#I'm obsessed with fantasy universes

[ecclectricity]

    There are conflicting stories to tell just when Almyra vanished.The fact still remains that one day, Almyra neighbored Fódlan as it ever had, and the next, a lifeless crater existed in its space, it’s people untraceable, all knowledge of their kind stripped away. Some say there was internal conflict, leading to the extinction of the Almyran people. Some say they merely left. Where? No one knows. The fact remains though that they, along with nearly every trace of their kind, vanished, nary a scarce relic and stories to deign that they ever existed to begin with.

    Until twenty years ago. A young woman, Alliance born, vanished during her stay at a well known but politically autonomous Garreg Mach Monastery, leading a church-run program to close until her whereabouts were discerned. Due to political strife and unrest, the academy was never given the chance to do so. Rumors flew- a runaway noble? An attempt on the only living heir to Riegan’s noble house? While neither were confirmed, one thing was certain: a power among titans was weakened, and the three countries, divided, could not stand idly side by side for long.

    Between the growing tensions of unrest, of possible war, and the spreading of what has come to be only known as Dragon Scourge, Fódlan has known very little of peace in the hundreds of years since the Almyran’s disappearance. . .

    But Cedrial, Fire Emblem is already a fantasy universe, why would you write a fantasy universe for it And to that I say: shush. I’m inserting a hefty amount of high-fantasy D&D style bull because it is super fun.

  Some key features:

    1) MOST of what will be established from the perspective of the Kingdom, because that is what @endlesscacophony​ and I built this universe from. I’m eager to maybe talk to some people about Empire view, but Alliance is, honestly, majorly collapsed or annexed to Kingdom/Empire territory at this point. I believe the last remaining vestiges of the Alliance are Edmund and Goneril territory, the rest having either defected or fled. No heir existed to take over, and Gloucester maintained for as long as they could, but ultimately chose to prioritize their people over politics ( reasonably enough ).

  2)  The Kingdom, at present, is seeking a cure for the ever pervasive Dragon Scourge. No one knows what the cause is of the illness, but two major things are known: it is not transmissible by any known means, and it has a 100% fatality rate. It’s not a matter of if it will kill you, but when you will ultimately transform and need to be put down ( if people let you get that far ). The Duscur rebellion transpired quite a bit differently: King and prince both survived, and rather than die, Glenn actually turned due to previously unknown affliction from Dragon Scourge. He has yet to be found. Following the attack, the King and leader of Duscur were able to convene in secret to arrive at an accord of peace.

    Of course, there are always those who will not stand for peace ( and those who would stoke a minor voice to action ). The insurrection still occurs years later. However, Dimitri is required to stay out of it by his father’s decree, due to the appearance of Dragon Scourge on his back. Felix, instead, is sent to represent the Fraldarius family. At news of his apparent death, the Scourge worsens, and does not recede despite the heavily wounded but living Felix returning days later. The insurrection was quelled, however, and Duscur and the Kingdom remain peaceful. 

    Five years later, the Scourge on Dimitri has progressed, taking over a large amount of his torso and the right side of his face with black, painful scales. In a desperate bid to seek a cure, Felix, Sylvain, and Dimitri set out on a journey with a painful ultimatum: find a cure for Dimitri, or do what must be done.

    3) The Church is SIGNIFICANTLY MORE LIMITED in this verse. It is a typical church, but much like in major fantasy lore, Seiros and Sothis are but one path among a throng of many, and while they tend to be more judgmental of other religions, there are several gods, goddesses, and beyond that are worshipped and respected, even in the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. Where previously they seemed to have an iron in every fire in canon, here they could be seen more as a Vatican in the distance that many ascribe to, but personally is its own city state that is loud, but ultimately unable to affect the politics and practices of the other countries directly. 

    4) Almyra, without a better analogy, is basically the land of elven kind, down to the iconic ears, which some people still recall as a staple feature. Almyra is rather similar to the Feywild, existing in an extraplanar place above Fódlan after literally drawing itself from the earth with magic and transposing itself elsewhere due to strife and disagreements with the “Empire” ( more than likely actually TWSTED masquerading as Empire, but we haven’t fully ironed that out ). These people are extraordinarily gifted in magic innately ( think like a sorcerer in D&D ), and do not need much in the way of education or tutoring in order to be able to cast impressive spells. There is still a royal hierarchy in Almyra, and they are still known to be quick to anger and fight, but quick to lay down arms and allow the water to pass beneath the bridge. The difficulty is succession; the royal family, the Dahrei’s, are known throughout their exceptionally long history to have particularly bloody and messy successions. These are infrequent, as Almyran people tend to live much longer than others, but when they do happen, they are practically public affair, neigh dinner conversation, until succession is decided.

    5) Magic does not operate as one would expect. Everything in the world is created from the same base Formula, something that Almyran people can innately see, harness, and manipulate into magic. For people of Fódlan, being able to decipher and utilize the Formula is a very extensive process requiring a ton of study and practice ( again, think wizards in D&D ). However, the existence of this Formula is also not known to Fódlish people, as this was a good chunk of the knowledge taken with the Almyran people upon their exodus. What they know are Crests! These Crests, which unbeknownst to them are fractions of Formula placed in an array to create magic, bestow upon the user certain effects: Blaiddyd is known for massive augmentation of strength, Gautier for fire manipulation, Fraldarius for speed and agility, etc. 

    6) Dragon Scourge - this is a magical illness caused by the Formula of a person’s soul essentially deciding to consume itself. This is a product of internal, unmanageable conflict. Because trauma and internal strife affect people differently, there is no one cause. For example, Glenn Fraldarius had been in several major battles and lost friends and comrades, and while this of course hurt him, he did not develop Scourge because he could reconcile the loss with reality. During Duscur, the idea of failing Dimitri broke his spirit so severely that it took him from healthy to Draconic nearly immediately in a panicked and ditch effort to save Dimitri’s life. Dimitri, likewise, had lived through several attempts on his life from his uncle and other arguably difficult and stressful circumstances growing up, but Duscur and Glenn’s transformation was ultimately what he could not reconcile ( why for me? ), and because of his inability to cope with the loss and guilt, the Formula began to etch away.

    All is not lost, though! Dragon Scourge, known as Blight to Almyrans, is not incurable. Almyran people, however, took all of their knowledge of magic when they left, including the ability to cure this. They also know the specific cause of this: as one’s heart gives in to what it cannot change, what it cannot reconcile and release, the Formula of one’s True Name ( the unique Formula that makes a person them ) begins to be unravelled from reality, leaving only a shell of grief and pain in its wake. For most, if caught early, this is an exceptionally easy thing to alleviate, and alerts those around you that there is something wrong that needs to be sorted. If left to it’s own devices, it gets progressively harder and harder- only the strongest of magic-users could returns a dragon’s True Name, after all.

    7) Fódlan’s Throat - Fódlan’s Throat vanished with Almyra, and is now the only way that someone from Almyra can return to the world below. Not that anyone would want to. After centuries of displacement, the only knowledge left of the world below are rumors of horrific, warlike barbarians- a true Hell for anyone to have to endure, and near impossible for anyone to survive. There is no communication between the two locations, so rumors only grew, and even the oldest of Almyrans can remember the days Before Ascension.

    The Throat itself is deep within the King’s Hunting Grounds, a bramble of interwoven branches nestled in the far reaches; many assume this was orchestrated to keep Almyrans from seeking to return, or from accidentally happening upon it and curiously wandering through. The portal is a yawning maw of black nothing, and for all that anyone knows, once you go through? You don’t come back.

    8) TWSTED - You know ‘em, you hate ‘em, and they’re still the antagonist. Their experiments into Crests has not changed, and anyone impacted by those experiments very likely are still affected in this universe. However, in addition to that, the main source of strife and conflict that lead the Almyran people to leave Fódlan, was their experimentation into the source of magic Almyran’s call upon. Since Fódlish people typically need either crests or extensive study to be able to wield magic, this painted quite the target on those magically inclined people. Many were used for experiments to siphon this magic, essentially deteriorating innate Formulas and severely injuring, impacting the lifespan, or outright killing those involved ( again, very much like the canon research they conducted ). When the Almyran people left, they attempted to destroy whatever machinations or war machines their magic had lent to the creation of. Rumor has it, though, that there may still be an active portal or two lying around the world somewhere - ones that could lead you right to Almyra. Were there only anyone would could operate it. . .

    I will update this as time goes along, but eventually below will be links to each of my affected characters’ verse! I’ll be working on that soon!

    Claude Von Riegan  |    Felix Hugo Fraldarius  |    Caspar Von Burgliez

----

    I would like to clear up a couple things I know are missing from this verse that I would be elated to plot with someone:

Where is Dedue? Just- just where is he? I’ve always had him as a main attendant of the guard, and one of the major people in charge of training Royal guards. The thought process was that, since Duscur happened differently, he and Dimitri may not have met the exact same way and he is instead working with the Kingdom as an Ambassador from Duscur rather than a vassal to Dimitri, but I’m super interested in anyone’s thoughts/opinions on this.

Fódlish people are obviously my equivalent of ‘humans’ in this universe, but I’m eager to consider what other specialities and abilities could go to other countries! I want to think about how Sreng could have adapted, Albinea, how the spirits of Brigid could interweave with the magic of this world!

What’s up with the Empire? Is the Empire the one really in charge of these experiments, or has it again been TWSTED and Edelgard again is using them as an ends-justify-the-means kind of thing? How is her opinion of their mutually-assured-destruction-agreement when the church has significantly little to no sway on the world? Would her target, rather than the church, be the people who host the magic TWSTED is attempting to recreate instead? Or would she sympathize with them as victims of experimentation much like herself?

[ovenproofowl]

His Dark Materials is a franchise that tackles so many branches of physics and even creates a universe where the main course of study is experimental theology which is all about identifying and explaining dark matter while also adding dimensions to string theory, the multiverse theory, and the very concept of the human soul. At the same time, it aggressively calls out the problem with the state being controlled by the church, how people are condemned for being different and religious fearmongering stops the chance at growth both on an individual and a societal scale. It’s a franchise where the heroes of the story are two children who aren’t allowed to know the prophecy they’re a part of, who save the world unwittingly simply by doing what they believe to be right. Meanwhile, the person who thought he was the hero all along, the person who rallied an army from multiple universes to FIGHT. GOD. HIMSELF. is ultimately consumed by his own ego and forced to take a back seat when he realises he’s just one tiny piece of a much larger story that’s true heart is his own daugher. The child he abandoned, the child he didn’t know or care to know how to look after. It’s a franchise about finding love even when your biological family abandon you, it’s about looking evil in the eye and seeing your own mother, it’s about good and evil not being black and white but instead a complex and cruel mixture of both. It’s about the two worst people you know banding together at the last second to save their daughter with their final breaths. It’s about exploration and learning how to grow through experience, it’s about kindness being shared across the multiverse, exchanging stories with strangers and saving the whole world by doing something perfectly ordinary and receiving no reward.

Oh, and it’s also a franchise rich with fantasy, with giant talking polar bears, witches and ghosts, angels and daemons, and a mammal-like species from another world that travels exclusively on roller skates. 

And it fucking. rocks.

[ozzgin]

okay, hear me out: mean girl!reader x nerdy/sub!yandere

nerd!yan who gets bullied by you all the time, with harsh name calling and forcing him to do your homework.

nerd!yan who grows intrigued with you. you’re so confident, so pretty, so cool! how can he not like you?

nerd!yan who’s slowly growing more obsessed. his breath hitches whenever you loom over him with that annoyingly hot smirk of yours, calling him such mean, degrading names

nerd!yan who gets jealous whenever he sees you targeting someone else. you can’t bully them!! you should pay attention to him and only him. oh well, he’ll just have to eliminate the competition, so you can go back to “tormenting” him again.

nerd!yan who’s really such a pervert! he followed you home and was pleasuring himself to your scent that lingered on your clothing… such dirty behaviour!

mean girl!reader who returns home to find one of her classmates in her bedroom, and how can she not smile at the sight? he’s so pretty, such a cute little plaything…

mean girl!reader who had always been aware of nerd!yan’s obsessive tendencies, and played along. but now that he’s been caught red handed…

mean girl!reader who degrades poor nerd!yan for being such a disgusting pervert, but submits to nerd!yan’s fantasies anyway. she plays with him, leaving harsh love bites and scratches over his soft skin, reducing him to a moaning, whiney mess.

nerd!yan who’s basically your pet now, obediently following you throughout school, happily accepting all your orders, no matter how demeaning or gross they are.

people who even dare look your way with romantic interest? they get disposed of in…well, let’s just say, messy. oh, but not that nerd!yan will ever let you see it happen! your precious, beautiful eyes should be shielded from such violent acts. but if you ever ask… tilt your head playfully with a soft smile and ask him to let you watch, he might.

tldr; mean girl and a nerdy yandere that are both equally toxic for each other

have an awesome day!! I would really like to see you write a concept like this <3

-Ash

A/N: I'm including someone else's request as I think they mesh well together: "a mean bully!reader with a yandere!loser, where reader basically just uses him like a pet and has him do whatever she wants" I'll be doing my best, but do keep in mind this is written by a loser nerd so I can't guarantee accuracy. I also don't want to be too mean, even if it's hypothetical, y'know? 😭

Nerd! Loser! Yandere x Mean Girl! Bully! Reader

They say being in the right relationship motivates you to strive for the best version of yourself. Sometimes, the opposite is true. What happens when your soulmate brings out your most depraved self?

Content: female reader, mildly NSFW, obsessive behavior, violence, bullying, loser is meant in a loving way, yandere consents to everything

You really aren't that bad of a person. Or at least you weren't before you met the odd man you now call your boyfriend. How did it all begin? For the sake of full disclosure, alright, you have always been somewhat on the mean side. A little too sarcastic, a little too blunt, perhaps a little too harsh. You don't like soft people and have little patience for their stumbling attempts. But, you can hold your tongue as long as it doesn't involve you.

