only to instantly be forced back open with a dark smirk. “There we go.”

His dark green eyes capture yours as he slurps at his slick-covered fingers before shoving them down your throat.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head.

He chuckles darkly, looking between his two-fucked out partners with a sadistic glee only Jason could harbor. He shoves his calloused fingers further down your throat, earning a low moan that vibrates straight down to his cock. You wriggle impatiently and he gets the message. Jason’s free hand snakes teasingly down your panting torso to tickle your pulsating clit while his other hand fucks into your obedient throat.

With his expert fingers, it’s no surprise that you come again.

Your wobbly knees nearly give out to crumble down onto Roy’s dirty, discarded uniform on the floor below you. Luckily, he catches you before you can come back into contact with the disgusting swamp muck.

Roy forces his dick back inside your overly-sensitive cunt without missing a beat.

“Roy!” you exclaim as the overwhelming yet welcomed stretch starts up again. Your thighs have yet to stop shaking, but if anything, it only makes Roy fuck into you with reckless, primal abandon.

His freckled hips snap in and out of your doubled-over body at a toe-curling pace while Jay pumps his cock at the desperate display.

Roy doesn’t last much longer after your second orgasm.

The lewd sound of his dick squelching in and out of your slick-filled pussy, coupled with the clenching of your fluttering heat does him in.

What Roy doesn’t expect is for Jason to watch him come so carnally.

“You good?” Jason’s voice rumbles lowly like a predator closing in on his prey. It draws another spurt of come from his sore dick with a pained groan.

“Fuck, Jay,” he pants as he looks between you and his friend.

Roy tiredly crumbles to the dirty uniforms below with you still in his arms. You willingly follow, too exhausted to remain standing.

“Don’t think I’d mind seeing the two of you like this again,” Jason says. He stands from his crouch, staring down at the two of you with a domineering demeanor. “Shit. Yes,” he groans when you and Roy move toward his thick cock in transfixed unison. “So fucking good.”

You and Roy share Jason nicely, taking turns licking lewdly up and down his veiny length. It takes a moment to find a rhythm, but once you do, you’re eagerly sucking and exchanging heavy-lidded glances with the redhead beside you.

Roy takes over, flicking and moving his tongue obscenely for your pleasure. When he pulls off, he spits onto Jason’s dick, causing it to bob up and down in arousal. You waste no time in slurping it up, using it as lube to work Jason’s cock deeper down your throat. This, however, only lasts so long before Roy’s grabbing the back of your head to pull you in for a messy, toe-curling kiss.

He stares down at Roy’s noisy slurps, then at your teasing flicks with barely concealed dark want hiding behind his slitted emerald eyes.

He’s rough with both of you, taking a fistful of each of your hair to intermittently draw each of you down onto his cock, one after the other. If no one had heard you getting the best orgasms of your life earlier, they were now definitely hearing Jason’s gasps and curses clear as day.

You feel Roy’s eyes on you the entire time. Normally you’d be anxious with his undivided attention, but right now, it only spurs you to suck in Jason’s length deeper. You moan around his cock, feeling tears trickle out onto your cheeks as you finally manage to reach his hairy base.

Roy’s hands flit across your body, finally landing on your tits as he leaves open-mouthed kisses along your sensitive neck. You instinctively lean into the touch, eyes rolling to the back of your head, when Jason slowly begins to rock in and out of your throat.

They’re both unable to tear their eyes away from the show you’re putting on, but it does stop Roy’s breathy question, “You like having both of us sucking your dick, Jay?”

“Shut up, Harper,” Jason groans as he halfheartedly glares down at the redhead.

All at once, your deep-throating ceases as Jason replaces your mouth with Roy’s.

You watch as Roy gets a far more aggressive treatment as if they’ve done this before. Jason’s brows furrow together as his long fingers regain their grip on Roy’s fiery tresses before snapping far down into his throat at a brutal pace.

You gasp at the sight and are even more surprised they both falter to look at you.

“I-" What do you even say? ‘This is the hottest shit I’ve ever seen and I want both of you in me at the same time’?

“Well,” Roy smirks wolfishly after he pulls off of Jason’s red-tipped cock with a lewd ‘pop,' “I’m down.” Jason’s biting down painfully on his lower lip, cock gripped strongly in his fist as he wills himself not to come from your words alone. Seeing this, Roy, of course, doesn’t let him off the hook so easily. “Would you want that, Jay? You want to feel that wet, tight cunt again while your dick rubs against mine?”

You’ve never seen someone come so fast.

Jason’s lips part slightly as he pumps his hot come all across your and Roy’s fucked-out, sweat-glistened bodies. His moan is breathy, slightly broken as the last of his orgasm spurts out across the two of your expectant tongues.

“Fuck,” Jason curses. He stares down at both of your slumped, sticky bodies like he’s trying to figure out if this is actually real.

By the time you’re all done making up for all the lost time, your fingers have pruned and your legs are too wobbly to hold your body. Needless to say, the quick trek back to the cockpit is the worst walk of shame any of you have ever experienced.

A/N: this was a total self indulgent fic- i hope you enjoyed and lmk if you did! I've been in a huge creative rut recently :\

[end] || ao3 || pinned || ways to support

#reader x roy harper #reader x jason todd x roy harper #jason todd x reader #reader x jason todd #my fic: redheaded conundrum

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yakool-foolio · 22 days

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gundham for the ask game?? i lov him

GUNDHAM GODDAMN TANAKA MY FIRST LOVE IN DANGANRONPA

Favorite thing about him: His dialect is sososo fun and interesting to analyze. I think he's the main reason I became so obsessed with analyzing and making up my own canon compliant dialect for Vivia. Gundham sparked that fire of dissecting metaphors n analogies and translating them to better understand his behavior and how he conveys his thoughts and feelings through speech. It's incredibly entertaining to write for him, so much so that about two years ago I made my own ask blog for him being in Dead By Daylight's universe. Gotta combine the brainrots of the time somehow.

Least favorite thing about him: Out of all the members of the Ultimate Despair, Gundham feels the least likely to ever end up on their side. It has just never sat right with me that he would fall into despair that easily in the anime, especially since he fought so hard against it in the game. I understand that Chiaki meant a lot to her classmates, but her death doesn't feel like the straw that should break the camel's back for Gundham, notably because he's the one who will literally fight to the death to revive everyone else's morale. The anime is a guilty pleasure of mine, but I refuse to believe that he'd give in to despair that easy. I like his Ultimate Despair design though, it's rad. Too bad we only get to see it once.

Favorite line: He has soooooooooo many iconic and fantastic lines it's not fair to choose one, but I will restrain myself just this once. "Because I, the one who has claimed dominion over evil, am the Ultimate Weapon! I am he who cuts the insolent catalyst which flows out from the chaos with the sword of victory… It's only fitting that I deserve to be called the Ultimate Weapon…!" The fact that he called himself the Ultimate Weapon because he utilized the funhouse's secret after he discovered it in order to kill Nekomaru HURTS REAL BAD. He planted hints to him being the culprit throughout the entire trial because it was never his intent to get away with his murder at all, especially since he fully expected to be the victim himself. He and Nekomaru sacrificed themselves so that the others could live on. I cry.

BROTP: Gundham and Gonta are such a sweet duo in UTDP and Summer, they deserve so many more interactions. They get to exchange their love of all different types of animals with each other until they're walking National Geographic magazines.

OTP: SONDAM! They match each other's dorkiness to a T. Autumn is their season and nobody can take it away from them. Horror movie dates are always a pleasure. They're obnoxious talkers in the theaters, but I'd let them ramble to their heart's content.

NOTP: I'm the type of person who's chill with a lotta different pairings if the shipper(s) make it work. However, one pair I can never imagine being romantically involved is Gundham and Hiyoko. He doesn't give two shits about her bullying him for his eccentrics, but he definitely greatly disapproves of her abuse toward animals. She's trying to better herself post-game, but it'll definitely take a while for her misdeeds to be forgiven by Gundham and they can work toward being on friendly terms.

Random headcanon: Due to isolating himself from others, Gundham never really took the time to question his romantic orientation. That is, until he was accepted into Hope's Peak Academy and was surrounded by other students. He swiftly came to terms with his romantics towards certain people, as sparse as he shows it. Nekomaru and Sonia definitely pushed those unknown feelings into deeper consideration, as he admittedly crushed on both of them at some point and has ultimately fallen for Sonia. He fights with himself every now and then over his feelings, but overall he views his orientation as simply natural, unchanged by time. In regards to his asexuality, he occasionally makes comments to conceal his distaste for raunchy things and attempt to fit in, pushed into doing so by his insecurities, but he recognizes its his true nature to abstain from such desires. Intimacy is romantic for him, and that's all that it has to be for him to be happy.

Unpopular opinion: I have no idea if any of my thoughts could really be classified as unpopular, but I'll toss something unusual out. Connecting to what I've stated earlier, I wish Gundham was shown fighting back more against the brainwashing in the anime. If they had the time, it'd be interesting to see the absolute extremes Junko would have to go through to crush Gundham's unwavering spirit. We could get real dark by having his mom killed in front of him. This forces him to accept that without her, only nature is on his side now, as humanity is beyond saving and what he's committing as an Ultimate Despair is a mercy killing.

Song(s) I associate with him: Kyrie by Mr. Mister cause the angelic imagery makes me sob profusely aughhhh... Eighth Wonder by Lemon Demon and When You Die by MGMT are runner-ups!

Favorite picture of him: This art piece I was gifted as part of a Silent Hill Tumblr Mutuals discord server's Secret Santa, featuring Gundham n Carmina/The Artist from Dead By Daylight, who I made ask blogs for and so deeply love imagining being the bestest of buds!

#i could talk for hours about gundham man (this post already took me two hours to write help me)#NOBODY TALKS ENOUGH ABOUT HIM GOING THROUGH THE FINAL DEAD ROOM LIKE HOLY FUCK MAN THAT'S POWERFUL #danganronpa #danganronpa 2 #gundham tanaka #ask game

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riverdale-retread · 1 year

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Riverdale S7 E13 (Chapter 130) The Crucible

[Weird little translation note from an international viewer: There are apparently some titles that the Netflix Korea translator refuses to translate into Korean for the international release, and some they will translate. The Crucible is one where the title is sounded out phonetically, which is very funny because the Arthur Miller play actually has a well known Korean title. The other deemed-untranslatable episode titles were Peep Show, Dirty Dancing, Hoop Dreams, Halloween 2, and After the Fall)]

The music is all jazzy film noir-ish at the opening of this episode as we slowly zoom in on Jughead in his very luxurious train car. The sheer beauty of the innards of this thing take me by surprise every time. Jughead is in suspenders, with what for him is sort of his Little Black Dress - a white t shirt under a button up shirt with suspenders over it. He looks upset and wan.

How does a fire start? he asks, or rather, types.

The fire might start with the English teacher, who has thus far paid Jughead’s actual career as a writer zero attention whatsoever (but does Jughead even go to school anymore other than to yell at people about milk or to get yelled at by the principal in the office?) but is cultivating Archie’s gifts as a poet (by letting him come and sit in the classroom to scribble in semi privacy?). It might begin with Veronica Lodge, looking kewpie doll adorable in her perfect hair (that my very valuable mutual taught me was a wig! I somehow never thought about it being a wig!), startled to find a tall clean shaven man smiling down at her in her elevator at home. It took me a long time to realize this was GLEN.

HI GLEN.

Glen without facial hair and in 1950s get up looks disconcertingly like a young Harrison Ford and goddamn you Roberto I refuse to find Glen hot on principle so fuck off.

The fire may begin with Betty coming home to find that her phone has been confiscated (by her mother, most likely). Betty has an ugly little ornamental bear on her bedside table. Is that meaningful?

Or maybe the fire starts in a classroom, where Betty and Kevin are acting out some scene from Tennessee Williams, the themes of which are “Crisis in the South/ Mendacity/ Nihilism.”

The only play they could be doing is of course Cat On a Hot Tin Roof which … this is the one time a Riverdale reference to a classical literature work is actually spot on and it’s making me feel very sour. The teacher sings their praises, calling their performance better than what she saw on Broadway.

(Also scratch what I said earlier about Jughead going to school - he’s there in class in the back, two rows behind Betty). Evelyn looks very pissy about this whole situation. Why am I being made to identify with Evelyn?

Principal Weatherbee bursts in. As a repressed closeted homosexual in denial about his feelings for his best friend and coworker he is likely to be very triggered by Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. He just opens the door with “That’s enough.” He has Sheriff Keller and Clifford Blossom in tow (but not Werthers). In front of all her students, the teacher is led out like she’s done something terrible. Wearing an extremely campy red velvet jacket trimmed in black satin, Clifford Blossom steps into the class to stand right in front of a poster of Oscar Wild. I just now noticed that his hair isn’t red in this. It’s blonde. Why is it blonde?

The mayor takes it upon himself to tell the kids that the English teacher has been fired. Their new teacher is going to be - of all people - Penelope Blossom. Atonal demon music plays as Penelope saunters in right on cue - which means she just stood out there in the all while Featherhead did his bursting in and escorting out - wearing a necklace that looks like it’s made of black scarab beetles. Her outfit is the color inverse of her husband's - black with red color accents. The Blossom children have no idea what is happening but they know it’s really bad, giving each other “Are you seeing this?” type of looks. Archie was the only student to actually speak up in defense of the teacher, and he continues to do so now that the bad news has been announced.

Penelope Blossom just has so much presence! Can’t we have more of her and less of the very boring Clifford Blossom?

Archie continues to be the one to use his privilege for the good (unlike say, Julian Blossom or Kevin Keller, whose fathers are directly involved in this debacle), wanting to know what exactly is going on.

Mrs. Thornton is accused of being a communist! Dun Dun Dunnn~ Penelope intones that “The Red Menace has come to Riverdale.” Right on cue, Evelyn turns around to take a look at the known Lavender Menace in the classroom - Cheryl- as Cheryl realizes that this is not going to go away easily and already feels exhausted by life.

After the class, the core seven (this is um, NO JUGHEAD, but Toni, Cheryl, Clay, Archie, Kevin, Betty and Veronica) convene in the student lounge to try to figure out what is going on. Betty wants to know if Archie can shed more light, since he’s been getting special tutoring from Mrs. Thornton. Archie is in the closet about his poetry, so he sounds sus as he says that Mrs Thornton just isn’t like that. Veronica’s chest ribbon is HUGE and makes her look very very tiny. Cheryl says that there must’ve been some sort of cause, but Veronica says that the Red Scare in Hollywood was terrible. She starts explaining the McCarthy Era to the people who are still in 1955 which is so weird, because the televised hearings started in 1954, so this is another instance when the “1955” of this show has nothing to do with the real “1955” except for the part where Fred Andrews died in Korea.

Anyway, Kevin (because of course he does) staunchly defends his father (indirectly) by assuming that nobody would do anything bad to anyone in America unless they deserved it. (Unlike say, when your father hires a prostitute to force you into having het sex and things like that). Veronica disagrees.

Jughead does not give a hoot what happened to the English teacher. Ethel doesn’t either. They are off looking to celebrate the publication of the comic that Featherstone decided to publish last episode. The friendzoning continues - Jughead calls it “your” first comic to which Ethel corrects, “our” first comic. But her brown checked skirt matches his brown checked jacket! The vendor, who is a crusty old man, says he no longer carries “Pit of the Perverse” at all because it’s “unamerican smut.” All around him are faces of pretty girls smiling invitingly out from covers with titles like “Flash Bulb” and “Women of Today.” The man even yells at the pair to go away.

At Thornton House, Cheryl is being interrogated by her parents about her unamerican public kiss with Toni at the Halloween Party. Red Menace, Lavender Menace (which is a Betty Friedan phrase, the homophobia of which was one the major failings of the initial Second Wave liberal white feminist movement in America) - it’s all the same to Clifford Blossom. He wants it stamped out.

The thing is, the Blossoms are scary, abusive people but I weirdly admire them (no please, hear me out) for not being hypocrites. When they say they want to ‘stamp out’ unamerican (™) activities, they start by torturing their own kid.

Cheryl also has a spine of steel. Though visibly frightened (and fully aware of her father’s homicidal impulses and callousness about his children) Cheryl says she will not be naming names. She calls him a jackal. Bravo.

Sadly, they already have a list of names compiled for the targeting. What they want is for Cheryl to just corroborate. This will allow her to ‘redeem’ herself.

The names on this list are: Cheryl Blossom (as NUMBER 1), Toni, Kevin, Clay, and then a bunch of people we don’t know - Chris Henderson, John Maclean, Jessical Leetola, Connor Rielley, Colin Ellis, and Kathleen Ross.) Cheryl absolutely refuses, except Clifford has her number - he threatens the only thing she cares about, the Vixens. “Anything but that Daddy!” Cheryl pleads, but she is not granted clemency.

At the same time, Veronica comes home to find Hiram Lodge is in the apartment. The number of ways and things that Hiram lies about in his conversations with Veronica are truly very toxic. He says he missed her, to which Veronica is unmoved, so then he bribes her with a Faberge egg, to which she wants to know who he fucked around with on her mom. Infidelity is something he’s very willing to own up to. This toxic dad also knows his daughter’s main weakness - she is very lonely So he says that he wants to meet her friends as he offers her a hug. This, she can’t resist.

The next day, Veronica brings Hiram to school like it’s show and tell. She’s dressed in the most demure, matronly outfit I’ve seen her in to date, complete with a matching pearl necklace-and-bracelet set. So these are her group of friends yes, but like, it’s funny how she’s dated, kissed or wooed or was wooed by the majority of her friend circle. (Betty, Clay, Archie, Julian) leaving out only Kevin, Cheryl and Toni.

Kevin is so horny and shameless. Ugh.

Cheryl pointedly says that the first season of Oh Mija was the best one (hahaha) because it went downhill after that. Featherhead has asked Hiram to be a guest lecturer (because I guess even he knows Penelope Blossom may not actually want to teach the kids anything), especially because this is monologue day at English class.

Julian Blossom is up first!

He does the Hamlet To Be or Not to Be soliloquy. Apparently neither Kevin nor Archie knew that this was a speech about contemplating suicide. Hiram is weirdly macho about it, asking of Julian is a man, because Hamlet was a man. I mean, Hamlet was a man but his whole problem was being emasculated, I thought? He doesn’t really achieve any of his goals, has his place in succession stolen from him by his uncle and does literally nothing about it for months and months other than dither, kill the wrong person, and drive poor Ophelia to suicide.

For some reason, Hiram giving Julian what sound like pretty sound corrections to the way he’s delivering a speech that’s very challenging to sound convincing makes everyone chuckle throughout. Is this supposed to be in reaction to like, Hiram’s star power? They’re just delighted and nervous that a real life sitcom actor is giving their Julian Blossom an acting lesson?

After the class, Betty goes to see the principal, who tells her that the Blue and Gold is going to be defunded with the loss of Mrs Thornton, who was the faculty advisor. Featherhead has already made up his mind, so Betty charges into the newspaper room and liberates the typewriter there.

This is very interesting, that first Archie and now Betty are acquiring the instruments and drive for writing now that they never ever talk to Jughead Jones.

Cheryl has gathered the three other known homosexuals that were on the list into the music room, to update them and to freak out about potentially losing the Vixens. She doesn’t feel the need to inform anyone she isn’t personally friends with. She needs to know who sold her out. Who stands to gain the most from getting her off the Vixens?

Evelyn!

So she confronts Evelyn immediately. I love Evelyn and how Evil she is. She’s so calm and reserved and coiled and hateful. Cheryl is protesting entirely way too much, which gives Evelyn the upper hand.

In the principal’s office, Featherhead wants to know if Mrs. Thornton was trying to “indoctrinate” Archie, who doesn’t know what that word means. Werther says that civil disobedience and revolution is happening in Cuba and can’t happen here. I mean, it wasn’t necessarily due to Mrs. Thornton that Archie started that unionized coup against Clifford Blossom, but I don’t think either man knows about that.

Veronica is doing a full show and tell of her life, bringing Hiram to the movie theater. The one he wanted to raze and make into a parking lot. He tells her it’s tremendous, which is so insincere,but Veronica bless her is just too lonely to see it. As soon as Hiram is off to see the afternoon movie, in comes Glen, who wants to know what Veronica’s relationship is with Hiram. I see that even though he looks like Harrison Ford when clean cut, he’s still dumb as a bag of bricks because he did not realize that Veronica Lodge was Hiram Lodge’s daughter.

At Pep Comics, Ethelhead tell of their recent misadventures to Fieldstone. He already knows that his comics are being rejected, and that it’s an emergency. He’s very upset. They’re getting graphic hatemail. They’re going to “hunker down and weather this storm.” I like Fieldstone for how adorable he finds Ethel. Everything she says makes him laugh or call her Freckles or Girl Genius. Ethel wants a copy of her newly published work. Then Ethelhead, without having to even say anything, just read each other’s minds and take bundles to sell on their own cognizance.

At home, Betty is soliciting anonymous submissions to her magazine, “The Teenage Mystique.” …. I mean. Betty Friedan published The Feminine Mystique in 1963 and I am not ok with a seminal work of feminism being consumed in this way by this piece of pop media. Betty Cooper uses “The Girl Next Door” as her moniker, shoving her invitation sheet into every single locker.

Now that he doesn’t have a quiet classroom to write poetry in, Archie has to try to eke out some space, much like Jane Austen or Emily Dickinson, to work on his writing. He flips out when Uncle Fucking Frank barges in, demanding to know what he is up to.

Uncle Frank and his obsession with Archie is very disturbing. Also does he still live in this house? Does Mary just lock herself into the master bathroom and sleep in the bathtub at night? Anyway, when Archie who acted like he’d been jerking it to hardcore gay porn eventually says that he was working on his writing, Uncle Frank says he came in to police Archie’s sexuality again. But the scary interrogation of the afternoon has definitely taught Archie what “indoctrination” means. It’s not sufficiently heterosexual of him, as a man, to write poetry for any purpose than to make some girl swoon and “get with” him. Except given the events of the past season, they don’t really want any girl to “get with” him either. No peep shows through windows between houses like 5 feet apart with Betty. And if he had impregnated Cheryl they were both going to have to get married. So the repression that is being laid on Archie is just as contradictory and repressive as what is being laid on Betty (except she’s much more abnormal about how horny it seems to make her) . He can’t be insufficiently straight and manly, but being ultra straight and manly (i.e. succeeding in impregnating a girl) would also be a disaster.

Plus.

PLUS.

The very single, very childless, only works with minor teen boys Uncle Fucking Frank trying to control Archie’s outward behavior to keep him on the “straight and narrow” is fully ridiculous. I hate Frank so much. Why oh Why is Mary considered too inept to mother Archie, when she goes out of her way to cockblock Beronica’s kiss by essentially haranguing a doorman to let her break into someone else’s apartment??

At the Pembroke, Veronica wants to know why the FBI is following Hiram. Hiram says he’s being investigated as a possible communist, because he went to Cuba the year before to buy cigars. Another lie comes out before he actually says the truth - the lie was that he came to Riverdale to hide out. The truth is that he needs Veronica to lie for him to the government. She balks because lying to the government scares her. He pretends there’s an out for her - he’s “meeting with a lawyer” but in the end he trusts she’ll throw herself into the fire for him.

The next day, Glen is waiting for her at school. Glen says that he’s been assigned to her, and that someone else has followed Hiram to NYC. Veronica wants to see proof, to which Glen says to get into the car. She does!

Archie sees Veronica get into the car, and she sees him as they drive by. Of course, the place they go to is the diner. Glen shows Veronica photos of Hiram at the same table in Cuba as “Fidel Mastro.” The person that Veronica is upset to be seeing in the photo is the blonde lover at Hiram’s side.

Archie has tracked down his English teacher by looking her up in the phone book. She is packing up to leave, moving to Greendale, to be a library there as a volunteer. Apparently that River makes all the difference - it refused admittance to Julian Blossom, dunking him and making him come out the other end of it as someone who is an ally to Cheryl for one. Mrs Thornton says really contradictory things - that there’s a “job waiting for me” but also that it’s “volunteer.” OK but ma’am what will you live on?

No matter.

When Archie expresses his confusion about the state of the world, his teacher hands him a copy of The Crucible by Arthur Miller. Archie says he was going to do Biff’s monologue from Death of a Salesman, but now he’s going to pick something out of The Crucible.

OMG is this why Jughead picked the name Biff for Archie when they run away together in Season 3? The key bit of that monologue is this: “And I never got anywhere because you blew me so full of hot air I could never stand taking orders from anybody! That’s whose fault it is!” Biff is saying this to Willy, the salesman.

The teacher gives him a benediction, that strangely sounds exactly like what Hiram said earlier in the day to Julian: “Words have power.” She keeps telling him he’s “more than” a Biff type (when Jughead in the OG timeline reduced him exactly to it??). They give each other a hug of farewell.

Meanwhile, Ethelhead are running a brisk, literally under the table business, selling Pep Comic books, sitting back to back. I love their partnership. Jughead totally acts like he’s selling contraband weapons or something. He’s so dorky, I love him. he feels like he’s being such a badass, while Ethel just likes this entire exercise.

At the Dark Room, Cheryl is having another panic attack about potentially getting kicked out of the Vixens. The other gays have come up with a plan, to ape lavender marriages. Conveniently for them there’s one white and black person in each homosexual pairing, which obviates the need for a race discussion should it ever come up. Cheryl gravely says that going in the closet like that seems to betray Toni’s principles. Toni, who as we’ve seen all season doesn’t really have principles, lies again. Instead of saying, I want to hunker down and survive to see another day (like the much more honest Fieldstone), Toni says she’s allowing this charade for “all our sakes.”

Archie finds The Crucible extremely riveting.

Veronica is sadly mulling things over in her apartment, with liquor. Hiram comes in late from New York to say that his attempt to buy his way out of his problem did not work out. He needs her to commit perjury on his behalf. Veronica confronts him with the fact that his trip to Cuba was in service of an affair with a Kelly (the name of the actors’ IRL wife, which was a very cute reference). When Veronica sounds unwilling to acquiesce to his demands, Hiram reverts to villainy which is his true form and threatens her, saying that it wouldn’t be a favor for HIM if she commits perjury - it would be self protective for her, because he would lose everything if the story came out that he was in violation of his morality clause. Veronica shoots back that she already went through the experience of banishment and life in exile. She’s so lonely, as I’ve said, and she’s genuinely hurt that her initial intuition (Hiram would not show up unannounced and play all nicey nice unless there was a direct personal benefit she could do at her cost for him) was correct. “What you should be asking me for is mercy!” she cries, before storming off.

The next day, the Lavender Marriages storm the halls in patented Cheryl SloMo (™) which I don’t remember seeing much this season. Evelyn, wearing an appropriately lavender cardigan, is very annoyed by this workaround that the four homosexuals have found. Apparently, their queerness was an open secret, which is very very weird to me. Midge for one seems disappointed with Cheryl, who refuses to look at her. But everyone else is equally perturbed by these two pairings.

Archie is very nervous about trying to give his monologue from The Crucible. Penelope Blossom is teaching the class, sort of, I mean - she’s dressed up for it and in the classroom, standing like a Dior New Deal costume model in a very red dress. The thing is, she doesn’t seem to know what The Crucible is, which is surprising, and even more surprising, she didn’t insist on cross checking what the students were going to be performing before letting them.

Suddenly Archie is giving the John Proctor speech and uh -

I -

oh help-

I don’t want to be here.

This is the most grating thing I’ve ever seen on Riverdale and this includes a lot of the hideous singing and dancing and poorly transposed musical numbers and so on. I get very annoyed when shows do this, having actors “play” people who “play” at “acting.” It’s so self referential and masturbatory, sort of like how when movie people make movies about making movies they act like all the normal “This is what happens on a job” stuff is the most momentous thing ever and simultaneously they refuse to deal with the actual documented problems of their industry that are unique to just themselves

Ok so as far as that speech goes, John Proctor at the end of his rope, giving the thesis statement of the play etc, Archie (and KJ Apa’s) delivery is fine. He is doing all the correct actor-y things with his voice, going from screaming (but not to harsh) to suddenly dropping in volume (but not to the point of being inaudible), trembling with emotion but not enough to obscure diction, and his eyes also fill with tears but not enough to make his sinuses get sloppy. It’s all… fine. But this level of sincerity completely and high emotionality goes completely against the bouncy surreality of everything that S7 (and all the seasons before) have relied on to be watchable.

This is how Riverdale loses even by winning. KJ Apa works everything he knows how to do as an actor (activating tear ducts at will, flexible eyebrows, vocal chord range deployment, breathing techniques, working outside his native accent) so that Archie the character gives a professional-grade burst of emotion for his monologue class at school, and yet, because it just does not fit with anything Riverdale has ever done, it completely shatters the immersion in the narrative for me and all I am left with is

CRINGE.

