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from-the-clouds · 1 year

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bad liars (savior complex ii) - joel miller x f!reader

part one | masterlist | song inspo |

Baby, you're a vampire You want blood and I promised...

summary: It's been a month since Joel has last seen you, fully healed since your last interaction. But you haven't spoken...at all. Your radio silence becomes cause for concern when he hears about an outbreak of Infected at the hospital where you work. There's enough explanation in this part that you could read it on it's own, probably, but I'd highly recommend reading part one first to get the full experience. pairing: joel miller x f!reader words: 7.9k warnings: SMUT - 18+ ONLY, minors DNI. (porn w/ plot, unprotected sex, oral, rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, age gap. dom/sub dynamics.) Heavy angst, multiple POVs, implied drug abuse, alcohol use, canon-typical suffering! Blood mention. Both reader/Joel are insanely emotionally unavailable, and love to lie to themselves and each other! (please dm for specifics if you have any questions). a/n: Ya'll loved savior complex and I'm so happy! Literally don't think I've had a fic get that many notes before, i had so many requests for a part two and because it felt like i left things open-ended enough, this came to me pretty easily! It might be the horniest thing I've ever written and also very angsty (what's new?)....but I think you'll like the ending <3 Special to @ay0nha for letting me yell at you about my writing and to @zbeez-outlet for the wonderful idea.

Joel exhales and runs his fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair – the tips of which were frozen together from standing outside for so long. It had gotten cold out. Very cold. Boston always did this time of year, and because of it, people stayed in, and crime in the QZ dropped, making it a safer place - though that wasn’t saying much.

Of course, the cold didn’t stop him from dealing. It did make his job a hell of a lot more difficult, since FEDRA was bored, out looking for trouble, and didn’t have more pressing matters to attend to. Although today, he must’ve been in luck, because the only sign of FEDRA had been helicopters and tanks that were clearly on a mission, driving to the opposite side of the QZ. Good, he had thought. A distraction.

Joel leans back against the brick wall of the alleyway, pulling the hood of his jacket up over his ears, stares at the ice in the cracks of the pavement. When he hears the crunch of gravel underfoot, he straightens.

The man approaching looks nervously over his shoulder, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his flimsy sweatshirt. Dave, a customer of his for some time.

“You’re late,” Joel doesn’t bother with a proper greeting.

“I know, I know, I got held up on my way here,” Dave answers, immediately beginning his excuse. “They cleared out the hospital because of an outbreak, that whole area was locked down so I had to take the long way.”

“Outbreak?” Joel tilts his head.

“Infected. I guess a bunch of hospital staff got bit. FEDRA had to go in and put them all down.”

Joel feels a distant pang of concern somewhere in the back of his head. “How many?”

Dave shrugs, scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t know, man, that’s all I know. It’s not like they’ll ever tell anyone what actually happened.”

Joel can’t help but think of you. He knows a couple people who work at the hospital, most of them through smuggling, but you’re the only one who he’s really able to bring to mind at the moment.

“So, can we, uh…”

Joel pulls the plastic baggie out from his pockets, fishing out the pills. On his end, Dave produces a wad of credits, his shoulders sagging in relief once they’ve made the trade and the drugs are in his hand. He takes one immediately, shoves the rest in his pocket. “Thanks man, I’ll see you next week?”

Leaning back against the wall, he nods, and watches his customer disappear down the alleyway.

The second Dave is out of sight, Joel’s chest tightens, and he takes a deep breath. There’s no reason why news of Infected at the hospital should concern him. If FEDRA had been called in – they would’ve gunned down anything that moved until it was under control. He knew, better than anyone, that they would do unspeakable things in the name of keeping order. Innocent people probably died, but the dead can’t get infected.

It had been about a month since Joel had last seen you, after he’d gotten beaten within an inch of his life and ended up on your doorstep, and you were the only person that could help. It hadn’t gone at all how he expected it would – at the end of the day, he had been surprised by your tenderness.

Still, despite that you’d let him take you on the edge of your bed, legs wrapped around him, bouncing on his cock, he wouldn’t really say that it changed anything about your relationship. He had actually been kind of afraid that it would, that your attitude towards him would shift to something more amicable.

But you hadn’t spoken to him in a month. Joel had told you he owed you one after you stitched him up, and had anticipated that you’d take him up on his offer pretty quickly. There were so many things he could do for you to make your situation better. Maybe you’d need credits…. Medicine…. Food…. Booze… Pills, something, but you haven’t reached out. You could just be biding your time until you really need the favor.

Still, the radio silence takes him aback. He should be relieved that you aren’t talking to him. But nothing? Even if it’s not about a favor…he wants some kind of confirmation that you’d both made a mistake. After all that, did you really expect nothing from him?

It dawns on him there’s now a chance you’ll never speak to him again, because you’re one of the ones that FEDRA killed. Or worse….you had gotten bit.

Joel passes by the hospital, taking the long way home. Everything is locked down, taped off. There’s a crowd around the place – family members, he assumes, pleading with FEDRA agents for information and getting nothing in return.

“Go home. I’m sure they’ll turn up,” he hears one of them say to a weeping woman. It’s useless to ask for an honest answer, for one of them to actually care.

Joel could go home. He could crush a couple pills, snort them, and quell the burn with a couple drinks. He could fall into restless sleep and wake up the next day as he always did, go about his business as usual. Survive. One day at a time.

Would he ever get confirmation that you’re alive? Because at this rate, he’s not sure he’ll ever know either way.

The feeling is going to linger. He hates it. Were you gone? If you are, he can handle knowing. Its somehow worse not to.

He tries to justify it to himself. You’re one of his solid connections to the hospital, you’d traded with him for medical supplies before. This is business, really, if he thinks about it that way. If you’re dead, he and Tess need to find someone else to work with.

Joel decides to take a detour on the way back to his place.

It’s past curfew when he arrives at your apartment, the sun has long since dipped below the horizon and with that comes an even harsher cold. Boston winters, he thinks to himself. If he is capable of missing anything, he’d say he missed Texas. Before all this, the last place he’d be caught dead was on the East Coast.

Joel raps on your front door. He forgets how shitty your building is, that you sleep here alone every night, listening to your neighbors arguing through the thin walls, shady characters slinking out of shadows in the dimly-lit hallway,

A few seconds pass. When he hears nothing behind your door, he knocks again, a little louder.

More time passes. He knocks again, louder. Maybe you didn’t hear him.

Nothing. He does it again. Could you be asleep? His jaw clenches.

Still nothing, and Joel knocks even louder. Maybe you’re not even here, and you work nights, and he’s just missed you as you head out for another shift. But he knows that’s unlikely. Since he’s known you, you’ve never worked nights. So where the fuck were you?

Joel’s pounds on your door, yells your name into its chipping paint. He listens for something, anything, on the other side, and there’s nothing, absolutely nothing, but he keeps going The side of his fist starts to hurt, but he can’t stop himself. He doesn’t even realize what he’s doing until he hears one of your neighbors yelling from the end of the hallway.

‘Shut the fuck up!’

Joel doesn’t hear exactly where the voice comes from, but it’s enough to snap him out of it. He halts his movements, his forehead falling against hollow wood, and in the silence, hears his heart pounding in his ears.

“Fuck!” he kicks the wall just outside the frame of your door so hard the drywall gives, leaving a hole behind. “Fuck.”

He stares at the result of his outburst for an undetermined amount of time. You were all alone. To his knowledge, you had no immediate family to inform. Who would be around to remember you? He’d never really know for sure what had happened.

“Joel?”

He looks up, his hands still clenched tightly into fists. When he sees that it’s you, standing at the end of the hallway, they loosen.

You look horrible - haggard, tired, your hair tangled and matted. As you move closer to him, he doesn’t miss the way your shoulders are hunched underneath the weight of your backpack. But once you’re standing in front of him, you straighten, lift your chin.

“What is this?” you ask. “What are you doing here?”

There’s no animosity in your tone, he thinks. You might be trying to put some in there, but you don’t have the energy to do so, so it just comes out sounding very flat.

Joel realizes, suddenly, that he doesn’t have a reason. A real reason that wouldn’t….give him away. He puts his hands on his hips, thinks desperately. You do nothing to help.

When he settles in silence, offers you nothing, you just sigh and shake your head. Your teeth are chattering, lips cracked from the cold, and you seem desperate to get into shelter, twisting your key into your lock and opening the front door. Once you step inside, you flick on the lights. He follows you, closes the door behind you both, and locks it.

“Oh, yeah, come on in, I guess,” you say over your shoulder.

Joel crosses his arms, standing in your kitchen.

“What, am I in trouble or something?” you ask. “Because if I am, you’re gonna have to wait until I’ve showered.”

“It can wait,” Joel says, and sits at one of your kitchen chairs.

You shrug off of your backpack and leave it on a chair, then unbutton your coat, tossing it on top. Joel swallows hard when he sees the damage it’s been hiding. Your scrubs are dirty, tattered in some places, one of the sleeves hanging, partially ripped off. And they’re covered in dried blood. It’s smeared on your arms, on the back of your neck. Not yours, he hopes.

What the fuck happened to you? You don’t turn to see his reaction, don’t look over your shoulder to see if he’s going to ask about it. It’s almost like he’s not even there, and you clearly wish he isn’t.

He realizes then, that he has the confirmation he’s looking for. You made it out alive. He doesn’t actually need anything else from you. And you’ve given him a perfect out. He can leave while you’re in the shower.

But he doesn’t. Not when he hears the shower start, or the screech of the curtain across the metal rod, the sound of water hitting the basin. He stays there, motionless, until you duck out of the bathroom with your arms wrapped around yourself, wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants, hair damp and teeth chattering.

You pad with bare feet onto the tiled area of the kitchen, brushing past him.

“What the fuck happened to you?” he asks.

You finally look at him, like you’re surprised he spoke up, or even asked the question. A choked, bitter laugh leaves you, and you shift your attention away from him, reaching into your cabinet for a bottle of bourbon. “Pass.”

You pour yourself a whiskey, and Joel watches you throw it back in one go, your nose scrunching up, your hand clasping into a fist as you take the shot. The taste doesn’t stop you from pouring another drink and gulping that one down, too, without as much of a reaction as the first. It’s only when you start pouring the third that he intervenes, standing and crossing the room to cover the glass with his hand before you can grab it.

“Slow down,” he says.

“I know you’re not telling me what to do in my own home.” Your mouth opens as you look up at him, incredulous.

Joel looks past you, shakes his head. He supposes your right, but it doesn’t make it any easier to watch the self-destructive behavior, which is funny considering how often he engages in it himself. He gives in, removes his hand from your glass. “At least…pour me one. You shouldn’t drink alone.”

Your expression softens slightly, and he’s able to see all the pain you’re hiding, just for a flash, before you turn to retrieve a second glass from your cabinet.

Once you hand him the whiskey, he sits in the middle of the tiny loveseat you’ve got in your front room, expecting you to sit in the armchair across from it. Instead, you approach with your own drink, nudge his knee with your own, and Joel slides over to make room so you can fall onto the couch beside him. Much closer than he’d expected.

It’s surprisingly good bourbon, and he wonders how many times you’d wasted it by downing it like you just had, instead of taking your time, savoring. He waits for you to get settled before he speaks again.

“What happened to you?” he tries once more, a little softer this time.

There’s some contemplation on your end, you look at him for a moment, then at your glass, then back up at him again. He can almost see you trying to figure out how much you’re going to share, but he wants to know everything.

“There was an accident at the hospital,” you answer, finally.

Joel slings his arm over the back of the couch, angles his body towards where you’re curled up, legs tucked underneath you. I’m listening.

Your voice stays even, blase. “A guard at the border broke protocol…and someone who was infected was brought in. By the time we realized, it was too late….”

“Were you hurt?”

“Almost.” you say. “I mean, yes, actually, I’m a little scratched up, but…it’s not as bad as it could’ve been.”

Your teeth start chattering again. Joel wonders if it’s because of the cold, or your nerves. Figures it’s probably both.

“My coworker turned and I uhm….I had to…” you say into your glass, your free hand flexing like it’s trying to shake off some unpleasant muscle memory. “I had no choice.”

“I understand,” For whatever reason, he spares you from telling the story. To him, taking down Infected was nothing. But to you…“What else?” he presses.

You shrug, avoiding his eyes, one of your arms coming to grip at your opposite shoulder. “I can’t really remember. A bunch of people died. FEDRA came in and just started gunning everything down….” you shook your head, and straightened up.

“I heard about that,” Joel offers.

“Wait…you knew about this?”

“Yeah.”

“So then why are you here, asking m-” the rest of your sentence drops off, your lips parted slightly. The look on your face shifts, slowly. Your eyes narrow. Remorse turns into something more neutral, then into curiosity. “Oh my god….you were worried about me.”

“No.”

“Yes, you fucking were,” your lips curl slightly, it’s not quite a smile, but it’s something close to amusement.

“No,” Joel defends himself. “I wanted to hear what happened from someone–”

“No you didn’t,” you interject, but he raises his voice to finish his thought.

“–who actually works there, not FEDRA’s propaganda.”

“No you did not. You’re checking up on me. You came over here after curfew to see if I was–”

“Enough,” Joel growls with enough conviction that it shuts you up, and he’s grateful, but its not enough to wipe the self-satisfied look on your face, because it doesn’t.

“What are we, like, friends now?”

He doesn’t answer, and slugs back the rest of his whiskey.

“Or would that be too much for you?” You don’t wait long for him to give you an answer, probably because you know he won’t respond. “I mean, if we’re both being honest–” He definitely wasn’t being honest. “–Today was really fucked up.”

You’re leaning forward now, some of the space between you is gone. And though you’re trying to give the impression that you’re unphased by everything, your hand is clenched tightly around your glass, and you avoid his eyes. It’s painful to watch you resist the urge to trust him. Not that he’s ever given you a good enough reason to – he knows he doesn’t deserve it, but he wants it anyways.

“It’s funny…” you say after a while. “I remember thinking that I didn’t want to die. At least… not like that. I’ve never felt that before…That’s something, isn’t it?” you ask him.

Joel looks at you, and is surprised at the vulnerability in your expression, sees you looking for some kind of validation from him. “....It is.”

You finish off your drink, and put the empty glass on the coffee table, shift closer to him.

“It looks like you healed up okay,” you say, after a spell. “How’s your shoulder?”

“A little sore, nothing I can’t handle.”

“Did you take those antibiotics?”

“Yes.”