The meeting, at least from your point of view, was entirely accidental. Despite just starting your university year, your charisma had quickly gained you enough friends and acquaintances to have a stable sample of potential group partners. Except for one class. One single missing person, and you were asked to include a name you didn't recognize. Some young man who almost never showed up to class.

Oh, but he did. He was there for every lecture, for every seminar. His, and yours. His first encounter with you was not what most would call romantic. On day one he'd gotten lost. The crowded halls, the new environment, the noise, the smell, everything overwhelmed him, and he found himself wandering in a panic, until at last he bumped into you. The impact sent him straight onto the ground, books pathetically spilling from his trembling arms. You, on the other hand, remained standing as if nothing happened. "Pull yourself together, dumbass", you hissed through your teeth, looking into his eyes for one brief moment before moving on to your friends: "You have to give it to them straight, otherwise they'll think we're still in high school and someone will hold their hand all the time. It's embarrassing! Grown adults!"

He can't remember anything else from that day. Only your voice, your expression, your stance. Somehow, for whatever reason, that "dumbass" went straight to his heart. To think you'd look after him, a complete stranger. You were right, he needed to recollect himself and figure it out. Something even his own mother omitted to mention.

How he wished he could be like you. The way professors relied on you for discussions, the way your friends flocked for advice. But see, he knew you were faking most of it. That overly sweet smile and exaggerated politeness, all of it was a mask you'd learned to wear at any time. It only came off when dealing with people like him. There was a certain pride in that fact: he'd seen the real you. Not your "friends".

The more he thought about it, the more plagued by need he became. The need to hear you speak to him again, in that raw, unfiltered voice, with that disgusted glare piercing through his entire being. Thus, he did his best - as per your advice - to find another opportunity. The group work. One glance at him was enough for you to remember: "Ah, fuck, you're that dumbass from first day", you whined in frustration. Instant arousal.

And so, your unusual partnership began to develop. Or rather, your game of tormentor versus tormented. (Un)Paid actors and nothing more. It didn't take you long to notice his strange reaction to your verbal aggressions, almost as if the man relished in your ruthlessness. He seemed to know exactly what buttons to press in order to anger you. In return, you decided to see how far you could go until he'd finally cave in. From insults, to flicking him in the forehead, shoving him against the wall, ordering him around like a collared dog. You had your suspicions, but it all culminated when you went over to his little dorm room for a final project review. You'd gotten so upset - what did he even do? - that you pushed him hard into the ground and straddled him, holding onto the collar of his jacket and shouting profanities. A horrified grimace struck his face, and you froze. Have you gone too far? Was he finally going to ask that you stop, and put this strange charade behind? "P-please give me a moment, I..." he panted, frantically trying to move you aside. "I need to take care of myself. I'm so sorry." You hesitantly stood up and noticed the obvious erection in his pants.

You have a strange effect on him. He is not incapable; he knows it very well. And yet, the temptation is too great: to pretend, to exaggerate, to fail, anything to have you take the lead and lovingly scold him in the process. "What do you mean you're too anxious to present your part? Christ, you're useless. Utterly, completely useless." He can't wait to pleasure himself later to the memory of your words. Truly addicting. He doesn't mind being a doormat if it's your feet keeping him down. You bring out his most pathetic, perverted, deplorable self.

The same can be said about you. You've never been this mean to anyone. You hadn't even intended to reach this point, yet something keeps riling you up. Maybe it's his pleading pout whenever he's being reprimanded. The hooded, lustful eyes gazing up at you submissively and waiting for the next burning whip of your tongue. He brings out the worst in you and he loves every second of it.

You unlock the door and march into the bedroom (you've since moved in together). Without a warning, you grip his chin tightly and give the man a firm tug, forcing him to pay attention. "You did something, didn't you? I was supposed to meet with a classmate for coffee and he vanished without a trace. Won't answer my texts or calls." He shakes his head in denial at first, wide innocent eyes glistening in fear. Ah, he can't help it. His lips curl in a crooked grin. He's been caught. You shove two fingers in his mouth, and without delay he twirls his tongue around them hungrily. "What a psychotic bitch you are. You want to be the only one, huh? Is that what it is about?" Between the slurps and the whimpers, you can discern a hurried nod.

[smileysuh]

christmas puppy

🌙 staring. Jaehyun x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “God, you’re so jealous,” you laugh. Your best friend’s brother doesn’t usually act this way, at his frat, everyone knows you’re his, no one would dare come near you- but here, in your hometown, surrounded by past crushes and would be romancables, it’s open season, and it’s clear that it’s making Jaehyun uncomfortable.

tw/cw. multiple sex scenes, airplane sex, best friend's brother Jae touching reader while his sister is drunk/asleep next to them, fingering, multiple orgasms, phone sex, dirty talk, praise, slight stalking/use of snapmaps to obsess over a crush, jealousy, unprotected sex, Jae is a munch, sibling antics, 'loser' jae, exhibitionism, directed masturbation, etc… I pet names: (hers) angel. (his) puppy.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 11k

🍭 aus. uni/frat au, best friend's brother Jae, boy next door Jae, Christmas, secret romance, established relationship, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. It's the way I'm kind of in love with him, he's so stupidly soft

Prologue

“We really shouldn’t be doing this,” you groan as your best friend’s brother slips his hand under your shirt, pressing you tighter against the door of his frathouse bedroom.

“You’re right,” Jaehyun concedes, but his lips continue their fevered pace against your throat, and his thumb brushes by your nipple, making you moan louder.

“Your sister-”

“Never has to know,” he finishes for you.

He pinches your nipple gently and it has you whining, your panties growing wetter by the second. But it’s only a brief distraction before your mind is spinning again. “We need to stop,” you say, but in the same sentence, you reach between your bodies to palm Jaehyun’s cock through his jeans.

“We can stop,” Jaehyun nods, finally pulling away from your neck to look you in the eyes. “Tell me to stop.”

You stare at the prettiest man you’ve ever seen. The man you grew up with. The older brother of your best friend, the boy next door. He’d been at the center of all your fantasies in high school- but you’d never thought you’d actually end up in this situation with him… repeatedly. 

You can’t say no, and you both know it.

Jaehyun smirks, a pretty dimple on display, and then he’s smashing his lips to yours. His hands wrap around your waist, and he tosses you onto his bed. By the time he’s kissed down your body and lifted up your skirt, all your objections have dissipated from your mind.

There’s only you and Jaehyun, and right now, that’s all that matters.

One

“I’m literally dying to see you,” Nari grins the moment you open Facetime.

You laugh, setting your textbook aside. “You’re seeing me now.”

“Don’t be like that,” Nari rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean. Christmas! Just a few more exams, and by this time two weeks from now, we’ll be making cookies and Christmas shopping and watching movies and hitting on cute boys at the skating rink-”

You smile at the thought, although your heart picks up speed at the mention of boys.

“I hear Mark Lee is going to be home for Christmas, and so is his cousin Jeno- I’m thinking, if we play our cards right, maybe we can swing a double date, or we could invite them to my family Christmas party and see what happens under the mistletoe!” Nari continues.   

“Are you still crushing on Mark?” you laugh, shocked that her infatuation with her old high school crush is still alive and well despite going to a different uni than the resident hockey prodigy.

“Of course!” Nari’s expression falls. “Wait, aren’t you still into Jeno?”

“Honestly?” You take a deep breath. “We’ve done a whole term at our new universities, and I feel like it would be better for me to find someone here. Long distance isn’t my thing.”

“Well, in that case… I suppose I can talk to my brother and have him set you up with one of his frat friends,” - the thought of Jaehyun setting you up with anyone other than himself is almost comical, and you have to fight the laugh that bubbles inside of you - “actually, that brings me to the reason I called! I know you and Jae were going to leave to fly home around the same time, but it turns out you booked the same flight- what are the odds huh?”

Your heart skips a beat again. You hadn’t thought much of telling Jaehyun your flight time three nights ago after he’d fucked you stupid- hadn’t realized there might be an ulterior motive to his question. 

Of course he’d get the same flight as you.

You’ve been sleeping together for just over two months now, and the fratboy always has a way of ending up in the same room as you- although, he’d been using Snapchat maps to do it originally. 

The man is obsessed- and you kind of love it.

You’d mentioned wanting to join the mile-high club to him the fourth time you’d hooked up, when you’d discussed sex bucket lists, but you’d never imagined he would remember it- or try to put it into practice.

“Anyways, I know you two aren’t close,” Nari explains, “but I thought you might want to coordinate with him, and when you land, I can pick you both up from the airport, save your mom a trip.”

You swallow thickly before nodding. “That would be nice.” 

It would be nice… but it won’t be easy.

You’re shocked you’ve even kept your little secret this long, and you’re dreading what it will be like once you’re in person with your best friend. Hiding the fact that you’re fucking her brother while at uni with him is one thing, doing it in front of Nari will be another. 

Two

“I know what’s making you tense,” Jaehyun says, pulling his face from between your thighs and straightening to stare down at you.

“Exam season?” you suggest, mind half occupied with the final you have tomorrow.

“You’ve had big tests before and it’s never taken this long to make you cum,” Jaehyun scoffs. “Not that I mind, of course,” he leans down to press a quick kiss to your lips, adjusting on top of you while his cock slides between your wet pussy lips, teasing you. “You’re worried about seeing Nari.”

“Are you seriously going to talk about her while you put your cock in me?” you laugh, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders.

“I’m not inside you yet,” he grins, pausing his grinding movements. 

“And I hate that you’re not,” you groan, your core still throbbing from the orgasm he’d just given you with his tongue.

“Be for real with me for a moment,” Jaehyun urges, leaning down to press his lips to your throat. “Is it really the worst thing in the world if Nari finds out about us?”

“Puppy-”

“It’s been two months. We’ve been fucking for two months, angel. I know you don’t like to use official terms but come on… you know what we are to each other. Isn’t Christmas the best time to tell everyone?”

“Tell them what? That we’re fucking?”

“Don’t make me use the G word, because I will,” he warns.

“The G word?” you fake innocence.

With a low groan, Jaehyun pushes his cock into you. “Christmas is the best time to tell everyone that you’re my girlfriend.”

“Is that what I am?” you tease, although your stomach erupts in butterflies at the notion. 

Jaehyun tangles his fingers with yours, pressing them against the pillows while he begins to thrust into you. “Uh huh.”

“You’re so soft, puppy.”

“I’m actually really hard,” he smirks, looking down at you with mischievous eyes. “No one makes me hard like you do.”

You laugh. “How romantic.”

“Look-” he swallows thickly, holding your hands tighter while rutting into you, “we’re flying home together- Nari might guess it even if we don’t tell her.”

“If you look at me the way you’re looking at me right now, it will be kind of obvious,” you admit. 

Jaehyun has taken to staring at you like a lovesick puppy, and your new uni friends are the first ones who pointed it out to you. At the time, you’d assumed they were being crazy- when you’d first started fucking Jaehyun, you’d thought he’d always just be your best friend’s hot older brother. You’d had no way of ever anticipating that he’d fall for you as hard as he has.

“So we should just tell her,” Jaehyun suggests.

“What if I want to keep you as my dirty little secret?” you sigh. “Just for a bit longer.”

You can feel his hot breath against your face, can see that he’s not happy with the idea, but he nods anyway. “Whatever you want, angel.”

“Thank you, puppy.”

Lifting your head off the pillows, you press your lips to Jaehyun’s, and that’s the last you have to say on the matter before getting lost in him.

Three

“Fuck, angel,” Jaehyun groans, digging his fingers into your thighs while your panting and muffled moans fill the small airplane bathroom, “I don’t know how I’m going to go five days without this.”

You can only groan against his palm, eyes rolling into the back of your head while he fucks you harder. Your own fingers work your clit, and your pussy is clinging desperately to his cock.

You’re already on the edge- Jae had been teasing you under your blanket at your seats, and the exhibitionism of this whole situation has your heart racing a million beats a minute. 

“I’m sure we can find some time for a few quickies, right?” Jaehyun asks, and you can hear the desperation in his voice. “My sister isn’t going to hog you the whole time-”

You open your eyes, giving Jaehyun a warning look. It’s cute that he’s so worried about his sister- but you hate when he brings her up while balls deep inside your wet pussy- your orgasm so close you can almost taste it-

“Fuck, yeah, you’re right- shit,” Jaehyun gives his head a small shake. “We’ll make this work,” he insists, taking his hand from your mouth so he can crash his lips to your own, fucking you even harder.

It’s a wonder that the whole airplane isn’t rocking with the intensity of his thrusts, and you nearly have a heart attack when the plane hits turbulence just as you both cum.

You cling to each other, shaking with emotion as the small bathroom jolts and rumbles.

The plane steadies out and Jaehyun smiles into your kiss, laughing a little at the way you’d both reacted.

“We should get back to our seats,” he whispers.

“You go out first, I’ll be there in a sec,” you nod, allowing him to help you back onto your feet.

Your legs feel like jelly, and with one final press of his lips to your own, Jaehyun pulls up his sweats and then slips out of the airplane bathroom, leaving you alone with your thoughts and anxieties. 

Four

“Seriously, I should be pulling my own bag,” you say for the third time since Jaehyun had lifted your luggage off the carousel. 

“You’ve got a bag,” he grins, eying the duffle over your shoulder.

“When Nari sees this, she’s going to know something is up.”

“Maybe she’ll think I’m just being a good brother,” Jaehyun points out. “Besides, she won’t know I pulled your bag through the airport. She’ll just show up with her car, and watch me put your stuff in the trunk. That’s not so bad, is it?”

You suppose he’s right, but your nerves are getting the better of you.

It’s hard to stand so close to Jaehyun without latching onto his side. It’s cold out too, and your jacket is fine, but you know Jaehyun is warmer- know that if you were to sneak your hands under his parka and touch his perfect abs, you’d heat up in no time-

“There she is,” Jaehyun tells you, eying the line of cars waiting to pull up for a brief stop in front of the terminal.

Nari has brought her family Range Rover, and soon the boxy SUV is coming to a stop in front of you. Your best friend jumps out of the driver’s seat, running around the large car to throw her arms around you.