But anyway. the power of Arthur Miller’s words supposedly gives Cheryl some sort of realization, because she marches down to the principal’s office to face off against her father, the principal and Werthers. She tells the three men that she will never cooperate with them, and has a wonderful moment:

“I, Cheryl Blossom, hereby and willingly, end my stewardship of the River Vixens.”

I really, really needed this palate cleanser after what they made Archie do. Thank god for Cheryl.

She also tells them of the Lavender Marriage workaround, before joining the gay kids of Riverdale club. “Clearly, we don’t live in a just world,” she says, bumping shoulders with Kevin.

The thing is, this feels like a course correction to the plotline that lead me to hate Kevin - that is, he was in the closet for real, lying to himself and to Betty and everyone else about what the hell he was up to. With this lavender marriage situation though, the show seems to be positing that there is such a thing as a ‘good and useful’ closet. If you construct it and climb into it yourself - and everyone sort of kind of knows you’re lying - then it’s fine. (Is it?) And I must still ask - WHY IS IT CHERYL THAT HAS TO GIVE ANYTHING UP? Because think about it - Kevin nor Clay nor Toni have had to give up a single one of their hobbies or group affiliations. It’s just Cheryl that had to give up something she held to a religious level of importance.

Why is Kevin not expected to confront his father about being a lackey to the mayor? Oh right, because even Betty finds his relationship with Clay ‘dreamy.’ [Vomit]

Cheryl says she’s happy to have even a small amount of space on earth to live her truth. Toni hopes Evelyn breaks her neck cheerleading.

Veronica approaches Archie to say that it was quite the speech. She gives him a kiss on the cheek, and then they kiss each other. Archie is very surprised, but not displeased. Veronica looks very serious.

Ok.

Ok SHOW?

FUCKING SHOW ME ANOTHER BERONICA KISS PLEASE.

Back at the diner, an Asian boyscout (or whatever they’re called) is asking for Pit of the Perverse #32 . Jughead has been marking up 10 cent issues all the way up to a quarter for his sales. The boyscout turns out to be a plant, and this is a raid. Keller is doing this with his time. The jig is up, so they have to turn over their stash to the cops. It’s very funny to me that Jughead completely expected to be SHOT for selling the comic books - he was this close to demanding that they not shoot.

Jughead has Ethel at his home again, and the two of them celebrate with milkshakes and a “god bless America toast” about the money they’ve made.

At the Pembroke, Hiram and Veronica are having dinner together (Cooked by who I wonder?). Hiram is trying to ingratiate himself to his clearly not very happy daughter, but all he can offer is his own show (“A new episode of Oh Mija!”). This is absolutely the wrong thing to say, and Veronica takes off in a huff.

The next day at school, Archie is taking things out of his locker. He seems to only have images of male baseball players on the inside - a cover of Batter, and a picture of someone pitching a ball but somehow also called the Bulldogs. Just then, a woman asks him if he’s Archie Andrews.

And it’s Geraldine Grundy, this time as an English teacher. She’s wearing a white cardigan with gold embroidery that I think is supposed to have some sort of angelic effect but I am too consumed with the question WHY THE FUCK IS SHE HERE to really be persuaded. She’s taking over for Mrs. Thornton. Archie looks very smitten immediately. Grundy claims to have attended Mt. Holyoke together with Mrs. Thornton and in the name of Emily Dickinson, I banish thee! Shoo! Away with you! So she seems to appreciate Archie’s poetry from what she’s heard from Mrs. Thornton. Archie wants to keep things discreet because his uncle hates the idea of his writing poetry. But then Grundy ruins it by whispering “IT CAN BE OUR LITTLE SECRET” like a total creeper, then she dangles her husband, an alleged poet.

In the Principal’s office, the hideous white men are going over their loot of confiscated comic books. There’s so many of these. Werther’s is very pissed off. There’s something about his presence that renders his lover (sorry, I just keep interjecting my headcanon about this but otherwise their relationship makes no sense to me) Featherhead completely mute. I don’t care about them enough to go all the way back and check, but I feel like at some point Werther’s dominance became such that Featherhead just nods and mimes with his face when Werthers is speaking. Werthers wants to do something he calls “Full measures.” Kevin’s dad makes like Kevin and is spineless.

Meanwhile, in English class, Veronica is doing King Lear. She’s giving Cordelia’s refusal speech. The person who understands exactly what Veronica is going through, with an overbearing, criminal father, is Cheryl. Betty is sad because Veronica is clearly sad, but it’s Cheryl that understands her. While this excellence is going on, Grundy is fucking making eyes at Archie, who reciprocates because he doesn’t ever not.

Later that day, Veronica brings an affidavit with the correct set of lies to her father. She says she did it for her mother, then starts laying out conditions. She wants her father to tell her mother that he’s cheating on her. She also wants the title to the Pembroke. The way this father daughter pair constantly fight over real estate, and the supreme importance of paperwork to their relationship is an odd constant. I have issues with Cordelia - The great tragedy of King Lear, to me, isn’t that King Lear has evil daughters. It’s that King Lear is a deeply stupid man who favored the child who most directly inherited his deep stupidity, the extremely stupid Cordelia. I am immensely satisfied that Veronica finds a very Goneril/Regan type of solution to her Cordelia problem. Good for her. There’s a reason I love her so much.

At the post office, Betty collects a literal BAG of mail. Did post office rules in the US change sometime after the fifties? Because you can’t actually send things that are addressed to something like “The Girl Next Door.” The US Postal Service literally will not deliver if you give your addressee a title like that. Oh but I guess this is Riverdale, not the US of A? Or did Betty somehow manage to like, actually establish an LLC or something with the name “Girl Next Door”?!

Hermione has come home to the Pembroke literally the afternoon of the morning Hiram left, I guess. Veronica says as much. Hermione says that Oh Mija is going to shutter after “seven long seasons” because she is “ready for something new.” She has extremely nervous hands while she’s announcing this plan to Veronica, fidgeting with her gloves and twitching her fingers. I think she has to let out her feelings in this digital dance because the expressive muscles of her face do not move much at all. She also adds almost like an afterthought that she will be divorcing Hiram. Veronica seems not particularly perturbed by this news. She reacts like she’s Hermione’s older sister, rather than her daughter. “What will you do?” as in - how will you cope? But also What will you live on? and so forth. Hermione manipulates a promise to not have to spend Christmas by herself from Veronica, as though none of the rest of the season have actually happened.

What absolute assholes both Hiram and Hermione are. They both abandoned Veronica, banished her, locked her out of the house rendering her homeless on purpose in order to punish her for getting in the way of their parking lot real estate deal, but when the going gets tough, they both come to see her to demand her company, her fidelity and her services. And she gives it to them, because Veronica is second only to Jughead Jones as the most love-starved character on Riverdale. Poor baby.

Jughead gets to school the next day to fine that the whole student body is lined up with armfuls of comic books, trying to sell them to Werther. Dilton doesn’t see what the harm would be, but later we are shown. There is a cartoon Nazi style book burning which I would bet is taken shot for shot from Indiana Jones. Cheryl is standing in for the Nazi Elsa (which is so not fair to her but ok) crying tears over the destruction of free speech and art. The Riverdale Adventure Scouts stand in for the Indiana Jones Hitler Jugend.

#riverdale season 7 #riverdale episode 130 #riverdale 7x13 #riverdale s7 recap #riverdale s7 #riverdale episode recap

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kawamagi-crow · 6 months

Text

Yesterday i had to take my dad to a hospital (which was already stressful enough on its own), his doctor told him to go to a certain hospital that's part of a network of private hospitals.

We have a healthcare plan, so whatever. and that hospital chain is covered so it was okay right?!

nah.

for some dumbfuck reason THAT specific hospital didn't accept our plan. Why? cus our "card type" wasn't the right one.

not the plan! just the format and way the card is designed.

and so we had to go to another one THAT WAD ONE HOUR AWAY. WE HAD TO TAKE A GODDAMN UBER TO A HOSPITAL. THEY DIDN'T EVEN GIVE US AN AMBULANCE.

And dear reader, i have never been so angry in my goddamn life (thats a lie, i have been angrier but y'all get it). the treatment we got from the staff was horrible, they stood around on their asses watching my dad just look like he was having a fucking STROKE.

we had to ask FOUR TIMES for someone to come and help him inside the other uber. because NO ONE DID ANYTHING. THEY STOOD AROUND LOOKING AT US WITH THEIR CARA DE BUNDA (cant translate that lmao) AND I WAS ALMOST SCREAMING OUT WILL SOMEONE FUCKING HELP?!

By the way, when we got to the other hospital i immediately ran inside, said "i need a wheelchair, my dad needs help he's right outside" and guess what? the woman i asked immediately got up, went outside to check out whats happening and Went back inside to get us help. it was quicker for us to get him help, they let my sister register him in while he was already inside being checked out by doctors and in minutes they did what the other hospital refused to do because of a fucking CARD.

For a while they had suspicions he did in fact have a stroke, but luckily (kinda? i don't think luckily is the best word for it but whatever) it seemed to be a mixture of dehydration and low sodium on his blood (because surprise he had spent the last two days vomiting. which yes i told them to go to the hospital. they didn't.)

But imagine if he DID. imagine how much DAMAGE them denying us help and forcing us to go to another hospital would have done. not to mention how spending at least two hours with low sodium must have impacted some of his health (hopefully he recovers. but my mom says there's a risk he goes in a coma. which i would 100% blame that hospital for not getting him help sooner)

#Ranting #neuropunk #Fuck private hospitals #actually no #fuck THAT hospital #i am going to explode #or cry #Healthcare problems #Tw health problems #tw stroke #(not really but it talks about it in this post)

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threepointseven · 3 years

Note

hi !! can i pls be 🌹anon?

id like to request a sick reader x scaramouche, childe, xiao (separate) hc

im so sick rn and just wanted some comfort to motivate me to do my homework 🥀🥀

When your sick

Type- HC’s 🌷

Flowers included!🌼= xiao x gn! Reader, childe x gn! Reader, scaramouche x gn! Reader

Note🍀= I GOT SO LAZY IN XIAOS PART IM SO SORRY. BUT UHM I PUT EFFORT INTO CHILDES AND SCARAMOUCHES SO MWAH MWAH HOPE YOU ENJOY!! AND OFC YOU CAN BE 🌹 ANON 😋😋💕💕 GO DO YOUR HOMEWORK 🌹 ANON 🤨🤨

Genshin masterlist

💐Your bouquet has been delivered <3💐

Scaramouche

surprise surprise hes a pain in the ass!!!

He does not know how to deal with sick people, the last time hes has to sort of deal with someone sick is when Childe got a fever and instead of taking care of him he poured Signora’s burning hot soup that she made for him all over childe’s face and then left him to rot

But now hes got you?!!??! A partner?!?! And he cant just pour the homemade soup on your face cause he loves you and cares about you?!?! 🤯🤯🤯

Hes not a great care taker but he’ll immediately order a fatui healer to help you out, give you medicine and such, and make you things to ease your pain

He refuses cuddles from you smh🙄🙄 your literally a hollow corpse of a puppet dont act like your gonna get a fever after a kiss 🤨🤨

“Achoo!”

“Gross you sneezed on me ugh what if i get a cold!”

“No you wont..!!! You know scara i dont think the amount of soup the healers are giving me is working.. but you know what just might!”

“Dont say cuddles.”

“… physical affection for a long period of time.”

despite his cold attitude and the sound of “i dont care about this fever or you” in his voice he truly does care, hes worried the entire time infact and even ditches on some of his work just to make sure your doing okay.

If you say the medicine is too bitter and refuse to drink it try to run away one more time and hell shove the spoon down your goddamn throat. And yes, he is feeding you. HE SAYS ITS CAUSE YOUR SICK AND UR PROBABLY SUPER WEAK BUT HES JUST REALLY JUST USING IT AS AN EXCUSE TO FEED YOU CAUSE HE FINDS IT SO CUTE AND ROMANTIC DVDJDBB

If you pester him enough he will cuddle with you, hesitantly but he will. He’ll stay there softly caressing your back and just listen to your whines and groans til you fall asleep

His first thought is to shove the last bit of bitter medicine you didnt want to drink down your throat but he instead just cuddles with you, softly blowing away the interrupting strand of hair so he can kiss you on the forehead lovingly.

“Better not get sick again, your a pain..”

he means well he just does not know how to translate “i hate seeing you sick it makes me wanna cry whenever i see you in pain” into something thats less direct-

Childe

his big brother instincts are immediately on. He knew you were sick before you knew you were sick😭

Hes so serious about it and makes sure your in bed rest for the rest of the day and if you attempt to get away to do work or something he will personally contact your boss and say that you arent going to work today🙄🙄

So so strict about the medicine and the rest💔 he has this saying in his head that if you dont treat a flu correctly quick enough itll turn into something fatal like the plague or smth🤨

He WILL cuddle you, Even if it means getting the plague with you🥱🥱🥱

“Ajax im sick! Im gonna give you a cold!”

“I feel so betrayed.. im being rejected by my own partner.. i feel my blood draining through the crevices of my body-“

“…i’ll sneeze on you.”

“I mean thats kinda…”

“We are breaking up immediately.”

With the laughs come your boyfriend shoving bitter snezhnayan medicine down your throat though-

He needs you to get better, its not like hes annoyed its just he hates seeing you sick so much. Hed much rather see you running around the town shouting as loud as you want instead of clutching your stomach and groaning in pain.

He definitely feeds you every single inch of food you get, he will be so dramatic when he sees you eating with your own hands and your own utensils like bro hes supposed to be feeding you🤨🤨

During the night he’ll help ease up every single part of your body you say is in pain, he’ll put an ice pack on your forehead and kiss every part thats in pain. Youll fall asleep in his arms with him continuously kissing your face sloppily till its red and youll wake up in his arms. He couldnt care less if he gets a fever as long as he got to hold you through all that pain you were experiencing hes happy.

Xiao

has no idea how to deal with sick people

Hes never gotten sick?? So like??? He asks verr for help and that look of “archons i feel bad for your partner” when he asks what sick people need🙁

Genuinely so clueless but once he finds out what to do hes already teleporting his way to bubu pharmacy, picking up the best herbs and giving them to you, he wont take “its too bitter!” For an answer you are drinking them.

Hell feed you your medicine but let you eat your food by yourself

Puts an ice pack on your forehead snd just watches you the entire time like a hawk🤕🤕

Its so creepy 😟😟 hes just there for the entire night and day in the corner of the bed watching you like 😐

If you pester him enough he’ll give you a few kisses on the forehead but most of the time he’ll just pat your head and watch you as you sleep

He thinks almond tofu is good for sick ppl??😓😓 so he just makes a hoard of almond tofu and force feeds it to you and when you throw up because of the sugar overload he feels so guilty 🙁

Literally if that happens he just stays so far away from you, letting verr handle sick little you before he feels better about himself-

Hes always so stiff when cuddling but just since your sick he’ll ease up and if your lucky enough he’ll kiss your nose for a second before blushing a wave of crimson and regretting his life decisions

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lockefanfic · 4 years

Text

Business Trip: Pt 41 - Ties

“Look what I’ve found,” Chaeyoung says as you open the door to your hotel room to find her leaning against the door frame, a bottle of amber liquor in her small hands.

You smirk at her before moving aside to let the young woman saunter into your room, your eyes admiring the lovely curve of her backside as she makes her way inside. She tosses a small plastic package onto the bed - even from the hotel room foyer you could tell they were probably zip ties.

“Is that whisky? There should be glasses on top of the mini bar-”

“We won’t need any,” she interrupts, before tearing the label from the bottle’s cap, casually tossing the label over her shoulder, and twisting off the cap. She takes a small swig right from its lips, her small features scrunching adorably as the bittersweet liquid enters her mouth.

“Fuck that’s smooth,” she says, giving the bottle an appraising look as she does so. When she looks back up at you, she raises her free hand, curling her fingertip into a ‘come hither’ motion.

Officer Miyawaki Sakura wasn’t a very good translator, if the exasperated look of frustration on Chou Tzuyu’s face was any indication.

“Tzuyu looks like she’s about to tear her head off,” Chaeyoung observes as you both observe the conversation being held in the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department’s impound lot.

“At least she’s trying her best,” you respond. Officer Miyawaki’s enthusiasm wasn’t lacking, even if her translation skills were. You found yourself wishing you’d just brought Sana along like you’d originally planned - Sana’s original position at JYP was as a translator, after all - but Tzuyu had already contacted Officer Miyawaki in advance and made arrangements for the meeting before you could suggest bringing a translator of your own.

“She’s a hot piece, at least. How long until you’re hitting that, boss?”

You bristle a little at Chaeyoung’s words, although considering your history with each of the girls on your team you suppose she couldn’t be blamed.

“You have a thing for Japanese girls, huh?” you counter, hoping to change the subject.

Chaeyoung shrugs. “I suppose. They’re hot as fuck. I wouldn’t mind taking that one for a ride.”

You give Chaeyoung a smirk that she ignores, her hungry eyes locked on Sakura’s desperate attempts to translate the impound lot supervisor’s words into English for Tzuyu. The liaison officer ended up relying mainly on hand gestures and body movements when she failed to come up with the right English. You couldn’t fault Chaeyoung for staring - Sakura’s large, expressive eyes and her cute features made her easy on the eyes, a bit like an anime character come to life.

“Speaking of rides, at least she scored us this one,” you say, motioning with your head towards the shiny red Ferrari a few feet away.

“Fuck yeah,” Chaeyoung agrees, the expensive sports car finally enough to take her attention away from the increasingly intense conversation taking place at the other end of the lot. She strides over to the six figure car, reaching out and grazing its sleek lines with her fingertips. “You’ve gotta let me take this for a spin sometime, boss.”

“It’s not ours, Chaeyoung. It’s strictly for the party. I can’t have you running up speed tickets or scratching it up. I’m pretty sure it belongs to some Yakuza type. There’s probably a body in the trunk.”

“C’mon, you can’t get a ride like this and not red line it every now and then. That’s what they’re built for.”

“That’s not what this one is built for. This one is built for making me look like a gangster at that cocktail party.”

The Korean girl lets out a snort of frustration, until a look of realization dawns on her cute, small features. When she begins to saunter over to where you are standing, exaggerating every sway of her hips as a sly smile appears on her lips, you knew where she was going.

“Is there some way I can… convince you, boss?”

You sigh out loud, only half hoping to dissuade her from her line of thinking.

“No, you’re not gonna use sex to get a joyride in a Ferrari out of me. If you’ll recall the last time you seduced me you left me alone, zip tied to a van in a goddamn parking lot. I owe you for that.”

Chaeyoung smirks, a devilish hook at the corners of her mouth as she recalls that evening’s events.

“Don’t say you didn’t like it.”

“Not being able to cum after you had your way with me? Yeah, that was great.”

“Okay, okay, maybe that was a little unnecessary. But, I mean, before that, the sex was good. Slapping you around definitely got me off. You were right on the edge there, weren’t you?”

“Meh,” you reply, lying. “It was alright. Maybe some of it was pretty hot, but I’ve had better.”

Chaeyoung seemed at least partially offended by your response, if the look of shock on her face was anything to go by. The look is quickly replaced by one of annoyance.

“Who the hell are you fucking that’s better than me? Momo? I get it, she’s got the bod… but I bet it’s that Sana chick on your team, isn’t it? Girl looks dangerous, I bet she’s a fucking beast in the sack. Nevermind, I know who it is. Is it Mina? I guess I have a confession to make about her. Y’see boss, she’s-”

“Chaeyoung, the bottom line is you’re not taking the Ferrari. I’ll drive it back to the hotel, and then take it to the cocktail party. We’ll return it to Tokyo PD afterwards. That’s it.”

Chaeyoung pouts. The way that she stuck out her lower lip made her look adorable despite the fact that she was clearly upset at having lost her chance at a joyride in a luxury car. She gives you a dirty look, then looks back at the Ferrari, and then back at you, as though formulating her next course of action. Being refused an opportunity with the sports car and your negative appraisal of her sexual prowess had clearly offended her more than you had expected.

“Gah, fine. We’ll make a deal,” she says after a moment of contemplation.

“I’m listening.”

“You let me take the Ferrari out for a little spin tomorrow. In return, until the cocktail party, I’ll let you take your revenge for the way I treated you last time. You did say you wanted payback, didn’t you?”

“Chaeyoung, I’ve already told you - I’m not gonna take sex as payment for something.”

“Who said anything about it being payment? This is a mutually beneficial transaction. I’m not gonna lie, I haven’t had anything non-electronic between my legs since that time in the van. I’m horny as fuck and I need a dick in me. I get to cruise around Tokyo for a bit in a Ferrari, and you get your own little fucktoy in your hotel room for a couple of days. We both win. Sounds like a great fucking deal.”

You had to admit the prospect of extracting a measure of revenge from Chaeyoung appealed to you, as did the opportunity to blow off some steam before the cocktail party, when you’d need to be 100% on point.

“Alright, fine. Deal. But no leaving me zip tied to the bed while you go reenacting Tokyo Drift in a borrowed car.”

“Agreed!” Chaeyoung says, a sly smile on her lips.

“Bring the zip ties.”

“Oh, I will. You already know this, but it won’t be soft. You better be ready, you pussy.”

“So should you.”

---

“Look what I’ve found,” Chaeyoung says as you open the door to your hotel room to find her leaning against the door frame, a bottle of amber liquor in her small hands.

“Is that whisky? There should be glasses on top of the mini bar-”

You take slow steps towards the girl, enjoying the look of arousal slowly beginning to appear on her face, right along with the blush on her cheeks as the alcohol takes swift effect on her body. When you reach her she wraps her right arm around your neck as you wrap yours around her torso, diving quickly into her neck to plant kisses on her soft skin.

You’d have been lying if you’d said you weren’t looking forward to having her show up at your door. From the moment you’d come to your little agreement involving the Ferrari you’d been looking forward to having your way with her tight little body. She was so different - both physically and in terms of her personality - from the other girls on your team. She didn’t give a damn about the relationships or drama in your life, being uninvested in any of what was going on around her beyond what she needed to do to get paid.

Her laissez faire attitude towards everything and everyone around her made her so alluring, so attractive. Ever since the first time you had her in that van you knew you had to have more. She was, like the expensive-looking glass bottle of liquor in her hands - intoxicating.

With her left hand, still clutching the bottle of whisky, she takes another shot. With her right hand, she pulls you from her neck by the hairs on the back of your head and crushes your lips with hers - before she spits the whisky into your mouth.

You savor the taste of the bitter amber liquid in your mouth before swallowing it and relishing the slow burn of it as it flows down your throat, even if some of it missed your mouth and dripped from your chin. It tasted like sin. It tasted like lust. The devilish look on Chaeyoung’s face as she licks the spilt liquor from your chin and throat drives you insane.

She gives you a torrid, passionate kiss full of need. With a hand on your chest, she pushes you onto the bed so you are sitting on its edge.

Her deep brown eyes lock with yours as she hands you the bottle before grasping the edge of her long-sleeved sweater and peeling it off, revealing her naked torso. The collection of tattoos she sported last time you saw her undressed had grown into an almost full sleeve on her right arm, colorful and vibrant in the warm hotel room light. Her cute, youthful features stood in perfect contrast to her tattoos, fashion sense, and the way she carried herself- a juxtaposition that made her so attractive and unlike any other girl you knew.

She is lean and wiry with muscle, small and tight. You’re immediately reminded of your impression of her the first time you saw her topless - a lean feline predator, muscles always tensed and ready to pounce, always on the hunt, always hungry for her next meal.

You take another shot of the whisky. The slow burn of it on your tongue and down your throat is surpassed only by the sheer heat emanating from the topless young woman in front of you.

Chaeyoung straddles you on the bed, kissing you deeply, her tongue playing aggressively on your lips before searching your mouth for its counterpart. As you explore each others’ mouths she reaches for the bottle and takes another swig - and you take the opportunity to plant needy kisses on her upper chest, your hands creeping up her tight sides until you are cupping and squeezing her small, cute little breasts.

You want to devour her small mounds with your lips and tongue - but you possess enough self-control to look up at her before you do so, finding her eyes half-lidded with liquor and lust as she wipes her mouth with the back of a hand.

She brings the bottle to her mouth once more, but before it reaches her lips she lets it tip, spilling golden liquid over her chest and breasts.

You have only a second to admire the sight before you reach out and catch the rapidly falling liquid, your tongue pressed tightly to her skin to lap up as much of the bitter liquor as you could.

Her skin glistens with the whisky on it. It looks like spilt gold on pale vanilla. She smells like smokiness and lust. She tastes like cinnamon and sex.

Your tongue, saturated with whisky, finds and captures her left nipple. You close your lips around it, suckling deeply from her chest, enjoying the taste of her body and the liquor that made it spicy and bitter. Chaeyoung gasps and moans as you have your way with her chest, fondling her small mounds, suckling both of her taut nipples - roughly, hungrily, like a starved animal devouring a long-awaited meal.

She is lost in the pleasure you are bringing to her body. So lost she doesn’t notice your right hand reaching for the package of zip ties she so casually discarded onto the bed, thinking she would be the one to use them on you.

How wrong she would be.

You bring the package behind her, using your other hand to pick a zip tie from it before dropping it to the floor. Reaching for the bottle of whisky, you take it from her hand and place it onto the nightstand. It would be a shame to spill such fine liquor, after all.

Chaeyoung is in a daze, the liquor and your work on her breasts putting her into a lust and alcohol induced stupor.

A light “Whaa--?” is all she can muster as you gather her wrists behind her back, slip the zip tie over them, and close the plastic tie shut.

“It’s my turn tonight, Chaeyoung,” you hiss as you look into her eyes. There is a look of surprise there - but when she licks her lips and realizes what you’ve done, the look of surprise turns into a look of challenge.

“Then let’s see what you can do to me, you pussy.”

You half stand from bed, forcing her off your lap - although you grasp her naked back to ensure she didn’t go falling off it. You pull your boxers off your body, kicking them off with your feet, your t-shirt soon joining them on the floor. Naked now, you sit back down on the bed before you reach up and grasp the back of Chaeyoung’s head, forcing her down roughly onto her knees between your legs, your stiff shaft inches from her face.

You consider ordering her to suck your dick - vocalizing your demand. But in her eyes is a glint of defiance tinged with lust. She opens her mouth as if to say something defiant - and you take the opportunity to force your shaft into between her open lips.

The young woman gags initially as her mouth is invaded by hard flesh, and you feel a momentary tinge of regret with your roughness - but it soon disappears when Chaeyoung closes her lips around your shaft and you feel the wet warmth of her mouth for the first time.

You’d had more than your fair share of oral sex, especially in the past few months. Some were sublimely skilled, some passionate and caring - but few had the raw enthusiasm of Chaeyoung, who wasted no time with a slow ramping up of pleasure or technique. Almost as soon as you were in her mouth she was bobbing her head up and down between your legs, her tongue pressed tightly around your underside or swirling in random patterns around your head.

Those full lips of hers created such a delicious friction around your shaft that you had to let your head fall back and sigh with pleasure involuntarily - something you rarely did when receiving oral, because you were usually focused on enjoying the sight of the woman between your legs working her magic. Not so with Chaeyoung. Not so with her straightforward, no-bullshit approach to pleasure and the acquisition thereof.

After a while you begin to thrust your hips up into her mouth as best you could given your sitting position, even resting your left hand onto the bed to give yourself more leverage. But soon even that is not enough - you need more, need to fully take this woman’s mouth, claim it as your own.

You rise from the bed until you are standing above her, Chaeyoung taking care not to let your cock slip out from her mouth for even a moment. You grasp the back of her head with your left hand and the bottle of whisky from the nightstand with the other. As you partake in another shot of liquor you begin fucking her mouth.

The audacity of it - fucking the helpless but wanton young woman’s mouth while you took shots of a fine, expensive whisky straight from the bottle - only heightened the delicious pleasure worming its way through every fibre of your being.

It doesn’t take much longer for you to approach orgasm. Not when the feel of the young woman’s helpless mouth around your cock is so delicious, so utterly sublime - made even more so by the sight of her, hands bound by her wrists behind her back, eyes occasionally looking up at you with equal parts lust and need and a little lingering defiance, as though she wanted to show you she was capable of taking everything you had to throw at her.

Oftentimes when it came to oral sex it was just a prelude, and you or your partner or both would stop before orgasm, saving your energy for the main event. Not so tonight, and not so with Chaeyoung. You knew you had time to spare. And you knew this was just the beginning. For now, there was a lesson to be taught.

With a few last thrusts into her wet, hot mouth you bury your cock as deeply between her lips as it will go, her cute little nose bottomed out against your crotch as you finally let your orgasm overtake you and you send thick, hot semen directly down her throat.