“Good. And I can’t even tell you had a black eye.”

“I’m fine,” Joel asserts.

Another shiver wracks your body, and he can tell this one is actually from the chill – your apartment is cold as fuck, it even is starting to bother him.

“Don’t you have a heater?”

“Kinda,” you glance over at the radiator in the corner. “Sometimes it works.”

“What do you do when it’s colder than this?” It was only November, things would only get worse.

You shrug. “I don’t know….just be colder, I guess.”

Joel imagines you curled up in your bed alone, wrapped in a thin comforter, shaking in front of him like you are now. He winces.

“How long are you going to stay?” you ask, changing the subject.

“I should probably go now.”

You nod, scoot closer. “But maybe…” you trail off, contemplating.

Joel sits up straighter, prompting you when you don’t speak again. “Maybe what?”

“Maybe you could stick around for a little while longer.” There’s a warm hand, yours, that lands on his thigh, and he recoils like you’ve touched him with a fire iron. He rises to his feet.

“Hey,” you stand along with him, step in front of him to block the pathway to the door. He could easily get past you, obviously, but it’s not as simple as that.

Of course he’s fucking thought about what happened the last time he was here – his arms around your waist, his mouth on your neck, your chest, your hands on his shoulders, whining his name. A freak accident, a glitch in the matrix, a statistically improbable thing.

“What?” he asks as you step forward, the fingers on your free hand sliding into the belt loops of his pants. He feels blood rush to his cheeks, to other places. And you’re still fucking shivering. You look so fucking miserable, he wants to yell at you to put on a coat, to wrap yourself in a blanket, in his arms.

“Joel,” you say his name softly, tilting your head up, leaning close. And then your hand is on the side of his face, and he realizes you’re fucking pleading with him. He knows what you want, but he has a feeling this isn’t just about sex. You’re looking for comfort, as if he’s capable of giving it.

“We made a mistake…once,” he tells you. “We’re not going to make it again.”

He says it to hurt you, but it doesn’t work. It’s like you knew it was coming all along. “I knew what I was doing,” you answer, earnest. “Didn’t you?”

Yes. You glance down at his hands, which are squeezed into fists so tightly, his knuckles are white. If he’s not rigid, he’s not sure how he’ll be able to resist. He wants you. God, he wants you. He never thought he’d be able to have you again.

“I could help you loosen up.”

Joel’s walking on the edge of a one-thousand foot cliff and hoping his foot slips. He wants to surrender. The only thing he thinks might save him is to say the meanest thing he can. Maybe you’d get turned off.

“Listen to yourself,” he says, finding the strength to meet your eyes. “You want me so bad, you sound pathetic.”

“Asshole,” you step closer, your mouth twitches, your lips are inches apart. “Do you think I care what you think about me?”

Joel realizes his plan has backfired. But he really only has himself to blame, he should’ve known better. With you, he’s never in as much control as he wants to be, and deep down, he likes it.

“Go lie down on the bed.”

It’s the only thing that seems to shock you. “What?”��

“I won’t ask you again,” Joel steps backwards, crosses his arms. “Go lie down.”

──────

If you told yourself a couple months ago that one day you’d find yourself pinned down by Joel Miller, you’d think it’d be because he was about to kill you. Maybe because you cheated him out of something, maybe because you did something else to piss him off – it didn’t really matter. Regardless of how fucked up it was, that idea would seem more dignified than what was happening now.

Your back is being pressed deeper into the lumpy old mattress, and he’s on you. His mouth is warm, hot, wet, and dragging down your neck, nipping, sucking, licking. Your hands are itching to reach out, to skate down his torso, trace along his jawline, tug at his hair, but you can’t because he’s got them pinned above you with only one of his own. Anytime you try to fight him, his grip only grows stronger.

It was shameful, really, but you had asked for this – begged for it, basically. There were a number of reasons why – one of which was to blow off some steam after a near death experience, the other because you’d fucked him before and it had been good, much to your dismay. There was also a third reason that you weren’t interested in acknowledging now.

After the night Joel had gotten jumped, and you’d taken care of him, everything has changed. It’s a cliche, but true. You’d known what you were doing when it happened, and had no regrets. But it was probably not supposed to happen again, and you tried to keep it that way, more for his sake than anyone else’s. But….he was the one who showed up tonight after he’d heard what had happened. It wasn’t nothing.

Joel pulls away from you so abruptly that you gasp, shivering in the wake of his impossible warmth.

“Sit up,” he instructs, and you turn to find him at the end of the bed, arms crossed.

You obey, mostly just for the view. You hope to admire him, fresh from kissing you – flush skin, wet lips, tousled hair. Only he’s frustratingly stoic, unsullied – like he hadn’t been touching you at all.

“Look at me,” he says, and you do.

“This doesn’t mean anything.”

“It’s nothing,” you agree.

“I won’t be gentle.”

“I don’t want you to be gentle.”

“Good,” you watch his shoulders loosen, just a little, and he takes one step backwards, his eyes tracing down your body and then back up. “Strip for me….”

You aren’t dressed sexy at all, you remember, a sweatshirt and sweatpants. If you had thought this through a little more, you might’ve tried to make it nicer for him. “....Okay.”

“Start with your shirt,” he says, and you grab at the hem, but he snaps at you. “Ah-ah….slower.”

You swallow, nod, and carefully lift the fabric, dragging it up over your stomach, over the swell of your breasts, revealing your tight, thin white tank top.

“That’s it, nice and slow.”

Joel’s voice is soft but stern, a low rasp that makes your cunt clench around nothing, and he’s not even touching you. The sweatshirt is pulled over your head, falling somewhere on the crumpled bedspread.

Languidly, you lean back, shifting your weight to get off the mattress, and Joel palms himself through his jeans. You can see where he’s straining against the denim, and you find it hard to tear your gaze away as you go to pull off your sweatpants. Joel stops you again.

“Turn around.”

You do, and you’re sure he has a nice view of your ass as you slide them over your hips, bending over to let the fleece pool around your ankles. Slowly, you rise back up, looking at him over your shoulder for approval.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. Your stomach flips. A month ago, you would’ve done anything to get him to stay away from you, and now, you’re terrified to disappoint him.

That’s the problem. You’d spent most of the day fighting for your life — literally. But even after standing behind a barricade of heavily-armed FEDRA soldiers outside the hospital, you didn’t feel as safe as you did when you saw Joel at your door. You need him. For now, at least.

“Now the shirt,” he tilts his head towards the mattress, nodding encouragingly.

You get back on the bed, sitting back on your heels, and begin to pull the tank top up. It’s your last layer up top, you’re not wearing a bra, and you’re feeling a little vulnerable with him just watching you, fully clothed and composed, your gaze falling down to look at the threadbare linens.

“Eyes up,” he instructs. “Look at me.”

Taking in a shaky inhale, you do. It’s not easy. Everything about him looks dark, animalistic. A coiled ball of energy, waiting to pounce.

But, even when you’re bare before him, he doesn’t.

“Lie back, close your eyes.”

Of course, you don’t refuse, settling your head against the pillows.

There’s a sound of a belt – his belt, unbuckling, the snap of a button, the dip of the bed where he kneels when he comes to hover over you. Two hands land on top of your thighs, pressing the backs against his denim-clad knees, thumbs pushing your legs further apart.

And then…nothing. He’s still. He’s still for so long, that you actually think that something’s wrong. When you open your eyes, you’re met with a view of the underside of his jaw. You can just make out the pinched expression he’s wearing as he looks down upon you. Disdain, maybe…but it’s not meant for you, it’s for someone else….him.

“Joel,” you murmur. Instinctually, you reach for his hand.

The second it makes contact, he smacks your hand away so hard your whole body jolts. “I told you to close your eyes.”

“Sorry,” you mumble quickly, closing them again.

You are well aware that he’s actively working through shit, probably doing some kind of mental gymnastics to rationalize why it’s okay to fuck you again, which, when you really think about it is kind of….pathetic. It’s the only thing that makes you feel any sort of power in a situation where you’ll surrender everything else. It’s a fair exchange.

Maybe, on a different day, you would want it softer. You’d like to think he’s capable of that, even though he seems determined he isn’t. Luckily, you don’t want it softer. After today, you want to be so far gone you can’t think.

Joel answers by leaning down and catching you in a bruising kiss. Finally. You press yourself against him cause you’re freezing and he’s so warm, and you frantically begin to unbutton the flannel he’s wearing, making it about halfway down before he pins your hands above you again.

“Slow down.”

You whine, a little frustrated because all you want to do is touch him. The fingers on his free hand hook around the elastic of your underwear, and he starts to drag them over the curve of your ass.

He’s got to be joking with how deliberately he’s moving, anticipation only building underneath his featherlight touches.

When he’s got your panties around your ankles, you slide your legs together so he can pull them off entirely, keeping them closed as his weight shifts, and your thighs are pulled back apart.

“You’re already so wet for me,” he doesn’t need to feel you to see it clear as day, with you spread open in front of him. “So fucking desperate.”

He’s all-but glaring at you, like you’ve done something wrong, and for a minute, your eyes flick away, just for a second of relief from the tension.

“What, are you embarrassed?” he asks.

“N-no,” you stammer, though it was supposed to sound confident.

Thankfully, he doesn’t press you, his head dipping down to press his lips to your knee, then an inch higher, then an inch higher, then higher – keeping his eyes locked on yours the whole time, an arm winding around your thigh.

“I wanted to do this last time.” A confession.

“Yeah?” you sigh, trembling. It’s maybe the nicest thing he’s said to you, but you can’t even acknowledge it, because you’re buzzing.

He turns his face, his beard scraping along sensitive skin. “Mhm,” his deep rasp vibrates directly to your cunt, and when his head dips down, you close your eyes – it might just be better to focus on only one sensation at a time, you’re not sure you can handle seeing what he’s about to do.

Joel’s mouth is on you the second you do, and you gasp. He licks up the seam of your lips, mouth latching around your clit, swirling with his tongue, and back down – firm, determined, practiced. You try to buck up, but he has an arm locked around your hips.

He removes himself from you just enough to utter two words. “Stay still.”

You want to protest, but you realize that he’s let go of your hands, and it gives you the opportunity to thread your fingers into his hair, while you dig your heels into the broad expanse of his back, and he groans, tongue curling into you.

“I’ve thought about this,” you gasp, answering his earlier admission.

“When?”

“At night. More than once.”

“Fuck,” Joel growls, and you wheeze when he works one finger into you, forcing you to take it along with his next words. “You know how fuckin’ bad that is? Dreamin’ about a man nearly twice your age?”

“I d-don’t care, I want you anyway. Y-you can do whatever you want to me,” It’s too early to be past the point of speaking coherently, it really is, but you’re already there.

“F-fuck,” Joel repeats himself, and pushes another finger inside you next to the first, the stretch almost uncomfortable, but quickly fading to pleasure. “I’m going to.”

You’re not the going to tell him, though, that he’s the first man whose ever gone down on you, because you’re a little fucking scared for some reason. It’s intimate, very intimate, more than you expected.

The truth is, you weren’t actually very experienced at all. You could count on one hand the number of partners you’d had, and still not use all of your fingers. While some of them were good enough, they all paled in comparison to Joel. There had never been anyone like Joel.

His fingers curl as his tongue swirls around your clit and you cry out, inhale sharply. Minute by minute, you’re getting wetter and wetter – can hear yourself with each twist of his fingers inside you, bearing down on him.

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” he grunts, and your eyes flutter open just for a second, just to see his forehead, dark eyes staring back at you, and his hips dipping, rutting against the mattress. God he’s getting himself off to this. As hot as it is, the thought of not getting to feel him inside you causes a rush of anger.

“F-feels so good,” you’re right there, already, and it’s pitiful.

“I know, baby, I know,” he says. “You’re already so close, aren’t you?”

Instead of answering, you just nod, gasping. Joel works you right up to the precipice, hands tightening in his hair, hips lifting off the bed – and then he slows a little – just enough – to pull you back off the edge, and you let out a humiliating sob.

“Shhh!” he hisses with his mouth still on you, resuming the steady pace he had going. A little sigh of relief when you feel your release approaching again. He just lost his rhythm for a moment, it was nothing.

Again, he’s got you right there, you’re so close, hips jerking, breathing in short, sharp pants, something molten working its way up your spine. “Joel, that’s it, please I-”

He falters again – just enough. And it’s gone again.

You realize, with dismay, that he knows exactly what he’s doing. He hadn’t lost his rhythm. He’s doing this on purpose.

If someone asked – not that anyone would – you wouldn’t be able to recall how long he keeps you in that state, being dragged and dangled, but denied the privilege of falling. It’s torture.

And at first, you try to be patient. You figure he’ll grow tired, desperate, and eventually want to move on. But apparently, he doesn’t want to move on. He’s content to keep you this way for as long as he sees fit, and you can’t handle it any longer. It’s starting to hurt.

“Please, Joel, let me-�� you gasp.

“Let you what?” he pulls back from you, frustratingly too soon, once again.

“Let me come, please, I’ll do anything, I’ll be good, please, please-”

“Just a little longer,” he dismisses you.

All you can do is pant and writhe, completely at his mercy. He keeps going like that, and you’ve stopped trying to filter yourself, the sounds he makes as he laves at you are obscene, you can see yourself glistening on his chin, and can feel the sheets damp beneath you. At this point, he’s enjoying this more than you are.

“Joel,” you plead with him again. “It’s too much, I c-can’t. Just, please I really need-”

“You wanna come for me, baby?” he asks. You nod ferociously.

“Yes, please, please,”

“You’re so fucking sweet when you beg, you know that? ” he murmurs. “Wish you were like this all the time.”

“Fuck off,” you manage, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. You should do this to me more often.

Joel chuckles, and it vibrates just right, his fingers curling again and you moan, hands tightening in his hair. He’s focused now, you can tell because the constant stream of filth he’s been whispering has finally stopped. He’s persistent.

You’re unable to stay quiet, continuing to whimper just like that and please don’t stop over and over. And then all at once, every muscle in your body grows tense and you cry out, cunt pulsing around him so tightly that his fingers slow. “There you go, pretty girl, that’s it.”

You whisper his name as he continues to fuck his fingers into you, riding you through your orgasm and licking up the mess you’ve made.