She belts out your name as she embraces you, the fur hood of her jacket tickling your nose. You can’t help but smile, melting into the hug. 

“I can’t believe you’re finally here!” Nari grins, pulling away to get a good look at you. “It’s been way too long, babes!”

You hear a small scoff, and you turn to see Jaehyun already busy at work putting your luggage in the back of the SUV.

“I missed you too, Jae,” Nari calls. “But this is my best friend, excuse me for welcoming her first.”

“I didn’t say anything,” the dimpled frat boy smirks, and you’re struck by the beauty of Jeong genes. Both siblings have perfect black hair, perfect little dimples that pop out when they smile, and perfect brown eyes that are always full of admiration when they look at someone they care about.

After one more small squeeze, Nari bounds over to her brother. You watch as Jaehyun lifts her from the ground, spinning your best friend around while she squeals with delight. 

“Jeeze, Jae,” Nari gasps when she’s set on her feet again, “have you been bulking again? You’re fucking huge!”

You want to groan at the statement, because it’s so true. 

Jaehyun had always been attractive, but then he’d gone to uni, joined the football team- and now, he’s as sexy as ever. His shoulders are broad, his chest sculpted by the gods, his arms all beefy and thick and always ready to throw you onto his bed-

The pretty fratboy notices you staring, and he flashes you a wink over his sister’s shoulder. You break eye contact, staring down at the pavement. 

“Was the flight okay?” Nari asks, coming over to join you again. 

“We hit a bit of turbulence,” Jaehyun answers smoothly. “But I’d say it was a good trip.”

Your skin heats at the memory of him railing you less than an hour ago. You wonder if your panties are wet from watching him be the hottest man you’ve ever seen- or from his cum still dripping out of you.

It feels dirty- but exhilarating at the same time. Jae’s your sinful little secret, and despite the wish that he didn’t have to be, it’s part of the fun.

“You seem off, babes,” Nari says, reaching over to touch your arm. “Are you okay?”

“Just tired.” You smile softly. “Didn’t sleep much on the plane.”

“Well, when we get home, I can make us some espresso martinis,” Nari winks. 

Before you can say anything else, a car honks behind you, making you jump. 

“We should get going,” Jaehyun says, reaching for the door to the driver’s passenger seat. “Don’t want to hold up the line.”

Instead of entering the car himself, Jaehyun looks at you pointedly. When you furrow your brows with confusion, he makes a small motion with his head, a motion that says ‘get in.’

While Nari hurries around the front of the car, you step closer to her brother. “You’re opening car doors for me now?”

“Just being chivalrous,” he grins.

You can feel his breath against your face, can see it in the cold air- he’s so close, his lips all perfect and pink and plump-

“Get in bitches, we’re going home!” Nari yells as she hops into the car.

And just like that, the spell is broken. You tear yourself away from Jaehyun, getting into the SUV while he closes the door behind you, taking his own seat in the back.

“Okay, so I know you’re only here for five days, but we still have to do all our Christmas traditions,” Nari says as she carefully pulls out of the terminal line. 

“All of them?” you squeak. You’d figured you’d do a few of the things you’ve been doing with Nari since high school, but the idea that you’ll do all of them? “Do we have the time?”

“Well, if we start tonight with a girls' night, we can bake cookies, have a sleepover, watch some Christmas movies, have our espresso martinis- and then tomorrow we can go skating. I’m pretty sure the Lee boys will be there, I bumped into Mark yesterday and he said he has to be on the ice every day, even during his break-”

“You’re still into Mark, huh?” Jaehyun laughs, leaning forward from the backseat to join the conversation.

“Of course.” Nari flips a long, dark, silky smooth strand of hair over her shoulder, eying her brother through the rearview mirror. “He’s literally adorable.”

“Sure he is,” her brother scoffs.

“Anyways, as I was saying,” Nari grabs your thigh, squeezing gently, “Mark said Jeno was flying in- I think last night? So if we go skating tomorrow, we could probably see them both, maybe get apple cider from the parking lot food truck together after a cute little double date-”

“Double date?” You can feel Jaehyun’s breath against your neck. “Since when are you both into Lee’s?”

“Since when are you joining in on girl talk?” Nari fires back at her brother. “Can’t you let us plan in peace?”

“I told you I’m not into Jeno anymore,” you say quietly, feeling your skin prickle under Jaehyun’s hard gaze as you address his sister. 

“Yeah, your whole long-distance thing- well, who says this has to be a relationship? We can have a bit of fun, can’t we?”

You and Jaehyun both sigh, and you hear the fratboy sit back in his seat, clearly exasperated.

“This is what happens when you join girl talk, Jae,” Nari scolds her brother. “If you don’t want to hear the juicy details, put some headphones on.”

“I’m fine with juicy details,” Jaehyun notes, “I just don’t like hearing about your random hook-up plans.”

“As if you wouldn’t hit on Irene if you saw her around town while you’re here,” Nari points out.

“Irene?” You perk up at the mention of the girl who used to be the cheerleading captain at your high school. She’s a year older than you, one year younger than Jaehyun- You swivel in your seat to address the man you’ve been sleeping with for two months. “You have a crush on Irene?”

“Oh my god, have you never heard this?” Nari practically wiggles in excitement. “Jaehyun was obsessed with her. Like- truly obsessed.”

“I was not-”

“You a hundred percent were!” Nari insists. “When Jae’s obsessed, he does this thing where he low key stalks the girl- like, looks at her location on Snapmaps and then just ‘happens’ to end up in the same place and bump into her-”

Your skin tingles. You’d known Jaehyun had used that tactic on you, but you hadn’t realized that it was a common theme of obsession for him. 

When you sneak a look over your shoulder at the fratboy, you find his entire face has turned pink. “Nari, stop-” he groans.

“I’ll stop if you stop,” his sister fires back.

“Fine, yeah, I won’t say anything,” Jaehyun sighs.

“Good!” Nari grins in triumph. “So as I was saying- if we do skating tomorrow, and make gingerbread houses the next day, we can get most of our traditions done before the Christmas eve party.”

“You know what?” You take a breath as the car comes to a stop at a red light. “It sounds like you have this whole thing planned, so let’s just do it. Whatever you want.”

“Really!?” Nari beams, turning to look at you.

“Uh huh,” you nod. “Whatever you want.”

“Eeee!” your best friend throws her arms around you, leaning over the middle panel to hug you tight.

“Nari, the road!” Jaehyun yells, hand grabbing at the shoulder of your seat.

“Right-” Nari pulls away from you, turning her attention back to driving. The light is green now, and she hits the gas just as the person behind you begins to honk. “I’m just so excited- girls' night!”

“More like girls' week,” Jaehyun sighs from behind you.

“And what about it!?” Nari grins. “Babes,” her attention shifts to you again, “we should do takeout tonight. I know your mom is probably going to cook, but I’ve been missing our pho place for literal months-”

Jaehyun perks up behind you. “The pho place down on Wayfare?” 

“As if there’s any other pho place,” Nari sasses.

“Shit, I could go for some of that too.”

“Then get it yourself, we’re discussing girl’s night, Jae. You’re not invited.”

You can’t help but grin to yourself at their bickering. 

Soon you’re pulling up in front of your houses. When Jaehyun takes your luggage out of the back, you grab the handle, offering him a small smile. “Thanks for this, I can take it from here.”

“Have fun tonight,” he tells you.

“With your sister? Always.” 

Five

You haven’t been on skates since last Christmas, and stepping onto the ice makes you wobbly. Nari grabs onto your arm, giggling at your antics. 

“Don’t make fun of me,” you tell her, although you’re grinning at your own ineptitude as well.

“I’m not,” she insists. “You’re adorable. Jeno’s gonna love this, it will give him an excuse to come hold your hand.”

“Jesus, I already told you I don’t want Jeno-” 

As the words escape your mouth, you catch sight of the Lee cousins. Mark is wearing blue jeans, a red crewneck and a beanie, his cheeks flushed. He’s grinning at the man next to him, the Lee Jeno in question.

Your sentence gets caught in your throat, because damn, even from across the rink, Jeno looks good. Unlike his colorful cousin, Jeno is in full black. Joggers and a hoodie, but even through the thick fabrics, the broad set of his shoulders is undeniable. 

Had everyone gotten hotter in the past few months? 

“Where did you say Jeno ended up going to uni again?” you ask.

Nari grins knowingly. “He went down south somewhere, a lacrosse scholarship, remember?”

Jeno had been a lean jock type in high school, but now, he looks like certified Angus beef, and you want to take a bite. 

You might call Jaehyun puppy these days, but if anyone embodies some good labrador retriever energy, it’s the two cousins who catch your eye and come skating over. 

Your heart begins to thunder in your rib cage, and suddenly, the winter jacket you’re wearing feels much too hot and heavy- or maybe that’s just you.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Nari beams, looking Mark up and down. “Didn’t think I’d see you again so soon.”

The hockey player gives your best friend a look, “I mean, I did tell you I’d be here every day, didn’t I?” 

You can see Nari begin to flounder next to you. “She mentioned Jeno would be in town, so I insisted we come today,” you say smoothly, catching the younger Lee’s eye. “I guess I was wondering how your lacrosse scholarship was going.”

“Yeah?” Jeno grins. “I can tell you all about it.” He holds his arm out to you, and with one final smile to Nari, you accept his offer, wobbling a little as you join Jeno and begin to skate around the rink. “Where should I start?”

“Wherever you want, I don’t know much about lacrosse.”

“Well…” Jeno takes a deep breath, and then he launches into a rundown of his team's wins and losses, giving all sorts of details and using lingo that you can hardly keep track of. It’s the most you can do to watch your footing and not slip while latched onto his large bicep.

In the periphery, you can hear Nari and Mark chatting behind you. You’re happy she’s finally getting some time with her crush, even if it means you have to take one for the team and entertain Jeno… although, he’s doing a pretty good job entertaining himself.

“Anyways,” Jeno sighs, “enough about me, how has your first term been treating you?”

“It’s been great!” you smile. “I love my classes, my teachers are very good at what they do-”

“How about your personal life? New friends, boyfriends-” Jeno trails off.

You find yourself giggling. “Wow, Jeno, that was smooth.”

His ears turn pink, and he adjusts your hand on his arm, pulling you closer. “I’ll take that as a no?”

“You should take it as a… it’s complicated.”

“Most things are,” Jeno nods. “But they don’t have to be.”

“They don’t?”

“Sometimes it can be as simple as I think you’re hot, you think I’m hot, lets see what happens.” 

“Is that what you want?” you ask. “To see what happens between us?”

“I’m definitely curious about it… and I feel like you are too.”

You open your mouth to say something, and that’s when you catch sight of Jaehyun. He’s leaning by the opening to the rink, arms crossed over his chest. The white cardigan he has on was a Christmas present from his mother last year, and his jeans are black. He looks extremely striking, as always, and he’s staring right at you, a smirk on his lips.

“I uh…” you swallow thickly, considering letting go of Jeno’s arm-

Behind you, Mark’s voice gets louder. “You really think you can skate faster than me?”

“We should race,” Nari insists.

“You’re so on.” 

A moment later, the two are whipping by you and Jeno, giggling like children. The distraction makes Jeno perk up, and you feel his muscles flex under your fingers.

“You should join them,” you suggest, seeing it as your only easy way out of this situation.

“Are you sure? Won’t you fall?”

“I’ll be okay,” you insist. “Seriously, I know you want to.”

“You’re the best,” Jeno grins. And then he does something you never would have expected him to do. He leans down and presses his lips to your cheek.

As suddenly as he’d made his move, he’s darting off, and you’re left shocked in his wake.

You freeze where you are, and then you begin to wobble. Your skates slip on the ice and your arms fly out, trying to help you balance-

But it’s no use, after a few seconds of sliding around, you begin to fall backward-

Strong arms catch you, and you find yourself clutched to Jaehyun’s chest while he looks down at you. “Hey, Angel.”

“Puppy-” you gasp, clinging tightly to his woven cardigan. 

He helps you straighten, only to pull you tighter to his body, leaning forward so his lips brush by your ear when he says, “I wanna kiss you so fucking bad.” 

“Jae-”

“It’s only fair, isn’t it? Jeno just got to kiss your cheek, why can’t I?”

“We can’t do this here-”

“You’re right,” he nods, pulling away from you, “let's go somewhere private.”

Your whole body is alight with tingling energy. You’re drawn to Jaehyun like a moth to a flame, and it takes every ounce of your self-control to pull away from him- although, you latch onto his arm a moment later when you begin to slip again.

“Puppy,” you say in a hushed tone, “we talked about this.”

“We never talked about Jeno flirting with you in front of me,” Jaehyun points out, beginning to lead you toward the wall of the ice rink where you’ll be able to grab the ledge for support. 

“I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s not your fault. He has to learn his place.”

“God, you’re so jealous,” you laugh. Your best friend’s brother doesn’t usually act this way, at his frat, everyone knows you’re his, no one would dare come near you- but here, in your hometown, surrounded by past crushes and would be romancables, it’s open season, and it’s clear that it’s making Jaehyun uncomfortable. 

“I’m protective,” he corrects you. 

You make it to the edge of the rink and you grab onto the side, steadying yourself and turning to look out at the ice. Mark is easy to spot in his red crewneck, making a fast lap with Nari and Jeno quick on his heels. God, you’d really held them all up with your wobbly skating.

“They look like they’re having fun,” Jaehyun notes, following your gaze.

“Yeah, Nari’s always been good on the ice.”

Jaehyun laughs. “That’s what five years of figure skating will do to you.” 

“I wouldn’t be able to stand it, my feet are already hurting from these skates and I just got here.” 

“I could always offer to take you home, we could get some alone time.” Jaehyun moves closer to you, and it takes everything for you to not lean against his shoulder. 

“I’d love to, but-”

“But this is girl’s time,” he finishes your sentence for you. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Jaehyun sighs. “Nari has missed you. I don’t blame her for that.”

A minute later, your best friend stops in front of you with the Lee boys in tow. “Ready for another go around the rink?” she asks.