You watch, half-drunk with both lust and liquor, as the look of resistance remains in Chaeyoung’s eyes even as she struggles, partially in vain, to swallow your seed fast enough. When begins to gag, you finally relent and remove your cock from her mouth - she coughs and spits out only enough cum to ensure she can breathe freely again before looking back up at you, a spill of semen dripping from her lips. She opens her mouth to show you a tongue thick with cum before closing it and working her throat, swallowing every drop she could.

“You like the taste of that, Chaeyoung?” you ask, the words leaving your mouth sharply.

“Meh,” she replies, eyes bold. “It was alright. I’ve had better.”

You let a smile appear on your lips. You are still clutching the hair at the back of her head, and you press her face against your still-half hard cock, still slick with your cum and her spit.

“Of course you have… you-”

“Do it. Fucking do it, you pussy. Call me what you want to call me.” Her tongue darts out to lick slick juices from your shaft, even as you smear the slick flesh against her face. “Or are you too much of a gentleman to call a woman a dirty word? Too used to fucking proper little princesses with feelings and shit? Do it. Call me what you want.”

“You fucking slut.”

There is a new glint in Chaeyoung’s eyes as you call her that name, as though it triggered something inside her that had been dormant for too long. A new hunger. She gives your cock a long lick from base to tip.

“Show me how you fuck a slut.”

You weren’t quite sure what came over you - perhaps the newfound liberty of knowing you could call Chaeyoung whatever you wanted triggered the same thing inside you as it did inside the needy, wanton young woman on her knees before you. Whatever it was, you surprised yourself with how quickly you pulled her from her knees - by her hair - and pushed her onto the side of the bed, face down, her bound arms unable to break her fall.

Her round, tight little ass in the air was too delicious to resist for much longer. You take another shot of the whisky - and by now you were a little more than half drunk - and slam it down on the nightstand before grasping the hem of Chaeyoung’s black sweatpants and ripping them from her body, finally leaving her naked and revealing the full, cute cheeks of her butt - and the glistening flesh between them.

You reach down and touch the drenched lips of her pussy, finding her dripping with need.

“Look at you, all wet and hot over a little blowjob. Swallowing my cum really got you off, didn’t it? Such a fucking slut,” you hiss, your fingertips playing lazily with her slick flesh, teasing her opening but not penetrating, watching her squirm and writhe on the bed in a vain attempt to force you to do more to her wanton body.

“Is that what makes your other girls cum? Just a finger in their pussy?”

You slide a finger inside her to the first knuckle, and when she quivers and twitches deliciously, you push deeper until you are two knuckles deep. Soon you add a second finger into her heat, enjoying the feel of her plentiful juices already gathering in your palm as you finger fuck her with slow strokes of your digits.

“You like that, don’t you? Look at you. Drenched already from a little finger fucking.”

“I want something bigger in there. Shut the fuck up and stick your cock in me already.”

A devilish smile finds its way unto your lips as you grasp the young woman’s hips and bring your own to meet hers, your quickly hardening cock resting between the cheeks of her ass. You give her a few shallow strokes, enjoying the feel of her firm flesh on either side of your shaft as she squirms and writhes atop the bed - impatient, needy.

You reach down, placing the tip of your new rock hard cock against her slick lips, swirling the sensitive head around the entrance to her body, enjoying the feel of her heat and the slick wetness of her juices.

“Beg for it, Chaeyoung.”

“Fuck you,” she hisses.

“I think you’re the one that’s about to be fucked.”

“Oh yeah? Then fucking do it, you pussy.”

Her constant resistance to you annoys you - angers you, even. Naked, bent over the side of the bed, arms bound behind her back, already helpless to your will; but still defiant, calling you names, challenging your every move.

You give her taut ass a firm slap, eliciting a sharp, unexpected yelp from the girl. You bend over her, grasping the back of her head once more, pulling at her hair and lifting it from the bed. As you bend over you allow your cock to press a little deeper between the wet lips of her pussy. Her flesh quivers. Her body trembles.

“Fucking beg for it, you slut.”

Chaeyoung breathes sharply from her nose, teeth still gritted, struggling to hold on to the remainder of her defiance, knowing that she was so close to getting what she desired and what her body needed.

“F-fuck you, you p-pussy.”

You pull back on her head. She yelps in unexpected but delicious pain. You penetrate her a little more, the entire head of your cock now buried into her entrance, her slick lips wrapped around it as though not wanting to let it go.

“What was that?”

A few moments pass. Moments of delicious silence. Her body quivers, betraying the needs of her body.

“F-fuck me!”

“What was that?”

“Fuck me already! I want it. Give it to me. Fuck me like the little slut that I am. Fuck me over and over and make me your little fucktoy. Your little slut!”

A dam broken, a trigger pulled.

You push her head back down onto the bed. You grasp her hips, plant your feet, and drive yourself into her hot, tight little pussy.

No build up, no slow and steady increase in pace or depth. From the very beginning you are fucking Son Chaeyoung with hard, stiff strokes, nailing her tight, taut little body into the bed with each entry and exit of your cock into her dripping hot pussy.

The hotel room is filled with the sounds of hot flesh slapping against hot flesh; your soft grunts of effort; and Chaeyoung’s wordless cries of pleasure, both airy sighs and some deeper moans - all combining to fill the air with an unfiltered soundtrack of sex and lust.

“F-fuck! Fuck me!” Chaeyoung gasps, finally managing to form her moans and gasps into coherent words, even if they were stifled by the fact that half her face was buried in the bed. You slap her ass in response until the cheeks grow red. Your hips move faster, pistoning in and out of her body. Her pussy responds with each penetration - growing tighter, wetter, hotter.

The pleasure in your loins and the liquor in your blood have made you drunk, yes, but added to those already potent poisons is the sense of accomplishment - of finally having broken Son Chaeyoung, of having finally achieved some measure of revenge for the way she left you unfulfilled during your last meeting. Watching her helpless body on the bed, unable to do anything but take your pistoning cock in and out of her needy pussy, intoxicated you more than the liquor ever could.

You smack her ass with an open palm, her tight little butt now red and sore, each slap eliciting a short yelp or soft gasp from the bound young woman. You relished the control and power you had over her, bending over to grasp her slim shoulders and using them as leverage to drive yourself deeper and harder into the soft wet hole between her legs. It is harsh, hard, callous, the way you are fucking her - but her loud grunts and moans indicated that she had no qualms with the way she was being treated. Quite the opposite, in fact - she loved it. Loved being fucked hard, loved being used like a mere toy.

You do your best to savor every moment, every thrust of your cock into her body. You relish the sight of her bound hands, her fingers curled just as her toes surely were, seeking some sort of outlet for the pleasure erupting from between her legs to invade every inch of her taut little body. The sounds of her moans and gasps spilling unbidden and unhindered from lips equally drunk as yours. Above all was the feel of her body - of her slim hips and tight ass beneath your clenching palms, and the silken wet sheath of her pussy as you fuck her with hard, stiff strokes.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck - I- I’m gonna fucking cum! Your slut’s gonna cum on your cock!” she gasps.

You were nearing your own breaking point. Quicker than you thought, but the tight little orgasming pussy wrapped around your cock was pushing you right to the edge. You grit your teeth as you struggle to hold on amidst the hurricane of pleasure overtaking your senses.

It takes the greatest of your efforts to hold on as she orgasms, her pussy tightening and pulsating in random patterns around your cock, the whole of her body turning into a quivering mess atop the bed, mouth frozen open in a wordless gasp, hands behind her back clutching at nothing.

You fuck her through the entirety of her orgasm, teeth gritted, hands gripping her tiny waist and slim hips so hard you knew you’d be leaving bruises there the next day. But you didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was fucking the young, tight little slut on your cock.

It takes Chaeyoung almost a minute to recover from her orgasm. The whole time you’d been drilling her into the bed. When she is finally able to, she turns her head as best she can to look at you, mouth agape, saliva dripping messily from the corner of her mouth. The very picture of a young woman lost in the throes of lust and sex.

“Fucking cum in me,” she says, the words a desperate hiss, “fucking fill your slut with your cum!”

Another trigger. Another sudden blaze of lust and alcohol fueled anger. You reach down and grasp the back of her head, fingertips pulling hard at the hair on her scalp until she is almost standing upright in front of you. You bury your cock inside her, eliciting a yelp from her throat, before bringing your mouth next to her ear as you fill her small hole with stiff meat.

“I don’t cum inside sluts.”

Before she can react you push her down onto the bed again and resume fucking her helpless body.

Your orgasm comes soon after. It takes every ounce of self-control in your body to pull your aching cock from the grasping lips of her pussy. Grasping your cock with your right hand, you pump it quickly, and soon your orgasm overtakes you as you cum and spurt thick, hot ropes of cum onto Chaeyoung’s raised ass and lower back, painting her pale skin with white semen.

Your world collapses as you cum, your senses refusing to work all at once as the liquor, physical exertion, and the sheer pleasure of your orgasm all combine to overload your brain. For a few moments you feel as though a heavy mist has descended over you.

Pleasure. For a few delicious moments, with your senses dulled and unable to process anything else, it was all that existed. You relish it, breathe in its sweet warmth as it worms its way throughout your body.

When you are able to open your eyes again, the sight of Chaeyoung, face down on the bed, raised ass painted with streaks of thick hot semen, is the first thing to greet your weary eyes.

“I fucking… wanted you... to cum inside me,” she manages to say, her face half buried in bedsheets and messy blonde hair.

You bend over her wet, sweaty body to bring your mouth to her ear.

“I will, soon enough. But I didn’t get what I wanted in the van, so this time you won’t, either.”

You give her ass a spank, delighting in the sight of your cum as it flowed down her still-upraised cheeks to stain the pristine white bed sheets; you looked forward to adding more filth to it in the day or so to come before the cocktail party. You slowly make your way to the washroom to clean yourself up, taking one last moment to relish in the sight of Chaeyoung’s spent, well-fucked body still sprawled on the bed, still face down, breathing heavily in an attempt to recover from the way you had used her. She makes no effort to move, much less remove the zip ties binding her arms behind her back.

You pick up the discarded package of zip ties from the floor and place it on the night stand. They’d be needed soon enough.

“For now, we’re even,” you tell her.

---

It didn’t take long for you to follow up on your promise to cum inside Chaeyoung - following a quick rest you were both right back at it, and soon, on her back with her legs on your shoulders and her wrists zip tied to the corners of the bed, you finally came inside her, filling her small, tight little body with a generous load of thick semen for the first of what was probably going to be many times.

It was still warm and dripping from her needy pussy when she pushed you into the washroom, ostensibly to clean up, but in reality because she had suddenly decided she wanted sex in the shower. Soon she was pressed against the shower wall, wrists zip tied above her to the shower head, her cute little tits pressed against the steamy, wet tile as you fucked her from behind and filled her already dripping pussy with a second load of cum.

The girl was almost as insatiable as Nayeon - it took only the greatest of self-discipline (and the fact that your cock was now sore with exertion) to pull her hungry mouth from your cock long enough to get dressed. Even as you tossed on sweatpants and a hoodie, she tried to lick your combined juices from your sore shaft, zip ties in one hand, almost begging you to tie her up again.

The sex and the liquor had made you both hungry, and you volunteered to go to the convenience store across the street to grab a cheap (but still delicious, as most convenience store food was in Asia) dinner. Within a few minutes you are on your way back to the hotel with a few full bags of food, liquor and sports drinks - you had a feeling you’d need a healthy amount of supplies to keep you going for the next day and a half if Chaeyoung’s appetite for sex over the past few hours was any indication.

It was by sheer coincidence that you happen to catch a glimpse of two women in the midst of a conversation inside the small coffee shop that was in the entrance hall of the hotel. While the glass to the coffee shop is tinted, you see enough to reveal to you that it is Nayeon and Sana.

You watch as they finish their conversation - Sana, appearing ever bright and friendly, offers Nayeon a warm hug which the older girl hesitantly accepts. Sana follows it up with a cheerful smile and wave goodbye before she leaves the coffee shop using a side exit - an odd choice, given that the main exit through the hotel’s entrance was closer.

You catch a glimpse of her as she leaves, noticing that the bright, friendly aura she’d had a moment prior had been replaced with a look of quiet determination.

Likewise, in the coffee shop, Nayeon’s friendly and polite exterior had similarly left her face, being replaced now with a worried look, as though she were suddenly deep in thought. It was enough to cause you to approach her.

“Hey,” you say in greeting, “I just saw Sana leave. Everything okay?”

“Just fine,” she says, her eyes giving you a head to toe scan before straying to the full bags of food and drink in your hands. “I see you’re stocking up for a day full of fun before our operation in a couple of days. Which girl is it?” she asks, a poorly-hidden streak of disdain in her voice.

It surprised you somewhat that she was able to deduce what you were up to with a mere glance at your appearance and what you were carrying. But Nayeon had always been a sharp one - observant and quick to pick up on the details - and you supposed that was what made her such a good detective.

“Doesn’t matter. Can I ask what that conversation was about? You looked pretty worried just now.”

“Don’t you have some needy young lady upstairs somewhere that you need to attend to?”

“It can wait. And this is my team, even if you’re running this particular operation. I should know what’s going on.”

Nayeon relents with a sigh, beckoning you to take the seat across from her, which you take.

“Sana wanted to meet up with me to discuss the operation - on the downlow, of course, so if it comes up, this conversation never happened. Anyway, she was wondering which of the three Japanese team members you’d be taking on-site with you to the cocktail party.”

“I was wondering that myself. Each of them seemed pretty eager to be the one that goes on-site.”

“Yeah, and I’ve been putting a lot of thought into it as well. It’s a pretty big decision. Mina was my second pick and she would have been great, what with that entire high-class princess aura she’s got going on, but JYP pulled her into a video conference call scheduled at the same time - something about a legal matter in your European offices. Whatever the reason, she’s unavailable.”

“She was the second pick? Who was your first?”

“Momo. She’s got good on-site decision making and preparation. You know she’d do her homework and be ready to act on it the day of the op. Not to mention she’s hot as fuck and she’d probably turn some heads at the party, so she could use that to her advantage to wrestle some leads from loose tongues.”

“Agreed. Sounds like you’ve made up your mind.”

“I did. Until that conversation just now with Sana.”

You feel the beginnings of concern arising in the corners of your brain. Sana had been hard-working and supportive since the resolution of the entire Choa and Jeongyeon kidnapping episode, working steadily and doing her part whenever she was called upon. And while you and the rest of the team had long since forgiven her for the betrayal she’d pulled in Taiwan involving the theft of Seolhyun’s data, you’d never forgotten what she was capable of.

“Go on,” you say, equal parts afraid and curious of what Sana had to say to Nayeon.

“She wants to be the one to go on-site with you. Mina’s unavailable so she’s out of the running, but Sana brought up some questions about Momo - like her questionable fluency in Japanese, and how that could blow your cover. She also mentioned how she’s more focused and determined, whereas Momo tends to get frazzled and blank out sometimes mid-op when she’s faced with unexpected events; you saw how dazed she was immediately after the shooting in Seoul.”

You think back to the events in Red Velvet’s apartment, and it was true - the gunshots had dazed everyone, but Momo especially. She was in a dazed stupor that you had to physically shake her out of.

“And this is just me speaking,” Nayeon continues, “but I think Sana looks a little more approachable. She can be hot and cute, depending on the circumstances. That might open up more opportunities to approach men with different tastes.”

You take a moment to digest Nayeon’s words, and how they confirmed your suspicions - that Sana was undermining Momo again behind the older girl’s back. The drama she’d stirred up in Hawaii regarding her feelings for you hadn’t long left your mind, and you wondered how much it played into her desire to ensure that she, not Momo, would be the one to spend some intimate, private time with you during the operation.

“And what do you think, Nayeon?” you ask, curious to see if Sana’s charms had worked on the detective.

“Firstly I see right through that little ‘I’m the cutest most friendliest girl in the whole world’ schtick she’s got going on. I know she’s smarter than she lets on… but she brings up good points. I was pretty set on Momo, but after that conversation, I’m not so sure.”

Nayeon looks towards the coffee shop exit Sana used to leave the hotel, her brow furrowed in deep thought.

“I’m going to be honest,” she continues, “I think either of them would be a good pick. What about you? Who would you rather bring with you?”

You take a moment to consider the situation. It was clear Sana had ulterior motives behind her desire to go on the operation, even if she did bring up good points regarding how useful she could be in comparison to Momo. You’d been putting it off for awhile, but perhaps it was time to set the record straight with Sana regarding her feelings for you and how they were affecting the team. If you set her straight before the operation and asked her to put aside her feelings for you for now, the operation itself would be a good way to test her dedication to her promise.

The fact that Sana had gone out of her way to approach Nayeon and argue her case for selection also raised your suspicions - the fact that she did so secretly, without going through you, only raised them further. She’d been hard-working and diligent in her duties, but until now she’d only been assigned or selected for those duties by you or someone else on the team. She’d never volunteered for an operation. Surely her desire to undermine your relationship with Momo played some part in her actions, but you were curious if she had any further motives to be on-site beyond that.

There was only one way to be sure. You stand and gather the bags at your feet before giving Nayeon your decision.

“Tell Sana she’s the one going on the op.”

---

Author’s Note: And that’s (probably) the last chapter for the year! There will be a separate thank-you post to wrap up the year as it’s been a big one for me and my work.

Until then I hope everyone’s safe and enjoying the holidays. Best wishes to you and all your loved ones :)

#kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #twice #twice chaeyoung #son chaeyoung #male reader #pov smut #smut

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hopeymchope · 3 years

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More thoughts on Danganronpa S after the new interview and sprite reveals

- The reveal of all those swimsuit sprites sadly told me two characters I shouldn’t expect to see: Taichi Fujisaki and Yuta Asahina. :( There’s no sign of them among those acryllic sprite stands... and even friggin Kurokuma and Shirokuma got swimsuit sprites! So I feel pretty confident that they’re not DRS. I was really hoping for some family bonding scenes with Chihiro/Taichi and Aoi/Yuta, but alas... that seems highly unlikely.

- That new Famitsu interview that @kaibutsushidousha translated is so full of juicy deets! For starters, all my questions about the weird assortment of characters on the cover art have now been answered; the design was largely left to Rui Komatsuzaki’s whims. And why the discprencies between the title screen swimsuits and the in-game sprite swimsuits? Again, because of Komatsuzaki’s whims. ................ In fact, I’m just going to use that excuse for anything that ever seems inconsistent or strange in this game. Whatever it is, Komatsuzaki probably did it. :P

- The director of the game is Shun Sasaki. He previously directed V3 as well. He was also credited as the Game Planner / Game System Designer for DR2 (whatever that means?) and supposedly created Island Mode for that game, plus he was Design Director on Ultra Despair Girls and the Production Director on Zanki Zero. So that’s cool.

- So the “S” stands for “Special.” Huh. “Danganronpa Special.” That definitely conveys how this feels like the beach episode OVA.

- As we suspected, the entire board game is now confirmed to take place on Jabberwock Island... or rather, all six islands that make up what we called “Jabberwock Island” in DR2. So it looks like we’ll be seeing parts of the island chain that we’ve never seen before, like the Beach House in the below screen.

- The replacement for the Despair Dungeon game seems to be the Tower of Despair, which is 200 goddamn floors. Even reaching the ultimate final boss in Despair Dungeon only took 100 floors... and hell, you technically “beat the game” in half that time on just level 50! It also appears that some of the Tower of Despair’s areas might look like the outdoors because... just look at the below screenshot. Either there’s some combat outside of the tower (like the tests at the end of each year in Ultimate Talent Development program), or some of the tower is fake-outside. And y’know, I seem to recall there were some levels deep within the Despair Dungeon that appeared to be “outside,” too. I think there was a Fake Beach area, if I remember correctly.

- Hey, the writers who did the FTEs for V3 are also writing all the new stuff in this game! Neat! So maybe it doesn’t have Kodaka overseeing everything, but it does have established writers from the series. Besides, Kodaka was always credited for scripting the “main scenario” of each title, but it seems like he farmed out everything else. So this is natural.

- Does Shun Sasaki really believe that Ultra Despair Girls’ “delicate themes” might get it blocked from releasing onto the Switch? Is that some kind of joke? I don’t think he knows just how UTTERLY FUCKED UP some of the games available on the Switch are. I played WILL: A Wonderful World last month, and I honestly don’t even want to type some of the horrific shit that happened in that fucking game. They’re definitely not going to stop you. So yeah, DO IT.

- Even though Sasaki refused to comment on the possibility of a fourth mainline Danganronpa game, I can’t help but latch on to the final line of the interview. “Look forward to more Danganronpa in the future.” I damn sure will.

#danganronpa s #danganronpa s: ultimate summer camp #famitsu #shun sasaki

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bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture · 3 years

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The second and third obstacles! And Mei’s first big showing, because of course.

[No. 25 - In Their Own Quirky Ways]

Ochako, Tsuyu, and Mina are all standing still, staring at the next obstacle as Present Mic announces it. He calls the first barrier ‘a piece of cake,’ the notes that for the second, you fall and you’re out, so you have to crawl across if you want to make it. The obstacle, oh, nothing big, just the fucking Grand Canyon with the bottom encased in the goddamn void:

Despite all reasonable reservations about crossing, Tsuyu takes the leap (metaphorically) and starts creeping along one of the ropes, calling it a giant tightrope. She giggles to herself, saying this is her chance to make a splash. (God, a girl after my heart, I love her sense of humor between this and the USJ.)

Next we are introduced to our resident spark - I mean support course student, Hatsume Mei (abet we don’t get her name yet here, but she’s emphasized enough that it’s obvious she’s gonna be important soon.) He’s cackling a bit maniacally, talking about how it’s time for her support items to get the spotlight, calling out to the national support companies to look at her wire arrow and hover soles - the items she just so happens to be wearing, along with a few other gadgets.

Ochako realizes Mei is in the support course, while Mina is shocked that she’s allowed to have her gear. Mei points out to them that the hero course students get practical battle training, right? So in the interest of fairness, as long as they developed the gear themselves, using equipment’s just fine! In fact, for the support course students, it’s the greatest opportunity to show off their inventiveness and craftmanship to the industry!

Mei cackles some more as she shoots off her hookshot - I mean wire arrow, the end impacting and catching on one of the pillars with a klang. Mei leaps off of the side of the canyon, again calling out to all the corporations to check out her ‘adorable babies’ while clicking on a button on her devise that starts reeling her in, as well as activates the hover function of her boots. Ochako and Mina are fired up, Ochako rushing to chase after while Mina continues to complain about it being unfair.

Shinsou, meanwhile, is being a little bit creepy, just watching on with a slight leer as he just says ‘cool.’ Wonder what he’s doing here… hmm…

Up in the announcers’ booth, Mic states how they have all types trying to make it big in the sports festival. Aizawa, meanwhile, is just annoyed ay why ‘those idiots’ (re: the students probably) stopped moving. We then shift over to Shouto just reaching the other end of the canyon, with Mic announcing as such to the crowds.

Of course, it’s not so easy as that. Even as SHouto starts building up more ice to start pushing ahead, Katsuki is blasting in from above. Katsuki calls out, refusing to stay behind any longer, while Shouto just thinks that with how fired up Katsuki is now, he must be a slow starter. Which, man, I don’t even know if that’s just an observation about the quirk or if that was intended as a savage shot, but either way, I’m cackling.

We see Tenya somewhere behind Katsuki, watching the explosions as he pushes on. He says it’s very likely his brother is also watching, so he musn’t show an unsightly performance…

he says as he does a T-pose to skid across the ropes with his quirk. Mic calls it unsightly, which like, dude, rude. Also, how did he know what Tenya even said there? I guess it’s just a little thing for the sake of humor, like the ‘drawn differently’ jokes for All Might.

The crowds watching on are impressed with the performance of Shouto, talkin about how he just can’t be stopped. How quirk is awesome, but it’s not just that - he’s also incredibly athletic and perceptive. Someone else agrees, then points out how he’s the son of the flame hero, Endeavor. The first person(?) says that makes sense, the kid’s got the blood of the number two hero out there, after All Might. The pros are gonna be scrambling to get him as their sidekick.

Can I just say this is a very interesting panel here. Like there’s no reason we immediately know about to have it divided in two like this, but any amount of retrospect with what we learn later this arc makes it obvious: this is representing the internal divide Shouto places on his two sides, separating his fire from his ice. I also like how the mention of Endeavor here also happens to be on the fire side, further drawing attention to it and, subsequently, the scar there.

The scar that, incidentally, can be considered Endeavor’s fault.

I’m sure there’s a whole lot more Shouto and Todoroki family meta that can be shoved in here when analysing this panel, but we have things to do, events to see, arcs to get through!

Present Mic announces how the leads keep breaking ahead, while the rest of the pack is bunched up. Since the racers don’t know how many will get to move on, all they can do is aim for first place! And the leader has just reached the final barrier - that is to say… the minefield.

...wait a second, ‘a deadly Afghan carpet’? Uhm, is that a translation thing, or… what a strange reference to make here. While it’s hard to make out the locations of mines from this page (at least to me), Present Mic confirms in his announcements that a quick glance should be enough to reveal it to the students, so they need to keep both eyes open and watch their steps. By the way, the mines don’t pack a deadly punch, but they’re loud and flashy enough that the kids might need a change of underwear when it’s over. Aizawa adds on that it depends on the individual, of course.

Meanwhile, back on the ropes, we see Izuku crawling along almost like a chameleon, the armor plating strapped to his back with some of the loose wire. In the background we see Shouji gliding from one of the pillars with his arms out wide, and another student Naruto running across the wire like a champ.

You go, Naruto runner guy.

Back with the landmines, we see Shouto realize that the positioning of the landmines puts whoever is in the lead at a disadvantage, since none of the mines have gone off yet, ergo meaning the highest chance of setting one off and losing time to the distraction. It’s all a big show, which I mean, you’re only just realizing this? Meanwhile, in the background, we see another student get blown into the air from one of the mines, and yet another (I think Ojiro???) struggling to follow.

Katsuki, of course, decides to show up then, finally blowing past Shouto while stating how ‘this crap’ can’t slow him down. Which I mean, makes sense when his whole thing is explosions, these landmines really can’t be all that impressive to him. Katsuki declares that Shouto’s declaration of war was to the wrong person.

Present Mic gleefully announces the new leader, telling the mass media to get excited, since they love this kind of turn-around. (Definitely not a subtle dig at them, no sir.) He then announces how the rest are catching up while Katsuki seems determined to fight Shouto right where they are - Tenya has blasted himself forward with one of the mines, looking very silly, while Ibara is using her vines to test the ground around her (I think?) to allow safe passage.

Gotta go fast (do do do do do do do…)

While Present Mic wonders if the two grappling for first can hold onto their lead, we see Izuku standing at the start of the field, watching the other students rush ahead. Tokoyami is again launching himself into the air with his quirk, Kirishima is just carefully picking his way through, and I can’t tell enough about the other students to see if they’re 1a or not, so…

Izuku worries about how wide the field is, while we get to see just how many people are ahead of him on the field. However, Izuku seems to have a plan, looking around him. As the others rush onwards, and as Shouto and Katsuki fight with each other, we see Izuku hard at work doing something he says is taking a page from Kacchan’s book. He thinks about how he can still catch up as he throws himself forward onto a bunch of unearthed landmines, the plate under him and between him and the inevitable explosion.

Nice.

Izuku is sent flying over everyone’s heads from the force of it, much to everyone’s shock. Shouto and Katsuki both look back to see what caused it, while Mic wonders what could have caused such a blast, and whether it was accidental or intentional. As Toshinori throws his arms up in the air (panic or excitement?), we get one last look at Izuku, wearing a very determined expression as Present Mic announces his riding the wave in hot pursuit.

And with that, chapter 25 is done! What a point to leave off at. Next time, we finish the race, get to see placements, and (I think) we get the announcement for the second event. See y’all then!

#sports festival arc #chapter 25 #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #readthrough #todoroki shouto #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #asui tsuyu #uraraka ochako #Ashido Mina #hatsume mei #iida tenya #yamada hizashi #aizawa shouta #god izuku is a champ #i just love how fast he was to come up with that plan like #talk about taking advantage of your resources

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debbiechanclub · 4 years

Text

Best Two Out of Three, Part 21

Y’all.

That’s it. That’s the preface.

(Oh, also @what-does-mine-say is responsible for soft Matt in this so don’t look at me, I swear to baby Jesus.)

Best Two Out of Three

Part: 21/26

Pairing: Kenny Omega x OFC x Cash Wheeler and Adam Page x OFC x Matt Jackson

Word count: 7.6k

Warnings: Language; angst to the nth degree.

Tag squad: @freshlysqueezedmox @gabbynorth98 @librathepheonix13 @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @exe-sadboi-exe

Catch up on previous parts here.