At some point in the aftermath, Joel withdraws from you, and you hear the sting of his zipper. It takes a moment, but you’re able to see him through heavily lidded eyes, kneeling in front of you with his shirt unbuttoned all the way, pants around his ankles, jerking himself slowly in his hand. God he’s fucking huge, how had you forgotten about that? He’s a vision, beard still wet with you, looking down, watching your chest rise and fall. In that moment you realize two things. One, even though you’ve already come, you somehow want him even more than you had before, and two, you’ve never wanted to suck a dick so bad in your life.

So you sit up, crawl towards him, and reach out with one hand to take him in your palm. He lets you, sighing, closing down his eyes. First, you have to kiss him, so you rise to your knees, and he pulls you into his arms, one of them winding around your waist, the other coming to rest at the small of your back. “You take such good care of me,” you whisper.

He grimaces at the words like they’re an insult. You expect him to retaliate, to tell you that you shouldn’t say that sort of thing, but he never does. So you kiss him, gently, bringing your free hand to the side of his face. Once again, he lets you, and you taste yourself when his tongue presses into you mouth. You run your thumb over the head of his cock, and he hums against your touch, almost contentedly.

You’re doing whatever you want to him, and you’re shocked he hasn’t put a stop to it. It could be satisfying enough, you think, just to keep kissing him like this. Still, you sink back towards the bed to test things further. You’re about to wrap your mouth around him, but he pulls you off by your hair, so quickly, so hard that you yelp.

“No.” he says firmly. “Lie back.”

“But I just wanted to-”

“No.”

You consider trying to reason with him, but decide it won’t be worth whatever he’d do if you continue to argue.

Joel braces himself with one hand above your shoulder, the other wrapped around his cock, slowly teasing you by rubbing himself up and down a few times, before he gives in, finally pushing into you.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp at the stretch, reaching out grasp at his bicep, arching your back. He’d prepped you, and it was still too much.

“You can take it,” he says, pressing deeper into you. His hips are all the way flush with yours, he’s to the hilt, and he still snaps them even further, once, holding you there, so deep, you feel like you’re choking on him. “See? There you go.”

It seems like you can’t quite catch your breath, and you squirm underneath him for some kind of friction, some kind of relief from how intense it all is. You can feel him throbbing inside you, feel how badly his own body is begging him to move, but he doesn’t.

“Joel,” you cradle the back of his head, look him in the eyes. “Move, please.”

He doesn’t answer, he just brings his hand to grip your jaw, his thumb and forefinger pressing into the soft flesh of your cheeks.

“Please?” you murmur again, and his thumb slips into your mouth, silencing you. You suck on it obediently, and after you do, he finally gives you what you want.

──────

Joel told you he wouldn’t be gentle, and he isn’t.

He hadn’t been able to do this last time. Taste you, spread you open, fuck you properly. His hips snap against yours – ferociously, unrelenting, over and over. You’ve been going at it for awhile now, and he actually wants you to break. He wants you to tell him to slow down, to be a little more tender, not press into you so deep, so hard, so that if he listens, it wouldn’t mean he’s breaking his own promise. He’s got to be rough with you, because he’s afraid of what could happen if he’s not.

But you don’t break. You fucking take it, take him, each time, again and again, your nails digging into arms, your legs locked around his hips. Each time he delves into you, you’re getting wetter and wetter, and yet, you’re still so fucking tight. He doesn’t understand it. It’s been a long fucking time since he’s been with a woman like you – and you might be the best he’s ever had.

You’re not even making any noise – you’re just panting, gasping in Joel’s ear as you cling to him, and that’s all. He can’t even look you in the eyes. If he does, he knows you’ll see everything that’s wrong with him, and still beg for him to give you more.

Two hands land on either side of his face, turning his head so you can kiss him. Despite how he’s treating you, you keep trying to connect, to ground yourself. For as much as he wants to refuse, it feels too cruel to deny you. He lets you lock your lips with his own, feels your cunt clutch him even tighter. It’s impossible for you to kiss for more than a few seconds at a time without it getting broken up by a whimper here and there. You’re getting close again, he’s started to get better at recognizing it.

“You’re fucking so perfect on me, baby, you feel that?” he asks, and you nod, breathless. “Taking me so well, such a good fucking girl-”

A gasp from you cuts him off, your eyes squeezing shut as you are taken over by your climax. Joel groans and does everything he can not to come when you start pulsing around him, holding him closer, since there’s nothing else to do. It’s way too intimate…because it’s missionary, and he should’ve known better than to start off like this.

Pulling out of you is the hardest thing he’s had to do in a while, and he ignores your noises of protest now that he’s left you empty. Then, he flips you onto your stomach. He takes a moment to admire the curve of your ass, how it dips into your waist….to him, your body is perfect, and you’re young, your skin still supple and smooth. There are still places he hasn’t gotten his mouth on, and it’s a shame, he thinks, but tonight his patience is wearing thin. Joel pulls you back until you’re on your knees, and slides back inside. There’s a little resistance, you whimper, but it’s easier than the first time. He wraps an arm around your waist, the other across your chest, and starts to jerk his hips upwards, into you.

“Oh fuck, Joel,” you sigh in relief.

“I know, I know.”

You drop your head back until it falls against his shoulder, winding your arm back so you can pull at his hair, which kind of fucking hurts, but he likes it.

Ultimately, you’re pretty easy to please, and it’s not long before he feels the telltale flutter of your walls as you drip down over him, soaking his lap.

“You’re making a fucking mess, baby. You gonna come for me again?”

All you can do is plead with him. “I can’t, Joel. I can’t do it again, please just-”

“Yes, you can,” he interjects. “I know you can, baby, don’t worry…I’ll help you.”

“O-okay.’

He slows the roll of his hips just a little, focuses on deeper, longer strokes, and lets the hand that’s currently squeezing one of your tits fall to where your bodies are joined, finding your clit immediately.

You whine, arching back against him, the swell of your ass packed against his lower stomach. He sees a single tear leaking from the corner of your eye and feels a little guilty for what he’s doing to you. Only a little, though.

Without any warning, for the third time, you’re coming around him – easier than the last time, like always – and he uses the feeling of you throbbing around him to chase his own release, his hand clapping over your mouth to muffle your moans as he becomes increasingly frantic.

He turns his head, rakes his teeth along your exposed neck, and sinks them into your pulse point with a groan. Your breath is hot against him when you whimper in response.

“Just a little more, honey.” He’s so close. You bob your head, though you’ve nearly gone limp in his arms.

Like last time, Joel knows it’s a bad idea, but he’s not going to pull out. The thought of deliberately coming inside you is actually what sends him over the edge, and he’s cursing and moaning your name. You whine at the feeling of him pulsing inside of you, arching back for more, even though he can tell you’re exhausted.

It’s fucking freezing in your apartment, and yet, his skin is damp with sweat when he finally regains some awareness of his surroundings. He’s panting, you’re sniffling, a weak smile on your face as you catch your breath. Before he can stop himself, he presses his lips to your cheek.

Joel tilts you both forward – very tentatively, keeping an arm wrapped around your waist. At some point, your hand settled over top of his, and you threaded your fingers between his own, holding his hand across your stomach. You keep it there, even after you’ve settled onto the bed.

It takes a few minutes before either of you move, but it’s you who gives in first, wriggling out from where he’s got you trapped partially underneath him.

You retreat to the bathroom, like you did last time. Somewhere during your coupling the linens have slid down the bed, and Joel settles back against the pillows, throwing an arm behind his head. Now that he’s stopped sweating, he’s just cold, and he reaches to pull the bedspread over him. He should leave, he thinks, before you come out and ask him to. Beat you to the punch. Maybe while you’re still in the bathroom.

A few minutes later, and you return from the bathroom, dressed again in sweats. He hears you pour yourself a glass of water, gulping it down. You flick off the lamp on your bedside table, and fall into bed next to him, lying rigidly on your back. He should reach out, pull you against him, let you settle in his arms. Instead, Joel rolls over on his side.

It’s terrible how beautiful you are, he thinks, watching you stare up at the ceiling, hugging yourself. So beautiful, and fucking smart. You’re strong, too, but not as strong as he wishes you were. Of course, no one could ever be that strong.

He whispers your name. You turn your head, pupils still blown wide with lingering lust.

“You need to learn to defend yourself, to shoot a gun, to fight,” he says. “After today.”

“What?” you roll to face him.

“You said you didn’t want to die,” Joel continues. “So you need to learn. ‘Case something like that happens again.”

“Oh yeah? Lemme guess, you’re gonna teach me?” your voice is a little hoarse after what he’d done to you, and you smirk at him.

“Yes.” It sobers you up, that he’s not fucking with you, or giving you a hard time. “I owe you, remember?”

“You do.”

“So…. I’ll teach you.”

“....Okay.”

“Alright.”

Joel rolls over to his opposite side, and you’re left staring at his back. Arms wrapped around

himself in a tight hug, he waits for you to tell him to go.

You never do.

Instead, he feels the heat of your body as you curl up against him, slotting one of your legs between his own. Your hand grazes up his ribs, over his bicep – a gentle, quick massage �� before you tuck your arm underneath his own, your palm flat against his heart.

“What are you doing?” he asks, frozen at how tender the embrace is. It’s a foreign feeling, he can’t remember the last time someone touched him like this.

The tip of your nose hits the nape of his neck, and he can feel your shuddery exhale.

“I’m cold,” you say, like it’s obvious, lips brushing featherlight against his skin. “And if you’re staying, you might as well make yourself useful.”

He can’t roll over and wrap his arms around you. He can’t kiss your forehead or play with your hair or murmur into your ear. He can’t offer you anything in return. Joel decides, though, if he’s going to accept comfort from anyone, it’s going to be from you.

──────

taglist (basically if you asked for a pt 2 on the last part i tagged you): @bbyanarchist @dlwrish @imaginewrites24 @captain-yellow-96 @daisyintheskyewithdiamonds @sludgec0r33 @c0wb0ym3nace

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #the last of us #the last of us writing #the last of us fanfiction #tlou #tlou hbo #tlou fic #joel miller angst #writing

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tadpoles-and-daydreams · 6 days

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A ramble on imposter syndrome and the accessibility of witchcraft

So, I’ve been thinking. I think a lot in case you haven’t noticed. Specifically, I’ve been thinking about the major imposter syndrome I’ve been feeling lately in regards to this blog. TL;DR is at the bottom of this post.

People have been, occasionally, sending me asks requesting my opinion on things/how I do things/what I know about XYZ topic. If you are one of these people, I promise I’m not vagueposting about you in particular- in fact, I love these questions! They’re so fun to get and they actually make me sit and think sometimes, or even encourage me to write out something that I’ve been meaning to for my book of shadows. Genuinely, they're wonderful asks to receive. These questions have made me confront something, however; my blog is still small, but some people actually like what I write and value my opinion even if just a little.

I feel like a mimic hiding in the witchcraft community. I feel like, were people to truly understand my experiences, they would want to “expose” me for knowing so little.

So I sat down with those feelings and turned it over in my head and I’ve come to a conclusion. The fact is, I don’t do research. At least- not what I think of when people talk about research. My "research" consists of the occasional rabbit hole I go down, one and two halves of different books I never finished under my belt, what I see scrolling through various social medias, and conversations I've had with other witches. I check to make sure I'm not stepping on the toes of any closed practices- in fact, that's what most of my energy goes to when it comes to research. This isn't a complaint; I'd much rather know that my craft isn't appropriative.

But I don’t know much about mythology, even that of the deities I work with. I don't even remember the holidays and what they're for. I thought Nyx was an Egyptian deity until like four months ago because I'd just heard her name in passing as a child and had never looked into the mythology... Even though I mainly work with the pantheon she belongs to. Y’all, I’ve done like three spells that I remember. My book of shadows is a messy disaster and I love it but it's got so little information in it, because I rarely write things down. Most resources (especially mythology resources) are academically worded or difficult to read for me personally, and all of these things feel like secrets I have to guard with my life because if I were to ever say them aloud, people would know I'm a fraud.

Today I've come to the conclusion that that is, in fact, absolute bullshit.

Maybe it's not, maybe this post will make some people really upset, but in my practice it's bullshit. All of the above is a result of my ADHD and the fact that I am nothing if not a hands-on learner. My craft is mostly my own experiences because that's how my whole life is; I learn by doing. My ideal learning style is sitting with another autistic person whose special interest is whatever I'm learning about and just talking for five hours, but if that's not something I can do, puzzling it out myself is the next best thing. That's what I've been doing ever since I felt had a basic foundation for my craft. Hell, even before I had a foundation I was putting my own experiences into my craft because "Well that rule just doesn't fucking vibe with me."

This post is mostly for me, but partially for anyone who feels similar. We are not broken or doing witchcraft/paganism wrong. We are simply what happens when the kid who could never do homework ends up practicing the "religion/spirituality that comes with homework." Witchcraft and paganism, in my experience, is far from accessible when it comes to the typical image of it. UPG is what makes it accessible. So yes, my practice is heavily UPG, and I don't do as much research as I think people have assumed. But I'm going to let go of the idea that I'm a fraud, because frankly I know enough about witchcraft to have supported my practice this whole time and my deities haven't smited me yet so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

TL:DR:

Fuck the rules, I don't do much research. I've researched the "basics" and what I need to so I'm not stepping on any toes of closed practices, but people seem to think I know way more than I actually do. I've felt like I was lying this whole time but frankly witchcraft just isn't accessible to someone with my flavor of auDHD, so my craft relies heavily on UPG and I've decided that I'm not broken or wrong for that and neither is anyone else. I'm tired of seeing myself as an imposter just because I make my practice doable for me.

#I feel weird about posting this but Loki seems thrilled #of course he is though #“fuck the rules” energy is their whole deal #Frog's writing #shit did I use caps in my previous posts?#Frog's Writing #frog's writing #there we go now it doesn't matter lol #witchcraft #witchblr #pagan witch #pagan #witch community #paganism #deity work #eclectic pagan #paganblr #witch blog

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vpgoldenrod · 7 months

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Aziraphale's Haunted Look: On Being Forcibly Outed and Exiled From The Garden

While we're all talking about Aziraphale's reaction to the kiss, I'm surprised by those who thought Aziraphale looked disgusted because that's not an emotion I'd seen in him at all. There's sadness, and confusion, and anger, but I couldn't remember seeing disgust. When I watched the scene again I realized there's something else going on that really struck a chord with me. It's an uncomfortably familiar look.

He feels exposed. And I know what it feels like to be exposed in such a violent and intimate way.

Stay with me, I promise this is relevant to my analysis.