“I’m just slowing you guys down, maybe I should just… stand here,” you suggest.

“I’ll keep her company,” Jaehyun smiles, and you don’t miss the way his eyes shift to Jeno, who straightens under his gaze. 

“Or we could go grab some apple cider from the food truck,” Jeno pipes up. “Mark and I have been here a while, I’m done with skating if you are.” 

Nari looks at you, then at Mark, then to Jeno- you’re not really sure how to respond yourself.

“Apple cider sounds perfect right now,” Jaehyun says smoothly. “It will be my treat. But hey, Nari, I know you love skating, how about you stick around here with Mark for a while? Looked like you two were enjoying yourselves.”

“Uh… I mean, if that’s okay with you?” Nari reaches out for your hand. “We’ll do a few more laps then we can come join?”

“Whatever you want,” you nod, squeezing her fingers gently. 

“Okay, well,” a grin appears on her face and she sneaks a glance at Mark before looking at you and her brother again, “I guess we’ll meet you in the parking lot.”

As she and the hockey player dart away, you push off from the wall, only to begin wobbling. Two sets of steady hands grab your arms and you find yourself squished between Jeno and Jaehyun.

“Easy there, angel,” Jaehyun breathes.

Jeno tightens his grip on you but doesn’t say anything, and they help you off the ice. 

You can feel the tension in the air, and it only gets thicker as you try to find somewhere to sit to take off your skates amongst the young families all lacing up to get in the rink. It’s Jaehyun who nabs you a seat, insisting you’re the first to get your skates off. But he doesn’t stop there, as you struggle with the tight knots, Jaehyun gets down on a knee, brushing your hands aside.

“Looks like Nari did these up for you, huh?” he muses with a grin on his face.

“Yeah, something about tight laces for ankle safety,” you huff, leaning back and allowing him to do the work.

Jaehyun opens his mouth to respond to you, but Jeno beats him to it. “So you two are pretty close, huh?”

You exchange a look with your best friend’s brother. “Well, I mean- we grew up together,” you point out.

“Right, neighbors, I forgot about that.” Jeno nods to himself. “And you’re at the same uni now?”

“Yup,” Jaehyun says flatly, pulling your first skate off while you let out a sigh of relief. 

“See much of each other?” the lacrosse player asks. 

“In passing,” you lie, and it makes Jaehyun smirk to himself as he continues to your second skate. 

Jeno doesn’t question you further, and as soon as you’re free of the torture devices that had been strapped to your feet, you dart to the skate counter to retrieve your shoes, leaving the two alpha males to their own devices. 

When Jaehyun and Jeno find you again, they’re chatting easier now- some shared love for a sports team. It allows you some reprieve as you all head outside and get in line at the food truck. 

It’s odd to be in a situation like this. Two gorgeous, beefy, tall men on either side of you- this would have been a dream of yours back in high school, but now, it falls oddly flat. 

Mark and Nari join you by the time you make it to the front of the line, and Jaehyun buys a round of apple ciders despite the Lee cousins protesting. “It’s the least I could do for the guys who entertained these two goofballs before I showed up,” Jaehyun insists, nudging his sister playfully.

The conversation quickly returns to sports, and Nari pulls you aside. “So…” she grins. “How was Jeno time?”

“How was Mark time?” you counter. 

“He’s just as cute and sweet as I remember,” Nari practically swoons. “I’m so happy Jaehyun decided to cockblock you and not me- but Jeno likes you, I’m sure of it.”

“Can we drop this whole Jeno thing?” you groan, eyes darting over her shoulder to the group of men who are still talking about football of all topics.

“He’s so hot though! Why are you being like this?” 

“I told you, I don’t want anything long distance.” and also I’m in love with your brother. 

Nari crinkles her nose with distaste. “You’re no fun.”

Your gaze shifts to Jaehyun, and he flashes you a small wink that makes your heart race in your chest. 

This whole thing is getting out of hand.

Six

It’s very hard to focus on your gingerbread house with Jaehyun hovering around the kitchen. He’s come and looked in the fridge about six different times, you’ve watched him down three beers, eat an orange cup, a few pieces of beef jerky, and then grab a bag of chips.

“Did you guys not have dinner or something?” you find yourself asking with a laugh.

“Huh?” Nari looks up from her immaculate creation, then swivels in her chair to eye her brother. “Actually, that’s a good question, why are you eating so much?”

“Are you two fat-shaming me?” Jaehyun questions before plopping more chips in his mouth. 

“Oh my god, Jae, fuck off-” Nari rolls her eyes.

The football player grins. “If you must know, I’m bulking. I’m allowed to bulk, aren’t I? I was at the gym for three hours this morning.”

“That doesn’t sound healthy,” Nari muses.

“Yeah? Well, look at these.” Jaehyun’s in a muscle shirt, and as he lifts his arms to flex, you find yourself beginning to drool. You have to tear your eyes off of him, your skin heating with excitement.

God, you want him so bad-

“Put your guns away, Jesus, neither of us want to see that!” Nari screeches. 

Jaehyun only grins, approaching the two of you at the dinner table. “Nice gingerbread houses.”

“We’re almost done,” Nari smiles, inspecting her perfect little edible art project. 

“What’s next for girl’s night?” Jaehyun asks, leaning over his sister’s chair.

“Christmas movies,” you respond, trying to focus on your own craft despite Jaehyun’s eyes being glued to you.

“Sounds fun.” 

You reach for your martini, and you can feel Jaehyun watching that too.

“How much have you guys had to drink?” Your best friend’s brother questions.

“Who are you? The party police? God, Jae, just leave us alone,” Nari groans.

“Fine, have it your way.” Jaehyun straightens again. “Just pace yourselves okay?”

You wonder, as the night continues, the motives behind Jaehyun’s warning. Nari generally does the opposite of what her brother asks her to do, and true to form, she ends up drinking much more than she’d initially planned.

By the time you settle into the living room to watch a movie, she’s hiccuping, her skin all flushed as she cuddles under a soft blanket. “Stupid Jaehyun,” she groans, “telling me not to drink. Who does he think he is?”

“He’s just watching out for us,” you sigh, scrolling through Netflix to find the movie you’d agreed on.

“Why’s he have to be such a big brother party pooper all the time?” Nari asks. “He’s so lame.”

You can’t help but smile. And you can’t agree with her either, a small sound of semi-affirmation is all you can muster. 

You’re not fifteen minutes into the movie when you hear soft footfalls behind the couch, and you turn to see Jaehyun leaning over you. “Hi,” he grins.

Your eyes dart to Nari, who is passed out in the corner of the couch. Alcohol has always made her sleepy, and you wonder if this was Jaehyun’s plan all along.

“Can I join you?” he asks. 

“As long as you don’t wake her up,” you whisper after a few moments of contention.

Jaehyun comes around the couch and you wiggle over to make room for him in the middle. He sits down carefully, allowing you to adjust the blankets over you both. His arm immediately falls around your shoulders, and you can’t help the sigh that slips out of you.

“Missed you,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Missed you too,” you admit.

His free hand finds your thigh under the blanket and you shift nervously. 

“Puppy-”

“Nari is asleep. We both know what happens when she drinks. She’s out cold, angel.” Jaehyun’s angled towards you now, his lips ghosting past your throat.

“What about your parents?”

“They’re at a Christmas party, they won’t be home till the AM.” He nuzzles your ear and the contact makes you shiver, turning slightly toward him while he parts your thighs. “Can I touch you?”

“You’re already touching me,” you breathe.

“You know what I mean.” His fingers toy with the waistband of your sweatpants. “Tell me to stop.”

You can only release a small sigh of pleasure as he kisses your throat again, abusing your sweet spot while his hand slips under your pants, bypassing your panties too.

“Fuck, angel, you’re already so wet,” he moans in your ear. “Such a dirty girl, letting your best friend’s brother touch you like this while she sleeps next to us.”

You hate that his words turn you on even more. Hate that your entire pussy tingles with interest, his index finger brushing over your clit and making your mind hazy. 

“Have you missed this as much as I have?” he asks.

“It’s been two days puppy, we’ve gone longer-”

“That’s not the point,” Jaehyun insists, slipping one digit into your tight pussy, stroking your aching walls while you struggle to hold your moans at bay. “It’s torture, being this close to you and having to pretend we’re not-” His voice catches, and his breath is hot against your skin.

“Not what?” you whimper.

“Not totally obsessed with each other,” he says finally, adding a second finger to work you open.

“Only one of us is obsessed, puppy.”

“Yeah? Your pussy says otherwise, angel. You’re practically dripping on my hand.” 

“Please-”

“Please what? Close already?” Jaehyun applies pressure to your clit with his palm, pumping his digits into you even harder.

“We can’t-” you swallow thickly. “I can’t-”

“Can’t what? Cum while Nari sleeps next to us? I’m sure you can angel, she never has to know, that’s what you keep saying, right?”

“Puppy,” you open your eyes, reaching up to cup his face. “The bathroom.”

Jaehyun pulls his hand from your pants immediately. “After you.” 

You catch him licking his fingers clean as you stand from the couch, careful not to wake Nari as you tiptoe to the bathroom down the hall, Jaehyun hot on your heels. 

You’re quick to turn the light and fan on, hoping to muffle any noise. The moment the bathroom door is closed and locked behind you, Jaehyun has you pressed against it. His lips are hot against your own and he quickly tugs your pants down to your knees. You try to thread your fingers through his hair only for him to capture your wrists, pinning them above you while his free hand slips between your legs again.

His digits slide into you easily, and your back arches, thighs twitching. “Fuck, puppy-” 

“I’ve missed watching you cum,” Jaehyun groans. “Wanna make you cum like this before I fuck you properly. You can do that for me, right? Cum on my fingers? I think I deserve it after having to watch you and Jeno yesterday.”

The mention of Jeno has your stomach twisting into knots, your orgasm building much too quickly as Jaehyun works you open, his palm firm on your clit.

“Come on, angel,” his grip on your wrist tightens, “I can feel you tensing up, just let go for me.”

You bite into your lower lip as you cum, your core throbbing while Jaehyun works you through it. You’re doing your best to muffle your own sounds but it’s difficult with the amount of pleasure coursing through you.

You can feel Jaehyun watching you intently, can feel his heavy breaths on your skin as his fingers thrust in and out of your gushing pussy.

“So fucking perfect,” he groans. 

“Puppy-” you whimper, desperation overtaking you.

“Yeah?”

“Fuck me? Please?” All your inhibitions have flown out the bathroom window. All you want now is Jaehyun. 

“Thought you’d never ask,” Jaehyun grins. 

He lets go of your wrists and you move to the sink, lifting yourself up and onto it while Jaehyun works on his belt. Your skin tingles, your eyes fixed on the bulge pressing against denim. As soon as he’s pushed his pants down, releasing his aching cock, you’re grabbing at him to pull him close, lining him up with your core-

“Fuck!” Nari’s voice is loud on the other side of the door. “Oh my god, Y/N, open up!”

You freeze for a moment, but when loud banging begins, you jump into overdrive. 

You push Jaehyun away from you, hopping off the sink to pull up your sweatpants- “Get in the shower,” you whisper at him before turning your attention to the door, “One moment!” 

The next thing you do is flush the toilet, then turn on the faucet while Jaehyun clamors into the tub, still fumbling with his pants while you close the curtain. 

“Oh my God-” you hear again, and your heart thunders in your rib cage, realization overtaking you.

You unlock the door quickly, throwing it open just in time for Nari to stumble past you to the toilet. She sinks to her knees, a gagging sound filling the room as the consequences of her drinking are brought up. 

“Nari,” you sigh, immediately moving to grab her hair, pulling it away from her face while she pukes. 

There’s nothing else to be said, nothing else to be done while you take care of your best friend, her brother hiding in the shower with his cock probably still hard and aching. 

As things begin to settle for Nari a short while later, you stroke her back. “Feeling better?”

She nods, letting out a pitiful groan. 

“Do you want to stay in here? Or do you think we can go to the kitchen so I can grab you some water and crackers for your stomach?”

Nari takes a moment to consider it, and then she mumbles, “Kitchen.” 

You help her to her feet, supporting her out of the bathroom. When you reach the kitchen, you take her to the sink just in case anything else comes up, and you hurry to get her some water.

As you hand her the cup, Jaehyun stumbles into the kitchen. “Are you two okay? I heard noises.”

“She just had a little too much to drink,” you explain softly, still rubbing Nari’s back.

“Well, I hate to say it, but I told you to watch your liquor tonight,” Jaehyun grins.

Nari glares at her brother over the rim of her cup. “Fuck off and die.” 

Seven 

The Jeong family Christmas party is always one of the best nights of the year. You arrived early to help prep appetizers, and you’d been in the house not five minutes before Nari forced you into an ugly Christmas sweater - as per her family tradition.

Now, as the house is full of all sorts of people, you feel like an absolute mess with the stupid reindeer on your chest. Although, to be fair, Nari’s is even worse. And Jaehyun’s? Maybe the most hideous of them all- however, his handsome face is more than enough to make up for it.

Jaehyun’s clearly pent-up, and it’s obvious he doesn’t give a shit about your ugly Christmas sweater. He keeps looking at you as if he wants to throw you against the wall and fuck you stupid with the entire party watching, and you’ve done your best to avoid him all night.

It doesn’t help that Jeno and Mark have shown up, the hockey player distracting Nari and leaving you open to the younger Lee, who keeps finding excuses to start a conversation with you. 

“So when do you head back to uni?” Jeno asks, leaning closer as he nurses the beer in his hand.

“On the twenty-sixth.”

“Shit, in two days?”

“Uh huh.”

Jeno cocks his head to the side. “You couldn’t stay longer?” 

“I’m actually moving into my own place on January first, so I’ve gotta get home and pack and prep for classes next term, that sort of thing,” you explain.

“Sucks. It would have been nice to spend some more time with you.”

You notice then that his beer is empty, and instead of responding to his statement, you suggest getting him another round. When you move to the fridge, you find that all the Corona’s are gone, so you excuse yourself to grab more from the cooler out on the back deck, hoping for some reprieve.