Callie only stayed one extra night at the hotel in Jacksonville. She’d booked the room through Thursday; it was non-refundable. But she couldn’t stay there another day. She was tired of washing and wearing the same five outfits she’d packed when she walked out more than two weeks ago. She was tired of living in limbo. So, before the sun had even come up Monday morning, she checked out, got in her car, and set out for Virginia.

It was just under an eight-hour drive, which meant she had an awful lot of time to think about what she would say to Adam. And the more she thought, the more solid she became in her decision. The longer she drove, the more every sad country song streaming through the radio seemed to tell her what she needed to do—no matter how bad it would hurt. She refused to sit around and wait any longer. As far as she was concerned, they were only delaying the inevitable.

It was almost four o’clock when she pulled into Adam’s driveway. She parked next to his truck and cut the ignition. She was exhausted from the drive, and despite all the time she’d had to prepare herself she still wasn’t ready to confront him, not mentally or emotionally. But she didn’t drive all day to turn around. She had to do it, ready or not.

The world was quiet as she walked up to the front door. It was unlocked. She went inside. It wasn’t long before she heard the sound of someone coming quickly down the stairs. Adam’s blue eyes looked confused at the sight of her. Not relieved. Not happy. Not hopeful. Just confused. It broke Callie all over again.

“Hey,” he said.

She let out a rueful breath. “Hey? I’ve been gone more than two weeks and that’s all you have to say to me?”

He frowned. “I’m sorry, Cal. But I wasn’t expecting to see you. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back?”

She picked up her hand and let it fall back down in frustration, her keys dangling from her first two fingers. “What would’ve been the point?”

It hit him when she said that. It was written all over his face, clear as day. “You’re not staying.”

Callie’s nose burned. She shook her head, a bubble in her throat. “No. I’m not.”

She crossed into the kitchen and pulled a glass out of a cabinet to get herself some water. Her hand shook as she carried it to the fridge and filled it up. She took a drink. Adam watched the entire time, mute.

Callie walked to the kitchen island and set the glass down. She drew in a shaky breath—and then she told him what she’d been thinking, over and over, for the last eight-plus hours.

“I can’t go on like this anymore, Adam. I can’t sit around waiting anymore. It’s been more than two weeks, and the only time I heard from you was when you burst into my hotel room with Alex demanding to know why I’d been out with Cash. Do you know how that’s made me feel? It feels like you don’t care about us enough to even try. To even pick up the phone and send a text that says you’re thinking of me, or you’re sorry, or something. Anything.” She shook her head. “You can’t even look at me right now.”

Adam’s eyes flicked up to meet hers. They were so sad. Ashamed. “How can I, Cal?” he asked. “I know what I’ve done. I know how bad I’ve hurt you.”

“Do you?”

“Yes!”

“Then why haven’t you tried to fix it?”

Tears filled her eyes and the room went hazy. Adam looked away again. He didn’t have an answer for her. He didn’t have an answer for anything anymore.

Callie’s voice wavered as she spoke. “I have no choice but to be selfish now. I have to look out for myself, and I can’t sit around in limbo while you figure out if you even want to be with me anymore. What sort of self-respecting woman just waits for her boyfriend to decide if he still loves her?”

“I do still love you,” he quietly said.

She shook her head, tears spilling over. “But not enough. It’s not enough, Adam, and I don’t just want to stay in this because it’s what’s convenient.”

She wiped her tears away. Adam looked back at her, mute. She couldn’t stand there and listen to the silence a second longer.

“I’ll go get what I can.” She walked past him and up the stairs to their bedroom. His bedroom. It was just his bedroom now. She pulled her spare set of luggage from the closet and started packing, clothes, shoes, toiletries, everything she needed and anything that would fit. Adam appeared in the bedroom, a dejected look on his face.

“You don’t have to do this now. I’ll sleep in the guest room.”

“No, I do have to do it now,” she insisted.

More silence. And then, “Do you have somewhere to go?”

She stiffened. “Yes,” she returned, but she didn’t tell him where. She didn’t think it would be fair to tell him where. Thankfully, he didn’t ask.

“Alright,” he breathed. And then that was that. He turned and left the room without so much as another word. It only proved to Callie that she wasn’t the one he was fighting for.

She made quick work of filling up the luggage, desperate to get out of the house that she’d once called home. She lugged it all down the stairs and to the front door. Adam stood in the kitchen, a glass of whiskey already in his hand. His eyes were glassy and red.

“I’m sorry, Cal,” he breathed.

She frowned. “Me too,” she said, and she walked out the door for the last time.

She didn’t cry as she pulled her bags to her car and threw them in her trunk. She didn’t have any tears left. She got behind the steering wheel and started the ignition, and as she pulled out of Adam’s driveway and back onto the road, she made a phone call. It rang once, twice. And then Matt’s voice floated through the speakers of her car.

“Hey. How’d it go?”

“It went,” she answered. Translation: I don’t want to talk about it. “I’m on my way to the airport now.”

“Alright,” he said. “Please drive safe. You’ve driven a lot today.”

“It’s only another hour-fifteen. I’ll be fine.” She chewed on her lip, anxious. “Are you sure your offer still stands?” It was a little late to back out now—she’d already bought the ticket. But she couldn’t help but feel guilty that it was Matt who she was turning to.

“Of course,” he assured. “What time is your flight?”

“9:05.”

She could almost see him nod on the other end. “Alright. Then I’ll see you around 11:30 pacific.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Typically, Alex was the type of person who liked to figure out her shit on her own. But this time, she needed to talk to someone about what she was going through. Maybe if she talked it out, it would help her figure out what the hell she was thinking and feeling. Obviously, she couldn’t talk to Callie or Adam, and she didn’t want to talk to Chuck or Trent (and Jim was completely out of the question). Which left just one person for her to call on: Kris.

“Alright, I need to make sure I have everything straight, because you just hit me with a lot,” Kris said through their FaceTime call. Alex had just spent the previous thirty minutes downloading her on everything that had happened since her injury. She didn’t blame her for needing a recap.

“So you ended things with Kenny the day I got injured so that you could be with Cash,” she started.

“Correct,” Alex confirmed.

“And then Cash ended things with you because Kenny gave you a locket and told you he loved you and got you all confused about how you feel.”

“More or less.”

“And then Adam apparently admitted that he has feelings for you, too?”

“Apparently,” Alex breathed.

Kris shook her head. “Your life is a certifiable soap opera, dude.”

“I know,” Alex agreed with a roll of her eyes. “I wish whoever the hell is writing it would hurry up and tell me the fucking ending.”

Kris gave her a sympathetic frown. “Well, despite everything you’ve told me—and like I said, it was a lot—there’s still one thing you haven’t.”

Alex’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What?”

“How you’re feeling.”

The compassion in Kris’s tone caused Alex’s sinuses to burn and tears to stab at the back of her eyes. No one had asked her that. Not one person, since this whole ordeal had started. And now that someone had, she couldn’t help but unload.

“I feel empty. Emptier than I’ve ever felt in my entire life. I went from falling in love with Cash, to realizing that I might still love Kenny while falling in love with Cash, and it tore me apart. And now… I don’t know what I feel. All those feelings are still there, but I don’t know if I wish that Cash and I were still together or if I want to move forward with Kenny. And I’m mad. I’m so fucking mad at myself for the things I’ve done; for hurting people I care about for no good reason. And I’m fucking furious at Adam for being so goddamn selfish. He knows what I’m going through. He’s known the whole fucking time and on Saturday he acted like all he cared about were his feelings.”

Her voice broke, and the tears that she’d been fighting to hold back finally spilled over, streaming down her face, hot and angry. “I’m sorry—”

“No,” Kris firmly returned. “Don’t you dare apologize. You needed to get that out.”

Alex tried to wipe her cheeks dry, but more tears kept falling. “I’m tired of feeling like this,” she choked. “But I have no idea what I’m supposed to do to fix it.”

Kris’s brow puckered in thought. It was clear even through Alex’s tears that she was debating saying something. “What?” she pressed.

“I was just thinking,” Kris started. “I read somewhere once that if you fall in love with two people you should choose the second, because if you truly loved the first then you wouldn’t have fallen in love with the second. So… that would be Cash, right?”

Alex bit the inside of her lip in contemplation. “I don’t know.”

Kris looked confused. “What? What do you mean you don’t know?”

“Because,” she breathed in frustration. “If you include last year, then yeah, Cash is second. But if you’re only talking about the last couple months, then wouldn’t Kenny technically be second?”

“But you’ve already been down this road with Kenny.”

“But still,” she quietly returned. She closed her eyes. Her head was starting to hurt.

“Do you want my honest advice?”

Alex reopened her eyes. “Of course,” she said.

“Alright, well here it is: if you’re this confused and you really don’t know what you want, then I think you need to just step back from the entire situation. You need to take care of you, Alex. That’s what’s most important. And after that… the things that are meant to be will work themselves out.”

Alex stared at the screen, her vision going distant and blurry as Kris’s words sunk in. They were hard to hear, but the truth was never easy to digest. All these weeks she’d contended with guilt and hurt and confusion and regret—and her own happiness had gotten lost in the process. She needed to find it again, and the only way to do it was to focus on herself.

“You’re probably right,” she admitted.

“I know it sucks,” Kris said. “But you deserve to be happy. And none of this is making you happy.”

“No shit.”

Kris pouted. “I wish I could actually be there for you. I’d go smack all three of them.”

Alex gave a watery laugh. “It’s the thought that counts.” She checked the time; it was a little after 5:00 p.m. “Well, I should probably go feed myself. I haven’t had anything to eat today except a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch this morning.”

Kris’s eyebrows arched. “Yes, please go eat. And don’t have Cinnamon Toast Crunch for dinner, too!”

“Yes, mom.”

They said goodbye, and Alex felt a little bit lighter; less burdened. Her heart still felt broken. But, for the first time in weeks, she had hope that it wouldn’t stay that way.

* * * * * * * * * *

Just as Matt had predicted, Callie’s plane touched down at Los Angeles International Airport just before 11:45 p.m. pacific time. She’d slept nearly the entire five-and-a-half-hour flight, and as she walked through the terminal to baggage claim, she couldn’t help but notice that she felt more energized than she had in weeks. The hustle and bustle of LAX was welcoming and familiar; the warm West Coast air filled her with a sense of nostalgia and comfort. And when she saw Matt waiting for her at arrivals, a smile on his face, she couldn’t help but propel herself forward and jump into his arms. Relieved.

“How was your flight?” he asked as he embraced her. “Not too bad, I guess?”

“It was perfect.” She stepped back from him and smiled. “Left right on time and I slept almost the whole way.”

He nodded. “Well then I guess you don’t need this.”

He gestured with the Starbucks cup in his hand. Callie had been so happy to see him that she hadn’t even noticed. “You got me coffee? You didn’t have to do that!”

He shrugged a shoulder. “I only got you one because I wanted one.”

Callie playfully rolled her eyes. The smirk on his face said otherwise.

“Decaf caramel macchiato, right?”

She nodded as she took the cup from him. “You remembered my order?”

“Yeah. It’s not like it’s anything crazy. Well, except the decaf part.”

Callie smiled and took a sip, hoping the cup would block the blush that had crept into her cheeks.

“Alright, well let’s get out of here,” Matt said as he grabbed the handle of one of her suitcases. “It’s over an hour drive back to my place.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Callie had worried that the drive to Matt’s house would be awkward. Even more, she worried he would ask her about what had happened at Adam’s house. But it turned out she didn’t need to worry at all. They’d just listened to music and talked about whatever; anything other than the current circumstances. How it felt to be back in California. What she’d missed most about it. Things they’d done together when she’d still lived there. It was light; comfortable. Part of her had worried that she would instantly regret flying out to stay with Matt. But the only thing she regretted was that it had taken her breaking up with Adam to finally come back home.

It was after one in the morning when they arrived. Matt carried both her suitcases through the front door and led her back to the guest room. It looked like it had been recently cleaned. She wondered if he’d done that for her.

“I’ll let you get settled,” he said as he put her suitcases next to the bed. “If you need anything, I’m just at the top of the stairs to the left.”

She smiled warmly at him. “Thank you, Matt. I really appreciate this.”

He shook his head. “It’s nothing. You can stay as long as you want.”

He started for the door—but then Callie had a thought. “Hey.” Matt turned back around, an expectant look on his face. “Um, I know it’s late, but between my five-hour sleep on the flight and the sugar in the coffee I’m not exactly tired. So, I don’t know… do you maybe want to watch a movie, or something?”

Callie immediately felt silly for asking. It was after one in the morning and Matt had just driven nearly three hours round-trip to pick her up from the airport. He probably just wanted to go to bed.

But then he gave her a crooked grin. “Yeah. We can watch a movie.”

She blushed again, and she was thankful for the dim light in the room.

Matt disappeared out the door, and Callie tossed open her suitcases and dug around for her pajama shorts and a comfy t-shirt, eager to get out of the clothes she’d been wearing for almost a full twenty-four hours across God knows how many states. As she finished changing, she noticed one of Matt’s hoodies hanging from the doorknob of the closet. It looked comfortable. She took it off the doorknob and pulled it on. It felt just as comfortable as it looked. Content, she threw her hair into a high messy ponytail and met Matt in the great room. He sat on the couch, his phone in his hand. A corner of his mouth quirked up when he saw her.

“Is that my hoodie?”

She smirked. “Yeah. It looked comfy. Is it alright if I wear it?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

Something about the look in his eyes told her that Matt thought it was more than just “alright” that she was wearing his hoodie. Callie fidgeted and changed the subject. “So, what do you want to watch?”

He nodded toward the media cabinet. “See if there’s anything you like over there. If not, there’s always Netflix.”

Callie walked over to the media cabinet. It didn’t take long for her to find something that piqued her interest. She pulled a pink DVD box from the cabinet and held it up. “This,” she happily decided.

Matt’s brow furrowed. “Mean Girls? You’re gonna make me sit through that?”

“It’s in your collection,” she flatly pointed out.

He cleared his throat. “It’s, uh, Nick’s.”

She smirked again as she walked over and handed it to him. “Uh huh. Sure.”

He didn’t make any arguments as he took it from her and stood to put the DVD in the player. Callie sat down on the couch and made herself comfortable underneath a throw blanket, pulling her legs up. She grinned at Matt as he made his way back over and sat down next to her.

“Wanna hear something funny?” she asked.

“What?”

“So, after Kenny and Alex split up, she told Adam that the Elite were like the Plastics.”

She giggled as she watched him, awaiting his reaction. His face screwed up as he pressed play on the remote. “Please tell me you’re not being serious.”

“Deadly,” she confirmed. “She said that Kenny is Gretchen and Nick is Karen… and you’re Regina George.”

“What?” he shot. “Well, if that’s the case then Alex is Janis and Chuck, Trent, and Orange are collectively Damian.”

Callie let out a loud burst of laughter and covered her mouth with her hand. “So you are a fan of the movie,” she teased.

He pursed his lips. “Just shut up and watch it.”

She gently kicked him with her foot, but he caught her ankle and pulled her feet onto his lap. Callie adjusted so that she laid on the couch, her legs draped across him under the blanket and his hand on her shin, slowly rubbing his thumb back and forth across her skin. And it didn’t feel strange, watching the movie with Matt like that. It shocked her that she didn’t miss it being Adam. And even though she’d said she wasn’t tired, it wasn’t long before she closed her eyes and was lulled into sleep by the comfort of his touch.

“Callie.”

She heard Matt’s voice as if in a dream, half awake. The movie still played in the background. “Hm?”

“Come on, let’s go to bed.”

She felt him gently take her hand, and she let him pull her up and off the couch and lead her back to the guest room. He helped her into bed, and as he pulled the covers up and over her, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into a hug. She pressed a half-conscious kiss to his cheek, the stubble of his beard rough against her lips.

“Goodnight,” he said, and Callie rolled over and slept.

* * * * * * * * * *

Callie didn’t wake until almost 10:30 the next morning. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept in that late. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept that well. She pushed back the covers and stretched, and she realized that she was still wearing Matt’s hoodie; she’d slept through the night in it. She remembered him helping her to bed, her pressing a kiss to his cheek as he said goodnight. Her stomach did a little flip. She tried not to dwell on it as she climbed out of bed, grabbed her phone, and walked into the great room. Matt was in the kitchen.

“Morning,” he greeted with a smile. He was already dressed, his hair tied back in its usual bun at the nape of his neck. “How’d you sleep?”

“Really good, actually,” Callie answered as she took a seat at the kitchen table. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

He shrugged. “I thought about it, but you had a long day yesterday. I figured you needed the rest.”

She didn’t say anything in return. She knew he was right.

“I have some bacon and toast ready here for you,” he said. “Do you want eggs? I didn’t want them to get cold, so I held off making any.”

She shook her head. “The bacon and toast are fine. But I will take some tea if you have any?”

Matt smiled. “I actually went and bought some because I know you like it.”

He set to work making her up a cup, and Callie felt that flutter in her gut again. But then her phone chirped. It was a text from Britt.

How’s hotel living?

She stared blankly at the screen until it went black. Britt thought she was still in Jacksonville. Callie wasn’t sure if she wanted to tell her the truth.

“Everything alright?”

She looked up at Matt and nodded. “Yeah, just Britt checking in with me.”

She left it at that and opened the text. On second thought, she didn’t want to lie to Britt. If she did, it would only make it seem like her staying with Matt was more than it was. I’m actually in California.

“Does she know you’re here?” Matt asked as she pressed “send.”

“She does now.”

He nodded. “Does Adam know you’re here?”

Britt texted her back. With Big Brother Buck???

Callie internally rolled her eyes as she responded to her. Yes, she sent back. And then to Matt, “No.” She looked down at her lap. “I just thought it would be better not to tell him.”

He carried over a plate of crispy bacon and buttered toast and a steaming hot mug of tea. “I get it,” he said as he set them down in front of her. “Adam and I haven’t exactly been the best of friends lately.”

“Thanks,” Callie said as she picked up the tea. She blew on it and took a sip, relishing in the taste and warming comfort of it. He’d made it just right.

“So, do you want to talk about what happened yesterday?” he cautiously asked. “I understand if you don’t… but it might be good to just get it off your chest.”

Callie’s phone chirped again, but she silenced it and placed it screen-down on the table. She didn’t feel like dealing with Britt’s probing questions at the moment, and Matt was right. It would be good if she got it off her chest.

“He barely said a word to me when I showed up yesterday. He didn’t even try to stop me from leaving, and I don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t even try to fight for me.” She wrapped her hands around the mug, feeling its warmth radiate through her skin. “The only thing he did say was that he still loved me.”

Matt looked back at her. “Do you still love him?”

She let out a sigh. “I do. But sometimes being in love isn’t enough. Just saying it isn’t enough. I need to feel it, too. I need you to show me that you want me.” She blushed, suddenly realizing what she was saying. “God, that sounds super clingy, doesn’t it?” she said as picked up a piece of bacon and took a bite.

But Matt shook his head. “No. It makes perfect sense to me. And if Adam doesn’t want to show you, then it’s his loss. There are other guys out there who will.”

Callie’s chewing slowed to a stop as she looked into Matt’s eyes. Their dark brown color was so warm, so different than Adam’s bright blue. But their color wasn’t the only thing about them that set them apart from Adam’s. She saw emotion and truth in Matt’s eyes, two things that she hadn’t seen in Adam’s eyes in weeks.

And suddenly Callie thought—maybe she shouldn’t have told Britt where she was.

* * * * * * * * * *

“So, what’s the verdict, doc?”

Alex looked hopefully up at the trainer as he finished examining her ankle. She’d come to see him as soon as she could after arriving at Daily’s Place, eager to learn her prognosis. As much as she’d rested her ankle over the last two weeks, she expected to get the all-clear.

“I think you’re good,” he said. “But I want you to rest it one more week just to be sure.”

Alex wilted a bit, but she nodded. “Alright. It’s not like I’ve got anything going on anyway.”

She climbed down from the exam table, pulled on her sneaker, and went out the door with a wave. Now that that was done, she was headed straight back to the Best Friends locker room—and that was exactly where she intended to stay for the rest of the show. She would not go to catering, she would not accompany Chuck and Trent for the tag team gauntlet match, she would not pass “Go” or collect $200. There were far too many people she didn’t care to run into lurking around the halls of the arena.

Like Cash, for instance, who had just stepped out of FTR’s locker room into the hall. Because of course he had.

“Hey,” he said. Just to say something. It would have been rude not to say something.

“Hey,” Alex returned. They were only a few feet apart, but it felt like there was a massive, impassable ocean between them. She hated it. She couldn’t bear to be around it a second longer. “Um, I was just headed back from the trainer, so…” she awkwardly trailed off, unsure what to say next. So, she said the only thing she could think of to get herself out of there. “Well, good luck in the gauntlet match.”

She started to walk past him; but then Cash spoke up.

“How’s your ankle?”

Alex blinked, somewhat surprised that he’d asked. That he seemingly cared to ask. “Oh, it’s good. I feel fine, but he wants me to rest it another week just to be sure.”

He nodded. “That’s good,” he said, and Alex’s gaze went distant as she realized the sad irony of her choice of words. Ankle aside, she didn’t feel fine.

“Will you be out there for the gauntlet match? With Chuck and Trent.”

She focused back in on him. “Um, no,” she answered. She glanced down at her hands, anxiously picking at her nails. “So, you don’t have to worry about that.”

She looked back up at him. His face fell. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

She chewed on the inside of her mouth. How had he meant it, then? Had he hoped she would be out there? No, she couldn’t think that; she couldn’t hope that. It would probably only leave her disappointed. “Well, like I said… good luck tonight.”

She tried to leave again, but he said something that made her stop.

“Do you really mean that?”

Alex looked back at him. It didn’t seem like he thought she was being insincere in wishing him good luck. Instead, it looked like he genuinely wanted to know if she meant it. And the truth was, she did.

“Yeah,” she nodded. “I do. I mean, of course I want Chuck and Trent to win; I want them to be the champions. But you and Dax deserve it, too. I know how hard you’ve worked to get here.”

Cash looked into her eyes. He gave her a sad, grateful smile. “Thank you, Alex,” he genuinely returned. “That means a lot.”

She nodded. She really needed to go now. “Just do me a favor: if Chuck and Trent don’t beat the Bucks, kick their ass extra hard for me, alright?”

He smiled again, more lighthearted that time. “Will do.”

Alex gave him one final grin, and then she turned and continued down the hall. That interaction hadn’t been as painful as she’d thought it would be at the start, but it still left a part of her wanting. She thought back to the conversation she’d had with Kris on Monday, to that thing she’d told her she’d read somewhere. If you fall in love with two people you should choose the second, because if you truly loved the first then you wouldn’t have fallen in love with the second. Then there was that other thing she’d told her: You’ve already been down this road with Kenny. Maybe she was right. Maybe Cash was the second.

But she didn’t have a chance to think about it. The Best Friends locker room was just a few yards ahead. The door opened—and Adam walked out. He stopped when he saw her.

“Oh, hey.”

Alex slowed to a stop. She was nervous to see him; and yes, a little bit angry, too. They hadn’t spoken since that night at the bar, when he’d sat across from her and so selfishly admitted his feelings. But then she noticed his eyes. They were bloodshot and glassy. He didn’t look sober.

“Hey,” she cautiously returned. “What’s going on?”

He took a few steps closer. “Um, I was just looking for you,” he explained as he pointed his thumb back at the locker room door. “Trent said you’d gone to see the trainer.”

She frowned up at him. “I don’t want to talk, Ad—”

“Callie ended it.”

Alex stopped. She felt for him, she really did. But she wasn’t surprised. She didn’t know what to say.

Adam swallowed. “She, um. She showed up at the house on Monday and told me it was over. She packed everything she could and left.”

Alex’s brow furrowed. “Is she still staying with Britt?”

He let out a soft, wry laugh. “That’s the thing. I didn’t know where she was going. She didn’t say. But uh, I was just walking back from catering to my locker room. I passed by hair and makeup and… I overheard Britt tell Penelope that she’s staying with Matt.”

The bottom dropped out of Alex’s stomach. She couldn’t believe it. She expected something like that from Matt Jackson, that fucking cocky asshole, but not Callie. And, suddenly, she wasn’t angry at Adam anymore. She was angry for him.

“She broke up with me and then immediately went running to Matt, of all the fucking people she could have gone to. And I know, I just know he loves that she did.”

He gritted his teeth as he spoke, becoming angrier with every word. Alex’s heart was broken for him. “I’m sorry, Ad—”

He cut her off. “Don’t be. That asshole’ll get what’s coming to him.”

And with that he walked off, leaving Alex wondering—and worrying—what exactly he meant.

* * * * * * * * * *

Callie’s heart hadn’t stopped racing since the tag team gauntlet match had started. Matt and Nick had already beaten the Natural Nightmares, and now they were in the midst of their second match against Best Friends. If they won, they would face FTR immediately after. If they beat FTR, they’d get a title shot against Kenny and Adam at All Out in just over a week. And the longer Callie watched, the more she realized: she wanted the Young Bucks to win. Tonight, and at All Out.

Matt had taken out Chuck with a chop to the knee on the ring apron, and now he and Nick had Trent isolated in the ring. Nick tagged in Matt; Matt grabbed Trent and hung him up on the ropes. Nick went to the top turnbuckle and hit a perfect 450 splash. Matt went for the cover—but Trent kicked out at two-and-a-half.

“Dammit,” Callie muttered.

“I see who you’re rooting for,” Britt commented with a smirk.

“Well, obviously I don’t want Best Friends to win,” she returned.

Britt’s eyebrows arched. “No love lost between you and Alex then, huh?”

Callie didn’t comment. Alex was the next-to-last person she wanted to think about right now. The last was Adam.

“So how are things going with you and Big Brother Buck?” Britt asked.

Callie sent her a sidelong glance across the locker room. It was obvious she assumed something was going on between her and Matt. “We’re just friends, Britt,” she said. But she couldn’t help but add, “But I’m glad I decided to go out there.”

Britt’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “Oh, really? Professor Jackson was a good host, huh? Did he teach you anything else while you were out there?”

“Britt!”

“Relax,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m just teasing you.”

Callie pursed her lips. She wasn’t entirely sure she was just teasing her. But her attention abruptly was drawn back to the TV when she heard Chris Jericho proclaim, “Oh look at this! Hangman!”

Callie’s brow furrowed. Hangman? She didn’t see Adam anywhere. But then the camera cut to the right side of the ring, and she couldn’t help but see him. He held onto Nick’s leg. Nick tried to break free, but he couldn’t. And then, Trent rolled up Matt and counted one-two-three.

“Oh shit,” Britt said.

Callie couldn’t believe her eyes. She felt herself starting to shake as she watched, unable to look away, trying to process what she’d just seen. Adam’s eyes were red and glassy. Nick and Matt stared at him—shocked, betrayed, confused. Matt screamed at Adam to look at him, but he wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

“I need to go.” She stood from the couch and pushed her way out of the locker room, heart racing, thoughts going a million miles a minute. So fast that she couldn’t make sense of any of them. She couldn’t make sense of what Adam had just done, no matter how bad his relationship had gotten with the rest of the Elite.

She arrived at Gorilla just as Matt and Nick returned backstage. She didn’t even get the chance to open her mouth before Matt yelled, “Did you know he was gonna do that?”

She gaped at him, taken aback. Angry that he could even think that. “No! Of course I didn’t know, are you kidding me?”

He raked a hand through his sweat-damp hair and turned away, pacing. But then he abruptly stopped. “I bet I know who fucking did.”

He took off down the hall. Nick followed, just as heated as his brother. Callie practically had to run to keep up with them. “What are you doing?” she asked—but she got her answer when she saw the door to Best Friends’ dressing room just ahead. She panicked.

“Matt, don’t,” she implored. But he didn’t listen. He charged in without warning, sending the door flying against the wall with a loud bang! Callie had no choice but to go in after him.

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?”

Alex nearly jumped a foot in the air from where she sat on the couch at the unexpected boom of Matt’s voice. But as soon as she got her bearings, her shock was instantly replaced with anger. “What the fuck, Matt?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he spat as he stalked toward her. “Did you put Adam up to what he just did out there?”

Alex’s lips parted in shock. “You’ve lost your goddamn mind,” she said.

“Have I?”

“Yeah, you fucking have.”

“Cut the bullshit, Alex!” he proclaimed. “We all know you have every reason in the world to sabotage us, and you have Adam wrapped around your fucking finger just like you do Kenny!”

Callie reeled when Matt said that. But she didn’t have time to fully process it before Alex stood from the couch and stepped right up to him. Her eyes darkened.

“Nick, if you don’t want to become an only child then I suggest you get your brother out of here right now.”

Matt let out a low laugh. But before Nick could step in the door flew open again. Kenny hurried in, a mixture of panic and confusion on his face.

“Oh, perfect timing,” Matt sarcastically muttered.

“What the hell is going on?” Kenny asked. “I could hear you yelling from all the way down the hall!”