I didn't know what being transgender meant when I was a kid. Being raised in a fundamentalist Christian house meant that I wasn't exposed to those ideas, so I lived my life feeling like something was always just kind of broken. It was like I was looking right through the problem at other things, trying to alleviate symptoms without understanding why they existed in the first place. I eventually met other trans people, who gently nudged me in the direction of my truth. I even became aware that I had experienced some minor dysphoria. Every time I came close to acknowledging the truth however, my eyes would once again begin to glaze over the problem. I always managed to subconsciously shove it back into a little box and move on with my life. It was like I accidentally “did a big miracle” and hid this truth from myself so well that I continually forgot it was there.

Til one day I had an encounter that changed everything.

We're friends now but oddly enough, it was only meant to be a fling. I won't go into too many details because it's not just my story, but it was a lovely time that culminated with us meeting and doing what adults do. The person I was with, a cis man, silently clocked me the minute we were face to face. For reasons I now understand, without warning and in the middle of our shared intimate experience, he decided to talk dirty to me as if I were a gay man.

No one had ever spoken to me like that before. It had never occurred to me to ask anyone to do that, or that anyone would want to. I was in an intimate space and filled with the typical emotions and endorphins one has during sex, but it was a fling. I had walls up. So for the first time in my life, in this incredibly vulnerable position, someone grabbed me by my lapels and forced me to face a deep truth about myself that I'd spent decades silently dancing around. It was a blunt, irrefutable truth and it hit like a sucker punch to the solar plexus. He saw me when I was very much not trying to be seen, and there's few things more terrifying than that.

Even now, years later, I have such a hard time putting into words the overwhelming emotions I felt that night. There were so many, and yet somehow I can see every single one of the emotions I felt in Aziraphale's face when Crowley lets him go. My heart breaks all over again seeing how exposed he felt. He can barely make eye contact until he stumbles onto the one emotion that gives him his agency back: anger.

Gabriel shows up to the bookshop completely naked. When a bewildered Aziraphale points it out Gabriel says, “Who told you I was naked?”

But that's not how the story goes.

God looks for Adam in the garden, but he hides from her. He eventually tells God, “I heard your voice in the garden and I was afraid because I was naked, so I hid myself.”

Then God asks Adam, “Who told you you were naked?” And of course Adam knows he is naked because he ate the apple.

I've made jokes about Crowley being the apple that bit Aziraphale, but I forgot the bit that happens afterwards. He is aware of his own nakedness. He is exposed. To God, to Crowley, and to himself. As a result he is exiled from the safety of his Eden. Man, if this isn't the perfect analogy for being forcibly outed I don't know what is.

This show is so gay you guys.

#michael sheen deserves an emmy and also a hug #good omens #good omens 2 #aziraphale #crowley #do it again #neil gaiman #good omens analysis #amazon prime video #pay your actors #good omens spoilers #michael sheen #LGBT+

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elasticitymudflap · 9 months

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hey I know the whole 'I did not care for winter king' thing pretty much summed it up but i'd LOVE to hear what you thought of that whole fucking episode.

IT IS SO FASCINATING TO MEEEEEEE, i mean obviously a 'role swap' universe would be regardless, but beyond the surface lies a lot of hints towards reasons why this world was so different and fucked up fundamentally!! again, my big theory is that no matter what happens our simon is not going to be able to access the crown again in any universe they visit as an extension of betty's wish, so yeah winter king's ass was probably doomed the second they set their sights on duplicating the crown but also, good , because fuck that guy

one thing that stands out to me is how our simon's morals are very different and a lot stronger than wk's, especially how he very clearly doesn't wish the madness of the crown on anyone but himself, but he can empathize with other victims of the crown. throughout the entire episode he's desperately trying to get the others to empathize with candy queen's situation as someone who knows what the madness of the crown feels like and how it warps you. but also, his approach to her is so...

like he actually vibes along to her song, compliments her "metaphor", and above all BEGS fionna and wk to see her as a person who deserves compassion, patience, and understanding... something he seemingly doesn't seem to extend to himself as ice king.

but even her madness seems somewhat suspect to him - just before her musical number he seems mystified as to why the crown's madness would make pb obsessed with him, when he knows from his reality that it's marceline that she's in love with. i'd actually argue that there is a hint of distrust towards winter king that he can't quite put into words at first, but simon's self-loathing at how "functional" his counterpart is seems to counteract his instinct and so he never pries too deeply into it.

there's this interesting reaction to pre-winter king ice king that stands out to me, almost like he's confused and doesn't recognize this specific anger and wrath to be a part of his own ice king experience. our ice king seemed to be much more of a depressed and ultimately harmless nuisance than the threatening figure he appears to be in that sequence. in fact, despite the madness, our ice king is actually quite consistent in there being a line not to cross with violence: he saves finn and jake from the hitman he accidentally hired, he refuses to kill marceline and finn when the empress commands him, he's even horrified at himself in 'I Remember You' when he pushes marceline. our ice king cares infinitely more about having friends and for people to love him and understand him than he is to actively "fix" or change himself, and in the short-circuit that is his mind he always seems to find a way to redirect his 'bad feelings' into doing something fun or impulsive than to stew in anger.

and simon isn't exactly taken in by the splendor of winter king's whole thing the way everyone else is, he doesn't stop questioning how he did it. how did he supposedly "conquer" the crown through "sheer force of will", how did he manage to get the 'best of both worlds'?

except we know it's not. and the mask-slip starts pretty ominously with his insistence that candy queen's kingdom is "forbidden". he slips up just for a moment and then returns to his whimsical wizard of oz-ass persona, and he looks almost guilty for letting on that there's something wrong here that should be avoided

which is something else i'm very fascinated by: winter king's obvious hypocrisy and the awareness of his unethical behaviour. he's quite callous in performatively pretending not to remember who betty is, and then only referring to her as "the dead one". he also seems confused by simon's heartbroken reaction to this callousness, but even more so to his characterization of her as "the great love of (his) life". he obviously has some of our simon's attachments to the past and memories of people he loved, he definitely knows and loved marceline, so why is she the only person he cares about enough to make an "ice person" of? he doesn't recall betty as someone he had a great love with - though he obviously knew who she was, so does that mean he still had some kind of relationship with her?

remember, the mere notion of finding betty so he could apologize to her literally meant so much to our simon that he was able to hide his surviving research on time portals from himself inside the ice castle, long after she would have died naturally had she even survived the mushroom war. and during the bellanoche fiasco he literally staved off death from losing his magic through sheer force of will; the intense motivation to see her kept him going in a decaying 1000 year old human body long enough for him to jump right back into his research and create a time portal to her to say goodbye. that's how much she means to him.

winter king doesn't know that betty is technically still alive, or how our simon was freed from the crown's curse. he simply offers simon a solution to reuniting with someone who he loved who is dead, without knowing how very different our betty's situation is. and that solution is to make an ice-person of that person from the time you loved them, even though you know it's "unethical".

... but betty being "dead" was always the case to our simon, he knew that she was dead because of course she was, it was hundreds of years in the future! but there was always a way back to her, and it was because of his relationship with one miss betty "ancient magic was my major" grof that he had this plan ready at his fingertips

so i think maybe either this world's simon didn't have a very strong relationship with betty, or he did but he had some reason to write her off as 'dead forever' and throw away the prospect of ever seeing her again. it's interesting that despite writing betty off, ice king's obsession with bubblegum persisted as a point of his madness and transferred to her, when even our ice king still cared a lot about "weird lady", though he didn't know who betty was.

in any case, he dismisses the subject very quickly with "jokes" that creating an ice person of someone you cared about, who died, would be unethical. and yet...

this, too, is very interesting to me. little ice marcy has marceline's actual axe bass, the axe which hunson brought with him to ooo after simon summoned him to take care of marceline when he had to leave her - marcy converted it into a bass herself of course. and the two definitely met and stayed alive together when marcy was a child

i've seen people theorize that marcy died in this memory here, but considering the presence of the axe i'm honestly not so sure. i mean, she grew up enough to gain and convert the axe to a bass, maybe she died of old age as a half-demon and never turned into a vampire? except that non-vamp marceline from farmworld seemed to still be kicking, what would an extra 12 years be to someone like her?

despite simon's pleas for fionna not to hurt candy queen and for them to help her, winter king INSISTS that she can't be helped, and that the only solution is for fionna to "knock her out", not kill her, because he would lose his conduit for the crown's madness and so this cycle will continue forever. winter king seemed committed to keeping the secret of how he "conquered" the crown, and who he hurt to manifest this reality of his, only to reveal it supposedly when simon was infected with the crown's madness again.

so why did no one stop winter king for 100 years? finn wouldn't have been born yet, but surely marceline, if she were vamped up and aware of what winter king had done, would try to stop him? but there's no sign of her in this world... save for her one possession we know she had later in her life, in the hands of an ice clone of her, frozen at a time in her life when she still loved simon unconditionally.

... i'll leave you with one VERY interesting production note steve wolfhard posted today about the blade he gave fionna, because it implies that even beyond this simon lacking some integral part of what makes him himself, the madness of the crown wasn't completely absent the way he'd thought it had been, so even in the end it wasn't a "perfect" solution to the madness.

#fionna and cake spoilers

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mellodyevangeline · 8 months

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I have something I'd like to say to all of the people who aren't trans but would like to understand the trans experience. If you are trans this is probably something you already understand or are at least a thing you're still trying to put into words. No matter which of these people you are, this post is for you.

Put very simply, transgender people do not transition because they hate themselves, but because there are parts of themselves that are worth loving in greater quantities.

Now let me explain what I mean.

There is a cliche in media of the boy who looks in the mirror, hates what he sees, puts on some makeup or a dress and bam! There's a smile. And rest assured this does happen, and even happened to me, but this is not why I and others have decided to transition.

You see, when I look in the mirror I don't see "a woman trapped in a man's body desperately trying to escape" I see myself, which has a lot of masculine characteristics and a few feminine characteristics. I don't really care for those masculine characteristics but I really really love those feminine traits, and I want to lean into those and more fully express them with things like dresses and makeup.

Some people aren't like me though and they love both the feminine and masculine aspects of themselves and want to express those sides in varying degrees. These people use varying labels like gender ambiguous or NB or even gender fluid, like my partner does.

Other people love those features of the human body which aren't clearly defined by a binary and wish to express that, and ironically they use very similar labels as before.

I find that it helps to think of transitioning almost like being a good soldier. A good soldier does not fight because she hates the enemy, but because she loves what she's fighting for.

In other words, we don't transition because of hatred towards those traits we don't prefer but because of the love we have for the traits we enjoy.

#trans #transfem #trans memes #transgender #trans rights #transgirl #trans pride #transisbeautiful #transmasc #trans mtf #trans friendly #trans ftm #trans nb #196 #r/196

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forgeofthenine · 7 months

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Random NSFW headcanons about Zevlor

I was trying to work today and all I could think about was this man and what he's like in bed, so now I'm sharing it with everyone else. I have more headcanons about both him and Dammon if people want them.

General NSFW under the cut, all of its pretty tame but let me know if I need to put up a content warning

So, to start off with, no one out there not even Larian can convince me that Zevlor doesn't have experience. This man is at least twice my age and quite literally hot as hell. Unfortunately though, during and after the fall of Elturel into Avernus, I just don't think Zevlors even had time to think about personal pleasures like that. It's hard to get laid when your group of refugees keep trying to win a speedrun of the fastest ways to die in Faerun.

It might take a while to finally bed this man, but when you do it's well worth the effort. Zevlor is such a gentle lover in all respects, including sex, and he always makes your pleasure a priority. He's the kind of guy to forget all about himself because he's so focused on trying to get you off.

As for kinks, body worship is a big one. He loves to worship your body, no matter how you look. It's all soft kisses and gentle caresses over any skin that's revealed to him. The little murmurs of praise muffled against you are so precious, and darling Zevlor will spend hours reminding you what you mean to him if you don't stop him sooner.

Worship him too, let him know how much you love his body. It's so worth it. Tell Zevlor how strong he is, how much you appreciate the way he protects you, call this man handsome. The way his brow furrows at first before he melts under your combined words and touch is a sight to see. Kissing over each and every infernal ridge and bump he has while saying this is a sure way to bring Zevlor right to the edge.

Speaking of his infernal traits, I can see him worrying somewhat if his partner isn't also a tiefling, for the first time at least. Mostly because those infernal traits definitely spread to tieflings dicks too-

Zevlors not small by any means, he's particularly girthy and anyone would need a bit of prep and warming up before they take him, but the best part are the ridges. You know how some sex toys advertise themselves as 'ribbed for her pleasure' and such? They're just describing Zevlors cock. Like all male tieflings, the entire length has small but noticeable ridges and bumps, and the head seems to come to a slightly more tapered tip than usual.

Despite how he warns you that his stamina isn't what it used to be, don't be fooled, Zevlor will happily fuck you until you both see stars.

Afterwards, when you're all tired and happy while lying against his chest, is one of the only times you'll hear him purr. It's such a deep, low baritone you feel it more than you hear it, but it's there nonetheless. That, mixed with his fingers brushing up and down your bare skin, is a sure fire recipe for sleep.

Overall, Zevlor is one of the best lovers out there. Attentive, sweet, and with killer anatomy, who could pass up such a catch? I'd literally kill for this man-

#bg3 smut #baldurs gate 3 smut #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 zevlor #baldurs gate 3 zevlor #zevlor x reader #zevlor x tav #zevlor x you #bg3 x reader smut #bg3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 x reader

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teyamsatan · 8 months

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ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ ᴅᴀʏ ɪ - ʜᴀɴᴅᴊᴏʙ

pairing: Neteyam x avatar!reader

a/n: hi and welcome to kinktober x if this first work seems familiar, that's bc it is lol. i have been so so busy and so i have decided that for prompts that fit some of my previous work, i'd give myself a little grace and use those instead. now, i think this works great because there's a lot of new besties here, so this way people get to read some of my earlier work and (hopefully) enjoy it for the first time!! i can't wait to go on this journey with you 🎃🧡 smooches x

words: 1,3k

warnings: it goes without saying, but all of these works (kinktober-related) are smut and therefore minors should NOT interact with them. other warnings include: oral - male receiving, inexperienced Neteyam.

taglist (x)

Being a human had its perks, and being an avatar, well, that goes without saying. One of the perks, turns out, was the wealth of information available to you at the touch of the button. Say what you want about the Sky People, but they were informed in things you could barely even conceive, and well, you've always loved to learn. You spent your whole life learning everything you could get your hands on, from more useful things, like how to patch a wound or how to treat an infection to... less useful things for day to day endeavours, but definitely intriguing to you.