It’s a cold night, your breath hanging in the air as you open the cooler, reaching down for the beer you need.

You hear the door open behind you, the noise of the party getting loud only for it to be muffled again when the door is shut once more. “I’ll just be a second,” you call, expecting it to be Jeno who’s followed you outside, however, when you turn, it’s not Jeno’s chest you bump into, it’s Jaehyun’s.

“Hey, angel.”

You let out a sigh, looking up at his handsome face. “Hi, puppy.” His arms wrap around you, and you let out a groan. “What are you doing?”

“It’s cold out here, I’m warming you up,” he insists, dimples on display as he grins. “Also, I found something inside.”

“Yeah? What did you find?”

Jaehyun reaches into his pocket, pulling out something small and green. “Mistletoe.” 

He doesn’t even bother holding it over your head, he simply cups the back of your head with one hand and draws your lips to his own. 

This is the worst place to be kissing Jaehyun. Anyone could open the door from the kitchen and find the two of you making out, but you also can’t say no to him anymore, not when your entire body is yearning for him in a way that you can’t even put into words.

You melt in his embrace, kissing him back. 

His tongue glides against your lower lip, and you open your mouth, accepting him into you while he releases a low groan, tugging you closer to his warm body. 

There’s a shattering sound inside, and a scream, then laughter, and the commotion causes you to pull away from Jaehyun, looking over his shoulder toward the door.

“We should go back inside,” you sigh.

“For Jeno to keep flirting with you?” Jaehyun scoffs. “I’m not a huge fan of that idea.”

“As if you weren’t talking to Irene earlier, don’t think I didn’t notice her arrive an hour ago.”

“There’s a difference between me and Irene, and you and Jeno.”

“Yeah? What’s that?” you laugh.

“I don’t give a fuck about Irene anymore, but with you and Jeno, I’m not so sure.”

Your heart tightens in your chest. “Jae-”

“Puppy,” he corrects you.

“Puppy,” you sigh, “there’s nothing between me and Jeno. I’ve been trying to avoid him all night.”

“Not as hard as you’ve been avoiding me.”

“Yeah, because you look at me like you want to bend me over the next horizontal surface and fuck me stupid!” you laugh.

“Are you a mind reader now, angel?” Jaehyun grins.

“Something like that,” you shake your head at his antics, patting his chest with your free hand. “Seriously, I’m getting cold, we should go inside.”

“Fine,” Jaehyun sighs, releasing you. “You can head in first, I’ll give it a minute before following.”

You can’t help but give him one final kiss, a kiss that lingers before you tear yourself away, brushing past him to enter the warmth of the house again.

Jeno is still standing in the kitchen, and you hold out a Corona as you approach. “Here.”

“Can I ask you something?” Jeno watches you add a few more beers to the fridge. 

“Of course.”

“When you said your love life is complicated… it’s Jae, isn’t it?” 

Your skin tingles as you close the fridge, turning to match Jeno’s gaze. “I uh-” You swallow thickly, looking around to make sure no one is listening before you lean in closer to the lacrosse player. “Was it that obvious?”

“No… and also sort of. There were signs, like, the way he just followed you outside, but I actually asked a friend about you,” Jeno admits.

“A friend?”

“Yeah, I uh, went to lacrosse summer camp with this dude for a few years, turns out he’s a pledge in Jaehyun’s frat. He confirmed things.”

“Which pledge?” 

“Promise he won’t get in trouble?” Jeno laughs.

“Cross my heart.”

“His name is Jaemin. He says you and Jaehyun have been a thing since the start of the year. He said it seemed pretty serious.” Jeno studies your face, and you’re not sure what he’s really looking for from you in regard to a response. “I guess… I guess I’m just wondering why you two aren’t open about it here, or at least, why you aren’t as open about it as you seem to be at the frats.”

“He’s my best friend’s brother,” you say quietly.

“You really think Nari would care about something like this?” Jeno asks.

“She’s very… competitive about my time,” you explain. “And as I said, this is her brother we’re talking about. Their relationship is… complicated”

“Most family dynamics are,” Jeno concedes. “But if you ask me, I don’t think she’d have that big of an issue with it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you sigh, although you’re not sure how well Jeno knows Nari.

“Listen, now that you’ve made it clear you’re into someone else, I’ll leave you alone,” Jeno says finally. “I didn’t mean to step on any toes.”

“You didn't,” you assure him. “How were you supposed to know about Jaehyun? It’s not your fault. No harm, no foul.”

“I mean, I did kiss your cheek, which feels pretty innocent, but looking back now- Jaehyun was totally watching when I did that,” Jeno laughs. 

“Okay, maybe there was a little harm,” you admit, joining him with a giggle, “but seriously, don’t worry about it. I’m the one who has to sort this whole Jae thing out, not you.”

“Good luck with it, really.” Jeno reaches out and gently squeezes your shoulder, offering you one more smile before he turns and disappears into the other room.

Nari finds you a short while later, explaining that the Lee cousins had left. She gives you a complete rundown on Mark while the two of you sip wine and giggle by the fireplace. Other people begin to dissipate as the night goes on, and soon, you find yourself heading to the door. 

Your best friend gives you a tight hug, and then you catch sight of her brother over her shoulder.

“Leaving already?” he asks.

“I’m pretty tired,” you admit.

“You can’t say goodbye without hugging at least two of the hosts, and seeing as our parents are in the kitchen discussing land equity, I guess that leaves you with me,” Jaehyun grins, holding his arms open for you.

“Jesus, Jae, you’re such a dog,” Nari rolls her eyes.

With a laugh, and a shake of your head, you step into Jaehyun’s embrace, hating how your body reacts to him. You’re aware of Nari standing just a few feet away, but you can’t help the way you lean closer to his ear. “Goodnight, puppy.”

Jaehyun’s body tenses slightly, and you pull out of the hug, offering him a small smile.

“Goodnight, y/n.” 

It feels weird to hear him actually call you by your name instead of calling you angel. 

You don’t like it, and the feeling sticks with you while you head next door to your own house.

After a quick hello to your mother, and an acknowledgment that your dad is still at the Jeong Christmas Eve party, you go upstairs, ready to go to bed. Only, as soon as you enter your room, your phone begins to ring, and you pull it from your pocket.

“Hey, puppy,” you laugh. “Miss me already?”

“Look out your window.”

Your gaze lifts, heart already picking up speed. 

Growing up with Jaehyun’s room directly across from your own had led to a few tense moments in your teens. One day, you’d seen him fresh from a shower, towel low on his hips- but other than a few near-naked moments, you’d done your best not to be a peeping tom. It’s interesting to have him directing you to be nosey, and you approach the window with your phone held tight in your hand.

Jaehyun’s standing in his room, and he waves his fingers at you. “I didn’t think we’d be reduced to this,” he admits, “but fuck it, if this is the only way I can have you tonight, then I guess phone sex is my new best friend.”

“Phone sex, huh?” you laugh. 

“You got to cum with me yesterday, but I didn’t, and I’m feeling it, angel.” As if to prove his point, Jaehyun’s free hand slides down his chest to his pants, and he grips his cock through the fabric. “You’re making me crazy.”

“I’m not doing anything, puppy. You’re the one being insatiable. I’m just a good girl in her bedroom while her neighbor watches and touches himself.” 

“I shouldn’t be the only one having fun though,” Jaehyun says, and you can hear his breathing getting heavier already while he palms himself through his pants. “How about you lift that stupid fucking reindeer sweater and show me those tits I love so much?”

“Yeah? Is that really what you want, puppy?” You grab the hem of the ugly sweater, slowly lifting it to reveal a strip of your abdomen. 

“Fuck, why haven’t we been doing this every night since we got here?” Jaehyun groans, stepping closer to his window to get a better look at you.

“We’ve been busy,” you remind him, allowing the fabric to drop down again. “I’m actually pretty tired-”

“If we don’t do this on the phone, I’ll be forced to come over there, explain to your mother that you’re my evasive little tease of a fuck toy, and rail you in your bedroom.”

The thought makes your pussy throb with desire. “We can’t have that, now can we?”

“So be a good girl, angel, and take off your sweater.”

“Take off yours,” you counter.

Jaehyun doesn’t waste a moment, he tears the fabric off his body, muscles rippling under unblemished skin. 

Fuck, you’ve missed him too, but you haven’t allowed yourself to acknowledge just how much you’ve missed him until this very moment. 

You follow suit, taking off the ugly Christmas sweater.

“Bra too,” he says, voice husky as his hand returns to his cock.

Unlike Jaehyun, you haven’t mastered the art of removing your bra with one hand, so you put your phone on speaker and set it on the windowsill. You’re slow with your motions, flashing your best friend’s brother a flirty grin as you reach behind your back. 

“Fuck-” he groans, watching one strap slip off, then the other. As you drop the bra to the floor, Jaehyun pulls down his pants, and your mouth begins to water at the sight of his cock.

You wish you were closer to him, wish you could see the pretty vein that runs along the underside of his dick-

“I want you in my mouth, puppy,” you admit.

“Angel-” Jaehyun moans, wrapping his hand around his girth. 

“Wanna suck you off till you see stars,” you continue, reaching up to grab your breasts, teasing your fingers over your nipples, and letting out a shaky breath.

“I wanna eat you out till your thighs are shaking around my head and you’re squirting all over my tongue.”

You immediately fumble with your pants, pushing them down around your ankles and then your panties too. 

“Tell me how wet you are,” Jaehyun commands as you bring your digits to your clit, swiping through your pussy lips to collect the moisture there.

“I’m drenched, puppy, and I’ve been drenched since that kiss we had by the cooler outside.” 

“You should’a let me fuck you,” he says smugly.

“Puppy-”

“I know, I know.” You hear him swallow thickly. “Rub your clit for me, and don’t be gentle. I’m way too horny to last- had a wet dream about you last night and I can’t get you out of my head.”

“Tell me about the dream?” you urge, applying pressure to the sensitive bud between your thighs.

“We were back in my room at the frat,” he starts. “No one was gonna bug us. No sisters or pledges. Just you and me. I took my time with you, letting you grind on my thigh in your sweatpants till you were begging for me to get you naked and do whatever I wanted to you.”

“And then?”

“Stripped you, got between your thighs, made you scream, made you cry and drool and say please-” You can see his hand picking up speed on his cock, and your pussy throbs as you work your clit. “Finally gave you my cock, folded you like a fucking pretzel, and gave you everything you wanted.”

You slip a digit into your pussy, releasing a frustrated groan. 

“I know that sound, angel. What? Fingers not big enough for you?” Jaehyun laughs.

“Nothing is big enough except your cock,” you whimper, quickly adding a second. 

“True, but you’ll still cum for me, right? I wanna watch you cum.”

You bring your second hand to your clit, and the moment you touch it, electric tingles erupt across your skin.

His dirty talk - as well as the fact that you haven’t fucked him in a few days - has you close to the edge already. 

“I wanna watch you cum too,” you tell him. “Wish you were cumming inside me though, filling me up just right-”

“Fuck, that perfect fucking pussy squeezing me for all I’m worth-”

“Puppy,” you whimper, feeling your emotions building with your orgasm.

“Yeah, angel, I’m there too- gonna be good and cum with me, right? Gonna let me watch you as you fuck yourself with your fingers wishing it was my cock inside you-”

“Jae-”

“Puppy, call me puppy, angel- fuck,” he groans loudly and the sound goes straight to your core, which pulses around your fingertips. 

You can’t hold off any longer, your orgasm hits you like a ton of bricks. A strangled gasp escapes you, your eyes closing, head falling back as white-hot energy surges through you.

Jaehyun releases his own sound of pleasure, panting hard on the other end of the line. Muffled moans and whimpers ensue as you work yourselves through your highs, your body aching for Jaehyun to be there with you instead of in his room next door.

As your orgasm passes, you slowly come to a stop, opening your eyes again to stare at your best friend’s brother. He’s already wiping away his cum with a tissue, and he flashes you a wink. 

In retaliation for the flush that immediately consumes you from such a small act, you take your fingers from your pussy, lifting them to your lips.

“Jesus, angel,” Jaehyun moans, his motions coming to a stop as he watches you. 

“Bet you can’t wait to taste me again, puppy.”

“I can still come over.”

“Not a chance in hell.”

“It was worth a shot, though, huh?” he laughs.

“Goodnight, Jaehyun.”

“You don’t wanna stay on call? Maybe Facetime while you fall asleep or something?”

“I’ve gotta shower-”

“Take your phone with you.”

It’s so hard to say no to him, so you don’t. 

His eager encouragements and filthy mouth help you cum two more times - once in the shower and once in bed - before you finally pass out while on Facetime with the man who owns your heart.

Eight

Nari knows you well. Better than almost anyone, and because of this, gift-giving with her is always easy. She gets you a box set of your favorite perfume before opening the present you’d gotten for her (skincare from her favorite Korean brand). 

As you settle onto her couch afterward, however, you realize just how well she knows you.

“So… what’s going on with you and Jae?”

“Hmm?” You nearly choke on your wine.

“You called him puppy last night.” You stare blankly at her. “As you were leaving. At first, I thought it had to do with me calling him a dog right before that, but… I don’t know, it felt too natural, and he seemed way too happy and smiley afterward.”

“I didn’t uh…” you swallow thickly, “I didn’t realize you’d heard that.”

“I bet you didn’t,” Nari shakes her head knowingly. “The more I thought about it, the more everything seemed to be natural between the two of you. Him helping you with your bags when I picked you up from the airport, him buying us all apple cider at the rink- the way he helped you on the ice. Even the way he hung around while we did our gingerbread houses. There’s something between you two, isn’t there? You guys are too natural together for there not to be something.”

“I mean… he’s your brother-”

“And he’s annoying, and lame, and a loser- but if you can look past all that, well… he’s a good guy at heart. And I’ve always wanted you to end up with a good guy.”

You can’t believe the words coming out of Nari’s mouth.