“Matt burst in here screaming at me about how he thinks I had something to do with what Adam just did,” Alex answered.

“What?” Kenny hissed at Matt. But Matt ignored him.

“Oh, quit the innocent act, Alex!”

“I AM innocent!”

“Alright, come on,” Kenny took Alex by the waist and gently pushed her back as she tried to advance on Matt. But she wasn’t done.

“If you want to know why Adam sabotaged you then maybe you should take a look in the fucking mirror!”

Matt’s brow lowered. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Quit the innocent act, Matt,” she spat his own words back in his face. “How long did you wait to swoop in once you found out Callie and Adam were having problems?”

“What?” Matt charged. “I didn’t swoop in. I was being her friend.”

“By inviting her to come stay with you in California?”

The room went quiet; shocked. Callie’s heart jumped into her throat. How the hell did Alex know that she’d been in California? Did that mean Adam knew? He must. Her eyes flicked to Matt. He looked just as caught as her.

“You did what?” Kenny gaped. He glanced between Matt and Callie, eyes wide, waiting for an explanation. Matt bit down on his jaw.

“Like I said, I was just being her friend.”

“Oh my God,” Kenny pinched the bridge of his nose. It got Callie to finally speak up.

“There is nothing going on between Matt and me.”

“Are you sure about that?” Alex charged.

“Oh, you’re one to talk!” she returned. “How many guys do you have dangling on a line right now, Alex? Three? Four? I honestly can’t keep up.”

Alex took a threatening step forward, but Kenny pushed her back again. “Don’t bother, it’s not even worth it,” he said to her.

Callie scoffed. “Defending her like always.”

“Yeah, I am,” he returned. “Because she’s right. It’s no wonder Hangman threw the match with you two going behind his back like that.”

Matt’s mouth dropped. Betrayed. “Are you serious? Callie and I are just friends!”

“You’re supposed to be ADAM’S friend!”

Alex yelled so forcefully that it took her by surprise. But she was angry. She was so angry for Adam’s sake, and she couldn’t hold back any longer. “The only thing he’s ever wanted is your approval! That’s it! And your head is shoved so far up your own goddamn ass that you can’t see it! So just for one second, can you please pull it out and imagine—can you fucking imagine just for one goddamn second how it must have felt for him to find out secondhand from Britt-fucking-Baker that as soon as his girlfriend broke up with him she hopped a plane to fly clear across the country to stay with someone who’s supposed to be HIS friend?”

She finally stopped, out of breath, voice hoarse, dizzy from yelling. And then, the sound of the ring bell came from the TV. The last match of the gauntlet, Best Friends vs. FTR. She’d completely forgotten about it, what with Matt storming in on her. She turned to look. Her face fell as the ref raised Cash and Dax’s arms in victory. “Shit,” she cursed. But she didn’t have time to dwell on it when Matt spoke up again.

“Adam’s insecurities aren’t my problem,” he said. “If he has an issue with me giving my friend a place to stay, then tell him he can come talk to me like a man. Not sneak up on my brother and cost us a fucking title shot. What he’s feeling is personal. Interfering in our match is business.”

With that, he turned and stalked back out of the locker room, pushing his way through the door. Nick cast disappointed eyes at Kenny before he followed after his brother. Callie looked at Alex. She shook her head, her expression angry, and then she turned and walked out the door.

Alex’s shoulders slumped. Her head was pounding and her ears ringing, adrenaline still coursing through her. “What a fucking asshole,” she breathed.

Kenny gripped her arm. “Are you alright?”

She shook her head in disbelief. “I just can’t believe he thinks I would tell Adam to do that.”

He frowned. “You know how Matt gets when he’s angry. He jumps to conclusions.”

She nodded as she drew in a breath, trying to calm her nerves. She looked up at him. “Um, thank you for coming in here. I don’t think I would’ve wanted to deal with that on my own.”

“Of course,” he softly said. “But you tore him a new one, so I think you would’ve been fine.”

He gave her a lopsided grin, and she couldn’t help but return it. There was that feeling again, those three little-big words. But, at the moment, there were more pressing matters than her complicated feelings for Kenny. “Well, I’m gonna go meet Chuck and Trent. I’m sure they’re not happy.”

Kenny nodded. “Yeah, go.”

Alex nodded and, somewhat reluctantly, made for the door. But she stopped and looked back at him, a thought occurring to her. “About the text you sent me… I want you to know that I’m not mad at you, Kenny. I’m mad at myself. And because of that… I do need some time.”

He nodded again, his blue eyes soft. “I know, Alex. And I understand.”

She gave him a thankful smile, and then she went out the door, her heart a little stronger than it had been five minutes ago.

* * * * * * * * * *

Matt couldn’t wait for Adam to come talk to him and Nick. Part of it was because he was still so angry, but it was mostly because he knew Adam wouldn’t come talk to them. He was a coward. Only cowards would do what he’d done tonight. So, he decided that he had no choice but to go confront him himself.

He stalked through the halls of Daily’s Place, Nick close behind. They found Adam right where they expected him to be.

“Of course you’re at the bar!” Nick shouted. “Of course you are!”

Adam stood there, mute, a drink in his hand. There were two more drinks sitting on the bar. It was obvious he was waiting for someone. Matt let out a laugh.

“Are you expecting someone, Hangman?” he asked with a gesture at the drinks. “Are you kidding me?”

Adam didn’t answer. He still couldn’t look at him; at either of them.

“Why’d you do it, huh?” Nick pressed, getting right in his face. “You cost us a title match. Why? Are you afraid to face us again, is that why?”

“No, he’s insecure!” Matt proclaimed. “He’s insecure about his friendships, he’s insecure about his relationship, and it all finally pushed him to this.”

Adam finally looked at him when he said that. Angry. Matt could see it in the set of his jaw, in the tension in his shoulders, in his bloodshot and glazed-over eyes. But there wasn’t just anger in his eyes; there was also guilt and shame. He’d done this to himself. He pushed his friends and his girlfriend away—and he knew it. But Matt didn’t feel sorry for him. Not anymore.

He stepped closer. “Apparently, all you’ve ever wanted was our approval. Well, guess what: you had it, Hangman. You had it. But not anymore.”

Adam opened his mouth—but Matt snatched his drink from his hand before he could speak. He didn’t want to hear anything he had to say.

“And you know what? It’s about damn time someone told you the truth. You’re nothing but a drunk.”

He tossed the whiskey in Adam’s face. And then Matt said something that he’d been wanting to say to Adam for months.

“You’re out of the Elite.”

With that, he and Nick turned and left Adam there at the bar, covered in alcohol, alone.

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jumukus · 4 years

Text

A3! Event: Frohe Weihnachten! Episode 5 Translation

From Izumi’s point of view, Azami is still struggling to get into his role at the Christmas Market.

Guy: And so, just like what we did for the Actor's Cafe, let's come up with ideas for our roles at the event.

Kumon: Come to think of it, we did all kinds of characters during our Actor's Cafe run, right! Like gentleman, cheeky tsundere and chuunibyou…

Citron: Don't forget the classic arrogant character!

Taichi: Do-S characters are also popular, y'see! Chikage-san got a nice response when he played it out back then.

Misumi: And Muku got called cool when he played a hero with older brother vibes~.

Azami: The mysterious type is also one of the classic roles out there.

Izumi: I don't mind if you take on characters that suit you, but personally, I think playing roles that are different from your usual self will serve as a great experience.

Citron: You've got a point.

Kumon: In that case, let's have Citron-san play a yankee or a tsundere character!

Misumi: Sounds interesting~!

Guy: I wonder what kind of roles will be good for Izumida.

Taichi: How about someone who flirts in a gentle way!?

Azami: The heck are you sayin'? That totally ain't me.

Taichi: And that's the point--to play a role that's totes different from your real self! Just look at Citron's role!

Kumon: Someone who flirts in a gentle way...so like a prince!?

Citron: I love that idea! It's the exact opposite of Azami's character! Gap moe!

Azami: No, nah, playing a prince is a bit…

Misumi: I want to see Azami as a prince~!

Taichi: And that's that! Azami will play a flirty prince!

Azami: Are you for real…

Izumi: (Given Autumn Troupe has never delivered a love-themed play and it's something that Azami-kun isn't good at…)

(I guess it's only natural for him to be quite shy on the first day…)

(Though I'm sure he'll get used to it with time.)

(If he can pull it off nicely, I feel like his fans will be super impressed.)

Misumi: "Hey, you--yes, you. Stop by my booth. This great me has taken the trouble to call you, so don't even bother to refuse, okay?"

"Now, follow me. I'll escort you. Be honored."

Female Customer A: Kyaa~!! An arrogant watchman… I can't!! He's so cool…!

Female Customer B: Escort me too~!

Izumi: (That's Misumi-kun for you… He's so popular with the customers.)

Azami: Phew…

Izumi: How was it, Azami-kun?

Azami: Man… that was goddamn embarrassing.

I can't believe I said those things just now.

Izumi: But this will serve as a nice experience for you as an actor, and you'll get used to it with time.

Taichi: A-chan!

Azami: Hm?

Misumi: It's our turn to take a break~. Let's walk around the Christmas Market together~.

Azami: Oh, is it break time already?

Taichi: I'm starving after performing that much, man! Let's go get something to eat!

Azami: I heard Ginsekai is opening up a takoyaki stall here. Wanna check it out?

Izumi: Selling takoyaki at Christmas Market…?

Taichi: So innovative…!

Izumi: If you all are going there, mind if I tag along?

Misumi: Sure! Let's go together, Director-san!

Azami: I heard they're attracting customers in Santa costumes.

Taichi: On God!? I wanna see!

Misumi: Are they selling triangular takoyaki~?

Azami: I'd be surprised if they sell that.

Izumi: Change your costumes first if you're going to look around.

Misumi: Okaay!

Female: Umm…

Misumi: ?

< Episode 4 | Masterlist | Episode 6 >

#a3!#a3! translation #spring troupe #summer troupe #autumn troupe #winter troupe #citron #misumi ikaruga #kumon hyodo #azami izumida #taichi nanao #guy

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

Text

Survey #457

“blue are the words i say and what i think / blue are the feelings that live inside of me”

Do you buy your lingerie at Victoria’s Secret? No. That shit is so overpriced and not for my size group. Would you ever use an online dating service? I never would again. Are you good at multitasking? ABSOLUTELY NOT. Have you ever eaten Frosted Mini Wheats? Ugh, those are so gross. What does your bikini look like? You think THIS bitch wears a bikini??????????????????????? Does age really matter in a relationship? To an extent, yes. How much does the last person you kissed mean to you? I honestly don't even know if I'd be here without her. Almost like magic, Sara popped back into my life right after I returned home from the hospital following my suicide attempt. She helped make recovery possible as a solid source of support. Do you use lotion? Not NEARLY enough. My skin is so dry; I need to. Do you believe in teenage love? I experienced it deeply and thoroughly, so yes. Have you ever sat on the roof of your house? No. Do you like Sublime? I like that one popular one of theirs. "Santaria" or whatever it's called? What’s your favorite movie genre? Paranormal horror, especially the "found footage" type. It's creepy to imagine it being actually real. Is there a celebrity that you’d be willing to have a one night stand with? If he was single? I know in my gut I would lmaooooo Do you want to live in your current town the rest of your life? OH MY GOD PLEASE NO If you found out today your best friend was gay what would you do? She's demisexual, so. She can like anybody. If you could get a pet for free today-what kind/what name? A tegu, because it wouldn't need an enclosure that I don't have. I'd let it free roam. God, I can only imagine Roman's reaction. How many people have you slept with? If you mean what I think you do by "slept," one. Do you ever wish you had a family business to become a part of? Not really. What’s the most gruesome way you could come up with to kill someone? Hunny, have you seen my dark RP????? The world best be glad I'm a pacifist lmfao Do you think anyone deserves to die that way? I don't believe in torture, so no. If you had to fight for survival, what would your weapon of choice be? A gun, I guess? I'd want something with range and that's quick. I wanted to say a bow and arrow, but preparing another arrow after shooting once could really cost you your life. Where did you buy your favorite pair of jeans? I don't wear jeans anymore. Do you have a large dog? We don't have a dog, period. If not, are you afraid of them? No, I love big 'ole puppos!!!!! I just don't wanna own a dog myself. Are you good at playing darts? Holy fuck no, I have NO hand-eye coordination. I once stabbed the guy at a balloon popping booth thing with a dart in the arm, if that tells you anything, ooooooooooof. Do you like breaded chicken sandwiches? YESSSSSSSSS omg Do your parents know that/if you smoke? They know that I don’t. Have you ever been under a blacklight? Omg so in elementary school, we did this thing once where we all washed our hands as best we could and then put them under some sort of light (maybe a blacklight, idk???) to see JUST how resilient germs are. You gotta scrub the fuck out ya hands, people. How many pounds do you want to lose? I'd rather not share a number, but a lot. What’s your favorite natural phenomenon? The Northern Lights. Do you snore? Very surprisingly for someone with sleep apnea like mine, I actually don't. How many people do you know with the same first name as you? Off the very top of my head, one, but it's spelled differently. I KNOW I know of a shitload more Brittanys, though. Is it possible you could be pregnant? Well, I haven't been intimate with a man in years and just finished my period, so like- Could you go a day without texting? I go most days without texting. Do you have a step-parent? My dad is remarried, so yes. If so, do you get along with them? She's EXTREMELY Christian, so her beliefs wildly disagree with mine, but I keep my mouth shut a lot just to keep the peace. She IS a very sweet woman, nevertheless, and am glad she and my dad are so happy together. Does your current/last job require that you wear a uniform? My last job (which lasted not even two hours lol) did. When will your driver’s license expire? My permit has been expired for like... two years. Do you live in an apartment? No. If the last person you kissed proposed to you what would you say? That's too wild a concept to even imagine. I'd probably ask if she was okay lmao. Would you ever get back with one of your exes? Weeeelp, I want to get back together with Girt. Pretty badly. Write a foreign word, and what it means: "Schadenfreude" is a German term that essentially means secondhand embarrassment, but it doesn't have a perfect translation. Is there an ex you think about everyday? Inevitably. That's PTSD, my friends. Who is the last person that you said I love you to, besides family members? Sara. What's the worst thing you have ever said to anyone? Something along the lines of "no one could ever love you like I do." It boils my blood just typing that; I considered even deleting this question. That quote right there is fucking manipulation, even IF I thoroughly believed it. Who was the last person to comment one of your pictures? I don't feel like looking. Do you tend to go for older or younger when looking for someone to date? It's weird, I'm into slightly older-than-me guys, but probably girls who are barely a bit younger than me. Have you ever been used? I don't think so. Have you ever not been able to get someone out of your head? Like I've said in plenty of surveys: Jason is probably a permanent fixture. But also as of the past two days, Girt's been living up there. I went from "hmmm I just don't know how I feel" to "FUCK I want to talk to him about how stupidly into him I am right this fucking INSTANT" pretty goddamn fast. It kinda scares me just because of how extreme my feelings are. Again. That's only ever gotten me hurt. Buuuut let's not get into that. Have you ever got caught cheating on a test? No, because I've never tried to. Will your next kiss be a mistake? I hope it won't be. But it's not like I know the future. Have you ever worn an oxygen mask? Actually yes, when I was young and thought I was having an asthma attack or something. Mom had one for her own asthma. Then I obviously wore one for surgery. What song do you want to be played at your funeral? "Paradise" by Coldplay is absolutely #1. How many swear words are in the song you’re listening to? I'm not listening to music; I'm back to watching Gab play Sekiro. What color was the last swimsuit you wore? Black. Have you ever kissed anyone of the same sex, and if so, who? Yeah, just Sara. Who did you last tell to ‘shut up’? Ha, I think my WoW friend Lyndsey, but only playfully, of course. We pick fun at each other all the time. Would you ever get a tattoo of a boyfriend/girlfriend's name? NOOOOOOOOO. Are you one of those girls who already have baby names picked out? I know what I'd name my kids IF I actually wanted any, yeah, but I don't. Do you think guys with long hair are attractive? Yessss, I love long hair on guys. Are any of your siblings taller than you? I think Ashley is a liiiiil bit taller? I know my brother is, for sure. Have you ever scared someone so badly that they cried? Yikes, no. When was the last time you wore high heels? Boy oh boy, no idea. Is there someone that you want to hurt right now? Jeez, no thanks. What was the most interesting or colorful birthday cake you’ve had? I don't remember, but I'm sure something from childhood. What was the last thing someone bought you? Was it expensive? Mom bought me food from McD's, which obviously isn't expensive. Do you have any interesting moles anywhere you don’t want people to know of? No. Have you ever gotten high or drunk in a really formal place? Strong "no" there. Do you ever write poetry and post it on any certain websites? On the very rare occasion I write poetry and actually like it, I'll sometimes post it on dA. What do you miss most about your childhood? Actually, genuinely having fun and not dealing with fucking anhedonia. Would you like to know the precise date of your future death? Hell no. Do you photograph well? I'd like to hope so. Are there any animals you flat out refuse to touch? Maggots and similar bug larvae. What super power would you refuse, if it was offered to you, and why? Mind reading. It just sounds... awful and overwhelming. What’s your favorite discontinued product that you wish would come back? Oh, I KNOW I have answers to this, just none are coming to me immediately and I don't feel like sitting here for five minutes thinking about it. If adults had show and tell, what would you bring into work? My snek! :') If you had a reset button for the last 10 years, would you press it? Tempting, but... I don't think I would. I cannot go through how deep my depression was again. Who is someone you would never swear in front of? My nieces and nephew. Yes, I don't believe in profanity being a "thing" and is just a stupid human fabrication, but nevertheless I acknowledge societal standards and expectations, and they're way too young to get when you shouldn't say something like that and why. Have you ever won a contest or competition? A few. Who is your favorite TV character? I don't think I really have one? Do you coo over other people’s babies? Not really, no. Sometimes I'll think they're super cute and be like "awww," but I don't like... squeal and spaz like some people do. What is something that makes you very squeamish? VOMIT. Has there been a celebrity death that really affected you? Steve Irwin got me deeper than anyone else. Chester Bennington hit real hard, too. If you’re out of high school, have you stayed in touch with your high school friends? If you’re still in school, do you think you will? Most of my closest ones, yes, at least via Facebook. What’s a movie that you want to see? Old movie, but Jacob's Ladder. It was a massive influence on Silent Hill, so naturally, I'll probably love it. It's a classic, anyway. Do you use the same username everywhere online or do you have a lot? I use "Ozzkat" in most places, but I do have some other ones for different sites. Who was the last person you know who became pregnant? My friend Ana recently revealed she's expecting her second child, a boy. What fad were you actually into? I have zero clue. Have you ever tailgated? Would you want to? Fuck no. That's how so many wrecks happen. My sister legit got in a wreck with an 18-wheeler mostly because she was tailgating (which she does BADLY); she was trying to pass, and he moved over at the same time because he couldn't see her coming around. It's a borderline miracle she got out with only some cuts, bruises, and a seatbelt burn. Have patience, people. Get off cars' asses. Why did you fall for the last person romantically? Look, don't get me started on this. There are a shitload of reasons and I have been way too emotional over this the past few days laksdfja;lwke What’s the last thing you had to eat? A bagel w/ cream cheese for breakfast. Do you ever pick up your house phone? We don't have a landline phone. Truth be told, are you more into looks or personalities the most? Personalities, for sure. I cannot be into you if your personality isn't attractive.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''i'm blue'' by eiffel 65

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hazbincalifornia · 4 years

Note

A hassle about Blitzo not able to get comfortable to rest because of this fucking kid partying in his gut. Having to begrudgingly accept a visit from a certain owl when he’s out of options that ends up helping him and it relax.

Blitzo really, really hated the little brat sometimes. He’d been busy all day, and now that he finally made his way to bed, they just kept smacking outwards like his skin was a drum set being played by a coked-up college student.

“Will you stop squirming for thirty goddamn seconds?” He hugged his stuffed horse to his chest, knees pulled up, and hissed as the spawn in his gut absolutely refused to listen and just kept wiggling even as his tail wrapped around his stomach. “Holy shit, you really do take after Stolas, don’t you? Can’t leave me alone even when I’m trying to sleep. My stomach’s not a bouncy house, kid.” Unfortunately, his words didn’t seem to translate into baby-language, because giving an annoyed poke just made them move around more.

Blitzo rolled over to his other side. No dice. Back was out- his spines always tore up the sheets, and it was a pain in the ass (and his wallet) to replace them. He’d learned last week that trying to lay on his stomach just had them writhe around to the point of pain, not to mention it was like trying to sleep on a rock.

Loona had told him on no uncertain terms that she was ripping his tail off the next time she woke up with him snuggled against her in bed. She probably wasn’t going to actually do it, but he’d rather avoid her shedding all over his closet or something in a different form of retaliation. It wasn’t his fault that the kid was desperate for attention and just rubbing his stomach wasn’t enough!

They had another client meeting in the morning- a big one, from the sound of how she’d rattled off the names of her bitch-ass living family members. He couldn’t miss it. It sounded like a hilarious mess, on top of being four times the usual job’s size.

Blitzo’s phone buzzed, and he smacked the side table a few times before managing to pick it up. Stolas had sent a text.

Via and her mother are out tonight at her grandparent’s house. Is there anything you need that I could help with?

Groaning, Blitzo started to type. im fien dont worry abt it

He let that sit unsent for a few moments before deleting it. can u send soemthing to get them jto stop movng

No, that didn’t sound right either, and his toes curled before he finally gave up. jsut get ovr here. it wont stop movnig

Stolas sent a heart emoji and a thumbs up in response to the message, and Blitzo just hoped he hadn’t just lost what little sleep he’d have been able to get without him.

He trudged over to the front door twenty minutes later when Stolas had to stoop to make his way through the doorway. Loona was stretched out on the couch and watching TV, halfway through a carton of ice cream.

“Whatever you two are about to do, I don’t want to hear any of it,” she commented with a raised eyebrow. “I will turn up the volume on this until the neighbors start smashing the broom on the ceiling and yelling at us again.”

“We’ll be fine, Loonie,” Blitzo said with a wave of his hand before heading directly back for his room again. He heard Stolas murmuring reassurances to her before following, again having to duck to not hit his head. The prince had switched his inner shirt for a simple long sleeve with star patterns and had ditched the hat, but was still wearing his cape. Weirdo.

“So, what do you need, Blitzy?” Stolas settled himself down at the end of Blitzo’s bed and idly started rubbing a pair of boxers draped on the comforter between his fingers.

“Hold me.”

“Hmm?” Stolas scooted closer as Blitzo crossed his arms.

“Don’t make me say it twice,” he muttered as Stolas set a finger under his chin, tilting his face up.

“You said that you wanted me to hold you?”

“It… helps,” Blitzo muttered, forehead dropping down against Stolas’s chest. “The kid’s a bitchy little attention-whore, and Moxxie almost shot me last time when I showed up at his place while he was half-asleep. Don’t have a lot of options here.”

“We can’t have that!” Stolas wrapped his arms around Blitzo, who nuzzled against the soft down on his chest automatically before realizing what he was doing and trying to pull away. Unfortunately, as thin as Stolas’s arms were, his grip was like steel.

“What’s the deal with that, anyway? You’d think imp pregnancies would just make you want to shank anyone who looked at you funny,” Blitzo grumbled. “Not this.”

“If I were to hazard a guess, it would increase the odds that the child survives infancy if there was a clan or mate of some sort besides the single parent. Hell isn’t exactly kind to the weak, and babies are helpless.”

“Yeah, well, my body needs to get out of the old times. We’re not living in caves and shit, I can do this by myself.”

Stolas pulled back enough to glance around the messy room, but didn’t comment on that any further. “You don’t have to. It’ll be alright.” He rubbed his hand over the bump, the skin next to his beak twitching a bit. “Oh, goodness, they are feisty tonight, aren’t they? They take after you.”

“They do not! This is all you!” Blitzo drummed his fingers on his arm, tail irritably jabbing into the clay on the bedside table, and he plucked it off the tip to begin to knead with his fingers. “I’d be sleeping right now if they weren’t here. So clearly, this is your fault.”

“You’re far more… energetic than I am,” Stolas said, going back to gently soothing his fingers over the fussy baby, and Blitzo’s shoulders sagged when they started to slow. The fingers felt cool- or maybe his body was just running warm. Weird.

“Why wouldn’t they do that for me? I’m the one doing all the hard work here!”

“They missed their daddy,” Stolas teased.

“Hey, I’m the daddy!”

“We both are.” Stolas set a hand on Blitzo’s side, pushing him towards the bed until he was laying down. He pulled his cape and shirt off before laying down himself, his own flat stomach against Blitzo’s as he curled close. “This way, they’ll know that someone is here and won’t bother you until morning.”

“Won’t that be a miracle.” Blitzo rolled his eyes before lazily draping an arm over Stolas, pulling himself a little closer. It wasn’t often they got to cuddle without sex beforehand, and having those soft feathers against him without them being caked in sweat and cum (and, for that matter, without being so wiped out that he just conked out within five minutes) was nicer than he expected. His tail draped over one of Stolas’s legs, feeling the bumpy texture of it.

Stolas made a soft chirp at that, his hand resting on the side of Blizo’s belly before moving to settle on his hip.

“Good night, my little imp.”

“G’night,” Blitzo muttered. His chest felt kinda warm. He’d have to check the heating in the morning. The imp’s nose twitched as he could smell the spiced body lotion Stolas used before slipping away into sleep.

#daddy blitzo #helluva mpreg #hb #shadow writes stuff #I'll probably toss this over on ao3 after I do a few more of them #Anonymous #asks #one time

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jimlingss · 5 years

Text

Inside My Mind [M]

➜ Words: 19.2k

➜ Genres: 50% Fluff, 50% Smut, High School!AU

➜ Summary: You're safe in the confines of your mind. Free to think whatever, free to fantasize to your heart's content. And your imagination tends to quite a wild turn when you’re dying from sheer boredom. But when some GUY IN YOUR CLASS CAN FUCKING READ MINDS - YOU'RE NOT SAFE ANYMORE! WHAT THE FUCKSKDKASDFGHJKL—

➜ Warnings: semi-public sex, attempts at dirty talk, consenting minors engaging in sexual actives with each other, first-time sex, brief depiction of tone-deaf sexual education that doesn’t do shit.