There was a lot in Hell's Gate that the Na'vi and the scientists that were granted leave to stay were unaware of, and you were glad. Your research led you to unearth some... unsightly discoveries, that you were more than happy to have to put to good use right now, after a relaxing swim in the nearby lake, with your best friend that... has some questions. Well, you were nothing if not a good friend, and a dutiful teacher.

His eyes were wide as you smile and push him until he falls to the ground with a small thud. It was quiet in the forest, only the small chirps and trills of the animals living peacefully could be heard over the sounds of both your laboured breaths. He was anxious, you noted, based on his fluttering ears and his erratic tail wags.

"Are you nervous, Tay?" you couldn't help the teasing tone of your voice, as you traced your fingers down his body, from his collarbone, to his chest, down his defined abs, until you hooked your fingers in the band of his loincloth, tugging at it gently.

"Let me make you feel good, Tay. Let me show you what it feels like to be human for a little while."

With that, you untied his tewng and let it fall to the floor, and you gasped a little at his size. He was bigger than you expected, and the sight aroused you beyond belief, beyond words and comprehension, because if before this was just supposed to be a learning experience, now you knew that while he would get his, you would definitely get yours, too.

Almost inquisitively, with a tinge of wonder and awe, you run your fingers over the patterned stars of his length, from the base to the cotton candy pink tip, marvelling at his beauty and how nothing you've ever seen before in movies or magazines could ever compare to it. You tighten your grip and smirk when a sudden inhale broke through the silence and you raise your gaze to meet his eyes, that were tightly shut as his head was pushed back, and you knew then you wanted to see this face, see how he reacts to you, to your lessons, every day of your life.

"...f-fuck!"

You slowly start pumping him, taking your time, analysing each contraction of his facial muscles, thrilled at how he's falling apart around you and you haven't even properly started yet. When the tip becomes covered in pre-cum, you can't resist the need anymore, and you slowly inch your lips towards it, a little startled when Neteyam gets up suddenly, concern deeply embedded in his features.

"W-what are you doing?"

A hand still pumping him, you placed the other on his chest, pushing him back, willing him back in the same position he was in before.

"Shh, relax, tay. you wanted to learn, right?"

With that, you placed a small, gentle kiss on the tip, licking every drop of pre-cum, and you were shocked at how sweet it was, how you wouldn't mind having it coat your tongue, and your mouth, and your throat, until it was all you could taste. You shuffled uncomfortably at the ache that took over you, and how good you knew his cock would feel filling you, how just the stretch itself would bring you to the brink of orgasm. Maybe next lesson.

You couldn't help taking more of him in, your tongue pushed flat against his length as it went further down your throat until you gagged slightly around it. The groan that escaped Neteyam, low and uninhibited, emboldened you as you started a steady bob of your head up and down his length, one hand continuing to pump what you couldn't reach otherwise, while the other rubbed circles into his thigh, hoping this way he wouldn't overthink this and just relax. After all, what were friends for if not to help each other... learn and unwind?

His hand finds your hair and you purr against his cock when he starts petting you, the little gesture enough to make you excited for when he'd be experienced enough to take charge, the way you knew he had it in him.

"You feel so good. S-so good, fuck."

His hips buck against you and you moan as he slips further down your throat, as he starts thrusting in your mouth, and you let him, impressed about how quickly he seems to catch on and turned on about how his first instinct was to immediately take control. This would be easier than you thought.

"I'm gonna, i'm cu-"

Ropes of cum shoot down your throat as his cock throbs in your mouth, and the noises he makes, carnal and primal, make you slowly start grinding against the ground to find some of your own release. You make sure to suck him dry as he pulls out with a small pop, and you smirk as you lick your lips, watching him trying to catch his breath, watching him panting and slowly regaining him composure.

"Enjoy yourself, friend?"

"So... when's the next lesson?"

taglist: @pandoraslxna @sulieykte @blue-slxt @eywaeveng @neteyamsikran @elenamoncada-ibarra @spicymayyo @itsjazzsworld @daddysmurfslefttoenail @eyrina-avatar @iameatingmyhair @

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readychilledwine · 7 months

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The Craft

Summary - Nesta has always told you that magic works best when you're naked, and who were you to tell Nesta that's not exactly how things work?

Warning - NSFW, foursome, f on f sexual acts, oral, fingering, brief orgasm denial, scissoring/tribbing, voyeurism

A/N - Every so often, I write something that makes me have to take a cold shower. This is one of those times. Also, please note reader's protection of Gwyn while also allowing her to explore and play. It is probably my favorite aspect of this one. I think I caught all my errors, but you know, forgive me if I didn't.

"Nesta, that's not really how that works," You sat back in your office chair, eyes on the spell idea Nesta had. "I mean, yes sex magic can be used for manifestation of goals, but it doesn't require multiple people. It can be done through just masterbation."

She rolled her eyes slightly. "Well, we'd like you to lead us through it, and we both know magic works best when naked."

You put the paper down, looking at her with a serious expression, "Ness, we've talked about this."

"Oh, come on," Nesta sighed. She moved in front of you, spinning your chair so she could kneel between your legs and squeeze your thigh. "Please. It will be so much fun. We've wanted to have you lead us through something for a while, and Gwyn will not be involved if you aren't there. It's too dangerous." Nesta used her hands to make quotations over the last two words.

"Are we actually wanting this to work?"

Nesta nodded eagerly. "We really want these Pegasi."

"I'll need to adjust some things, and we should wait until a full moon. It's better for power amplification."

Nesta smiled, hugging you tightly. "So Hallows Eve?" You nodded. "Won't that be?"

"More dangerous? Potentially. You know we could just buy them, right?"

Nesta smirked. "I want Helion to spell blinded he gifts them to us."

You had spent the next two weeks preparing everything needed for the Valkyries. Now it was the night of, and you were cleansing the space to ensure everything would be safe.

Emerie was the first to come, dressed in a silky black robe with her long dark hair down. She squealed and hugged you, bouncing slightly with her excitement. "I'm so excited you agreed to come! I miss you! I never see you anymore. That jerk keeps you locked away all the time now."

You smiled softly, holding her elbows, and you two pulled away slightly, "I miss you too, Em. I'm sorry I've been so busy, but I'm on the brink of something really important to Rhys."

Emerie rose a brow at you, "So it has nothing to do with a budding romance you could spill all the juicy details for?"

"No, Em."

She sighed heavily walking towards the table you had set up of herbs and candles. "Are we going to get Gwyn her Pegasus tonight?"

You chuckled and went back to setting up the room. "I was told the goal was getting all 3 of you one. Had I known it was mainly Gwyn, I would have just told Az and Cassian to go talk to Helion and make him an offer."

"I do not think my mate could offer Helion what he wants without my permission." Nesta moved into the room, smiling as she took in what you had done. "This is so much better than I imagined."

You could count on a single hand the amount of times Nesta had worn her sandy blonde hair down, and it always took your breath away for a second. She was in the same silky black robe, only unlike Emerie, hers was tied loosely, leaving the top to give a constant peep at the soft exposed skin of her chest.

You refocused quickly, ignoring the growing excitement of what was coming. "Where is Gwyn? Is she actually okay with this?"

Ness and Emerie nodded. "She knows you will have done with in a way that respects her values and her devotion to the Mother," Nesta said plainly.

You looked at her. "I meant the sex part, Nesta."

Emerie nodded. "She's excited to have her first experience since the attack to be with 3 fae who love her. I figured I'd take Gwyn and you and Ness could-" She paused at the look on your face. "This isn't really a we get to pick thing, is it?"

"Not really," you said softly. "We won't lose so much control that it turns into us doing things we would not do with a clear mind." You placed the final candle and began moving the flowers throughout the room. "But this is going to turn into a slightly magic induced fog. It's similar to sex pollen."

A very soft "Oh," came from the doorway. Gwyn stood in her black robe, rocking back and forth.

You walked to her, taking her hand gently in your. "You don't have to touch us, we don't have to touch you. You can partake solo." She nodded, her shoulders relaxing. "You can start solo, then join as well once you are comfortable."

Gwyn looked up at you with those crystalline blue eyes, and you tucked her red hair behind her ear. "Do it for the pegasus," she said softly.

"Do it for you," Nesta corrected. Her and Emerie joined you and Gwyn. "Y/n built in a fail safe for you.

You handed her the potion bottle, "You throw it if you get uncomfortable, it will safely cancel everything out." Her soft hands held yours and she took a deep breath.

"I'm ready."

You stepped back as you finished incantation, protecting Gwyn slightly. As the magic had started setting in, it was clear to you Nesta would be the first to jump.

And you were not wrong. You gently sat Gwyn in a chair, ignoring your urge and the growing scent of her arousal as you two watched Nesta grab Emerie by her chin and start kissing her deeply.

The two were a mess of teeth, nipping lightly at each other's lips, tongues battling for dominance as they ripped each other's robes off and their hands began exploring.

Gwyn's breathing had picked up lightly and she shifted, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.

Nesta's mouth began exploring every gorgeous tanned inch of Emerie's smooth skin, she pulled her dark hair, tilting her head back to give her access to more of Emerie's neck as she kissed and bit her way down, marking the illyrian female in the process. She took her time when she reached her breasts. Caressing each one in her hands as if they were the most precious thing she had held in her hands. She kissed each nipple before pulling the right one into her mouth.

Emerie moaned loudly, back arching into Nesta as her hands went into that soft sand blonde hair. You watched as Gwyn's breath hitched, her mouth parting slightly, and her eyes growing wide as her arousal grew. You leaned down to her ear, placing a small kiss below it and testing the waters, "Are you having fun my little nymph?" She nodded eagerly. "What would you like to do, Gwyn?"

"Touch me," she whispered breathlessly. "Please."

"Such a polite little thing," you stayed behind her. "Don't stop watching Nesta and Em." She nodded, breathing picking up again as you undid the tie on her robe. You brought the tie around the chair, and then her arms, binding her wrists behind her back. "Is this okay?"

"Yes," she almost whined. You watched Nesta from you lashes as you began kissing Gwyn's neck. She had moved down Emerie's body, now licking the flat plane of her abs and nipping at her ribs. Your hands dancing, along Gwyn's following that motion and making the redhead mewl softly.

Nesta's eyes darted over at the noise and grew darker at the sight of Gwyn with her hands behind her back and your fingers following the pathway of her mouth. "Look at our girl, Em," Ness instructed. "Look at how pretty our little Gwyn looks."

Em tilted her head, lust filled eyes locking into Gwyn's, "So pretty." Nesta hummed in approval, mouth lingering above the core of the female standing in front of her. "Ness, please."

You and Nesta held eye contact, and with a small nod, began your separate attacks. Emerie screamed when Nesta licked up her core, locking her clit in her mouth and began to suckle and eat her out as if this was her last meal.

At the same time, Gwyn cried to the Mother, your fingers pressing down on her clit, circling the bundle of nerves as you moaned at how wet she felt. She began to squirm slightly, panting heavily as you continued. You ran your fingers along her, gathering wetness before gently pushing one into her tight entrance. "Y/n! Oh gods," you smiled, tilting her head up to look at you as you began to fuck her soft walls curling that one finger up.

You knew immediately when you found it. Her mouth parted, forming a small "O" before a loud whimper and moan tore through her throat. "There it is," you added a second finger, massaging and thrusting them in and out, hitting that soft spot every time. Your thumb went to her bundle of nerves again, stroking it softly in time with your movements. "Doing such a good job, little nymph." She whimpered again at your praise. "Watch Nesta." You released her hair, second hand coming to play with her nipples and adding stimulation.

The room was mix of Em and Gwyn's moaning along with the sounds of wetness. "Please," Emerie whispered. "Nesta please!"

Lady Death smirked ferally, releasing Emerie's clit and slowing her fingers, "Please what, Em?"

The illyrian female whimpered back arched as she rolled her hips to get that friction back, riding Nesta's hand eagerly. "She needs to cum, Ness." You purred softly. "They both do." Gwyn's cunt clenched around your fingers at the sentence, a soft whine and nod coming from her. "What do you think, Ness? Should we let them? They've been such good girls."

Emerie whined at the praise this time and Nesta hummed. "No," she said. "Not yet." She pulled away from Emerie, and you kissed Gwyn's cheek softly before pulling away. "Where's the bottle, Gwyn?" You whispered softly to her alone.

"Robe pocket."

"Are you okay?" She nodded. "Do you want more?" She nodded eagerly again.

Nesta had gently brought Emerie to her knees, hand holding her hair as she walked her over to Gwyn and set her between her legs. You moved back behind Gwyn, holding her thighs open for Emerie and smiling at her. "I love when my pets play nicely," you watched as Nesta guided Emerie to Gwyn's soaked and waiting cunt before taking a spot behind her and fingering her again.

Gwyn's head fell back, her back arching as the sound of Emerie sucking on her cunt filled the room. "Uh-uh," you grabbed her hair gently, tilting her head back down, "be polite and maintain eye contact."

Gwyn couldn't help herself as she began to ride Emerie's face, slightly drooling as she lost herself in the new sensation and stimulation. Emerie reached behind her, grabbing the plush skin of Gwyn's ass and moaning as she began to control her hips movements.

You could have cum from the sight of this alone. Nesta holding Em in place, Gwyn with a red flush covering her chest as you pinched and played with her nipples and Emerie ate her out. "She's going to cum," you said softly. "Are you going to cum little angel? Soak Emerie's pretty face?" Gwyn nodded and moaned out Emerie's name. "Cum for us, baby."

Gwyn screamed, back arching off the chair and her legs locking behind Emerie to lock her in as she rode out her high. The faint sound of wetness increased and Emerie groaned loudly, diving in with even more energy as she lapped and drank everything Gwyn gave her.

You released her breasts, whispering and praising her through her high until her moans became soft whimpers and she released Emerie. Nesta pulled her back, gasping as she released Emerie was now soaked in Gwyn's essence and release. "Do you want to keep going," you kissed Gwyn's ear. "Or do you just want to watch?"

"More." You untied her hands, watching as Nesta lowered Em to the ground, licking her clean of the mess Gwyn had made.

"Help clean her," you commanded. "Such a messy girl." Gwyn crawled to her, licking up the juices she left on Emerie. You grabbed Nesta by her hair, making her moan loudly, and dragged her to Emerie's face. "Turn towards Gwyn and straddle our pretty bat." Nesta obeyed, placing her dripping core above Emerie's open mouth and waiting. "Little nymph, surely you learned what you need to give our girl?" She nodded, moving down so her face was at Emerie's core. Her blue eyes met your hazel ones, begging for approval, and you nodded at her, pushing Nesta down on Emerie at the same time. You sat in the chair, leaned forward with your elbows on your knees as you watched the three of them putting on a show just for you.