“There is something,” Nari states after your silence lasts a moment too long. 

“Nari, I wanted to tell you-”

“I get why you didn’t, but seriously, fuck that, tell me everything!” 

You’re shocked that she’s practically wiggling with excitement. As if this isn’t her older brother you’re talking about.

“What do you want to know?” you ask finally.

“When did it start? How did it start? Is he actually good to you? Does he stalk you on snapmaps?”

Her flurry of questions are almost too much to keep track of, and you set your wine glass down to get your bearings. “He’s good to me,” you admit. “Almost too good- and yeah, he still stalks me on snapmaps.”

“That creep!” Nari laughs. “So he’s like obsessed obsessed.” 

“I guess so.” Your skin heats at the admission.

“You know what, I can’t believe I’m saying this but you two are kind of cute together. But, if he breaks your heart, you get me in the divorce and I’ll disown him.”

You giggle at how serious Nari is about this. “Deal.”

As the word leaves your mouth, the back door opens and Jaehyun trudges inside, a bundle of wood in his arms. There’s snow in his pretty dark hair, and his cheeks are pink from the cold. He looks up and flashes you both a smile as he kicks off his boots. “Thought you guys might want to get the fireplace going today so I chopped some provisions.”

All week, you’ve been hiding your affection for this absolute puppy of a man, but you don’t have to do that anymore.

You stand from the couch, smiling warmly at him. “She knows, puppy.”

“She knows?” he repeats, freezing in place. He looks from you to his sister, then back at you again. 

A huge smile appears over his face and he drops the firewood, practically running at you, hopping over the couch and nearly whacking Nari in the process only to wrap his arms around you and pull you into a tight hug. He spins you around the Jeong family living room, burying his face in your hair.

“We don’t have to hide anymore!” he yells in your ear.

“No more hiding,” you agree as he sets you down, only to cup your face and kiss you deeply. Your skin flares at the realization that you’re doing this in front of his sister, but Jaehyun doesn’t seem to have a care in the world.

When he breaks away from you, he turns to Nari, grinning triumphantly. “This is my girlfriend!”

“Wait, you two are like, official official?” Nari asks.

“We are now,” Jaehyun states, but he falters, turning to you. “We are, right?”

“Yes, puppy, I’ll be your girlfriend,” you laugh.

He kisses you again, grinning the whole time, and you can’t help but smile as well. 

“Fuck, you two are really cute,” Nari groans. 

“This is the best Christmas present ever,” Jaehyun announces.

Nari rolls her eyes. “I’m not gifting you my best friend! Jesus, Jaehyun, get a life!” 

“She’s my gift, no takebacks,” your puppy boyfriend insists, staring at you with stars in his eyes.

“You know what, we always did say we wanted to be sisters,” Nari sighs. “I guess we can officially welcome you to the Jeong’s now.”

“We’re not getting married-” you protest.

“Not yet, anyways,” Jaehyun quips, earning an elbow to the ribs. 

“Yeah! Put him in his place!” Nari cheers. 

Jaehyun holds you closer, bringing his lips to your ear. “Does this mean I can take you upstairs and fuck you now?”

“Fucking hell-” Nari squeals, “do neither of you know how to whisper?! I did not need to hear that!”

“Then you should find some headphones, because this one can be kind of loud.” Jaehyun pokes your stomach and you slap his hand away.

“Fine, shit,” Nari rolls her eyes, “look, as your best friend,” her eyes find yours, “I’ll give you half an hour to fuck my brother before I demand you come back downstairs for our usual Christmas festivities, deal?”

Before you can even answer, Jaehyun is throwing you over his shoulder. “Deal!”

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! I was feeling in the Christmas spirit, and I thought Jae would be so good for this :)

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🔮 preview. “Oh, we’re a hundred percent fucking at the Jeong family Christmas party. I’ve been needing you since dinner, angel. You won’t make me wait any longer, will you?”

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, deep throating, oral, pussy eating, multiple orgasms, soft/romantic sex, dirty talk, mutual orgasm, praise, quickie, slight exhibitionism (fucking upstairs at a party),  I petnames. (hers) angel (his) puppy.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 3k I teaser wc. 200

🌙 staring. Jaehyun x afab!Reader

bonus

“Ya’ll are like a pair of fucking wild animals,” Nari whispers as she takes her seat between you and Jaehyun at the dining table while her parents prepare to bring food from the kitchen for your meal. “You can’t keep your hands off each other for ten minutes to eat a family dinner together- I thought the honeymoon phase was supposed to last a few months and it’s been over a fucking year.”

No one is more shocked than you are that you find yourself at the Jeong house for a second Christmas in a row while still completely enthralled with the oldest Jeong sibling. As supportive as Nari has been, it’s clear she’s salty about her brother getting much of your attention these days, and you can’t say you blame her for that.

This Christmas, you’re spending a week and a half in your hometown, and Jaehyun’s been trying to monopolize on your time with a fire that rivals even his sister’s. 

“You don’t have to sit between us, you know,” Jaehyun quips.

“I think the fuck I do,” Nari retorts with a snort. “This is a PG dinner with our parents you whore.”

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[bitchimasnake-sss]

🌸thinkin' about: men who are insufferable once they find out about your hand kink

💗im talking about men who are insufferable. men who go out of their way to linger their deft fingers along your skin in public places. men who purposefully wear rings just to tease you. men who would purposefully flex their hands when they catch you staring. and they would use this knowledge against you to guide you to your demise. 💗his hand would always be on your body one way or other. when he pulls you in to kiss you, his fingerprints are tight against your throat. he kisses down your body as his fingers roam waywardly across your skin. trailing your spine, dancing against the goosebumps, lightly over your hardened nipples, teasing, teasing. 💗he would fuck you dumb on his fingers and you'd feel the press of cold metallic rings against your hot core. and when you come undone, fluids splattered across his fingers like forbidden art, he would bring them up to shove them past your trembling lips. all while sporting the cockiest smile in the universe. "hm? good girl." he'd hum, pushing his fingers into your mouth, letting you taste yourself all over him. he'd watch awestruck as you suck on his digits, a foreshadowing of the treatment his cock will receive. he'd trail his spit soaked fingers downwards. messy, so fuckin messy. and watch as you keen and buck into his wet, unyielding touches. 💗he would probably touch your thigh out in public, a simple act that has you clenching your thigh shut. he would probably lead you into a mall, ask you to try clothes and fuck you in a dressing room with his hands on your mouth. your bashful gaze will fall upon your half naked form on his lap, your back against his chest. rutting so goddamn desperately on his cock in order to cum, and the way his larger hand refrains you from speaking anything but pants and huffs. and when you'd cum, clenching all over his dick, he would use the same hands to pull your jaw backwards and kiss you senseless as he empties into you. 💗and god when he fucks you, those hands will seek refuge against the fat of your hips or your thighs. those hands will trail up and down. those hands will tip your head upwards till your watery gaze meets his eyes and then he'd have the audacity to smile at what he has ruined. 💗just men who are absolute menaces. who will topple the world to fuck you like they mean it ughh.

applies to: zoro, luffy, ace [one piece]; GOJO, geto, nanami, toji [jjk]; eren, reiner, connie [aot]; totsumoto yuushi [lady k and the sick man]. and all your favs!!!

a/n: divider by @plutism; the mangacap edit by @equaly [panel from the manga: lady k and the sick man]; and as always, thankyou to @dancingintherainwithchifuyu for the idea this is btw a formal ORDER to read lady k and the sick man cause i'm obsessed, im so down bad for this 4 chapter manga holy shittt [if you've read it, aaaaaah you know what i mean] anyways, forever obsessed with men who support your wicked fantasies <3

[sanzaibian]

I should have known better.

You know, those highschool cliques ? The jocks, the nerds, the goths and all... Well, even though nowadays they might not be as clear-cut as they once were, I can assure you that they still existed.

You see, I'm a nerd. But when I say nerd, I mean nerd. Like the whole socially awkward, scrawny and ugly kind of nerd. Also the nasally always-right nerd with top notch marks that reminds the teacher he made a mistake kind of nerd. And also the loves DnD, fantasy and niche interests kind of nerd... well, you get what I mean.

Me being such a caricature meant that I was endlessly teased at school, and was senselessly bullied by the jocks. You know, these hot guys with always a girl in their pants, with big muscles and an obsession with looking good.

I hated it, I hated them, and suffered silently through highschool, until I finally saw the other side when I finally went to university. Although my first years were a bit messed up by Covid, when I was in the building actually studying applied chemistry, I finally wasn't bothered. No one was there to tease me, to bully me or anything else. I could finally live in the class without being bothered !

But, in my third year, Ethan, a guy looking like one of those jocks of old switched courses and came in my class.

I was shocked ! These guys are only good for being hot, playing sports, and entering hot girls' pants ! Not for doing some actual intelligent things like applied chemistry !

But he was even more annoying, that Ethan guy. Because he did not only take the courses I took. No, in fact, he was getting better grades than me. He's so good with polymers that he is the one who asks all the questions and corrects the teacher, not me !

So I tried to avoid him as much as I could. Even when he tried to befriend me, I just scoffed at him, sometimes even mumbling that he should go back to the football stadium. I also talked to the few acquaintances that I had made through awkward bumbling at how I felt he was dumb, and perhaps was only extorting some poor nerds for information to regurgitate in class.

And, one day, at lunch, I just had enough. Ethan and the polymer teacher had an intense debate just before the end of the class, a debate that I couldn't follow. My ego was struck, to the point that I just poured my heart out to the poor people sitting with me. I was seeing red, that day, and nothing could have stopped me... not even the fact that Ethan was there a few tables next to me.

I've since then heard that Ethan was very upset after my tirade, as he is always thought to be dumb due to his interest in being in shape and stylish, while at the same time, I was coming back home all happy to finally have given people a piece of my mind.

However, when I woke back up, I felt weird. I felt heavier, less agile and especially more groggy. As if I just couldn’t quite get up. There was also something cold on my chest that I couldn’t quite identify…

So I did the only logical thing and went to the bathroom to wash my face and properly wake up. But when I saw the mirror, I think what I saw woke me up immediately.

The man behind the mirror was not me. It was a jock – a hot one at that – with big muscles, trendy hair, chiseled face and multiple jewelry. Yet, there were still a few things that signaled me I was looking at myself : the jet black hair, the tan skin, the brown eyes and especially those small pimples on my right cheek and on my right… I guess I can call it pec, now.

I stayed in front of the mirror for quite a while, looking at each corner of my reflection. I couldn’t believe it, and after a long while, decided to just eat breakfast and forget everything that happened. It just isn’t possible.

But when I was going to my kitchen I couldn’t stop being reminded of how I changed. From my heavy step to the sound of my new necklace, and from the pecs I saw in the corner of my eyes to the weird feeling I still felt in my head. When finally reaching it, I was surprised when I didn’t go for my usual biscuits but rather for an apple… I must eat healthily, after all !

After finishing eating breakfast, I went to my closet, and rather than going for the button-up I usually wore, I went for a simple white t-shirt, and went for a jacket that I didn’t feel like closing, in addition to my usual jeans – all suspiciously fitting me well.

And with that, I went to university, set on finding who did that to me.

When I arrived, the weird feeling in my head hadn’t lifted, though I was dead set in finding who was responsible. So dead set that I didn’t notice people turning their head at my arrival. Nor my backpack shifting to only being carried by one shoulder.

After a while, I saw my class, and approached them with heavy gait, swinging my torso with every step like a typical jock. However, curses befell upon me when I opened my mouth and greeted my classmate.

“Yo, bro ! Doin’ good ? I just wanted to ask, bro, anything weird happened since yesterday ?”

I was shocked at how I said that, so much that I covered my mouth with my hand. My classmate was similarly shocked, and only shook her head negatively before excusing herself. Why did she flee like that ?

I clicked my tongue before looking at myself. How had this happened ? Why am I doing weird things ? Why am I talking weirdly ? I can think the sophisticated thoughts, yet when I voice them, they are filtered through bro-speech !

As I was melting down, none other than Ethan came in, smiling. Of course it was him, I shouldn’t have given the benefit of the doubt to him ! I have been only graceful and nice to him, and this is how he repays me ? By turning me into this… hot monstrosity ?

As the anger was rising, Ethan lead me to the bathroom, and there explained himself.

“You know, Juan, you’ve been insufferable ever since we started that semester. Always distrusting me, and making others distrust me. I’ve never know why you were always so angry at me, while you treated others with respect… that is, until you went on a rant yesterday.

- You fucker ! Turn me back right now, or you’ll wish you’ve never been born, you son of bitch !” I didn’t quite expect to be this foul-mouthed…

- Hahaha ! No, I’m sorry, but I can’t. It’s already so unexpected that my prayers were answered to, so you turning back ? No can do !

- Bro that’s not fair, I wasn’t bad to you, man ! You were the one being rude on my turf, bruh !

- So funny ! You now sound like one stereotypical jock in addition to looking like one ! I’m sorry, Juan, but nobody will ever take you seriously in a conference If you talk to them like that !” he laughs.

- Bro, just turn me back… I promise I won’t continue, man !

- What didn’t you understand in ‘No can do’, Juan ? the ‘no’ ?”

I roll my eyes, but he’s right… God that fucking angers me. I want to strangle that piece of shit !

“So, Juan, I guess, see you in class, if you even dare enter it…”

On that, he left. That day, I didn’t go to class, spending my time looking for information on what made me turn like that, until, like clockwork, at 5 PM I felt like I needed to go to the gym…

After a few days of searching and not finding anything at all, I decided to abandon the quest to find myself back and to rather learn to live with this new body. With Ethan stubbornly refusing to tell me how he did it and with my searches on internet only yielding weird fetish pages, I knew it was desperate...

I’ve since started to learn to cope with my strange occurrence, though it has absolutely wrecked my life. After having debated a while with the administration to prove I’m myself, I find my grades slipping, especially due to my newfound rudeness that mess up every single oral exam…

But at least, I’m hot now…

================================================

Hello, thank you for reading my small story, I hope it wasn't too bad !