You’re safe in the depths of your own mind. No one knows what you’re thinking — they can’t tell when you have a constant poker face and the only change in your features is the way your brows furrow in concentration every so often. But if the teacher and your classmates knew what was going inside your brain, they’d be aware that you were bored out of your goddamn mind. “Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear. So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows, as yonder lady o’er her fellows shows. What does this mean? Flip to the page fifty eight and the modern translation is her beauty is too good for this world; she’s too beautiful to die and be buried. She outshines the other women like a white dove in the middle of a flock of crows. Now with the critical analysis of this soliloquy, we can deduct—” You’re drowsy. Sleepy. Your eyelids are heavy and you feel yourself losing consciousness, head beginning to dip slightly. Everyone else seems to be dulled from the lesson like you, but none are asleep and the last thing you want is to fall out of your chair and draw attention to yourself. So you try jostling your leg. But after a moment, it doesn’t dispel the seduction of sleep. You resort to pinching yourself, but it doesn’t work either. So you go to your last resort, allowing your mind to wander, pulling yourself away from reality…. You imagine someone crawling underneath your desk. Their rough hand tapping up your thigh, shoving your skirt up before carefully pulling your underwear down. This faceless person’s hot breath would skim against your leaking cunt and you’d feel their soft lips right on your flesh. “You like this?” They’d chuckle lowly, vibrations traveling through your skin. “Eating you out in the middle of class like this. What a bad girl. It’s disgusting. What if they see, hmm?” You envision them beginning to eat you out, face pulled up on your slit. Their tongue would penetrate through your hole and you’d clench around them. You’d grab their hair, sinking your fingers through their strands, pushing them closer to you while throwing your own head back to moan. These fantasies make you wide awake again and no one can even tell you’re not paying attention. // The lunch bell rings and you’re finally dismissed from class, freed from the horribly dull lesson. You’re one of the last to leave the classroom, taking your time and humming while walking out by yourself. But your mind is still reeling from your most recent conjured up fantasy. You’re still thinking about the way this faceless person would lick you up, from the bottom of your slit all the way to your clit. Their tongue would swirl around your folds, eyes glancing up to look at your fucked out expression, their tiny chuckles that would vibrate through your body and make your core clench— Wide eyes shock you back to reality. You go crumbling back to the ground, head out of the clouds. Someone’s stopped in the middle of the hallway, blocking your path. They’ve whirled their head around. The dark-haired boy in thick rimmed spectacles looks at you in unadulterated horror and mortification, brown eyes locked into yours. The pair of you stare at each other. Colour drains from his face, lips parted, jaw dropped. It’s almost as if you have said your thoughts out loud for him to hear… “Namjoon!” His friend calls out his name, breaking the private bubble between you two. He runs up to him and quickly takes a glimpse of you. You don’t waste a second to step aside, moving out of the way and walking by them. “Who’s that?” Jinyoung asks, eyes following your backside. Namjoon answers after a delayed beat. “Y/N.” “Huh.” His friend frowns. “Never heard of her. Anyways, what did you think of—” Kim Namjoon is a smart, quiet individual. You’ve known him since sixth grade, but you’ve only spoken a few sentences to him at best when you were forcibly paired up by teachers for group projects. You don’t remember much about him. Only enough to recognize his face. He’s an outsider….much like you are. People think you’re a pleasant, hardworking, studious girl who’s compliant and no-nonsense. At least that’s your exterior. The type to live a quiet life and die quietly without contributing much to society. And you like that image — it’s not too far from the truth. But more importantly, it protects the true thoughts brewing inside your head. But as you walk away, you can’t help glancing behind, over your shoulder towards the boy. He’s weird. And you can’t remember what you were even thinking about anymore. // Against your will, you begin to notice Kim Namjoon. You share biology and health class together; he sits a few rows away from you by the wall. And your eyes can’t help but stray off to him constantly. It’s just strange. You can’t stop your fixation about the way he looked at you, brown eyes shocked and scandalized, cheeks coloured in pink embarrassment. It’s suspicious. The teacher drones on and on about how the myelin sheath deteriorates and the gears of your brain start turning in sheer boredom. You glance at Namjoon’s profile from meters away before you look over to the door, envisioning someone striding in, disregarding the teacher completely. They’d march up to your desk and pull you up by your arm until you’re standing on your feet. You imagine being pulled in, your crotch pressed to theirs. Your mouth would be devoured by their probing tongue. You’d whine at the back of your throat, grabbing onto their shoulders until they’d grunt back, having enough of it and whirling you around. You imagine being bent over your desk, underwear pushed aside and thick fingers mercilessly shoving into your cunt. They’d curl up their knuckles and you’d cry out, grabbing the edge of your desk, notebooks and pencil cases tumbling to the ground. They’d poke and prod, pulling their fingers out to plunge them back in again, collecting your slick between their fingertips. “You like that? Look. You’re leaking all onto the floor.” Your fantasies continue. For the rest of class, you continue to daydream, head in the clouds without anyone noticing. The bell eventually rings. The students are dismissed. As you leave, your eyes stray off to Namjoon again. He’s still sitting in his desk, unmoving. And again, there’s that horrified expression on his face. He’s red from his chin to his forehead, refusing to meet your eye even when you’re blatantly staring. More importantly, there’s something weird poking out in his lap and as you pass, he covers it up with his backpack. Weird. There’s something not right about this and you’re sure you’re not imagining this. You’ve made your observation. You’ve created a question. You’ve formed a hypothesis and as outrageous as it is, it’s the best educated guess you got. And for the rest of the week, you conduct your experiment and collect the data through examining him afterwards. When Monday arrives, you waltz to biology class, stealing a seat directly behind the guy. Class hasn’t started, each person is still getting settled down. You prop your elbow on the desk, cheek rested in your hand as you stare at the back of his head. The strands of his hair are poking in different directions — you wonder if it’s bed head — you also spot a few moles on the nape of his neck and your eyes trace them, drawing lines like you’re making constellations. There’s no way, but there’s no other explanation. With a deep breath, you test your theory. Namjoon. He turns around. “What?” The corner of your mouth tugs into a discreet smirk. You weren’t wrong. His eyes widen, nearly falling out of their sockets and his jaw goes slack. He knows you’ve caught him red-handed. But you merely shake your head, going expressionless and you stare back at him. “I didn’t call you.” You didn’t. You thought his name. It shouldn’t be possible, but rather than being shocked or confused, you’re excited that your hypothesis was correct after all. It’s crazy and wild, but you were right! “Y/N—” “Alright, alright, kids. Settle down. We have a lot to get through today. Your midterms are in three weeks and we’re slightly behind the other class…” The teacher interrupts and he’s forced to turn back around and pay attention. For the rest of class, you think of nothing, simply paying attention to the best of your abilities despite becoming more and more drowsy. By the time everyone’s dismissed again, Kim Namjoon whirls himself around fast enough to get whiplash and he grabs your wrist before you can flee. “C-Can I talk to you?” // The two of you end up at the back of the school, standing on the dead grass beside the spray painted wall. It’s a place where love confessions happen or fights are scheduled. You’re pretty sure he’s going to do neither — no one has crushes on you and while the guy is taller and broader than you are, you doubt he would try to beat you to a pulp. Probably. “H-how did you figure it out?” Namjoon’s a nervous mess, pushing his dirty glasses up the slope of his nose. It slumps down again, but he doesn’t seem to care. He’s sweating buckets, swallowing hard, panicked. You shrug. “I just did.” You don’t want to talk about your fantasies out loud and how you caught the look on his face. You’re more interested in this skill of his, curiosity piqued. “So it’s true then? You can read minds?” The boy’s trying his best to explain himself. “I-...I was born with this ability. It...it skips a generation in my family and I was the one to get it. I’ve always had it. D-don’t tell anyone. No one else knows and I don’t want to be part of an experiment.” Like the one you did on him, except you imagine a proper experiment might be worse. NASA would probably strap him to a table and pull apart his brain to see what’s going on. You get his fears and he seems to read your mind, becoming relieved at your thoughts. “Sorry for putting you through my experiment.” You step closer, invading his personal space without realizing. “But can you really do it? It’s just a bit hard for me to believe. What am I thinking about right now?” He stumbles back a step, uncomfortable. “Me.” It’s obvious, so you envision a string of numbers inside your head. “What number am I thinking about?” “One thousand five hundred sixty four.” Your mouth draws open. “What an—” “Horses.” “What—” “Blue.” “Shit!” You’re grinning, arms in the air, unable to contain how impressed and excited you are. “This is so cool! Why didn’t I know about this before?!” A timid smile pulls onto his cheeks. “I mean we don’t really talk—” “Oh my god.” Your expression washes over to a deadpan, lips pressing together. “Do you get good grades because you cheat on tests?” “I mean...I try...not to…” “God, this is so unfair, but also,” you eye him up and down while stepping back, “really invasive.” The boy swallows hard, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as he redirects his vision downwards to his shoes. “Sorry about that.” You grimace, muttering, “d-don’t expose my thoughts….” Namjoon becomes red in the face, knowing exactly what you’re referring to. “I won’t. I don’t think I’d even be able to say the things you think out loud.” You scoff, crossing your arms and defending yourself. “It’s normal, you know, for people our age to be a bit….hormonal.” “Alright,” he answers, but you can hear the skeptical tone. You’re a freak — it’s true, but you didn’t want anyone to know, Namjoon is most definitely not an exception to that either. “Don’t reveal my secret and I won’t reveal yours. Deal?” you offer it up, negotiating and he nods, promising not to. It’s cool that Namjoon can read minds, but you’re not sure what to do with this new information. You guess you have mixed feelings with the idea that your thoughts and fantasies are no longer safe, but it’s not like you two interact with each other much or even talk. It’s still exciting, but doesn’t change much of anything. The pair of you part ways, returning to the strangers that you are.

That should be it. You now know that he can read minds. He knows you’re a freak in disguise. A secret for a secret. There’s no reason for any more interaction or conversations to be exchanged. You both lead your own separate lives… But while your mouth doesn’t physically make sounds towards him nor do your eyes stray onto him anymore, your mind travels far and wide. In the middle of a school assembly, forced to stand there and listen to the principal speak, your brain begins to do what it does best — dreaming about fantasies that can’t be fulfilled in reality. You imagine someone sneaking behind you, arms wrapping around your abdomen. They’d turn your head and force their tongue down your throat, claiming you as their own. Their hands would wander, from the skin of your stomach down to your navel and then past the band of your panties— There’s a poke to your side, bringing you back to reality “Can you stop?” the person mutters out from the corner of their mouth in frustration. You look over, finding Namjoon standing right beside you. OH. “It’s distracting,” he dips his head, whispering and trying to remain discreet, not drawing the attention of any teacher who would reprimand him for talking when he’s not supposed to. You open your mouth to defend yourself, but then you remember he can hear your thoughts. Get out of my head, Namjoon! Oh my god! What’s wrong with you?! “I can’t,” he murmurs, looking straight forward to the principal who’s now talking about keeping the school as clean and environmentally friendly as possible. “You’re too close in my proximity.” Luckily enough, most of your fantasies are of faceless people. Sometimes you fantasize about celebrities, but most often than not, you never discern a specific person, never dwelling on their facial details. But that still doesn’t make it any less mortifying. When someone tells you to stop thinking about something, all you can do is think about it. Falling onto the ground. Being pinned to the gymnasium floor. Being fucked roughly until screaming— “Y/N.” Namjoon calls you louder this time, jabbing your side and several students turn around to see what’s going on. None of you move, looking straight ahead and they spin back around. After a moment of silence, he looks at you again. “Stop.” I can’t! I can’t help it! I can’t contain it. I just...I’m too….horny. “Oh my god.” Namjoon is flustered and he puts his hands into his pants pocket, shifting uncomfortably. “Can you please pay attention and listen or like...think about what you’re going to eat later for dinner?” Fine. God. You’re annoying. You’re so annoying! Who told you to get into my head?! This is so embarrassing! I want to die. Oh my god. Get out of my brain! Get out! Get out!! For the rest of the assembly, you’re insulting him and whining inside your mind, wishing the world would just swallow you whole or at least let you curl up into a ball of shame. It’s not your fault that you like to think about these things. It’s normal in fact. People act on their urges. At least you have enough self-restraint than them and you put on a better facade. Why do you have to be punished for something out of your control? // It turns out you’re not safe anywhere. Before all this, your fantasies would come occasionally when you were bored in class and your brain began wandering. But now that you knew your thoughts were exposed and you were trying your best not to think about it anymore, it’s inadvertently all you can think about. It’s reverse psychology at its worst. It especially becomes severe when Namjoon’s around, namely in biology and health class when you’re actively conscious of his presence. Even when he sits across the classroom from you, as far as he can physically get, every ten minutes, you see him turn in his seat to glare at you with bright pink cheeks. “I can’t pay attention in class,” he mutters one day when he decides to sit next to you — apparently taking a seat here and far away makes zero difference to him. “Look, my thoughts are my thoughts,” you harshly whisper, not letting anyone else eavesdrop lest their blood run cold as well. “Maybe you should try zoning me out instead. Didn’t you say you were born with...this? Shouldn’t you be good at ignoring people’s thoughts?” You don’t understand. There were thirty kids around — you couldn’t be the only one bothering him. “Yeah, but your thoughts are...different.” He’s frustrated, huffing out and pushing his glasses up. “Can’t you control your urges for an hour?” For a moment, you forget he can read your mind. When you remember again, you don’t say anything. You think of your answer. No. But despite your annoyance and embarrassment, you try your best. And you do remain focused for the entire lesson, listening and taking diligent notes. When you get confused at a portion, frowning and erasing a few sentences, Namjoon leans over and passes you his notebook. There’s a note in the corner that reads: he means protein, not lipids. It clicks inside your brain and you pass it back to him, meeting his brown eyes. Thanks. Namjoon smiles and you muse he isn’t such a bad guy…. It’s a thought that has his smile widening. // At the end of the day, you pack up your belongings, swinging the backpack over your shoulders to begin the trek home. It’s your usual routine, walking past the school gate, fiddling with your earbuds and listening to some music as you walk down the road. But the main difference of today is that you notice a certain someone is ahead of you, going in the same direction. You rip out your headphones, quickening your pace to meet theirs. And the moment you get three meters away, he turns around, already hearing your thoughts. What are you doing here? “Taking the bus home,” Namjoon answers with a few blinks and when your next question appears, he elaborates, “I usually stay at school for a bit to finish some work.” Oh. That makes sense. I never usually see you. “Actually, I’ve seen you a few times...waiting for the bus….not on purpose. You just happen to be standing there.” Huh. I guess I never noticed. The boy syncs his steps into yours and he scratches the back of his neck, peeking at you quickly. “Y/N, c-can you talk out loud? It’s kind of weird to other people if I’m the only one talking to you and you’re saying nothing.” “Oh. Yeah. Sorry.” You nod, having gotten used to communicating through your mind. “Is it...weird to hear people’s thoughts all the time?” “Yeah.” A tiny smile graces the boy’s lips, having never thought of encapsulating his ability in that one word that undermines yet explains everything he feels. “It’s weird. And really noisy.” “Seems pretty cool though.” “You’d think. But that’s until you know what’s going in people’s heads.” Namjoon releases a wistful sigh and steals a glance at you before shying away. You’re the only one who knows outside of his family and he seizes the moment to share a piece of his sadness, wanting someone to understand. He murmurs, “There’s a reason I’m not that close to anyone...” You stare at him, not sure what to say. You never really thought about the repercussions — solely focusing on yourself and hating how he invaded your head. But for a split second, you see the pain etched onto his features. His ability might be more of a curse than a blessing. “You’re not close to your family?” you ask. At this point, you’re sure there’s no such thing as boundaries or privacy between each other, no question or topic that’s off limits. “Not really,” Namjoon admits casually and your heart aches for him, not knowing what to say. “I know what they really think of me.” “Well a lot of people think things they don’t mean to say or do. Thoughts come and go. And we all get angry and upset sometimes. I’m sure your parents care about you. If they didn’t, they wouldn’t...be around, right?” He smiles softly, knowing that you’re trying to comfort him. “Yeah, I guess. You’d be surprised though. A lot of people’s thoughts are bad and evil. Yours is just dirty.” Namjoon becomes shy, but he says it so bluntly almost like he doesn’t mind it so much anymore. Your eyes immediately avert away from him, scoffing and trying not to burn up in shame. The boy grins and he also looks ahead, down the road sparse of people. He continues, trying to ease the heaviness of the conversation, “Whelp, it’s not all that bad. I’m planning to go to MK National University, so…...yeah, I’ll be able to kind of get away for a while.” “Oh. What do you want to do?” “I don’t know yet. I’m thinking maybe their engineering program. I think I’m interested in civil engineering.” Namjoon nods and he seems more sure of himself than how he makes it out to be. It occurs to you how cute his awkwardness is, the way he’s kind of pure and sweet, how his uniform seems more stretched out than it’s supposed to be. But as fast as these thoughts flood into your system, you quickly nip them in the bud before he knows. “How about you?” “I’ve actually been considering going to MKNU too. I think I want to go into a mathematics program.” You shrug. “But I have no idea what I’ll do with that degree yet. I just like math.” Other clusters of kids around are talking about what they want to eat later, the latest hot gossip around school, what movies have come out, but here you and Namjoon are, being nerds. You’re sharing your love for math while talking about post secondary and the application process that most don’t even know about yet. It’s been a while since you’ve met someone as passionate about school as you are. “That’s impressive. Doesn’t their mathematics program require an eighty five percent average?” “Something like that. I don’t remember the exact number. Engineering’s not too far off, I think. But yeah, things would be okay if it wasn’t for biology dragging my entire mark down.” You exhale a lungful, lolling your head to one side while feeling death upon your shoulders. “I haven’t been really paying attention, so that doesn’t help. It’s just really boring to me.” “Yeah. I can tell.” Namjoon laughs, a gentle sound that rings pleasantly into your ears. He refers to your distracting thoughts and before you can defend yourself, he says, “I can help you if you want. I get it. Mostly.” You perk up, spine straightening, steps slowing as your eyes widen. “Really?” “If you can help me with calculus,” he negotiates with a reserved smile. “There’s some differentiation questions that I’m kind of confused on.” The boy already knows the answer before it’s come out of your mouth. It’s a deal of a lifetime after all and you’d jump oceans to take it. His smile widens yet again at your excitement. Deal. “Deal! Sounds like a plan, Kim!” // The corner spot of the library is your usual place, chair and table positioned perfectly so you can see the entrance and you’ll be able to quickly look up and call him over when he comes. But for now, you pull out your textbook, notebooks and pencil case, flipping through the review book you printed out and seeing what questions you can answer on your own. You become lost in your work, focused to the point of forgetting your surroundings, so you don’t see who’s approaching until they slide up right beside you. “Hey. Seulgi, is it?” Jung Hoseok has his elbows propped up on the table, cheek rested in his hand as he lazily smirks at you. His dark-hair is gelled back, small gold chain on top of his uniform that you’re sure is bought from ebay, top buttons of his shirt loose like his slacks. You are wholly unimpressed. “What? No.” “Oh shit. Aren’t you in Mr. Jeon’s math class?” “No.” You shake your head slowly, wondering why he’s talking to you. The guy doesn’t even know your name. He’s radiating off these sleazy vibes too that you don’t appreciate. You hope he leaves soon. “I’m in Mr. Min’s.” “Shit.” He raises his hands, palms out like he’s being arrested. “My bad. Swore I’ve seen you before though.” “Yeah. I go to school here,” you say in an exaggerated tone. You want to go back to work. He’s interrupted you rudely and you still don’t know what he wants with you. “Do you need something?” “Did your class do those math worksheets?” He leans back. “I...uh...kinda forgot they were due today and was wondering if you could...help me out…” You pause, annoyed beyond belief. But to outsiders, your meek exterior remains. People always think they can step on you, but it’s not like that at all. “Sorry. We didn’t get them,” you lie and fortunately, he can’t read your mind. Jung Hoseok doesn’t know that you got them two weeks ago, that you finished them a few days after and it’s sitting in your backpack right now. “Oh, cool. But think you can help me—” You stand abruptly. A grin spreads into your face and you wave your arm towards the entrance, completely looking past the fuck boy that is Jung Hoseok. “Namjoon!” Your shout is too loud for the silent space of the library, and a few turn around to stare. The librarian recognizes you and doesn’t mind the one time offense of being noisy. The boy you’re signalling comes tottling over with his own smile, books in hand, backpack swinging on one shoulder, pushing his thick-rimmed glasses up the slope of his nose. “I saved you a spot.” You motion across from you before glancing at Hoseok and shooing him away with an innocent question, “Are you moving?” At the same time, someone weaves through the bookshelves. A tall, pretty female comes out and by her long black hair and shorter skirt; you recognize her as Krystal. She lolls her head to her shoulder. “Hey, Jay. Are we going or what?” “Oh yeah. Hold up.” He gets up, tucks the chair in before the librarian yells at him. He throws an arm around the girl’s shoulder and as Namjoon gets settled down, the female looks at both you and him in equal disdain. “Who did you talk to?” she murmurs, but you hear it loud and clear. Hoseok shrugs, walking away. “Thought she was in my class.” You and Namjoon are nobodies and while you don’t know how he feels about it or if he has an opinion at all, you personally like it that way. You enjoy being on the down low, living a discreet life and not drawing any unnecessary attention to yourself. “Was he bothering you?” Namjoon pulls out his notebooks, stealing a peek at you. A scoff is pulled out of your throat. “No. He just interrupted me in the middle of solving a question. Speaking of which, I don’t really get number nine. I’m really confused on the concept of trisomy and disomy and figuring out ploidy numbers. I don’t get how the answer can be b and not a.” “Okay, wait.” He softly laughs, practically dumping his backpack out on the table in haste. “Let me get out the booklet first.” The two of you study together, getting halfway through the booklet. Namjoon happily answers your questions and clears up any confusion you might have. While he waits for you to finish a question, he works on calculus homework that you’ve already completed and you help explain some things that he’s unsure about. But as you continue working, the boringness of biology begins to submerge you. At some point, you become drowsier and your brain wanders against your will out of sheer boredom. You imagine being pushed against the bookshelves, uniform skirt pulled up, someone’s hand cupping over your mouth to muffle your sounds as they start to rub their crotch all over you, humping your ass— “Y/N!” Namjoon shouts your name louder than he’s supposed to, shocked, and you come crashing down to reality. Some people turn around, startled, and they only return to their work when they realize nothing’s happening. Sorry. The boy sighs, red in the face. He shifts uncomfortably while you gingerly rub your thighs together beneath the table. A few seconds pass. He swallows hard, flipping through a few pages of his textbook and decides to speak his mind, whispers lowly, “Why...don’t you try porn?” What? What do you mean? Like watching porn? No one knows the private conversation that’s happening in the corner of the library. “Maybe that can...help with your situation, so you can feel less…..horny...all the time.” Oh my god. Don’t say that word out loud!!! And you thought I haven’t tried?! I just...don’t like it. Most of the time, it goes too quickly and it’s too cringey and cliché and I’m not a fan of close ups of...genitalia. For your information, I’ve tried writing erotica too, but I couldn’t finish. I’ve tried, thank you very much. You slump in your seat, cheeks warming as you admit these thoughts. Namjoon nods, finding your arguments fair. He tries to search for a solution to your predicament. “Have you ever tried...you know….relieving yourself?” Sometimes. You remember those late nights after your parents have gone to bed. In the darkness of your bedroom, you like to put your soft pillow between your thighs and rock back and forth to release some tension in your body. You stifle the sounds with your blanket, but often times the pillow isn’t enough and your hands always go to your shorts, rubbing the spot that makes it feel good— Namjoon’s hand suddenly propels forward, latching onto your wrist. He lowers his head until his forehead is practically pressed on the pages of his notebook, eyes unable to meet yours. “Can you please stop thinking about it?” he harshly whispers, begging you. Immediately, you’re mortified. You let the thoughts slip. Namjoon knows how you get yourself off now. I can’t help it! You feel less like a teenager and more like a hyperactive rabbit in need of reproducing. These primitive urges overwhelm you and while you’ve restrained yourself in a physical manner, it’s difficult to get your thoughts in control as well. But you were supposed to be safe in your own head. Merely thinking and not acting was supposed to be good enough. You think I’m not frustrated either?! I don’t need these distractions in my life, okay?! I’m just trying to get into uni. It’s your fault for reading my mind all the time. Can’t YOU just stop?! “I can’t either,” he argues back, huffing with a frown. It becomes silenced. A grimace has permanently made its mark on your features. Your mechanical pencil digs roughly against the paper as you move to solve the next question and do the proper calculations. But it snaps with the force of your hand and you groan, pressing the end to bring out more lead. You force yourself to focus and keep answering. But no matter what you do outwardly, Namjoon can still hear your internal self — he knows you��re angry with him, angry with yourself. Five minutes pass before the boy can’t take it anymore. He lifts his chin and finds the furrow of your brows. “Y/N.” “What.” Your tone is short, curt, decorated with a slight pout. The corner of his mouth tickles, threatening to tug a bit. Namjoon takes a deep breath to prepare himself. Unlike him, you can’t hear the thoughts in his mind. He has to physically say out the words. “What if I helped you?” You raise your chin, locking your gaze with his, befuddled. “What?” The boy in the gawky glasses, awkward movements and oversized uniform moves closer, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, whispering lowly in a rumbling timbre, “I mean….what if we get it done and over with. You know...get over our primitive needs. Then none of us need to ever think about it again.” It’s like the pair of you are exchanging secrets under a blanket after building a secret fort together. You’re leaning over the table, nearly bent over and he’s moved his torso on top of the surface as well. But you still don’t get it, eyes blinking at him. “What are you talking about?” “You know—” Namjoon doesn’t want to say it out loud. “—that one word. Three letters. Starts with an S. Ends with an X.” Sex?! Your mind goes completely blank for a full three seconds. You. You want to have sex with me? “No-...yes….I mean…” He’s embarrassed that you thought about it so bluntly. If only the passing librarian knew that the two studious students in her library were talking about having sexual intercourse and not biology or mathematics, she’d faint. “I think about it too sometimes and...a lot a-actually...yeah...it doesn’t have to be a big deal, is what I’m saying. I mean we can get it done and over with. Do it once and get it out of our system….” You’re aware Namjoon isn’t acquainted with many girls. So this is a mutually beneficial agreement. A win-win. It doesn’t sound like a terrible idea. Don’t you want to wait for someone special though? “I-It doesn’t really matter to me,” he murmurs, stuttering and he’s fumbling with his words in a way you’ve never seen before. Somehow eloquent Namjoon has been reduced to the word ‘I mean’, repeating them over and over again as he shrivels up in shame. “And I mean...we’re friends. I mean, unless...unless y-you want to wait for someone special.” I don’t think I have time to be with someone special. Of all the fantasies you have, you honestly can’t imagine getting into a relationship. You have your priorities and the idea of going on dates is kind of cringey and awkward. But what strikes you in his offer is that— We’re friends? Namjoon’s face has gone red from his chin to his hairline. It’s endearing. And your thought makes the colour of his flushing skin deepen in hue. “I thought we were.” No...we are. But you’re about to become friends with benefits instead of normal platonic friends. “Do it once and get it out of your system?” you verbalize your words, making sure that you have it right. “Yeah, what do you think?” Namjoon searches your expression carefully. It’s not a bad proposition. Very realistic and maybe even responsible of you. Do it once and you can set your mind straight. You’ll be able to focus on what really matters and no longer have these futile delusions. Considering he has no experience like you, it’ll probably suck and that’s not such a bad thing either — your fantasies can stop after you’ve gotten a taste of reality. You don’t think of anything. You don’t say anything either. You simply nod. Agreeing. // The house is silent — for the most part. There are noises of thumping from above, footsteps thundering on the carpet that interrupt the otherwise quiet study session. Paper, notebooks, textbooks and worksheets are sprawled all over the table with pencils and erasers. You’re working hard on memorizing diagrams while the person across from you is pressing chains of numbers into their calculator. No sooner does your mom come prancing down the stairs, bag slung over her shoulder. “Y/N? I’m going to wor—...who is this?” She stops mid-step despite being late, eyes growing wide at the strange boy sitting at her dinner table. “Hmm?” You lift your head from your notes, playing it off nonchalantly. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. But, this is Namjoon. He’s a classmate. We’re just doing some biology review together since there’s a midterm coming up.” “Hello.” Namjoon gives a polite smile like a picture perfect son. “Nice to meet you.” “Kim Namjoon?” she questions, tipping her head to the side. Your brows raise. “You know him?” “Yes! I used to be close to your mother when you were in sixth grade and there was that school bake sale with Y/N and a whole bunch of other kids.” Her stern and defensive expression melts into a soft look, smile adorning her face. “I almost didn’t recognize you! My goodness, you’ve grown up so much! I remember when you were only this tall.” Her hand comes up to about her waist. “You always wore this blue Mickey Mouse hoodie around and you loved dinosaurs. I haven’t spoken to your mom in so long. Is she doing well?” “Yeah, she’s good.” He smiles, happy that his eleven-year old self made such a lasting impression. “Mom, aren’t you late for work?” You twist yourself all the way around, trying to get her to leave. She was embarrassing you and Namjoon knows — it makes him grin. Your mother is reminded and she whips her neck around to the clock then quickly moves to the foyer, grabbing her car keys and slipping on her shoes. In her rushing circumstances, she doesn’t even take a moment to consider the repercussions of leaving a teenage boy inside her house alone with her daughter. After all, he’s sweetheart Namjoon — what could he possibly do to you? “Right! I should get going. Your dad’s home in a few hours! If you get hungry, there’s food in the fridge and pizza in the freezer! Go heat some up for Namjoon. It’s not everyday that we have guests, so we shouldn’t leave them hungry!” “Got it. Bye!” The door slams shut and you turn back around with a sigh. “Sorry about that.” “It’s okay.” He returns to his work, finishing up with a question. There’s an extended pause, the sounds of pencil scratching the paper filling the silence before you ask, “What does she think?” You’re curious, wondering if she suspects anything at all. “She thinks I’m sweet.” Namjoon grins and you realize he has slight dimples in his cheeks when he does so. “And she’s glad you have a friend.” You scoff. Too bad your mom doesn’t know that this sweet boy she remembers as a sixth grader is about to fuck her daughter. The thought has Namjoon choking on air, sputtering on his spit, but neither of you say anything out loud, focusing on finishing up instead. In the next twenty minutes, you shut your textbook. Done. There’s only one thing left to do before he’s on his way. “Should we—….” “Yeah, I think we should…” It’s time to learn some real biology. “Okay.” You stand, showing him to your bedroom and he picks up his backpack along the way. “You got the goods?” “I got some goods that’ll help, I think. When’s your dad coming back by the way? I really...don’t want to be killed.” “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. We got like...three hours. But I doubt it’ll take that long.” More like three minutes. “Hey.” He gives you a look, pouting. You’re sheepish. Sorry. Namjoon enters your room while you apologize for it being so messy. You had actually cleaned it up and one read of your brain, he knows you tried hard and tells you it’s fine with a smile. He takes in the space of your bedroom, realizing it smells like you and he lingers awkwardly, not sure what protocol is. The only female bedroom he’s ever been in was his older sister’s and this was definitely not the same. He ends up following your lead, sitting beside you on your bed, right at the edge of your mattress. “So…” “What first?” “I don’t know.” It’s terribly, terribly awkward. You begin to second guess everything in your life that led up to this point, but you quickly calm your nerves and after some discussion, Namjoon ends up leaning against the headboard and you’re sitting in his lap stiffly, hovering over his thighs. “You can sit down properly. You won’t crush me or anything, so don’t worry about it.” “Okay.” But you’re still tense in his lap. Namjoon keeps his hands to himself, arms right by his side. He gulps and clears his throat. “We should probably kiss...right?” “Right. Um...have you kissed anyone before?” “No. You?” “Once,” you answer. “I think in Kindergarten while lining up for the water fountain, this kid turned around and our mouths kind of...hit each other.” “So no then.” He laughs and the sound eases your nerves a little. He swallows a mouthful of spit and his eyes flicker down to your lips for a second before going back into your eyes. “You wanna?” “I guess.” You shrug. “If we’re going to do it, might as well kiss. C-can I take this off though?” Namjoon nods and you carefully slide his thick-rimmed glasses off his face, leaning over to set them on the nightstand by your lamp. With a deep breath, you settle yourself back down onto his thighs, psyching yourself up. Okay, okay. You can do this. You can do this. It’s not a big deal. “You don’t have to be nervous,” he whispers and you nod. “Is it okay if we….” “Yeah. Just do it.” “Well...y-you should close your eyes.” “S-sounds good.” You shut your eyes tight, hands curled into fists and breath hitching in your nose. When it takes too long, you begin to move forward. Unbeknownst to you, Namjoon is stealing a moment to stare at you, your features, lashes, lips, how your face is cutely scrunched up. He smiles and subdues his own nervousness, fluttering his eyes closed, leaning forward. The boy tilts his head slightly to the left and he misses. Namjoon ends up at the corner of your mouth, near your cheek and when he realizes, he positions himself and finally, your lips graze. You keep your mouth sealed tight like a toddler who doesn’t want to be fed carrots. He presses against your lips lightly and you muse how plush it feels. Namjoon moves away after three seconds and you exhale, lids opening. “Like that?” “I think so. M-maybe...more though.” “More like how?” He frowns, not understanding and you stutter, unable to speak. “U-Umm…” Longer? Maybe open our mouths? Don’t they french kiss in the movies? Aren’t tongues supposed to touch or something? Or is that gross? I don’t know. Luckily for you, nothing needs to be said. Namjoon can read your chaotic thoughts and he goes ahead, trying one more time. He goes slowly enough that it gives you enough time to close your eyes again and he presses against your mouth, a bit harder and for longer. This time, it’s not just a graze. His nose bumps into yours and you help him by tilting your own head. It’s soft, Namjoon landing multiple pecks on your lips as if he’s trying to kiss a boo-boo away. It tastes like moisturizing chapstick, waxy and a hint of vanilla. You finally breathe once you can’t hold your breath any longer. In the meanwhile, his hands come up to gingerly hold your cheeks, palms cupping your skin, keeping you in place. You feel your body begin to relax, muscles no longer seizing and you settle more into his lap, feeling something weird poke at you from underneath. You’re unable to pinpoint it when he pulls away. “Better?” “Y-Yeah…..that was better. I think….we should try again…just to make sure we got it right.” “Yeah...okay...alright.” It’s more intimate than you expected. You never imagined being this close to Namjoon to the point where you can feel his own body heat, have his warm breath tickle your skin, count his lashes, see the crevices of his dimples. But you don’t get to dwell at how awkward this all is when he goes in for a third round. This time, your lips are parted and his are too. It’s less tense and uncomfortable and the boy has gained more confidence, tiling his head at a better angle. He kisses you, locking your mouths together and as you exhale, he inhales. You don’t realize your hands have lifted to the back of his neck and how he’s pulled you closer onto his lap. Namjoon pushes harder. It’s sloppy, but also eager and more curious. His tongue prods at the seams of your lips and it draws a noise at the back of your throat. He hums back, vibrations pleasant. It’s warm, slobbery and wet with spit. With the two of you inexperienced, you’re sure this isn’t exactly right. It’s weird. But also not bad. He breaks away after a minute or so and you use the back of your hand to wipe your mouth that’s wet with his saliva. Namjoon takes one look at you, reads your thoughts and smiles, glad that it wasn’t too atrocious. “W-what now?” “I mean….do you wanna take off your clothes?” “Uhhh…..” “We don’t have to. I mean….we only need to take off our pants and underwear. I’m fine with anything if you’re fine with anything. W-we can stop if you want. N-no pressure.” “Um….I’m fine with taking off our pants.” And our underwear. “Got it.” Namjoon stands, fumbling with his pants, hands trembling, and you look away, slipping off your own before deciding to just go for it and taking off your panties with it. You’re surprisingly slick, crotch area of your underwear ruined and you push it off your bed to deal with later. “I got some stuff.” He digs into his backpack, coming out with three condoms and a bottle of aloe vera gel. You eye it and he explains, “It’s supposed to be a lubricant...so you don’t get hurt…” “Can that go up my….coochie?” The last thing you want is to get an infection because of some boy or worse, go to the ER. You wouldn’t know how to explain that to your parents. “Don’t worry. I googled it.” “You’re prepared, Kim,” you banter, making for a more light-hearted atmosphere. He grins and you keep your eyes trained on his, refusing to look down to his pants-less legs and crotch area. But he knows what you’re doing and becomes insecure by your refusal to look, cheeks becoming warm. “You don’t have to be scared. It won’t hurt you or anything. Do...you want to try touching it?” For fear of creating a misunderstanding, you brace yourself and look down. Namjoon’s cock is completely hard, red and somewhat curved, a clear liquid oozing from the tip. It looks like a deformed sausage for lack of a better term, but also not so much. While it’s not the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen, it’s an intimidating, good five inches. “S-sure.” Your hand reaches out, circling around his member lightly. It’s not as hard as you thought it would be, skin kind of soft and fleshy. He laughs, asking you what you imagined it to be like and you shrug. Curious, you try giving it a squeeze and immediately, Namjoon tenses. You look up at him, gauging his reaction. “Does that feel good?” “Uh-huh.” He nods, releasing a held breath. Suddenly, you feel a surge of power ricocheting through your veins. His prized possession was in your hands. You have the ability to bring him to pleasure or make him suffer. The ideas swirling inside your head makes him swat your hand away, a bit scared. You grin at him, stifling back a laugh without knowing just how you were riling him up. Namjoon tries to calm himself down before he busts all over his legs, standing in the middle of your room. Luckily, his dick is not as obscene as other dicks are in porn videos. And you don’t feel disgusted, per say. You just don’t know how that’s supposed to go inside of you. There’s no way. “It’s not that big. Average actually. It’ll probably fit,” he reassures you. “Ummm….you can lay back if you want.” “Okay.” You feel comfortable enough around Namjoon to get on your back, head plopping down on your pillow and your hands gathered at your stomach like you’re about to be lowered into your grave — something you’re pretty sure is not off the mark. Namjoon makes no comment on your metaphor, grabbing the bottle and condoms and climbing onto your bed, sitting back on his knees. “D-do you want me to….do o-oral on you?” The thought of his mouth on your private parts makes you flinch, worried about a hundred different things, if you smell bad, if you’ll taste bad. The onslaught of concerns makes him blink hard, caught off guard. “I don’t have to. I don’t mind...about anything, so you don’t have to worry.” “Maybe later,” you mutter and he nods. “Then should we…?” “Yeah. Go for it.” This was unlike all your fantasies — this was very real. You were beginning to get super nervous, more so than before. And Namjoon doesn’t seem as composed as he makes himself out to be. He nearly drops the bottle of aloe vera, but manages to get it open and squeezes a generous amount on his hands. “Can I—” “Sure. Go ahead. You’re going to have to eventually touch it, right?” you laugh stiffly, trying to play it off and he nods. Namjoon shuffles forward, swallowing hard. His other hand gently touches your propped up leg and slowly, he spreads your thighs. He seems to stop for a moment, staring at your pussy and you feel an urge to cover your face up with your hands. The boy says nothing and simply begins to rub the lubricant all over your folds. You jolt at the foreign sensation, of someone’s hands on your body, and he instantly stops. “It’s cold.” “Oh. Umm..” “It’s fine. Just keep going.” “Yeah, okay.” Namjoon squeezes the bottle again, getting a handful and he rubs his cock up and down, body shivering as he does so. He halts after two strokes and returns to dumping half of the aloe vera into his hands. You shiver as his fingers touch against your slit, how he rubs up and down, everywhere he can get his hands to. It makes you feel hot inside and out. But he puts so much on that it’s beginning to feel more like he’s trying to frost a cake than touch you. “That’s...a lot, Namjoon.” “I just don’t want you to get hurt,” he insists in concern and makes sure to get the aloe all over your pussy to the point where you don’t even need your own slickness, pink slit covered with a thick layer of transparent gel. “Okay, I think that’s good.” “Wait. Don’t you need to put on your condom?” “R-right, almost forgot about that.” “That’s a really important step,” you giggle and watch as he fumbles with the condom package. Ten seconds and he still can’t rip it open. It’s excruciating, so you prop yourself up by your elbows, taking it from him. “Sorry. It’s the aloe. It made my hands really sticky.” “It’s okay.” You hold yourself back from laughing, but it spills past and he begins laughing too, running a hand through his hair and accidentally getting gel in it. It makes you laugh harder and you finally get the package open. “Wait, aren’t we supposed to roll it on?” “I think so.” “Do you know how to put on a condom?” “No. Do you?” “How would I know?” “Well, I don’t.” You try to help him roll the condom onto his cock. With Namjoon’s sticky hands and your inexperience, it’s an absolute mess. The pair of you are gathered together, fumbling with his dick, trying to get it on like you’re attempting to make balloon animals. “Wait, let me pinch it. I don’t want you to accidentally pinch my foreskin!” You burst out into laughter and he laughs too. “Oh my god! I’m not going to pinch your foreskin!” “We never know what could happen!” he argues back lightheartedly and manages. “There.” But before Namjoon crawls over, he dumps the rest of the bottle of aloe onto his condom, dousing it from the tip to where his hair is like it’s free fondue. Lo and behold, after twenty minutes of poorly attempted foreplay and a lot of lubricant-applying, he’s finally between your thighs, positioning himself….or at least trying to. You lift your head slightly to look at him. “Maybe we should stop and go watch a tutorial.” “No, it’s fine. It’s just...a lot lower than I expected.” “Where did you think it was going to be?” “I don’t know. Higher up. Here, I think I got it.” “Wrong hole, Namjoon!” you shriek and he stops, apologizing a thousand times. This was going horrifically, but also extremely hilariously. You have mixed feelings in general, but your thoughts begin to quiet down when he finds your hole, spreading your folds enough that his single finger can enter. You shiver, feeling weirded out by it. It was more like an examination than anything sexual, but you don’t dwell. “Okay….I think I got the tip in place. Ready?” You nod. “Go for it.” It’s slippery, so much lubricant that you his cock brushes back and forth until it finds its place and you barely feel any rough intrusion. Instead, it slides in smoothly and you inhale a sharp breath, flinching upwards. It’s a strange discomfort in your gut. It burns and feels like someone stuck a medical instrument into your intestines. Huh. Namjoon, on the other hand, is having a very different experience. He’s shaking above you, eyes shut tight, unable to read your mind when he’s beginning to break into a sweat. He stops halfway and forces himself to look at you. “D-does it hurt?” “N-not really. Kind of uncomfortable.” “Want me to stop?” “No, it’s okay. You can keep going.” “F-fuck,” he curses and obliges, moving all the way in until he’s balls deep and your knees are bent, thighs parted by his sticky hands. It’s weird, but you’re glad he’s having a good time. “I don’t think I’m going to last long. You’re so warm and t-tight…” “It’s okay. Knock yourself out.” “You sure it doesn’t hurt?” “I’m good. You dumped that bottle on me, so...yeah…” Namjoon nods, unable to get anything out but a groan when you squeeze around him. He chokes on air and at your approval, goes in for a thrust. He moves his hips back and then yanks forward, eager and excited. It burns and you flinch, not sure if it hurts or doesn’t. This isn’t as amazing as you thought it would be — quite un-life changing actually. If anything, you were more turned on by how much Namjoon was turned on. You just wish he kissed you again. You liked that. The second the thought crosses your brain, Namjoon leans forward, seizing your lips with his own and fulfilling your desire. You moan against his mouth, tongue taken by his in a sloppy yet earnest matter that has your belly tickling and fluttering, chest warming up. It feels nice, you decide. And your core clenches, lower stomach tightening. Namjoon chases after the way your warm pussy tightly hugs around his covered cock, thrusting once and he cums without warning. He merely groans against your mouth and you hug him close to your body, feeling the way he breathes heavily, the way he moans lowly. It takes a good five seconds and then he’s slumping over your body, weight heavy but comforting like a blanket. “S-sorry…” Namjoon apologizes the second he comes to his senses. His breath tickles your neck and you smile, running your hand through his hair. “It’s okay. I’m glad you had a good time. It wasn’t too bad for me.” Namjoon rolls over, slipping out of you. But before you can get up or he can clean up the mess he made, his hand lowers to your swollen cunt and he slides his pointer and middle finger in the pool of gel. He strokes up your slit a few times and then he slips himself into your tight hole, feeling against your velvet walls. “N-Namjoon,” you choke out his name and he smiles, getting to his knees. He curls his fingers against your walls, a bit carelessly and clumsy, but with enough enthusiasm and observational skills to gauge what your spots may be. You moan, withering against the sheets. “W-wait…” His other hand lifts and goes a bit higher than your slit. “Is it here…?” he asks for confirmation, recalling the diagrams he’s filled out before and watching your expression carefully. Your fingers latch onto his wrist and you shift him into the correct position, right where your clitoris should be. Namjoon hums in acknowledgment and begins to fiddle with his fingers, rubbing circles, pressing hard, twisting his wrist while his other fingers curl inside your vagina. You sob his name, back arching, and he muses how pretty you look like this. Unfortunately with his hands on your clit and the way he’s carelessly rubbing, he’s unable to admire the view for long. Your toes curl and a burst of electricity runs its way through your body, making you seize, left leg kicking out slightly. You cry, spots coming into your vision. It’s warm from your feet to your head, every part of your body. When you come to, Namjoon’s excitedly grinning at you. “How was that?” Not bad. That last bit was better, to be honest. “Was it all you had fantasies about?” No. It wasn’t terrible though. Kind of meh. He nods, laying flat on your bed and staring at the ceiling. You also take a moment to process everything that just happened. Though before you can doze off, Namjoon looks at you. “Should we try one more time? Just….just to see if it could be better or not. I mean...might as well since we’re both here.” It’s not a bad offer especially considering that this is supposed to be a one time thing to get it out of the system. He was right — you were here, so was he. There was never going to be an opportunity like this again. You should make the most out of it. You smile, eyes glimmering in mischief. “I don’t mind, but can you go for another round? You really tired yourself out there.” Namjoon scoffs and rolls on top of you, pinning you to your mattress. “We’ll see about that.”