They were a mess of slick, sweat, and moans. Enjoying each other immensely as you smirked. Emerie was screaming under Nesta, coming quickly from the amount of stimulation she had received, and forcing Nesta over the edge with her. Nesta was off of her, pulling Gwyn up and allowing the two of them to begin to kiss and play with each other as she moved to you.

You moved the sweat soaked hair from her face. "Yes babygirl?" She pulled on your calves, begging you silently to come down to the floor. "Did you need something?"

"You," she begged. "Please."

You hummed, sitting on the floor in front of her. "Did you want me to fuck you, Ness?" She nodded eagerly, spreading her legs for you and laying back. "What a pretty cunt," you whispered and leaned forward to touch her soft folds. You pulled your fingers to your mouth, tasting her. You removed your own robe, wings flaring slightly behind you, before grabbing one of her long legs and placing it over your shoulder as you straddled the other one. You gently ground your core against hers, testing the waters and moaning as your clits made contact.

Nesta leaned up, watching as you did it again, sending electricity through both of you. You set a rhythmic pace, circling and rolling your hips against her, head thrown back in bliss as you two moaned in sync.

You could tell Nesta was close, and you were as well from watching everything and finally finding relief. Her nails had started digging into your hips, her back arching slightly. "Don't stop, don't stop." She was panting and begging, her eyes squeezed shut. "Fuck! Please! Gods please."

Your rhythm became slightly sloppy, breathy moans leaving you as your walls tightened around nothing. Nesta went first, coming at the same time another scream of pleasure came from Gwyn. The two of them falling into a loud harmony. You and Emerie fell over the edge next, you eyes rolling as you moaned and squeezed Nesta's thigh, soaking her cunt with yours.

You lowered her legs and leaned forward on your hands, watching as the spell candle went out on its own and feeling the slight haze it gave begin to fade.

The four of you laid down on the floor, all panting and breathing heavily. Gwyn snuggled into your side, head coming to rest on your shoulder as you stroked her hair. "I'm really proud of you, little nymph." Emerie quickly copied the sentiment, as did Nesta. "How are you feeling?"

Gwyn snuggled further into your shoulder, "Like I've earned a pegasus."

You smiled up at the ceiling, knowing that you had already made a deal with Helion to get your favorite valkyries the winged horses for Solstice long before Nesta had ever approached you with this idea. "I think you have as well, darling. We should close the circle and go eat."

Emerie moaned in agreement, "Azriel and Cassian were in charge of dinner tonight."

Nesta perked up at that, "Then we really have to go eat!"

You waited as they stood, leaving the room with their robes. "Gwyn," you said softly.

"Y/n?"

"I really am very proud of you. This was a scary situation you entered, and you did so well."

She smiled into your neck. "I enjoyed myself a lot."

"Good," you kissed her forehead, "That was my main goal. Go eat while I close this."

She stood, leaving you to your work room and close the circle. You felt your eyes glaze over, reaching Helion through the contact bond. Hello dove, he purred to you. How was your night?

Eventful. Are we still set for the pegasus exchange?

You heard him laugh in your mind. Of course, dear. I get to study your wings and have you, your little valkyrie get their mounts.

Perfect. Solstice, then?

Solstice, He agreed.

#acotar #acotar x reader #gwyn x reader #emerie x reader #nesta x reader #nesta acotar #nesta acosf #gwyn acosf #emerie

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ot7stan4life · 8 months

Text

“It’s Not Wrong”

Dreamcatcher (OT7) x Female Reader

Word Count: 8,980

Summary: As the 8th member of Dreamcatcher, you struggle with your growing attraction towards your members, because, in your mind, loving seven different people isn’t natural and couldn’t possibly be considered acceptable by any normal human being… so why would they be okay with it?

“It- it’s wrong.”

“You love us, how is there anything wrong with that?”

Warnings: angst, brief mentions of homophobia, mild sexual content

The audience's excited screams echoed around the arena as we all waved our goodbyes, fading only when the lift lowered us beneath the stage, yet never leaving my mind completely. Even when our managers herded us into two separate black vans that would be taking us to a nearby hotel, the adrenaline pumping through my veins and the dull roar of what sounded like waves rushing in my ears from a night of being stimulated by loud music were permanent reminders of the performance we had just put on.

Kcon LA. It was a big deal for a group of our scale. And, after singing in front of a crowd of that size (one bigger than we had ever seen before), I could tell the members were feeling as elated as I was. If the way Bora pulled me down the hall when we arrived at the hotel and shoved me into our shared room with Minji and Siyeon following closely behind was anything to go off of, I'd guess I was about to experience what being on the receiving end of the dancer's excited energy entailed. I didn't know whether to be excited myself or utterly terrified.

Luckily I was able to convince them to let me have the first shower—which they only agreed upon under the promise that I would stay up to entertain them (not sure what that meant exactly, but I was honestly too afraid to ask)—and immediately took the first chance I got to slip into the bathroom before any chaos ensued. Just fifteen minutes later, my sore muscles had been soothed by the warm water and I was drying off, finally allowing myself to wind down for the night. My conflicting feelings for the members had really been getting to me lately, but I was thankful our busy schedule helped keep my mind off of it.

Though, I had a feeling those emotions would become unavoidable sooner rather than later when I realized I forgot to grab a change of clothes from my suitcase. Even more unfortunately, the only towels in the bathroom were borderline too small to cover all of my... assets.

Fantastic.

Wrapping the towel around me as best as I could, I crossed my fingers hoping the members occupying the hotel room had left to get some food or weren't paying attention before I opened the door. Though, my luck ran short not even two steps out of the bathroom when Siyeon began cat-calling me.

"Yah, sexy," she shouted. I froze, looking over at her timidly. "Come over here. Don't be shy." The singer was clearly joking around, but that didn't stop me from blushing at her words.

"What?" Bora laughed at Siyeon's weird behavior. Seconds later, her curious head popped out from behind the wall where she had been sitting to see what the older woman was looking at. I wanted to strangle Siyeon the moment Bora's eyes widened at the sight of me. "Ooooh," she exclaimed, her eyes shamelessly raking over the bare skin my towel failed to cover while a smirk creeped onto her lips.

Attempting to ignore them, I walked further into the room in search of my suitcase. That only made things worse when Minji was finally able to see me and they all started making shocked and impressed noises. "Ooh, so sexy," Minji doted. My cheeks burned being the center of attention and feeling incredibly exposed.

"Omo, jagi," Bora started, "did you come to give us a show?"

My heart skipped a beat.

"Yah!" I shouted in surprise, stopping to look back at her. Actually seeing all of their eyes on me, confirming that they really had been staring this whole time, made my knees go weak. "I forgot to grab a change of clothes, alright?" My voice came out angry, but they caught the hint of a smile on my lips before I could hide it.

Bora started giggling. "Look at how embarrassed she is." Her finger pointed up at me as if they weren't all already looking.

Siyeon laughed, but Minji scolded, "Yah, leave her alone." I nearly fell for how caring the leader sounded, but then I noticed her eyes lingering for a second too long on my bare thighs. She was just as bad as them.

"Oh c'mon, you like it too, unnie," Siyeon said, "don't kill the fun."

"Yeah, the best part's just starting," Bora scooted to the edge of the bed. "I haven't even gotten to touch her yet." My eyes blew wide and I only had a split second to guard myself before the small woman launched from the bed and ran over to start groping me.

"Don't touch me!" I yelled. With one hand holding up my towel, I only had one left to try and block her attacks. This allowed the main dancer to get a few quick squeezes of my thighs and one of my ass over the towel before I ran to the other side of the room, out of her reach. "Stop it," I squealed as she chased after me.

Bora was all giggles while I was full on panicking—for several reasons. Before I could seek safety in the bathroom, the small woman stopped me halfway with a shove. Minji was yelling at us to not get hurt and Siyeon was just laughing as they watched the whole thing pan out. The atmosphere changed quickly though when Bora pinned me against the wall. Even with her being a head shorter than me, I still felt trapped. My pulse throbbed in my ears as I breathed heavily from both the running and the way Bora's small hands had felt against my bare skin.

Miraculously, I had managed to keep the towel on with one hand while the other held cautiously onto Bora as she stood on her tippy toes so that we were nearly face-to-face. Her hands were not as innocent, one at the base of my neck, teasingly traveling downwards while the other lay flat against my stomach, pushing my back into the wall. We were so close that her nose nearly brushed mine when she looked down, not-so-subtly admiring the curve of my breasts revealed by the towel. Her other hand traveled lower, getting a feel for the skin on the back of my thigh.

"You're not even going to give me a little peek?" She whispered just for us to hear, her fingertips dragging closer to what she really wanted to feel. I found my mind fixated on that word: me. It was no longer an us. She didn't care about playing it up for the others. No, it was just her who wanted it now.

Her eyes flicked up to mine, showing me the want deep within them as her fingers gripped the curve if my butt. "Unnie," I gasped, feeling at a loss for words. She had done this stuff plenty of times. The teasing, the flirting, even the ass-grabbing. She was Kim Bora after all. It was to be expected. What was not expected though was the hint of desperation I caught from her in that moment. If she happened to be feeling any fraction of what I had felt for her in the past two years, I knew she was searching for any sort of confirmation or reciprocation of her own feelings from me. And this felt like a confession.

I found myself involuntarily glancing down at her lips. So many countless nights I had spent imagining what they might feel like against mine, overwhelmed by an excited thrill wondering if she'd be just as aggressive in intimate moments as she was normally or if she'd break character, acting more calm and submissive. All these possibilities made my stomach burn and I knew I should stop before my arousal became evident on my thighs, but it was so hard to when she was looking at me like that.

The fact that her and I were not alone was a rude awakening the moment Minji appeared next to us, pulling Bora away just before either of us could lean in and do something we might regret later. Had I not known any better, I might've considered Minji's stern gaze and cocked jaw a sign of jealousy as she berated the younger member for touching me in such a way. But I did know better, brushing it off as merely her protectiveness required as our leader. With no shortage of fussing, the dancer eventually let in, giving me one final once-over before allowing me to grab my clothes and retreat to the bathroom.

When I was successfully clothed, I returned to the room to find the unnie line carrying on as if nothing had ever happened. It had me debating if it was all a dream, but the sting of Bora's firm grip on my sensitive skin still lingered, evidence enough of the encounter. After something like that, they normally wouldn't shut up about it, finding joy in teasing me for days on end. The unusual silence seemed strange. Still, it meant less embarrassment for me, so I gladly ignored it, settling down on the bed Bora was currently on the edge of.

About half an hour of casual conversation had passed between the four of us without anything eventful occurring. It wasn't until Bora started getting loopy from her increasing tiredness that things began to ramp up once more. I made the mistake of joking about her loud voice surely sending everyone in the audience home with hearing problems, resulting in her initiating a wrestling match between us on the bed. She griped at me for being such a 'brat,' grabbing and violently shaking any body part of mine that she could get ahold of.

I couldn't help but giggle uncontrollably at the sensation of her tiny hands pinching at my skin and how easy she was to offend, and now I was beginning to understand why Yoohyeon found it so fun to toy with her. Well, that is... until Bora landed on top of me, straddling my hips with a suddenly very different goal in mind. The abrupt change in mood had my body stilling completely under her. When I dared to meet her stare, I caught a glint of mischief in it that surely couldn't be leading anywhere good.

Like before, her hands pressed down on my stomach to keep my back flat against the bed. Tilting her head to the side, she looked down at me, raising her eyebrows up once before lowering them again. "Your move," she smirked, already conducting another one of her games that would surely end in chaos.

Looking to my left, I noticed Minji and Siyeon watching us with cautious eyes. There was this sort of rush it gave me, just like the concert, that dared me to continue. They had so often tested the boundaries of our relationships, so why couldn't I do the same? Knowing that it would surprise them made it seem that much more tempting. Now that I wasn't exposed and had been handed back the control, I wanted to give them a show.

So, without even considering the repercussions of my actions, I grabbed Bora's hips and pushed her over. She squealed in shock when I ended up on top of her, my body resting between her legs. "Your move." A satisfied smile formed on my lips when I heard the other two members let out mumbles of surprise. Bora didn't allow me to bask in my victory much longer, always insistent on one-uping me. She liked when I got like this more than she'd ever care to admit and was eager to take it a step further.

Her arms previously resting on my shoulders slithered up to my neck and with one firm tug, I was leaning over her, so close that I could feel her breath on my lips. Now I knew I was in over my head. Her beautiful features and her fingers intertwined around the back of my neck locking me into place made it difficult to breathe. Every spark, every chill, every heart flutter that she had ever made me feel resurfaced all at once and seared itself permanently into my chest. There was never any denying that I was attracted to her—I mean, look at her. Who wouldn't be?—but now, as I lost myself in the inescapable pull of her soft, brown eyes, there was absolutely no denying that I was in love with her.

"Your move," she whispered the softest whisper I had ever heard leave her mouth, never once looking away. Her eyes seemed to be communicating in ways that her words couldn't and the expectant, even hopeful look in them had me convinced this is exactly what she wanted.

So, I gave it to her.

The moment my lips met hers, time seemed to stand still. I felt her inhale, forcing her to press further up into me as her fingers tightened at the nape of my neck. My mind went completely blank finally feeling how silky and warm her lips were against mine. They were impossibly softer and her kiss gentler than I could've ever imagined. And I certainly wasn't counting on the fact that she wouldn't want to pull away, holding me there a few precious seconds longer than what I assumed normal.

After what felt like hours, she loosened her grip on my neck, letting me release her lips slowly. The loss of pressure elicited the sound of a light smack, sending an unexpected sensation of pleasure through my body. Her eyes fluttered open to meet mine, appearing dazed and intoxicated by the kiss. Within those few seconds, she granted me a look at the real Bora: the one beyond all the playful, unserious facades she put up. The one that was really as soft and vulnerable and desperate for love as the rest of us were. And knowing that she trusted me enough to give me a glimpse into her heart had me bearing my own for her to take claim of.

However, doubt was quick to take hold of my thoughts when Bora's eyes widened, concealing her initial reaction with an over-dramatic expression of shock. As she laughed incredulously before glancing to her left, I became all too aware of my surroundings. "Jinjja," she yelled, a smile of disbelief painting her lips. I followed her eyes, spotting Minji and Siyeon both mirroring her surprise, mouths drawn open and eyes blown wide.