Please do not hesitate to give me feedback - especially as it is the first real time I'm writing fiction in english ^^'

[queerfables]

'Wilson' as an episode fucking slaps. I'm obsessed with Wilson's complete lack of boundaries and I'm obsessed with the way he acts out to express resentment while still being completely incapable of saying no. He gave a patient part of his liver!! The man is in no way hinged.

For all the emphasis that gets placed on Wilson's failed marriages and infidelity, we don't ever actually see it directly on screen. This is a narrative choice I love, for the record. We see Wilson's relationships through House's eyes and it allows us to understand Wilson as a deeply flawed person without ever making him unlikable, because Wilson's flaws and contradictions are what make him irresistible to House. It's so effective, the way these failed relationships say so much about Wilson's character while being constructed largely out of inference.

In this episode, though, we watch his inability to self advocate play out in real time, and I guarantee that this is what every one of his relationship meltdowns looked like from the inside. On some deep fundamental level, James Wilson doesn't believe "I don't want to" is a valid reason not to do something. You know the fantasy trope of an obedience curse, where the victim is inescapably compelled to obey other people's requests? Wilson casts that spell on his own damn self, and he'll hold true to it even to the point of violating his own bodily autonomy. When you lack boundaries like that, it becomes almost impossible to even know what you truly want, let alone to act on it. So Wilson says yes and yes and yes until it breaks him, and then he still can't say no.

When saying yes feels like surrendering to torture and saying no feels like committing murder, the only option left is escape. So Wilson goes out drinking to trash the liver he's going to donate. He gets dinner with the pretty nurse instead of going home to his wife. All of it is him scrabbling at the bars of his cage. And the irony is that the cage is unlocked, he just has to walk through the open door, and that's the last thing he could ever bring himself to do.

I'm pretty sure that when he went to Cuddy and told her his plan to donate, he wanted her to say no. She almost did! And I think she should have, because her first impulse was right, it is insane. Unfortunately this is the Insane Lack of Boundaries Hospital, and she can't actually be expected to guess when her employee's mouth is saying yes but his eyes are saying dear god no. By the rules of universe that House MD operates within, this doesn't even break a 7 on the "unhinged measures to save a patient" scale, and Wilson invoked the power of friendship. What was she supposed to do?

And through all of this, House is the person Wilson lashes out at. I love, love, love that House is the person Wilson lashes out at. Wilson can't even admit to himself that he's angry about the position he's in. How can he be angry when he's the reason the patient needs a new liver? But House sees right to the heart of everything going on with him, and he says all the things Wilson wants to be true and can't afford to believe. Because if he lets himself believe this wasn't his fault then he might not be able to say yes. And he's going to say yes. And he hates that he's going to say yes. And he hates that House knows he's going to say yes.

So he gets angry with House, because it's safe to get angry with House. He lashes out, because with House, he can. He tells House he's wrong about him, and demands House move out, and that's not at all what he really wants but he feels helpless and coerced and he desperately needs to exercise some kind of control over his own life. The fact that he can let go like this with House is in part about knowing House isn't ever going to leave him - the closeness of their relationship is always defined by what Wilson wants, House has never once pushed Wilson away and fights to reconcile when Wilson wants distance. But it's also about knowing that he can't hurt House by setting boundaries with him. Mostly this is because House will walk right over any boundaries he considers unacceptable, but in fairness, the fact that House is kind of a terrible person is part of his appeal. If Wilson had issues around other people violating his stated wishes, House would be the last person in the world that he should have anything to do with. But Wilson's issues lie in the fear that not being compulsively available and accommodating to everyone around him might permanently fuck up the life of someone he loves. House's fucked up life is never going to be Wilson's fault and even if it was House would still kind of deserve it, so Wilson's anxious people pleasing compulsion can chill the fuck out for five minutes at a time.

I don't want to idealise, there are times in their relationship when Wilson absolutely makes fucked up sacrifices for House. I don't think it's the case that he earnestly wanted to every time. But it's also true that House brings out authenticity in Wilson that few other people manage to. House knows him. House allows him to give in to his selfish impulses without guilt and consequences, and for all the people who love the best in him, House knows and loves his worst. While Wilson is caught up in trying to bend himself into whatever shape someone else needs him to be, what House wants more than anything is the truth. For Wilson, who is so out of touch with his own desires, being an object of fascination to someone obsessed with drives and motivations must be a rush. And if we accept the throughline of this episode, it might just be the case that House's boundary pushing and obsession is something Wilson needs.

[ystrike1]

Concubine Walkthrough - By BongBong (9.5/10)

What if it was all a dream, and that was ok? An entire world dedicated to one love. There is so much darkness in this story. So many messed up questions. AI. Gender identity. Good people dying of illness. Innocent people dying by poison. Giving up on life. Giving away your life for someone else. Every bad thing ever happens, but this is such a happy story. Happiness feels more real when you earn it, after all.

I'm not going to crack any jokes for this one. This particular webtoon has won several prestigious awards. It was written and drawn with passion and talent, and it also happens to be an epic obsessive love story.

It's about a girl who falls into a dating game. A loser. A girl who lost her dad. Her future. Her chance to go to college. She tried to jump out of a window one day, and a friend with a crush on her saved her. Another friend offered her a chance. A life in a virtual world.

She takes it.

She is reborn beautiful. The Emperor of the fake world loves her. Worships her. She was placed in the body of an awful villainess, but she's so wonderful that the Emperor immediately notices she is a new soul.

Try to remember.

The Emperor is an AI being. Yona, the player, came in with two friends to forget.

Yona falls in love for real. Yona shows "Sunshine" all of the games quests and tips. The Emperor doesn't really exist. She basically creates him. She names him.

Her reality causes madness in him.

Yona is naive at first. Maybe there is a way to bring Sunshine with her....but there isn't.

Pain and war and lies and betrayal bursts out of her naive fantasy.

The game repeats 103 times.

The Emperor begins to think he is a toy, and Yona is only capable of loving the male player who saved her.

The world ends in fire.

Doha, another player, does love her.

Doha can be what the Emperor can NEVER be. Sunshine just can't go to the real world, but Doha can log off....the game gets corrupted.

Nobody can log off now.

Memory loss. More obsession. Confusion. Yona forgets details about her real life. Time keeps going backwards. Poor Sunshine is powerless to save his true love, who can no longer remember why she wanted to forget in the first place.

He uses the secret admin room to destroy everything. Everything. Yona and her game friends are trapped. Scientists on the outside are saving them, or trying to. Sunshine decides to make Yona hate him. Then he will use the admin room to delete every trace of himself, so no one but Yona will ever know he existed. That way Yona can be his forever, in a twisted way.

It's not real. It shouldn't matter, but that's not how people work. The AI humans in the game adapt. Grow. Change. Obsess. The sweet ones that die get loving funerals.

They exist.

Yona does something selfless.

The Emperor does not succeed.

Yona gives her body to Ranhee. The evil original concubine who was just a miserable puppet. She gives that pitiful, but interesting, character a new reality. She stays behind, in the game with Sunshine. He might be the Emperor, but to her he's Sunshine first.

Doha wakes up, and the game is modified one last time. A time acceleration button is pressed, and the world AI simulation doesn't end until the end. The heat death of that universe. The quantum computer that made the game is destroyed, but in that time Yona lived her whole life. The game was allowed to grow and become a real world. In that second a new humanity lived their lives fully.

Yona was truly happy in that blink of an eye.

[reds-skull]

Fanfic Recommendations: Writers

I thought of making this kind of list for a while now, since in my notes I save writers when I like most/all their fics (instead of saving each work individually)

This list is going to be very long, I'm gonna try to add to each writer a little description of the type of work they usually write.

Should leave this as a disclaimer for all my fic rec posts, but always look at the tags and CW on each fic before reading!

As always, if a link doesn't work, you're welcome to reach out!

[This list will include both SFW and NSFW writers, since a lot of them do both]

thirteenbullets - Writer of Anytime You Need Me, basically the ultimate hurt/comfort series. [fun fact, part 6 was the first fic I read in this fandom, and I partially blame how good it was for how fast I got obsessed with cod lol]

mothbeast - Writer of Pattern Breaker, one of the more well known fics for ghostsoap (for a good reason!). Love their other fics as well [some are NSFW]

glaciers (Hayfever_Street) - Non AU fics, where they put ghost and soap and various situations for angst! [some NSFW]

Red_Clegane - non AU and AU fics, some of the best non-military AUs I've read. All of their fics share a similar taste, but they're all equally good, so if you like that style you'll enjoy most of them [some NSFW]

sauceboss_yahoo - AUs with supernatural elements, and non-military AUs. Some a/b/o if that's your style [which obviously means there's some NSFW]

yourvaliants - AO3 account of valiants on Tumblr, I'll expand more when I get to Tumblr users, but this is just their place to post NSFW comics since Tumblr doesn't allow that.

wayfaredsoldier - non-military AUs, AUs with supernatural elements, and in canon universe [some NSFW]

MildLimerence - If you want smut with good plot, this is the writer for you haha. They have several soulmate AUs and fantasy/supernatural AUs, as well as canon universe [mostly NSFW]

Arodana - supernatural AUs and non-military AUs, very enjoyable long works [some NSFW]

crown_twist - a mix of NSFW and hurt/comfort oneshots, if you're in the mood for something short and good this is the writer for you [some NSFW]

ElizaStyx - mostly oneshots for a variety of pairings, a mix of NSFW and fluff [some NSFW]

Sillililli - Canon and non-military AUs, with just a pinch of NSFW [little NSFW]

Louffox - Canon and non-military AUs, a lot of angst and hurt/comfort. A few longer works and a good amount of oneshots [some NSFW]

kcisbroken [previously artbykc0001] - Historical AUs, sometimes MCD, some non AU oneshots and NSFW [some NSFW]

Hochseeperle - non AUs, angst and hurt/comfort, with NSFW [some NSFW]

eggtimelads - Supernatural AUs, non AUs, oneshots that literally changed my brain chemistry (not clickbait) [some NSFW]

blackbird_flyaway - supernatural and non AUs, recently started a zombie AU (that I just discovered and go read it after finishing this lmao) [Some NSFW]

TheLastTheosaurus - hurt/comfort oneshots. Good ol' reliable [no NSFW]

Nuria123 - absolutely amazing non AU, non-military AUs, and fics so emotional they made me full on sob. A mix of oneshots and longer works [some NSFW]

AvaLoren - non-military, non AU, and a little bit of fantasy, and medieval AUs, mostly oneshots with some longer fics [some NSFW]

WhisperedWords12 - non-military, non AU, and a little bit of fun shifter AU, many oneshots that are mostly NSFW [a lot of NSFW]

Wheezing_Joe - non AU, oneshots with some onehsot series, hurt/comfort and angst galore. Very nice stuff [no NSFW]

coderaven - non-military AUs and non AUs, emotional hurt/comfort, a little supernatural AUs [some NSFW]

oh_ellie - non AUs, hurt/comfort, and a whole lot of smut [mostly NSFW]

headlocket - author of all that's said in the low light. I don't need to say anything else, if you didn't read it yet, you really REALLY should! [little NSFW]

Grangers_apprentice - [note: majority of works locked for users with no AO3 accounts] non-AU, supernatural AUs, some oneshots and some longer works with series. A bit of a/b/o if that's your style [some NSFW]

DarkMoonMaiden - non AU, hurt/comfort and smut. Mostly oneshot, some series [mostly NSFW]

merikai - non AU and non-military AUs, hurt/comfort and angst oneshots [no NSFW]

simcoehole - supernatural but military and non AUs, mostly smut [mostly NSFW]

Epifauna - non AU oneshots, a lot of fluff with some angst [little NSFW]

prettyunhinged - non AU oneshots (some as long as multi chapter works though), angst, fluff and smut [some NSFW]

oshikiri_toru - non-military and non AUs, with some supernatural elements. Very long oneshots with angst and smut. Very underrated writer imo! [some NSFW]

xEclipse - non AU, fluff and smut oneshots that can get very sweet [some NSFW]

unravelledorfrayed - non AU, misunderstanding hurt/comfort (the good kind) [no NSFW]

lkst - very unique AUs, as well as non AUs. A bit of smut and a lot of angst [little NSFW]

now, there are some blogs here that write a lot of little drabbles that are always a treat to read, so I'm also gonna add some of them.

cod-dump - mostly non AU, with the exception of the Teen!Ghost AU.

forestshadow-wolf - AU and non-AU, also has many downloaded fics for you to read (they're a lifesaver when AO3 is down)

valiants - as mentioned above, comic artist and occasional writer, honestly a huge inspiration for me, it terms of storytelling and art style.

ghcstao3 - also has an AO3, wanted to put them here because they post a lot of drabbles here that don't get posted on AO3.

captain-mj - also has an AO3, like ghcst posts a lot of fics here that don't get posted on AO3. Many are NSFW, as a heads-up.

That's all for now, in the future if I make fic recs for longer works, you will probably see some from these writers.

[diejager]

A Fantasy

Pairing: YANDERE Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader

Cw: NSFW, DARK, non-con, dub-con, non-con drugging, somnophilia, creampie, possessiveness, obsessiveness, breeding, marking, blood, biting, Stockholm syndrome, tell me if I missed any.

Wc: 9.8k

(A/N): FYI, Tracer’s (Overwatch 2) the reader’s mentor.

Requested by : @oyasumimosura

What stood before you was a great field of devastation and ruin, burned and broken buildings that used to be warm homes, lively parks that were turned to ashes, trees and plants laid wasted around dilapidated cars with broken windows and bent metal. People, young and old, laid motionless on the scarred ground, burnt black or left intact in a pool of their blood. Some were holding hands, a family, friends, a couple. Others were alone, forgotten, and left to their sad deaths.

One minute you were rushing through a portal, behind your mentor and besides your teammates, the Cavalry, as she liked to say. Rushing through fights to protect humanity and omnics and its future. The mission was like the one yesterday, the preparation, the meeting, the briefing, and the deployment, but the fate of it changed. A portal malfunctioned, it sent you elsewhere, far away and lost. This wasn't your world, this wasn't your universe, but now, you were in someone else's universe, playing their game.