That should be it. You know Namjoon can read minds. He knows you’re a closeted freak. A secret for a secret. The two of you have had sex too, shared your first times together. You’ve gotten all urges out of your systems, diminished your whacky libido. There’s no reason for any more interaction or conversations to be exchanged. You can both lead your own separate lives, pursuing after your long-term educational goals of going to university… But you’re weak. Only now do you realize you can’t get over your primitive needs. To your dismay and contrasting to the way you project yourself, you aren’t an emotionless robot who can simply flip off the switch. That single experience, the second and third as well, are enough to make you even more needy than before and now your fantasies have truly come to life. No longer are they groundless delusions created from your inexperienced mind. One taste of the forbidden fruit and you can’t stop. Sitting on the side of health class, your brain begins to take a walk. You recall that third time when Namjoon was curious, experimenting, and pushed you on all fours. Your shirt and bra were discarded beside you, your hands crumpling your wrinkled sheets and his fingertips pressed the small of your back until you were arching for him. He hummed and you were nervous, talking too much about things you don’t remember now and the boy simply laid down and got into place. He slid himself right underneath you and his hands held your waist, lowering your sex right onto his open mouth like he’s trying to eat a massive taco — inexperienced, odd, but not horrendous. You were scared of suffocating him, of having to call the police and having ambulances parked right outside your house for all the neighbors to see; and have news spread around that you accidentally killed a high school boy by sitting on his face. But Namjoon was a freak in disguise too and welcomed it. You sat on him and he mumbled something along the lines of it not being too bad either. You grabbed onto the headboard to steady yourself, legs already shaking as he licked into you, tip of his tongue pushing past your slit and folds, his nose at your bud. His tongue unskilled, technique clumsy. He went too fast, too hard, too much of everything. It drove whines and broken sobs of his name out of you. But while Namjoon was greedy and impatient, he was also excited and eager to please. He’s naturally observant and perceptive, bringing it into the bedroom as well. You remember the strands of his hair tickling the skin of your thighs, the way you cried out his name, how it felt so good that it was better than having actual penetrative sex. And you remember how he began rushing, afraid of your dad coming home and catching the pair of you in this compromised position. The memory almost makes you giggle in the middle of class, but you contain yourself and squeeze your thighs together, feeling your panties becoming wet and sticky. You wonder what it would be like if he ate you out here, in class, maybe on the teacher’s desk. He’d kneel on the ground and kiss his way up your legs. N-Namjoon, you’d choke out his name, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling the glasses away from his face. Yeah? Hurry, please. Why? I wanna go slower. You taste good. You’re good at controlling your expressions, of wearing a poker face, but unbeknownst to you, there’s a smile tugging on your lips. An outsider might think you particularly enjoy today’s class content. Others who know you better might consider that you’re in a good mood, perhaps daydreaming about something sweet. But there’s someone who really knows what’s going on. Namjoon is sitting across the room and he turns his body slightly. His eyes are half-lidded, lips parted, chest rising and falling, glasses slipping down his nose. The boy is uncomfortable, beginning to sweat at his hairline. He glares. And your smile grows a bit wider. He knows you’re thinking about you and him and you eye his slacks, noticing the tent growing in his pants. Namjoon remains wholly unimpressed by your antics. “The boy’s bathroom, really?” Your eyebrows are lifted and this time, you’re the one unimpressed with him. Luckily the hallways are empty, but he still tugs you in quickly before anyone can see. Are we fulfilling one of your fantasies now? “No, we’re not. And if you want someone to blame, then blame yourself.” Namjoon shoves you into the farthest bathroom stall without remorse. If you were caught together with him in the boy’s washroom, you’re not even sure how to explain yourself. No one would believe it. “Who told you to go remembering all of that and thinking about us?” He turns around and locks the stall. It’s terribly cramped. On one side, there’s toilet rolls and the other is a wall with pencil graffiti. The toilet doesn’t have a cover and it’s dirty. But at this point, the two of you are reckless and desperate enough not to care. “Well am I supposed to forget?” “You’re supposed to not fantasize in the middle of class, Y/N,” he complains and turns you around, pushing his crotch to your ass. Your hands lift to press against the cubicle walls, keeping yourself steady. “Look at the problem you caused me.” You can feel his erect cock right on the crack of your ass and you swallow hard, feeling his breath becoming rougher. Namjoon presses you close to him like it might be enough to get him off. “‘M sorry, I can’t help it, you know that.” “Jinyoung almost saw. I had to cover my lap up with my textbook.” He’s mad and you can hear it in his voice. His hand comes down, fingers pressing on your underwear, rubbing back and forth ruthlessly. “And look, you’re already wet.” “Namjoon,” you moan his name, grabbing his wrist and not sure if you want him to slow down or go faster. “L-Less talking. We should hurry before they wonder where we are.” “No one’s going to wonder.” It’s true no one would second guess the two empty desks in the classroom. The pair of you went out at different times — you supposedly to the counselor and him to go make a phone call at the office. As if to appease you, Namjoon holds the back of your neck and turns your head around. His thick-rimmed, smudged glasses knock against your face but he still kisses your cheek. You don’t know if he missed your mouth or not, if it was an accident, but it’s surprisingly soft and gentle. It sends butterflies to your tummy. The eager boy is hugging you from behind, one arm around your waist. He pulls your shirt out being tucked into your skirt and his hand goes underneath it, shoving your bra up and getting a handful of your breast. His thumb flicks onto your nipple, letting the soft bud pebble underneath his tender touch. You keen into him with a whine and he holds you straight, humming. “You’re so warm and soft. I keep forgetting to tell you that.” “You’re not going to cum just from touching my boobs, are you?” He scoffs and rubs two fingers against your nipples harder, almost pinching. And you jump in his arms with a yelp. Namjoon smiles. “I’m not some amateur.” “Actually, yes, you are.” Your hot breaths are heavy, panting out and your palms press harder against the cubicle wall, searching for some leverage. “If it helps, I am too.” “Psh. I’m gonna fuck you well, don’t worry.” You could roll your eyes to the back of your skull. “That’s a really high bar to set— N-Namjoon!” He’s pressing hard on your clit through your soaked panties, shoving your skirt up. “Pardon?” “N-nothing.” You turn your head around, trying to speed things up. Sneaking out to the boy’s bathroom in the middle of the classroom is not an optimum time to drag out foreplay. “You have a condom, right?” “I’m always prepared.” Namjoon smirks playfully and lets go of you, stepping back to dig into his back pocket. You realize how cold it is without his body heat against you, but thankfully he wastes no time, taking out a condom between his index and middle fingers, flashing it to you like it’s a winning card in a poker game or this is the middle of a Yugioh episode. He does the stupidest things like this that makes you laugh the hardest. “Why are you such a dork?” “Please, you like it.” You watch him rip it open. “Need help?” “I got it.” It’s quicker and easier than the first time, and the second, and the third. He lets his pants drop, rolling the latex on his cock and then helps you take off your panties, stuffing them in his uniform blazer’s pocket. Namjoon takes a hold of your hips and positions you correctly. He moves the tip of his thick cock back and forth on your slit, spreading your slick everywhere and you feel yourself getting wetter. “A-are you going to last longer this time?” Namjoon’s offended and he pouts without you seeing. “I’m getting better. Ready?” “Yeah.” The head of his cock intrudes your velvet walls, penetrating deep and he releases a shaky exhale. It burns less and feels good, filling a space inside you that you didn’t know was empty. The first time, it wasn’t bad. The second time hurt a lot and you both had to stop. No one orgasmed then. But the third time was much better and now, there was not even a mild discomfort. It didn’t hurt at all — he’s stretched you out well enough to take his cock. And he can last a lot longer than three strokes too. “N-Namjo..oon.” “Everything good?” “Yeah…” You weakly nod. He’s holding you, humping from behind, drawing as far back as he can before his hips jut forward, trusting in and you try your best to meet him halfway. The two of you are making a mess, fluids running down your legs, uniforms all wrinkled up. “C-Can you kiss me?” You don’t need to ask twice. He stops and turns your head around, catching your lips as best as he can in this awkward position. You begin to squirm, rocking yourself back onto him. One thing was certain — the kisses have definitely improved. The way he kisses you is enough to leave you breathless and dizzy. You pull away and Namjoon continues to pound from behind you. The obscene sounds echo throughout the washroom, leaking out into the hallway; clapping sounds created when his pelvis meets your ass cheeks. Anyone walking past would know what was going on. It’s also musty, the smell of sweat and sex filling the air. But there’s also the scent of Namjoon surrounding you and it’s nice. You’re not sure what deodorant he uses, or maybe it’s cologne. You can’t exactly pinpoint it. “H-hey…” The boy slows down the pace, remembering something. “What?” “Can you stop envisioning my voice and imagining what I’d say? It’s awkward to hear what my voice sounds like to you in your head.” He rolls his hips slowly, going deeper with the languid speed and it has you crumbling. “N-Nam...joon...s-stop talking. F-faster.” “Why? I wanna go slower. You taste so good,” he whispers, making fun of you and recalling the cheesy dialogue you came up with in your daydream. “F-fuck you.” He laughs, sound gentle and tinkling. Namjoon kisses the back of your neck, right on the nape and he licks his thumb before tenderly rubbing at your clit. Against your will, loud noises spill from your throat and it has him shushing you. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip, entire body jostling with how he goes faster. You’re scared of someone coming in — but the risk is exciting at the same time. Namjoon can read your thoughts and he gets off on your fantasies too. You imagine what it would be like if the bell rang, if a bunch of kinds came in, pissing in the urinals, washing their hands at the sink, talking and goofing off. They wouldn’t know what was going on behind the thin wall of the cubical except that there were two pairs of feet right by each other. “Nam...too-...too much...” He’s rubbing too hard at your clit, forgetting to measure his strength, overexcited with your imagination and it’s too late. The tension in your lower stomach finally tightens and snaps. Your toes curl and you sob his name louder. He cups your mouth with his hand, muffling your shriek. Your eyes shut tight and you clench around him. The boy groans lowly, sound vibrating and you hear mumbles of your name. His chin is propped on your shoulder and he thrusts twice, sloppy, milking your orgasm and he cums too. Namjoon is still hugging you close as you both catch your breath. Eventually he slips himself out and lets go. You turn around. “That was….better than last time.” He grins, dimples marking his cheek, strands of his hair sweaty. He slips off his condom. “Next time will be even better.” Next time? You’re fixing your bra and shirt, pulling your skirt down again, but the thought in your head is loud and clear. Namjoon doesn’t say anything. Maybe he pretends not to know and you don’t comment either, afraid of questioning how many more times this will happen, afraid of defining what exactly this arrangement is. “We should get back before they actually start wondering where we are.” “Yeah.” You flatten down your messy hair, getting your panties back from him despite them being soiled. As you put them back on with a grimace, you watch Namjoon throw the used condom in the toilet. You don’t think twice as he tugs up his slacks. But then it hits you. “W-wait, don’t flush it down the—” The toilet whirls down automatically. “Shit, too late!” The pair of you are frozen, watching the destruction happen right in front of your eyes. It doesn’t flush all the way down and seems to burp back. The water runs without once stopping. It starts to overflow. “Oh my god.” There’s no choice, but to run. // The chain of things that occur after your little rendezvous with Namjoon would be cause for embarrassment, if only you weren’t so shameless now. It may be because you’ve gotten comfortable enough with him, with sex acts, and because you know he’s equally responsible for everything that happens. As long as nobody else knows and it’s just between you and him, there’s no need to be ashamed. It’s a secret that the two of you share. “Everyone, listen up.” The health teacher, Mr. Bang, claps his hands at the front of class, quieting down the conversations of students. “On Friday afternoon, there was an incident here at this school.” “What happened?” There’s a sea of murmurs that ripples throughout the room and your ears perk, picking up on the girls next to you. “Didn’t you hear? Someone flushed down a used condom in the boys washroom by the science hall that clogged the toilet. It flooded the entire washroom and they had to shut it down for the rest of the day.” “Ew, gross.” “Wait, does that mean someone had sex in the washroom? Ugh!” “Quiet down, quiet down.” The teacher slaps a stack of papers on the desk, gathering the attention back. “There will be consequences for students who engage in anything inappropriate at school. Okay? I just want to make that clear. It’s completely inappropriate and there’s possibility for suspension. We already know who these people are, alright?” For a moment, he eyes Hoseok and Krystal sitting at the side, near the middle rows. Some glance at them too in disdain and disgust. Hoseok finally looks up, snapping back to attention. “Wait, what?” Mr. Bang clears his throat and moves on. “In light of what happened, the superintendent wanted me to review some things we learnt earlier in this course.” There’s a collective groan, but he shuts it down by saying this is what happens when something like that at school occurs. He begins to write it on the board, marker squeaking on the smooth surface. He’s returning back to the sex-ed unit. “Look, I get it, alright? You’re at that age where you went to begin getting closer to people and you want to start experimenting with things. But if you don’t want to get pregnant and birth out a baby that you have to take care of for the next eighteen years, do not have sex.” The students roll their eyes, leaning back on their seat. Few are still alert, most zoning and tuning out. It’s the same thing over and over again, teachers parroting each other, as afraid of kids becoming sexually active as they are of ghosts. “If you don’t want any horrible STIs to follow you around for the rest of your life, do not have sexual intercourse. You don’t know if any of these people have gotten tested! They could have anything. Protection like condoms and birth control are not one hundred percent effective. There’s always a chance it could happen. The best protection is to not do it at all. Don’t risk disease—” You’re one of the many that have stopped paying attention. Actually, your awareness of the classroom has long been removed. The words going in one ear and out the other. Instead, you’re busy sitting next to Namjoon, stealing peeks at him. You’re thinking about getting on the floor, crawling under his desk, fumbling with his pants. What are you doing? Making you feel good. You envision unzipping his trousers, pulling out his cock excitedly, spitting in your palm to stroke him. He’d become harder in your hand, redder, and you’d lean close to kiss the top, relishing in it when you feel him shiver. Namjoon would tangle his fingers in your hair and tug you closer. You wouldn’t know what to do, how to do it, but he’d teach you, guiding your mouth on him. You’d try your best to take him as far as you can go, salivating and slobbering all over his dick. It would hurt your jaw and you’d gag, choke, but the effort would be worth it when he praises you. You glance over at Namjoon in reality, finding him shifting uncomfortably, ears bright pink. A smirk pulls into your cheek. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Namjoon? He turns his head towards you, expression impassive. But you catch his Adam’s apple bobbing and he doesn’t say anything, simply nodding. He no longer protests your active imagination. While it’s still a massive distraction to his concentration, he reads your mind promptly and willingly. You’ve got him wrapped around your finger and you love every second of it. “Excuse me, Mr. Bang?” You approach the health teacher with Namjoon behind you, backpacks on your shoulders, stack of textbooks in your arms. The older man lifts his chin. “Oh! Y/N, Namjoon! What can I do for you?” “We finished filling out the diagrams.” You hand in the sheets of paper of the vagina and penis, perfectly labeled with a small description underneath them. Apparently, this is what the school system thinks is sexual education. “We were wondering if we could go to the library to study for the upcoming physics test.” He nods. “Did you finish everything else for this class?” “Yes.” You smile. “We both did.” The teacher returns your smile. “Go ahead then, just make sure you’ve double-checked everything.” “Thank you.” The two of you leave the classroom quietly, the other students still causing a ruckus for him. The door shuts and you happily skip down the hall while Namjoon trails after you, laughing. The teachers think you’re both very responsible, studious students — goody two shoes and maybe academic friends at best. No one would ever suspect and that makes it all the more fun to break the rules. But while you’re happy keeping these secrets between the pair of you, it’s a shame that no one else knows how attractive Namjoon is. It’s one secret you don’t want to keep to yourself. You wish more people saw what you did. How his awkwardness is actually sweetness and makes him all the more authentic, how his clumsiness is cute, how smart and warm-hearted he is. As he shadows your steps, your thoughts have Namjoon blushing in a deeper shade. He stares at the back of your head, feeling tingles in his chest, unable to resist a grin when you think about how you at least get him all to yourself. The librarian welcomes you, busy stacking and registering new shipment of books in the back closet. This early in the morning, there aren’t any students. You’re free to pick and choose wherever you want to go, but without hesitation you walk to the farthest table hidden behind multiple bookshelves. You both drop off your belongings there and scatter off to the corner. He takes your hand and leads you forward, weaving through the maze of shelves in the back where no one else can see. It’s deathly quiet, enough to hear pins dropping. But in this small space, the noise of soft smacking disrupts the peace. Namjoon kisses you roughly and desperately like he’s trying to get himself off with just this. His tongue is down your throat, his spit entering your mouth. It makes you hot and bothered, Namjoon trying to make you as aroused as you’ve made him. You’ve gotten him riled up after all. It’s revenge. The boy’s glasses knock against your face, but neither of you care enough. His kisses have made you dizzy. “N-Namjoon,” you gasp, pushed against the corner where the shelf meets the smooth wall. He lifts one of your legs, palm pressed against the meat of your thigh. It’s done with urgency, less playful, less talking and more serious and intimate than before. Your eyes stray off, peeking through the shelves and gaps between the books, finding no one watching. Suddenly, he pushes deeper into you, silencing your brain until you think of him and only him. You’re surrounded in his scent, deodorant, cologne, natural sweat. His hands are all over you, tender touches and eager groping with attempted restraint that fails. His broad body shields you away from any potential prying eyes, covering you from head to toe. He tastes like chapstick and you relish in the gentle sounds drawing out of him, grunts and moans, caught in a trance. Namjoon kisses you closer, deeper until you’re overwhelmed. He only pulls away when you whimper. A thin line of saliva catches between your lips, glistening in the light. But you don’t notice when he’s gazing at you in such a way, endeared. You swallow hard, feeling small under his intense eyes. It’s only in reading these thoughts that Namjoon ends up turning away. “We should…” Wait. What? You’re confused and impulsively, you grab onto him, tugging his sleeve. “Are we not going to….?” He grins, dimples creasing on either side of his cheek before he pushes his glasses up casually. “We almost got caught last time.” “No.” The syllable draws out into an unintentional whine. “It’s because you flushed it down the toilet. Who told you to do that?” He laughs, sound tinkling in your ears pleasantly. “You’re so needy.” But Namjoon returns anyhow, holding you and pushing your panties to the side. His fingers play at your slit, tapping gently like he’s fiddling with piano keys. It makes you jolt and he nuzzles into you, knocking his head down, forehead pressed against your shoulder. “C-Can you blame me?” It feels too good. You wish he could touch you all the time. Namjoon reads your mind and smiles softly without you knowing. He mumbles into your shirt, “You’re so cute.” Such a wholesome comment shouldn’t be spoken when the tips of his fingers are spreading your folds and he’s entering you. With two digits, he sinks deep into your leaking cunt until he’s knuckle deep. Namjoon has the audacity to laugh as you choke on air and in retaliation, you weakly hit your fist against his shoulder. He’s amused at how sensitive you still are even after doing it so many times, to the point where you’ve both lost count. “We’re in the library, so keep it down will you?” “Then stop doing that.” “Doing what?” He curls his fingers against your velvet walls, hitting a spot that has you sobbing and pathetically trying to hold back. “You mean that?” He’s being a sly shit, gained too much confidence touching you — but you don’t hate it. He scissors you, thrusting his fingers in and out, twisting his wrist. You knock your head back. If the librarian finds Namjoon fondling you like this with his hand shoved up your skirt, your panties moved to the side, she would be mortified, maybe even getting a heart attack. “You really like thinking about people catching us, huh?” “N-no….” Your objection is weak and he grins. “D-do you want me to...blow you?” He hums, considering it, but the way the member in his pants stir and how he swallows hard is unmistakable. “N-no, I’m good.” His rejection surprises you. You thought any horny teenage boy would jump at the chance. Your fantasies seemed to make him riled up too. “Maybe later, in my room, if you’re okay with that,” he clarifies your confusion as he pets your velvet walls, feeling around like he’s searching for something. It makes your legs tremble. You nod and decide to tease, “You think you’re not gonna last if we do it here?” Namjoon scoffs. “No. It’s gonna take a long time to teach you.” “I’m a fast learner,” you counter. “I know. But I kind of...want you to sit on my face again….if you want….” He’s nervous for the first time in a long while. You piece it together, brows lifting. You want me to blow you while sitting on your face? So like sixty nine? He becomes red in the face, fingers inside of you halting. “Is that bad?” No. Just predictable. Namjoon lightly scoffs, but if you were frank, the plans made you enthusiastic and he knows it too. The boy kisses you, squeezing a handful of your breasts over your uniform blouse, becoming more patient. But you make him pick up the speed and he gets out his condom that he seems to have on hand now twenty-four seven. Both your legs end up wrapping around his waist and while you’re scared of falling or snapping him in half, he holds your weight well while you’re leaning against the wall. He continues to rut against you, thrusting as fast as he can manage. With his thick girth stretching you out so nicely, you squeeze around him, enjoying it when you can make him sputter. After the third time, he’s had enough of your antics and kisses you, deeper, muffling your noises. Books knock against the shelf, several almost falling. Your wetness might just drip down and stain the carpet, leaving your mark with Namjoon’s. The two of you are sweaty against each other, getting closer to your release. “H-Hey….” “Hmm?” “Keep your eyes on me.” You nod, trying your best. But Namjoon can’t hold you up anymore. As his strokes become sloppier, one of your left leg falls when you’re not ready. Your knees buckle and he slips out of you, but luckily, Namjoon catches you in his arms and the both of you burst out laughing. You lean against the wall, he gets himself back in you and you both return to what you were doing before. Namjoon stares at your expression and you lock your eyes into his. He fucks you like he likes you. Finally, his hand moves to rub your clit with his thumb. It’s enough for you to be pushed over the edge and you stifle your sounds against his shoulder, slobbering on his uniform blazer. You clench, hot walls of velvet like a vice grip, clenching around his length. He groans and moves twice before cumming. After a moment of hugging you, he pulls himself out and pushes your panties back to hold in the mess you made. “Don’t throw the condom in the corner,” you chide. Namjoon breathlessly laughs. “What? I was going to put my kids in between the dictionaries for someone to find later.” You weakly hit him, giggling together.