The weight of my actions came crashing down, suffocating me with unavoidable feelings of regret and embarrassment. How did I really expect this to turn out anyways? Desperate to find an escape from their stares, I hid my face in Bora's neck, clutching her sides as if I could disappear into her.

"Can you believe her?" Bora played it up, pretending like she didn't kiss me back with just as much—if not more—conviction.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled ashamedly, but her neck muffled my voice. God, why didn't I think this through? Reluctantly pushing myself up, I looked down at her shyly. "I'm sorry," I repeated.

Bora paused, her smile faltering as she took in my humiliated expression. I almost thought she was going to reassure me, until a look of uncertainty crossed her own eyes. "Yah," she covered it up, her smile only growing, "look at how red her face is." She raised her hand to point a finger at me like she had done before and laughed. Though she didn't have much room to talk, a pink blush tinting her own cheeks.

"Unnie," I whined, rolling off of her to lay on my back and hide my face in my hands. When would this night ever end?

Following a few more jokes, Bora eventually stopped pestering me about it for the moment. Still, I couldn't ignore the knot that settled in my stomach with the uneasiness lingering in the air between us. Their reaction had been both expected and unexpected. Obviously I knew they'd be shocked, but the three oldest members struck me as the type that would encourage this sort of behavior. In the past I even caught myself wondering if any of them had shared a kiss in the privacy of the dorms out of genuine physical attraction or just pure curiosity. In my mind, it seemed more than probable given the fact that pursuing romantic relationships outside of the group wasn't exactly allowed as well as the inkling I had about at least a couple of the members having a preference for women. Yet, now with all of them appearing avoidant and standoffish after the kiss, I wasn't so sure.

Did I read them all wrong? Did I completely fabricate the concept of them being accepting of that sort of thing because of their touchy and flirtatious tendencies? Most of all though, did I entirely misjudge Bora's reactions to the entire thing?

After all this, I was beginning to think I didn't know anything at all.

—

It was just a few days after we'd traveled back to Korea and I couldn't seem to sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, my mind replayed the kiss with Bora over and over again, encouraging me to over-analyze every single little detail. The prospect that I had crossed a major line was stressing me out, to say the least. Strangely, the whole thing also made me feel sad. That part confused me the most. Maybe I wanted her to tell me it was okay. Or maybe I wanted her to even admit that she liked it. But really, what could I expect her to say with the other two members watching? I wasn't completely oblivious to the fact that she wanted it, but even then, how could I be sure that it meant anything real to her? That it wasn't just playful?

Deciding that overthinking was doing me no good, I left my room and went into the kitchen. It was dark and quiet, the other members having gone to bed a couple hours ago. The dim lights on the bottom of the cabinets illuminated the area enough for me to find the handle of the fridge. When I opened it, bright, blue, artificial light came pouring out, forcing my eyes to squint as they adjusted. I wasn't feeling particularly hungry, but I needed something to satiate my mind. A bottle of water would surely suffice.

As I reached out for one, I felt a whoosh of air and the sensation of hands sliding across my hips from behind. My entire body went rigid as my mind instantly assumed the worst. Even though I had slowly grown used to the abundance of physical affection my members gave me, the timing and scenario had me in a momentary panic.

Before I was able to do anything drastic, arms snaked all the way around my waist and I felt a warm, feminine figure press against my back. "It's just me," the familiar voice of our group's main vocalist said softly near my ear as she rested her chin on my shoulder. I let out a breath of relief, resting my hands on top of hers that had found their way beneath the hem of my t-shirt. Though, it was less calming and more nerve-wracking given my growing attraction to the older woman.

Having her this close allowed more opportunities for embarrassment, or, in her case, teasing. Though, the feeling of her lips pressing gently to my cheek elicited less of a flustered feeling and more of a depressed one. The memory of Bora's response to my kiss suspended permanently in the forefront of my mind, preventing me the luxury of indulging in the idea that little touches like these were glimpses into a deeper truth.

I should've known all along that I'd never be able to have what I truly wanted—never be able to fulfill my heart's deepest desire—but that reality hurt too much now that it had finally revealed itself. Obviously I knew I couldn't have all of them. Giving your heart to two different people with the promise of sharing it equally was arguably unrealistic, so offering it up to seven with that same promise was absolutely absurd. Still, I tried to hold out hope for as long as possible. And the way they all seemed to reinforce their feelings for me on a daily basis only made that hope grow at an alarming rate. How was I supposed to stop my wishful thinking when every thing they did confirmed that it could be a possibility?

"Couldn't sleep?" Siyeon asked, grounding me.

I sighed, feeling exhausted by my emotions, and finally allowed myself to lean back into her welcoming embrace, ignoring the way my heart fluttered at her warmth. "Yeah."

Siyeon unraveled one of her arms from around me to close the fridge door. Missing my opportunity to grab a water didn't bother me as much as it might've had I not gotten a little nauseous from the sickening pain my thoughts brought on. Even though she seemed to be enjoying this quiet moment between us, Siyeon slowly spun me around in her arms. I didn't meet her eyes, anticipating the questioning that would surely follow my admission.

"Jagi," her fingers reached up to brush a hair out of my eyes. "What's wrong?" she said in such a way that had me believing for a split second that she might know what I was going through, but the thought fleeted almost instantly. There's no way she could've.

"Nothing," I replied simply, though even I knew it didn't sound convincing. Clearly it wasn't nothing, but I had already made up my mind that talking to her about it (or any of them, for that matter) would do no good. It's not like she could fix everything and magically make the members fall for me like I'd fallen for them.

Her hand rested on my cheek and she spoke carefully, "I can tell it's not nothing." The tone of her voice compelled me to finally glance up at her.

The look in her eyes was all-too-familiar to me. She worried for her members, sometimes too much, because she cared for us so deeply. And this look told me she knew something was wrong and wouldn't be leaving until it was made right again. It truly was one of the things I loved most about her—her undying protectiveness for her loved ones—but now I was growing to dread it. Fear it, even. Because she had me dangling off the edge of admitting it all to her right there, one slip away from slinging my arms over her shoulders and letting her hold me as I shed every last tear I had stored inside of me.

"It's nothing serious, really." I looked down with a forced smile, hoping she'd just let it go. Though, deep down, there was this desperate cry inside of me, begging for her to continue prodding until I had no other option but to spill everything. All I needed was that one final shove off the cliff to get these unbearable secrets off my chest.

"Y/NN," she said sadly, rubbing her thumb across my cheek. "Is this about the kiss?" Her question made my heart grow ten times heavier in my chest and my eyes darted up to meet hers in surprise. How did she know?

"What, no! Of course not," I rushed out, feeling much too exposed for my own liking. If anything, I was preparing to explain the entire situation to her myself—if I did end up caving. I never could've expected her to know precisely what was bothering me. It made me feel ridiculous. Did I really make it that obvious? But Siyeon wasn't looking at me in a degrading or amused way. In fact, the look in her eyes was so frighteningly sympathetic and understanding that I was almost totally convinced she might even be struggling with the same sort of dilemma. At the thought that I wasn't alone in my suffering, my nose started burning, warning of oncoming tears threatening to fall and expose everything I've tried so tirelessly to conceal. Did she really understand?

"Oh, jagi," Siyeon frowned when she noticed my eyes turn glassy and my bottom lip quiver. The reality that the kiss I was crying over probably meant nothing to anyone else but me made me feel pathetic, yet Siyeon never once seemed to judge me. "Come here," she said, giving me no possible option to refuse her offer of consolation. I obeyed anyways as she gently guided me over to the couch, losing all strength to refuse once the onset of my breakdown approached.

The back of my thighs barely touched the cushions before the older member was pulling me into her chest. That was enough to crack through the dam stifling my endless pool of tears, and now there was nothing to keep them from flowing freely. "It's okay," Siyeon cooed softly, rubbing my back in soothing circles as I cried into her shirt. "I know. It's okay," she reassured and repeated the same phrase over again for the next few minutes, allowing me plenty of time to get everything out.

When the tears began to subside, sobs dwelling to quiet sniffles, Siyeon turned to grab something. I sat up and watched as she pulled a tissue from a box on the coffee table. Without saying anything, she turned to hold my chin and started wiping the tears off my cheeks. As I watched her face, the noticeable shiny glint in her eyes and the way her jaw clenched while she took in my (probably pitiful) appearance hinted that she was likely fighting back tears of her own. Guilt twisted in my gut knowing that I was being selfish burdening her with my pain and not even considering the hurt it might have caused her to see me in such a state.

"I'm sorry," I croaked out, grabbing her wrist.

Siyeon halted her actions, eyes flicking up to mine. "Don't apologize." Her voice was firm, but not angry. "Especially for this."

I shook my head. Why did she have to be so selfless? "You should be sleeping right now, not having to deal with this," I motioned to myself.

She put the tissue down and grabbed my hands, pulling me closer to her. "If you really think I could sleep peacefully right now knowing how you feel, then you must not know me that well." A gentle smile pulled at her lips and her voice softened, "I'd do this every night in a heartbeat if that's what you needed." The sincerity in her words had me on the brink of tears once more. There was no doubt in my mind that she meant every word she said.

I pouted. "Quit it," I mumbled, letting go of her hand to shove her shoulder. "You're gonna make me cry again." My words had her laughing. Feeling a bit more relieved after shedding some of the tears I had bottled up, I was able to laugh with her.

As our laughter died down, Siyeon leaned into me, showing off her beautiful smile. I admired it, feeling a swell of pride in my heart knowing I was the cause of it. It was honestly kind of unbelievable. Here I was, interrupting her sleep and ruining her shirt, yet I was also somehow the one making her laugh and bringing her joy. How could I be so lucky to find myself on the receiving end of such unconditional love? And how could I possibly consider myself deserving after feeling like such a burden?

Siyeon's forehead met mine, drawing me from my thoughts. As if the contact allowed her to hear my thoughts, she caressed my cheek and washed my worries away with three simple words. "I love you." It came out as a whisper, almost like she was telling me a secret. That stubborn spark of hope that I had tried so hard to stomp out the past few days ignited while we shared a moment staring into each other's eyes. The absolute last thing I needed right now was another intimate moment that I'd spend hours on end reading too much into—considering how that ended up with the whole Bora thing—but I could already feel my heart clutching onto those words and savoring the loving look in her eyes as if they were the blood that kept it pumping.

A breath unevenly slipped past my lips when Siyeon finally pulled away, giving me space. I relaxed back into the couch, straightening myself out and staring down at my hands in my lap to avoid her gaze. She shifted, angling her body and propping her head up with her elbow on the back of the couch to look at me.

"So," she trailed off, "do you want to talk about it?" Her voice was delicate, like she was afraid she'd speak too loud or say the wrong thing that would send me into another breakdown or scare me off entirely.

I hummed in indecision while I distracted myself, playing with the two adjustable strings dangling from the waistband of my sweatpants. The longer I debated it, the more I started to doubt how Siyeon would actually react. What if she just assumed I liked Bora? Or what if she doesn't think it's that at all? How would she really feel if I told her I was in love with seven different people? Any normal person would think I was insane.

Her right hand cut my thoughts short, laying on top of both of mine to stop my fidgeting. "What if I start?" she offered when I made eye contact with her.

I couldn't be sure what she possibly had to say, but, in my mind, it seemed like a better option than going first. So I agreed. "Okay," I swallowed thickly, suddenly feeling the nerves creeping back in. Now I was regretting not grabbing that bottle of water.

Siyeon released her head from her left hand and sat up straight, using both hands to grab one of mine and started softly pinching the back of it. I just hoped she didn't notice how cold my fingertips had gotten or the goosebumps that riddled my skin. "I think I have an idea of what you're going through, and I don't ever want you to feel like you have to hide this from us."

The words hit me all at once and the racing thoughts that followed were overwhelming. I was so busy trying to figure out what she thought she knew, I couldn't even appreciate how sweet her words were. She seemed to hit the nail on the head, but what she said could've applied to almost anything. There was still no way she could've known I was in love with all of them, let alone one of them.

I found myself struggling to respond. "But, this is..." my eyebrows furrowed as I focused my attention on the couch under us, face flushing at the idea of giving away too much. "This is different."

"I know," she responded immediately, as if she expected that exact reply out of me, drawing my eyes up to her. "I see the way you look at us," her voice was cautious but it didn't stop my pulse from racing, "and how you react when we touch you." Oh god, I was so obvious.

I couldn't help but feel embarrassed and panicked all at the same time. "Unnie-"

"It's okay," she cut me off, placing her hand on my waistband. "You don't have to be shy," she whispered, scooting closer. The proximity had me burning up. I had to turn my head away from her in order to focus my thoughts.

Alarm bells were ringing in my mind, alerting me that my secret had been found out. But which one? She couldn't know the whole truth, could she? No. She had to be talking about my attraction to women. "It's-" I hesitated. Was I really ready to tell her? "It's not just that." An unsteady breath left my mouth.

"Jagi, I know. We know," she emphasized. "Maybe the younger members haven't made it as obvious, but surely you've seen the way we look at you, too."

...there's no way. I must've misheard...

"I thought our flirting made it pretty obvious," Siyeon said lowly, slipping her hand under my shirt to rub her fingers against my stomach, but I was unable to react to any of it.

"You flirt with everyone," I mumbled subconsciously, my brain slowly breaking down in its spastic attempt to process everything hitting me at once. She knew.

Her warm laugh filled the room, momentarily startling me out of my mental breakdown, "okay, fair point." Right about now, I was ready to wake up in bed and realize this entire thing was a dream. It even felt like one when I started to get lightheaded. Siyeon leaned in even closer, fingers dipping dangerously below my waistband, inches away from turning this moment into something exponentially more intimate. "But it's different with you," she whispered, making the skin under her hand burn as a fire began to flare up between my legs.

My mind wouldn't give in, refusing to let me accept this as reality and bask in it like I'd wanted to for so long. It all felt wrong. She shouldn't even know, let alone be okay with it, let alone confirm my delusions??? This wasn't right. Where was the lack of acceptance, the judgement, the disgust? No normal person reacted this way. She couldn't actually mean it.

I tilted my head up, searching her eyes frantically for any sign of dishonesty. "How are you so okay with this?" I asked in disbelief. "It's unnatural. Y-you should be freaked out by it!" I stuttered as I felt the emotion choking me up again.

"It's not unnatural at all," Siyeon said, voice laced with sadness once she started to realize how I felt. "And why would I be freaked out by it?" How could you not be? How is it not unnatural?

How could you be so accepting of something that I've hated myself for feeling for the last two years?

"It- it's wrong, Siyeon," I whispered, a single tear sliding down my cheek.

In the blink of an eye, she was grabbing my chin and wiping the sadness away. "You love us," she emphasized softly, staring into my eyes, "how is there anything wrong with that?"

Those words made my heart clench painfully in my chest. They were ones that I needed to hear all along, ones that I should've been telling myself this whole time, but they were also ones that my mind still rejected, over and over again. I looked down. "But what would someone think if they found out?"

"No one has to know except for us. And it wouldn't matter anyways." Siyeon shook her head, closing her eyes for a moment as if looking for the right words to say. When she opened them again, I saw a universe of stars in them as specs of light bounced off their now teary exterior and I felt an equally limitless amount of love radiating from them. "All that matters is that you're happy. That we're happy. And I won’t let anything get in the way of that."

I stayed silent, really, truly allowing myself to soak in her words. She was right. Even my mind couldn't argue with that one. The ultimate goal was to be happy. To make them happy. Why would I possibly refuse when that happiness was right at the tip of my fingers?

Choking back my tears, I tried to keep my hopes low and remain realistic. "How do you even know it's really what the other members want?" I whispered weakly, no longer caring if I sounded insecure. All my cards were out on the table now, there was no point in trying to hide from her any longer.

"Honestly, I don't for sure. That's something you'll have to figure out on your own." She frowned sympathetically. Regret was already starting to sneak in and the idea of being rejected or having to choose between any of them had my heart aching. "But, you know, Bora hasn't stopped talking about you since that night," Siyeon's lips turned up in amusement.

"What?" I blurted out.

"She's been acting like it didn't affect her, but I know it did. She just won't admit it out loud." Everything that came out of her mouth was sounding less and less believable by the second. Had Bora really been thinking about the kiss as much as I had? "And Minji," Siyeon let out a short chuckle, "Minji is so clearly jealous. It's funny how they try to act indifferent. It's pointless, really. They're so painfully obvious." Minji... was actually jealous?

For the sake of my rapidly and unrightfully inflating ego, I hoped Siyeon wasn't making all of this up. Although, the thought of Bora and Minji fighting over me had me feeling overwhelmingly hot and I was beginning to think this was gonna be way more than I could actually handle. I never prepared for this, because it so surely seemed like a massively far-fetched fantasy... yet here it was, very quickly becoming a reality.

Even faster than I realized when I dared to ask, "And you?"

"Me?" Siyeon smiled, leaning in again. I kept eye contact, heart beating unusually fast as her finger traced my jawline. "Honestly, I'm a little disappointed you gave Bora your first kiss." Her low tone of voice left me feeling dizzy. I couldn't even say anything, frozen like a deer in headlights. Taking advantage of my stillness, she scooted even closer, making it hard to breathe. "Mm," she hummed, her lips ghosting over mine, "you really do get nervous around me, don't you?" She smirked and I subconsciously squeezed my thighs together, clenching my jaw in an attempt to distract my mind from the way she was making me feel.

My silence was enough confirmation for her, giving her the last final push to lean in. All the oxygen was sucked out of my lungs at the sensation of her lips meeting mine. I had been waiting for this moment for so long and somehow I still wasn't prepared for it to actually happened. With Bora, it was short-lived and I had been the one to initiate it. But with Siyeon, her own control and choices were variables that I could've never even considered. And the concept that she started this and that she was kissing me out of her own want made this feel so much better than I ever thought it could. The way she kissed me slowly, savoring every single second, and cherishing the taste and feeling of my lips against hers.

I could tell she was feeling the same when I backed away for a second to catch my breath and she was quick to chase my lips. I held onto her shirt as her hands clutched the sides of my face possessively, her thumbs resting on my jawline. I could feel her staggered breathing against my skin—telling me her heart was racing—while her lips captured mine over and over again in a mind-numbing rhythm. Now I was beginning to think her description of Minji more accurately suited herself. It seemed like Siyeon was jealous of Bora and couldn't wait until she finally got her turn to claim me as her own.

Eventually though, air became a problem, causing her to release my lips. I grabbed her hands that were holding my face while we both fought to catch our breath. She looked down at me, instantly smiling when she saw how affected I was. I felt shy under her gaze and released her hands to plunge into her embrace. She held me tightly as I clutched the back of her shirt, laying my head on her shoulder. A small laugh escaped her mouth, "you're cute."

I whined into her shoulder, "I'm not cute."

"Oh, really?" She teased, the hint of a smile still evident in her voice.

I lifted my head to look at her, hoping it was dark enough so that she couldn't see the blush on my face. "Yeah really," I reciprocated her smile, staring her down and probably failing miserably at looking intimidating.

I watched as she dropped her hands to my waist and moved to rest mine around her neck. "Then prove it," she whispered, cocking her eyebrow in the most attractive way possible.

My stomach bubbled with nervous-excitement once I realized where this was probably leading. Trying to fight a smile, I bit my lip as my eyes darted down to her mouth. From my actions, her tongue swiped out over her own lips to wet them. Before she ever even gave me a chance to act, she was pushing me down onto the couch and taking her place on top of me. Her hand reached out to grab my chin and her thumb moved my bottom lip from my teeth.

"Don't do that," she said lowly in a way that made the pit of my stomach burn. "Unless you want me to do this." One of her hands made its way to the inside of my thigh and she squeezed down, making me gasp in surprise. She seized her opportunity to lean in and slip her tongue past my parted lips. The sensation of it swiping boldly across my own tongue had me clutching her neck for support, feeling myself growing slick just inches above where her hand was placed. I was so shocked that I couldn't do anything in return. I had absolutely no idea what I was supposed to do anyways.

She could probably feel my hesitance because she finished with a kiss and pulled back to look at me. I immediately felt the need to explain my tenseness, "I'm sorry, I don't know what to-"

"It's okay," she let out a small laugh and smiled at me. I avoided her eyes, a bit ashamed by my inexperience since she clearly seemed to know what she was doing. "Hey," she whispered gently, releasing my thigh and using her hand to turn my head to face her, "there's no reason to be embarrassed." Her eyes looked so caring in that moment and I wondered how someone could be so perfect.

I smiled, feeling more shy by the second. "I know, I've just never done this before and you clearly have, so I felt the need to-"

She cut off my rambling, "Hey, hey. I know, it's okay," she laughed, finding my nervousness endearing. Her hand started combing through my hair while she waited for me to relax again. "I have to admit, I'm regretting dating that girl in high school right now because the idea of experiencing all of your firsts with you sounds really fucking romantic," she let out a laugh again, and I couldn't stop the massive grin on my face. Now I was convinced she was actually perfect... or a mind-reader, because she knew exactly what to say to make me fall even harder for her. Before she could continue, I pulled her down to steal a kiss. That seemed like a better way to express how I felt about what she said anyways. Plus, it made her laugh happily and steal another kiss back.

Once she was satisfied, she released my lips to finish what she wanted to say. "But now I'm starting to think the idea of me teaching you is way hotter," she said seriously. I laughed lightly, grateful she could so easily make my nerves go away.

"You want to be my teacher?" I teased, raising my hand to brush my thumb against her thick, bottom lip. She leaned into my touch, her lips parting and her nose grazing mine as she struggled to restrain herself. My throat went dry when an intimidating look flashed across her eyes. It was way more satisfying than I expected seeing her have such a visceral reaction to me. Now I was beginning to understand exactly why they enjoyed teasing me so much. If I knew Siyeon was really this affected by every little thing I did to her, I would've been doing it for years.

"Yes," she breathed out against my lips with such desperation that I couldn't help but smirk. "You have no idea how much I want you."

With no time to even process what she just said, her lips crashed back into mine. Now I knew I was reaping the rewards for my teasing when her kisses were no longer slow and gentle. My hands threaded through her hair while she made out with me, and her own found their way under my shirt. With the stimulating feeling of her fingers traveling teasingly up my abs, I made the mistake of parting my lips once more, granting Siyeon's tongue access to my mouth. Still not knowing what to do, I instinctively pushed her away.

"Unnie-" I mumbled.

"It's okay, baby," she said, breathless, "just relax and follow my lead, okay?"

She kissed me again before letting me reply, "Okay." And then she was back at it, swiping her tongue across my bottom lip, silently asking me for permission. So I let her have it and gripped her neck tightly at the way her warm, slick tongue was making all the blood in my body rush to my core.

She kept going, her tongue exploring a different part of my mouth every time it entered before retreating out to be replaced by her lips. After just a couple times, I felt more comfortable, and allowed my tongue to meet hers. Siyeon rewarded me with a hum of pleasure and handed off the control. She let me experiment, practicing exactly what she did to me on her. I quickly learned that the addicting sensation of my tongue inside of her mouth gave me a sickeningly intense feeling of power and had me turned on to such a degree that it was borderline embarrassing. After that, getting to be the one in charge evolved from really terrifying to way too enjoyable. Something about someone as experienced as Siyeon letting me do whatever I wanted to her was so undeniably hot.

When I finally seemed to get the hang of it, we both pulled back, panting heavily. Though, Siyeon wasn't quite finished yet, trading my lips for my jawline. She slowly planted kisses from the edge of my chin all the way to my ear and I could feel her sporadic breaths bouncing off my skin the entire way. It was like she wasn't satisfied unless her lips were on me. She couldn't get enough of me and it had me wondering if she had imagined this moment a million times before just like I had.

"You're being such a good girl for me," she praised suddenly, sending a shockwave of pleasure through my body.

"Fuck, Siyeon," I whimpered quietly out of instinct, though I knew there was no way she wasn't going to hear it with my mouth just a few inches away from her ear.

"Mm, you like when I call you that, baby?" Her voice came out husky as she gripped my thigh, biting down on my earlobe.

I inhaled sharply, instinctively arching my back off the couch, pressing our chests together. "Oh my god," I breathed out, dripping with arousal.

Siyeon groaned quietly at my reaction. "You sound so fucking sexy, babygirl," she mumbled against my skin.

"This can't be real," I said, making Siyeon chuckle lowly as she started kissing down my neck. "I have to be dreaming right now."

She finally stopped what she was doing and leaned back over my face, "Are you saying you often dream of me doing things like this to you?" The smirk on her face made my stomach twist.

"Unnie, please," I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to calm my heartbeat. If I ever wanted it to resume it's normal rhythm, there's no way I could look at Siyeon's face ever again after hearing those words leave her lips.

She laughed lightly, "you're overwhelmed."

"Thanks for pointing out the obvious," I replied uneasily, only making Siyeon let out a few more quiet laughs before running her fingers through my hair again and kissing my cheek, probably hoping it might help calm me down. "How are you not?" I tried to open my eyes but the second I saw her unrealistically attractive features, I had to close them again. "God, this is way too fucking much for any normal human being to handle."

"I think this is the most I've heard you curse in your entire life," she laughed. I just pulled her down into me, wrapping my legs around her waist. She adjusted her head to answer my question. "And I am overwhelmed, my reaction is just less in the form of almost passing out and more in the form of wanting to kiss you." That finally made me laugh and I turned my head to rest it on hers.

It was quiet for a moment while we stayed locked in each other's embrace and I was sure she could feel my heart pounding like a sledgehammer against my rib cage. Her hands now at the small of my back felt like fire against my skin and I remembered back to what she said a few seconds ago.

"Yes," I answered out of the blue.

She tilted her head back to look at me, "what?"

I finally opened my eyes and scooted to the side so that I could turn my head to look at her face-to-face. The image of her in that moment almost made me turn away. Somehow her slightly messy hair and flushed face made her look a million times sexier than I ever thought possible. It definitely didn't help when I remembered everything she had previously whispered in my ear. I took a deep breath, focusing on my fingers resting against her jawline rather than her eyes so I wouldn't forget how to speak. "You asked if that meant I often dream of you doing things like this to me... and the answer is yes," I explained, the nerves now more evident in my voice.

Without even looking at her entire face, the pull of a smile on her cheek reassured me that I hadn't admitted too much. "Good to know I'm not the only one," she mumbled, pulling my gaze to her eyes. She didn't appear to be lying, maybe a bit timid, but definitely not untruthful. Her eyes stayed on mine as we both started to realize how real this was. It was a relief finally knowing I wasn't completely crazy for feeling the way that I did and that she felt the same. Although, the thought of her picturing me in certain situations suddenly hit me and I felt incredibly shy again, reaching out to grab the collar of her shirt so I could pull her into me.

"What?" She giggled as I hid my face in her neck.

"You're going to be the death of me, Lee Siyeon," I groaned.

"Man, and you haven't even made it to the other six yet," she said seriously.

"Jesus Christ," I spoke in English, eliciting the loudest laugh from Siyeon yet.

The concept of having to go through all of this again with six other members was driving me insane. In that moment, I nearly concluded that it'd be better for my sanity if I just stuck with Siyeon (even though that alone was still detrimental to my sanity).

"Come here," she grabbed my neck loosely and gently pushed me back. "You know, you never said it back to me," she pouted. It took me a minute to understand what she meant, but I eventually remembered.

I looked deep into her eyes, finally letting all of the feelings soak in. And, after tonight, there was no doubt in my mind that my next statement was true, "I love you."

Siyeon beamed, looking over at me like I was the most precious thing in the world to her, and pulled me in for another kiss. This one was unlike the others. It was delicate and sweet and I knew it meant so much more than just a kiss. It conveyed everything she was feeling for me in ways that words couldn't. So I cherished it as if it were my last.

The sentimental moment didn't last long though, a less shocked and more disappointed voice breaking through the silence, "I should've known this is what you were up to." We drew apart, both looking up in surprise, unable to conceal our obvious guilt, finding Minji standing a few feet away with her hands on her hips. Even with the lack of lighting in the room, I could make out the expression of disapproval on the leader's face, like a mother who just caught her teenage daughter in bed with a boy. Realizing her eyes were on Siyeon, I felt somewhat relieved that I wasn't the victim of her scolding... until her gaze shifted to me and hardened in a way that sent chills up my spine.

She really was jealous and I had a good feeling I was just seconds away from reaping the consequences of making out with someone who wasn't her.

—

A/N: I might post more parts to this with the other members eventually if I ever find the time to write for it.

**This oneshot was transferred over from my Wattpad account OT5Stan4Life**

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