It’s a sunny day, the weather nice and pleasant, warm enough that you don’t need a jacket. With your stomach full of food, you couldn’t be any happier. And your joy is found in the way your steps have a slight skip to them. Namjoon smiles, watching you and matching his walking pace with yours. The pair of you had grabbed a meal together at a fast food restaurant. A reward for doing so well on your biology midterm. While the teacher didn’t announce who did the best, she read the top two marks out loud and they happened to be you and him. You got ninety-five percent while Namjoon scored ninety. The fact that you miraculously did better than him in a subject that you despise has you even more bubbly. The food wasn’t much, but you liked it. Actually, what you really like is being around Namjoon, even if it’s not for sex, even if it’s to do whatever. These thoughts have him grinning. But you don’t notice. “—wanted to die, oh my god.” “I didn’t know she would be there!” he argues back, but the two of you aren’t fighting. It’s humorous banter, created from mortification and disbelief. “What if she found me, some random chick, in her kitchen giving her son a blowjob?! Oh my god.” “You’re not some ‘random chick’. She knows who you are.” He shrugs. “Plus, you like people watching so…” “I do not!” “You know I can read your mind, right?” “Stop!” You hate it. “Get out!” Namjoon laughs. “What I’m saying is that it’s fine. She didn’t find us like that. And if it helps, she actually likes you.” “Well, I hope it was worth it, because now she probably thinks I’m your girlfriend.” The entire time, you ended up talking to Namjoon’s mom and answering her numerous questions like it was a job interview instead of doing the deed. The boy smiles. “I don’t mind.” “What? That I didn’t get to blow you or that your mom thinks we’re together?” “Did you end up looking at what university you wanted to go to yet?” “Oh yeah. I was looking into the admission requirements.” The topic is switched so drastically, but you don’t even notice when it comes to your studies. You and Namjoon made a pact to help each other get into university and it was comforting to have someone help along the way. “Apparently, the math program at MK National isn’t bad. I’ve already done some research onto some profs to take and what GPA boosters there are.” Namjoon laughs. “Wow, so prepared.” “Of course,” you hum back before remembering something, “Don’t take economics, by the way. It’s not as easy as people make it out to be apparently.” “Noted.” The corners of his mouth quirk. “Haseul’s thinking about going into nursing..” She’s one of the few friends that you have. “...so that’s more incentive to me.” Plus, he’s there too. Namjoon reads your mind and grins to himself, downcast head facing his feet shyly. “So you’ve decided on MK National then?” “I don’t know. I’m aiming for it, I guess, but if I don’t get in then I don’t.” “You’ll get in,” the boy reassures. “You’re smarter than I am.” His confidence in you draws a sheepish smile on your face. The two of you are strolling to the bus stop together and while you’ll have to get onto different buses, it’s still nice to traipse around with him like this. At least, that’s what you’re mulling until your daydream is broken by the back of his hand grazing against yours. You glance down before looking away. For the first time in a long time, you’re nervous again. There’s an urge within you to hold his hand, an instinct that tells you that’s the only right way to walk alongside Namjoon. But that’s kind of weird — you don’t know if you should, if that would make things awkward. In fact, you don’t even know what the limits are when you’re unsure of what your relationship with Namjoon is in the first place, friends with benefits or— You’re thinking about it for too long. You’re making Namjoon get a headache. So gingerly, he reaches over while nonchalantly looking ahead, deciding for you. His fingers find your wrist and he moves his hand down, tangling your fingers together, palms clasping, gingerly holding your hand. None of you speak. You don’t like how he can read your mind. But this is one of the few times you appreciate it. His hand squeezes yours — your chest feels warm. // “Are you alright?” Why? I’m fine. Namjoon knows that you overthink. You like to consider every decision that you make, calculating the benefits and the consequences, making plans for your future. Everything is logical to you. The only reason he’s with you now is because of your rare impulse, emotions that you couldn’t handle or control on your own. He’s with you because of your fantasies and lustful daydreams stowed at the back of your brain for no one else to know of. If you controlled your urges, he wouldn’t be a part of your life right now. The realization makes him a bit uncomfortable. He was never a part of your plan, a part of what you envision for your future. For once, he’s thankful for his ability — it’s given him the opportunity to get to know you. But at the same time, he’s disheartened to know that you’ve only kept him around for a few purposes. Aside from that, you like to lie a lot too. He can read your mind. He knows your thoughts are a chaotic train on fire heading straight for hell. Yet, you like to act like it’s all fine. Like nothing’s wrong. But he knows you better than that. He can read you better than that. He knows you better than you know yourself. And Namjoon knows that despite what you might think, he’s just not just a temporary person in your life. “Namjoon!” You’re making a ruckus without being aware of it, standing on the tips of your toes, waving your arm over your head. A stupid smile pulls onto his face and he waves back. People’s heads turn. Your friends are confused and so are his. But you don’t seem to care, happier to see him than being mindful of your surroundings. He can see the way your eyes always light up when you find him in the crowd. He notices the way you like to ramble about your day to him. “—finished my paper. But I can’t believe she assigned me to edit Hoseok’s paper. He only had one paragraph done. And I couldn’t even read it! His writing doesn’t even look like chicken scratch. It’s like he wrote it while on the toilet using his toes.” Laughter bubbles up his throat. “Well, not everyone is Miss. Prepared like you are. Did he at least edit your paper?” “No.” You pout. “He gave it back and told me it was perfect.” His gaze on you softens. “It probably was.” Namjoon catches on before you even know yourself. You don’t need to say anything. He already knows how you feel about him — and this knowledge makes him more giddy than he’d ever like to admit. // For the most part, you aren’t deprived anymore. A certain someone keeps you satisfied enough to pay attention in class, tires you out enough to make you sleep well at night, placate your endless desires. But still, there are times when you’re bored or sleepy in class and you actively begin to daydream to keep yourself awake. It’s in social studies that your mind begins to wander without restraint, Namjoon not here to turn around and glare or later scold you for making him lose his concentration. You envision a faceless stranger waltzing into the classroom, boots tapping against the floor. This person would stride towards the teacher’s desk in the corner. They’d plop down on the swivel chair, lean back, spread their legs comfortably, eyes sweeping the room. You imagine their gaze would stop on you and the corner of their mouth would tug, hand motioning you to come. He’d guide you to sit on his lap, right on top of his thighs. Your hands would find purchase on his broad shoulders. After you’re settled, he would hum in satisfaction and his rough hands would be placed on the dips of your waist, plush lips skimming down your neck, kissing lightly. He’d relish in the way you’d shiver. You like that? The voice is familiar somehow, but you can’t pinpoint it. Y-yes. Please hurry… Why should I? Don’t you like it when people watch us? Look at all these kids looking. They don’t know you're such a dirty girl. Should we show them? Should we do a class demonstration and show them how it’s supposed to be done? His fingers play with the hem of your skirt, tugging it up while he fumbles with his pants, lifting you slightly and pulling down the waistband enough to slip his hardening cock out of his briefs. The way his tip leaks has you swallowing hard, remembering the salty flavour. I-I don’t like people looking, you’d protest weakly, meeting the man’s eyes. He snorts, air rushing out of his nose. You know I can read your mind, right? There’s a pause that lingers — you nearly shatter out of your daydream. What? The person you’re straddling doesn’t answer, lips returning to the sweet spot between your shoulder and neck, hot tongue lapping at it and drawing shudders out of your body. Then he sucks hard, making you cry out. His arms are around you, letting you arch but not shuffle away, pushing you close. He ends up grabbing hold of his cock, squeezing the base and lining it up with your slit. The boy doesn’t wait, shoving his hips upwards and making you sob, feeling your cunt stretch. He fucks into you raw with his red cock. He groans, thrusting upwards a few times before he holds your hips. Ride me, Y/N, he commands and forces you to sink down onto him until he’s balls deep inside of you. It’s enough to have your walls clenching around his girth, for you to moan and tremble. C’mon, you can do it, baby, he coaxes and you nod several times, trying your best. With as much strength as you can muster in your leg, you pull yourself up and drop down on him, swiveling your hips and doing what feels good. The boy helps you too, thrusts moving halfway, praises rolling off his tongue. You’re so cute, he hums, thumb harshly rubbing your nipple back and forth, his hand underneath your shirt, shoved past your bra. Pleasure takes hold, making your vision blurry, but you don’t focus on reaching an orgasm or pleasing him. Instead, something’s taken hold of your brain and while you ride him, you curl your hand into his hair, fingers tugging the strands. You pull his head back and he moans your name. His chin is lifted, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat and you narrow your eyes into his features. Who are you? The faceless person begins to morph under your touch. The fog lifts and you realize it’s not someone random, a mere placeholder of another body, in your fantasy. His hair is dark, matching the colour of his half-lidded eyes staring back at you, dimples marking into each side of his cheek. His glasses sit on his nose, framing his face, accentuating the jawline. For the first time, your imagination’s found a face. It’s— “Miss Y/N.” You come crumbling back to reality, realizing where you are. Your fantasies disperse into thin air. The teacher’s right in front of you, clearing his throat. Everyone’s eyes are on you and the middle-aged man repeats his question, “I was asking you what the branches of government are.” “Judicial, legislative and executive,” you say without missing a beat. The teacher smiles, pleased that you were paying attention even though it seemed like you weren’t. He knows you would never be distracted like some of his other students. “Very good.” He spins around on his heel. “You ought to learn a thing or two from Miss. Y/N, Jung Hoseok.” The student shoots you a glare that you wholeheartedly don’t even register. You’ve lost your train of thought, but it felt really important. For the rest of the day, you’re distracted, unable to focus on anything as you try to trace back to what your thoughts were, replaying what you last remembered. But it’s gone. You’re frustrated beyond belief, feeling out of your element, out of control. But no matter how upset you are at forgetting, there’s no point in moping over lost thoughts. That is until you sleep. It’s at night, laying in your bed, deep in slumber that it all returns. Except this time, your subconscious has conjured something that isn’t sexual in the least bit. You dream of calling out to someone, of watching them catch up to you, how you hold their hand, entwining your fingers together with them without hesitation. It’s oddly intimate. You dream about a strappy, tall boy with gawky glasses and plaid flannels. You dream about soft touches, tender kisses, dimples and doting gazes. In a shock, much like a nightmare — you jolt awake in the middle of the night. You finally know who it is. // “Hey, can I come over today?” you ask in the hall, holding your books to your chest. The tall boy with his gawky glasses takes one good look at you and smiles. “No. I’m hanging out with Jinyoung today.” “Oh.” You turn away, only to steal another glance of him. “Can we….go to the library then?” “Why?” The boy plays dumb, like he can’t read your mind in a split of a second. “C-Cause….you know….” You’re not trying to play coy on purpose, but it’s cute. Namjoon can’t help but be endeared by you. He’s known most people to act differently from their thoughts, people laughing with their friends and at the same time cursing them in their heads. He’s known people internally swearing at him before, teachers that secretly thought he was an idiot, his own parents angry enough at times to think that they didn’t want him as a son. There’s evilness in everyone — dishonesty, backstabbing, two-faced — but when it comes to you, there’s only nastiness in the best sense possible. All you have are dirty thoughts. He loves it. “I don’t.” “Namjoon,” you whine, “you know what I’m trying to say.” He shrugs with another mischievous smile. “Don’t know till you tell me.” The pout on your face does little to persuade him, so with a face lit on fire, you end up whispering, “I-I...want you t..to fuck me.” “Oh.” He nods and pretends to consider it. “But I thought they were doing a presentation in the library today. It’s probably crowded.” “Then how about the boy’s locker room?” you suggest, completely shameless. “Hmmm…..that’s a good place. But I don’t really feel like it.” “What?” Namjoon shrugs. “I don’t feel like it.” “Oh. Okay.” Your head turns to face forward, though the nonchalant act does little to cover up how embarrassed you really are. Still, you easily respect his decision with zero protests. But for the next handful of times, Namjoon completely rejects your advances. He rolls it off his shoulders, purposely acting ignorant and depriving you of all physical contact. It’s confusing and you begin to trace back to what you did. Maybe he was doing this as petty revenge, but you can’t think of anything you did wrong. You don’t understand. On a Tuesday afternoon, you catch him shifting his pants underneath his desk as you purposely daydream. You stare hard into the side of his face, catching on that he’s having a hard time with this sudden dry spell too, but he does nothing afterwards to satisfy either of you. It’s strange. Maybe Namjoon’s just lost interest in you. That would make some logical sense. Maybe you’re boring now that he’s fucked you twenty times— “Hey.” You turn, interrupted in your contemplation. “What?” One moment you’re upright and the next, he’s snaked his arms around you, pulling you into his body. You yelp, but the sound is suffocated against his mouth. Namjoon kisses you in the empty hallway, tongue down your throat. It’s risky. You don’t know why he’s doing this here. The bell’s about to ring. But your brain is silenced. All worries cease. You shut your eyes after a delayed moment, reveling in him. The sly boy takes his time in drinking in your expression. The passionate kiss sadly lasts for the shortest of seconds, only satisfying you for a mere moment. He lets you go just as fast as he held you. And you’re left breathless with swollen lips. The taste of chapstick lingers. “Wh-what was that?” “Nothing.” Namjoon shrugs, back of his hand coming to wipe his mouth, taking your saliva off of his mouth. Okay…. Maybe he didn’t lose interest in you after all. You’re more befuddled than before and more frustrated as well. It doesn’t add up — you must be making him uncomfortable with your sexual frustrations. The thoughts have been swirling around in your brain twenty four seven, purposely at that. You conjure up your fantasies every second you’re in his proximity. Yet, it gains nothing. There is no reaction. You even try touching yourself one night and while it does little to relieve your needs, you tell him through your thoughts the next day, conveying it with your brain waves. Again. Zero reaction. Perhaps he’s lost his ability. Maybe you got too close to him and his brain exploded and he can’t read your thoughts anymore. That wouldn’t be such a horrible thing considering you’d get your privacy back…..but it’s also terrible. The one time you want him to know your needs and he doesn’t. It takes three weeks, nearly a month of no sexual contact, for you to break. And you end up cornering Idiot Kim Namjoon on the way to the bus stop. “W-what’s wrong, Y/N?” Nervous laughter escapes him. You’ve literally cornered him in, metal fence digging into his back, mailbox to his left — there’s no escape. You’re near some poor old lady’s lawn, a bunch of high schoolers causing disturbances. But you don’t care how you look to outsiders. You can’t study at all. And when something begins to impair your academic abilities and your grades, you will stop at nothing to rid of it. “You tell me what’s wrong!” Your foot stamps like that of a petulant child. “Why have you been holding out?” “Holding out on what?” “Sex!” you shriek aloud and those passing by look over with widening eyes. “What?” “You haven’t touched me since the third of this month! Today is the twenty fourth!” “I...I just didn’t feel like it.” “Really?” You eye him up and down, finding it hard to believe. “I get it okay. If you don’t want to. It’s not like I mind. But I feel like you’re hiding something from me, Namjoon. You’re not telling me the entire truth. Suddenly you just don’t want to anymore?” “I kissed you...if that counts.” “That was eight days ago!” The corner of his mouth is shifted up in amusement. “You’ve been keeping count?” “Yes!” You’re unabashed, but at the same time, you want to cry. It’s so confusing that it hurts your head. “It’s just….ugh! I hate you!” “No, you don’t.” “Yes, I do!” You point an accusatory finger at his face, childish. “It’s unfair how you can read my mind like that but I can’t tell what you’re thinking at all! I hate you!” Namjoon smiles softly and it causes your anger to surge. “I just don’t want you to treat me like your sex toy.” “What?” By his sudden statement, you’re left hurt. “When have I ever?” “I need you to admit something to me. That’s why I’m….‘holding out’, okay?” It’s puzzling. Befuddling. You look at him like he’s speaking another language. This game...this puzzle...it’s too difficult to solve. You don’t want to play. “Admit what?” This time, it’s Namjoon who’s cornering you. He approaches, fast steps that end up pushing you against the fence. He looks down and wears a dorky, yet gentle smile. The boy leans down and his warm breath against your ear makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand straight— “You like me, don’t you?” There’s an extended pause. Your breath is halted. You’re ten seconds away from combusting on spot, steam coming out of your ears, body shutting down from mortification. You don’t know if you want to choke him out or grab fistfuls of your hair. “Oh my god….Oh my god! Get out of my head, Namjoon! Get out! Get out! Stop reading my thoughts!” But he grabs both of your wrists, not allowing you to cover your face up with your hands. Namjoon stares at you with the biggest shit-eating grin that you want to smack off. “Why are you embarrassed?” “You’re not supposed to know I like you! How dare you expose me, asshole!” you’re shouting at the top of your lungs. The grandma in the house is about to walk out with her cane and spank you both off her lawn for making such a ruckus. You’re not so discreet anymore, drawing attention from everyone. Though no one seems to particularly care, assuming that it’s just kids joking around with one another or it’s young love and just a minor lover’s spat. His stupid smile is about to break his goddamn cheeks. “So you like me?” You’re trapped and he already knows the answer anyway. There’s no choice but to own up and at least try to scrape up whatever's left of your dignity when you say it. “O-of course I like you. How could anyone not like you?” Namjoon’s heart is soaring in his chest. He giggles, sound bubbling out and gentle. It makes your cheeks grow warmer. “Well good. Because I like you too.” “Y-you do?” Part of you isn’t surprised, maybe your subconscious already knew it. But the other half that was filled with doubts is finally satisfied. You’re relieved. It’s a huge weight off your shoulders. “How could anyone not like you,” Namjoon repeats with another laugh, brushing a strand of your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. The soft movement has you stuttering, but he steps back soon after, giving you space. “So...so what does this mean?” Is he your boyfriend now? Or is this just a casual thing? What does ‘like’ even mean? Does he like-like you or just like you? Did he just acknowledge you enjoy each other's company? But that’s obvious, of course you enjoy each other’s company. Then...does this mean he wants to pursue some kind of long term relationship? Dating? But what does dating even mean? What do you have to do? What if this becomes awkward? What if you mess up?! “I think….we should go on a date,” Namjoon suggests, calming you down before your brain goes completely haywire. He takes your hand, squeezing lightly with a smile to match. Your thoughts compose itself. “A date?” You blink, letting a few beats pass as everything that’s happened in the past five minutes sinks into you. It’s a lot to process. It’s overwhelming. But also— “That sounds... nice.” He nods and hums a warm note. “And we can see what happens from there. Step by step. Date by date.” It’s more than pleasant. You feel at ease in his company, in the way he knows your overthinking tendencies, how he so easily understands you. But what you manage is a fake scoff. He already knows what you really think. “Who says I’m going on a second date with you? You’re going to have to earn that.” “Please.” The pair of you are walking down the street again, hand in hand. “We both know you’re not going to leave my dick for someone else’s.” “Namjoon!” The clumsy boy laughs, squeezing your hand wrapped around his own. // You’re no longer safe in the depths of your own mind. Namjoon knows what you’re thinking — he can tell your constant poker face is a facade and that every time your brows furrow, it’s not in concentration, but that you’re preoccupied in a daydream. You’ve been invaded, thoughts exposed, but you don’t mind. He understands you better than yourself, helping you make sense of your occasional complicated ideas, appreciating your rather….strong imagination. He also quiets down your mind when it becomes too chaotic. He can stare at you and dive into your brain across the room, chuckling at what he finds. His ability is what bound you and him together after all. But these days, things are too busy to let your mind wander. And that’s okay too. These days, there’s less of an urgency to have constant romps in the sack. These days, there’s less of a rush to spend time with one another. There’s no need to hurry along when you know Namjoon’s here to stay. There’s no need now that the pair of you are together. “Namjoon!” You shout from across the hall, springing up to him on this hectic morning. Yet, you don’t care about the way you draw attention, at how you’re making people stare, how you’re revealing your cover, no longer just the studious girl sitting on the side of class and blending into the wall. You’re wearing a huge grin that is infectious to him. “What’s the matter?” There’s an envelope in your hand. But you can’t spit the words out when you’re gasping, out of breath, having ran all the way here to find him. He’s the first person you wanted to tell. And luckily enough, you don’t even need to speak the words. One good look at you and he knows. I got in. All at once, his eyes widen. His lips part. Then they tug into his cheeks, dimples pressed on either side of his face. Without being able to resist, Namjoon picks you off the ground, tightly hugging you and spinning you around. You laugh into his shoulder, relishing in his embrace, celebrating. It’s a moment between you and him in this busy hallway. No one else hears. No one knows. It’s just a little secret that the two of you share.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #namjoon smut #bts smut #namjoon fanfic

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