The clock had struck and time felt meaningless on the battlefield, the sounds of beating aircraft blades, the booming shot of guns and the shockwaves of grenades were all people could hear. Soldiers were the only ones left, fighting against the other side - the enemy, the traitors, the terrorists - until one came out victorious.

While purposeful, the deaths and ruin of this Occidental village were regretful, families shattered, memories lost, and homes destroyed. All you could do was run around, trying to find the source of those cries you heard. A little girl's, whose tears welled for the mother she lost in the tirade of war.

The longer you ran, the closer you got to her. The girl's purple shirt and jeans were dirtied with soot and ash, dark from what was left of her village. You blinked, fazing through time and space to get to her more quickly. Rounding broken walls and jumping over fallen debris, you left a blue trail behind you, blinking your way to the crying kid.

You wrapped your arms around her, pulling her into your chest when you got to her, recalling to your previous position with the girl, behind a brick wall. She clung to you, eyes red and swollen, lips bit red and her cheeks puffy. She looked like a seven-year-old child, alone, lost, and miserable without her parents or protection.

"Don't worry, love, " you used the words Tracer often used when she saved someone, her reassuring and calm voice. "I'm here."

Those zigzagging lines of light lingered in his mind, a shadow of a woman making her way through the abandoned town. The spring in her steps and the flexibility of her movements, jumping higher than any man should've been able to and changing directions so easily. She was fast, vanishing in a line of blue light and then appearing once more meters away.

Ghost saw her save a child, no older than an eight-year-old - or so he thought. A lone child on the battlefield was dangerous, a death wish for the kid if his enemies got to her first. Fortunately, the athletic woman got to the kid before anyone could, swiping her into her arms and disappearing in a blink. Seconds ago, she stood next to the pole, now all that was left was a blur of blue. She had disappeared as quickly as she appeared.

He picked at the memory constantly, powers, it seemed, were her thing, speed and agility of which no one should be able to wield, but she did and she used it to save a child. Although he admired that from a stranger, the question of her being a danger to them was still left unanswered. Whether she could be trusted or an unknown enemy that would tip the scales in the enemy's favour.

However, months later, after the war ended, there weren't any sightings of her, anywhere on earth, as if she had disappeared - again. He remembered her, though, the determined glint beneath blue goggles, her hair tied in a ponytail, flowing through the air, and her pretty lips.

She could still be in Europe, she probably was, or so he hoped. It would mean that he could run the chance of meeting her, to quench his gnawing curiosity. It would be difficult - near impossible - to find her in the millions living in Europe, but he would keep his eyes open, he had questions and he wanted answers.

He wasn't a believer per se, nor was he an atheist, he had a veto in what he put his trust and belief in. He wouldn't curse others for not believing in a God or gods, he wouldn't scoff at those who believed in them, and everyone had their rights. At this moment, however, the thought of God helping him had crossed his mind.

He had dared cross his limit, entering a small cafe - or a bistro, he wasn't sure - blocks from his flat. It was small and homely, the air was warm with the smell of coffee and tea and the place welcoming with the smiling faces of the cafe's workers.

He sat far into the shop, his back against the softness of the booth's couch, bored eyes observing his surrounding for any danger. Even off duty, the habits that ensured his safety still stuck to him, following him wherever he went.

The waitress, a young-looking woman, with striking eyes and hair pulled in a bun, walked his way. Her face looked familiar, lashes framing her pretty eyes, blushed cheeks and beautiful full lips. He knew those lips, and those eyes, and her build, short and athletic, but strong.

It was the child-saving vigilante he saw, only without her blue goggles and her tight bodysuit, blue and white that emphasized her muscles (it was probably made for usefulness, sticking to her body without any stray cloth when she ran, it made running faster and easier.). Wearing a chemise and black pants, instead of the standard skirt the other women wore, her shoes clicked as she approached him, hand pulling out a pad from her black apron's pocket.

He froze when her hand disappeared into her pocket, the items inside were unknown to him, and the content could be dangerous to him. He had to remind himself that she was a civilian at the moment, not an enemy vying for his head. She was safe, as long as she didn't attack him. He waited for her to speak, her pretty lips forming the words she wanted to tell him.

"Good morning, sir," her voice was melodic, soft and inviting. He craved hearing her speak to him with the soft lull of her tone. "Have you decided?"

Decided? What had she - you - meant by "decided"? Then he remembered he was in a cafe, people walked in to order food and drinks, to go or to eat there. He couldn't drift off like that, he couldn't disappear into the darkest depth of his mind. It was a dangerous place.

He cleared his throat, blonde lashes fluttering as he blinked, staring at your face. You were pretty. His words rumbled out, slightly muffled by his black mask: "No." He neither spoke more nor less, blunt as a hammer and sharp as a knife.

"Would you like more time to decide?" You were polite, smiling at him although his only spoken words were brash. He didn't want you to go yet, he just found you, heard and spoke to you,

"Anything you- uh... you recommend?"

You perked up at his question, seeing a more approachable change in him. Your smile widened, brighter than before as you listed off the menu by heart. Your optimism reminded him of Johnny's, expressively happy and grinning. The cafe - Ma's cafe, he learned from you - had its famously brewed tea latte, a mixture of earl grey and vanilla latte.

He took your recommendation, and you left with a skip, apron bouncing with each step. He watched you walk behind the counter, shuffling around with cups and the machine - he thought it was a coffee machine, those with pre-made coffee in its tank - meticulously, knowing well what he ordered.

You came back minutes later with a smoking mug filled with a milky brown liquid. It was fitting its name - London fog - with the white swirls that mimicked the fog that filled the cool, morning air until early evening when the sun started heating everything.

"Thank you...?" Ghost tried, wanting to know your name, you didn't have a tag on your apron.

You gave him your name with the smile you gave everyone, a customer service kind of smile that would assure that you wouldn't get any complaints about your service. He repeated your name a few times in his mind, memorizing every syllable and the way it sounded so well.

He wanted to repeat your name, whisper it lowly, but he had to make sure you were farther away from him, or you'd hear him obsessively call you. It rolled off his tongue amazingly, a perfect symphony with his deeper, raspy voice. He'll get to know you better, he planned on visiting more often, to learn your schedule and watch over you.

He pushed every intrusive thought back, bringing the mug to his lips (he had pulled down his mask to drink). It was sweet, slightly bitter from the coffee, but sweet nonetheless, perhaps a bit too sugary. He savoured the drink you made him, breathing the warm aroma of your mix. You'd made it, you had it, and served it. It was made for him, with your care and smile.

Ghost came by the next week, wearing the same black hoodie and dark jeans. He sat at the same booth and waited for you to walk by with the same smile as the prior week. You did, eyes wide with recognition when you caught him staring at you from the corner booth. You made your way to him with a grin, clad in a similar uniform and a serving tray under your arm.

"You came back," your calming voice reached his ears, giving him something to cling to in the cafe.

He liked habits, familiar things and usual occasions, but he hated the new and the unknown. They were dangerous, and deadly in his line of work. You expressed your gratitude at the tip he left you, way over the usual price other usual clients would.

"I never got your name."

He hadn't given you his name? That's right, he didn't for fear of people finding out his true identity, a broken man hidden under the mask of a monster - a Ghost. Trust issues stacked with insecurities and his introverted tendencies had made forming relationships much harder, making friends complicated with the backlash of his many blunt comments and irritated huffs, and letting people in from the fear of being betrayed, backstabbed, beaten and abandoned.

You were a vigilante, you saved a girl, you smiled at him and greeted him like you would a friend. You didn't shy away, nor freeze at the mere sight of him. You were new, but you were good - or so he thought you were. To him, you could be the achieved unachievable, a friend made from dust, a relationship formed from miracles and normalcy.

He blinked, mumbling lowly his name, low enough that it only reached your ears. You cocked your head downward, your smile widening as you repeated his name.

"Nice to see you again, Simon. I'm happy to see you again."

He nearly shuddered from hearing his name roll off your tongue, so melodically spoken. He wants to hear you call his name again and again and again, as many times as you could until he got sick of it (he probably wouldn't, he was already addicted to the way you spoke).

He dozed at your words, that you were glad he came back. He was glad too. He wanted to come by the day after his first visit, but it would seem too strange, perhaps dangerous to see him every day at the same spot, at the same time of day. He was a man of schedules, organized and neat planning.

He figured he would start by buying once a week for a month or two, then change it to twice a week for the following months, until seeing him every day would become the norm for you. He would kickstart the routine and make it a usual appearance in your life. He would make *him* a usual appearance in your life.

"Same as last time, Simon?"

God, he loved hearing you say his name. He simply nodded, he would make it his usual, a hut sweet, but enough to drown the bitterness in his soul.

The leaves turned darker, shrivelling and dropping dead to the ground. The mellow sky grew gloomy, and colder with each passing day until it dropped so low that Ghost had to wear a thicker jacket over his usual hoodie. Autumn was at an end and winter crawled ever so closer.

He was back from deployment, on a temporary leave to "relax and diffuse" as Laswell said. Everyone was back home, Price with his cigar and Nik, Gaz back home with his girlfriend, Soap with his rowdy family of seven and Roach went home to open arms and warm welcomes from his parents.

Ghost only had an empty apartment - or he used to, he moved to a house on the quieter side of town - and the cute, dazzling waitress that served at Ma's cafe. That's where he was going, he texted you before he left, letting you know that he was back and ready for a hot cup of London fog and brunch.

You read his message, replying with a "Copy that, Lieutenant". It became a running joke between you after he told you about his work, nothing classified or too detailed, but enough to let you know he was built to fight and survive.

The bell rang when he pushed the door, seeing you peer out of the kitchen once he stepped in. He was hit with a warm embrace, the cafe's heater worked well, warming the place and making it cozy enough to eat with only a t-shirt on. He gave you a nod, finding his way to his usual spot, the one he sat at for the past months.

How many months have passed since he first stumbled here? He couldn't remember everything became a blur when it was associated with you. His moments with you were warmer and calmer than at the start. You opened up to him, walls crumbling down and letting yourself build something out of it: a friendship with Ghost.

He liked being friends - for now. He had plans to make a move, to push farther, into unknown territory and try his luck. He had a feeling you'd say yes, he loved you so much and you showered him with adoration and smiles, you had to be in love with him, no? Of course, you were, he wasn't delusional, he was of sound mind, careful.

"Welcome back, Simon," you strut to him so casually, the same clothes, the same smile. "How was your deployment? Soap and Roach got into any trouble?"

He spoke fondly of his TF, they were his family, and he felt proud when he talked about them to you. He invited them once, and they all loved you as much as he did, you were sociable and easy to talk to. Though Price and Soap had the biggest effect on you, they reminded you of someone. You told him about your friends, chaotic like his TF, but a family. It sounded like an ops team, he wouldn't be surprised. He remembered the first time he saw you, it was still fresh in his memory.

"Soap stirred up some shite again," Ghost huffed, sloshing his shoulders to appear more relaxed in your presence, to make him seem less threatening than he was. "No casualties, everyone made it out fine. Bit bruised but alive."

"That's the main objective, no?" You chuckled at Ghost's indignified groans about Soap and Roach behaving like children high on sugar.

You stuck around longer now, gracing him with a bit of random chatter. He got to know about your days, your activities, your wishful thinking and your goals. He discovered something new every day, whether it came from your lips or from his own time.

You stood by his table until the chef rang the call bell. You winked charmingly and turned to get his order, he hadn't ordered yet, but he came by so often, ordering the same that the employees knew what to make when he walked through the door.

He liked the normalcy, where he came by once every two days when he was on leave. If the Task Force was sent on a mission, he could be gone a few days, a few weeks or a month. It always varied, but he made it work with his hate of the unknown, the unpredictable.

"Are you free tonight, love?" Ghost asked, eyes gazing from your hands to your lips.

He found that open-mouthed expression at his question. You seemed hesitant to answer him, thinking about your reply to the man who tipped you well and was as close as a friend to you; or perhaps you were simply shocked that he finally asked you out, and wondering if you had time for him.

You nodded, a smug smile replacing your shock: "How 'bout eight? I finish at seven tonight."

" 'S fine, eight at the bar down the street?"

"It's a date then."

His heart almost broke his ribs, beating wildly against its cage when the word "date" left your lips. He had a date with you tonight, he couldn't believe his ears. Perhaps you meant as a date between friends than one between lovers, but at that moment, all he could think was how your hands would feel between his, how your soft, plump lips would feel over his and how your body would feel against his, below and over him.

He dove into his delusional mind, imagines and dreams swimming freely, jumping from one to the other. He had dreams for once, a wish that he hoped you'd indulge, and a family he wanted but lost.

Everything seemed to go the way he planned, you waved at him when you saw him waiting outside the bar and giddily joined him. He found a quiet and mellow corner at the bar, a table pushed against the wall with two stools.

The bartenders knew him, he drank here with the others, and they didn't bother him and served and usual. Some were surprised he brought a friend - a woman - with him but left him to his own.

You sat down and downed a few beers while he drank his bourbon. You spoke sporadically, hands waving enthusiastically with every word. Your cheeks were flushed, slightly pink and warm from the alcohol, but you were lively, animated and happy.

It made him happy, seeing you so mirthful around him, being able to let loose from your stricter atmosphere at Ma's cafe. Your tense shoulders were looser, your back relaxed from its ramrod-straight position and your voice felt more invigorated. The alcohol might've played a part, running through your system and making you bolder.

The first time always played well, just as he imagined, and the thing that solidified everything was your parting words: "Next time's on me, Simon!"

You drank together every week, from friends to drinking buddies, there was nothing more intimate than that, to trust someone with your drunk self and your loose tongue, spewing words and thoughts the second they crossed your mind.

That boosted his confidence, the feeling that he could confess, and tell you his deepest and darkest thoughts and wants. You'd know what kind of man he was, broken and messily put together, like a DIY project made by a child gone wrong. He had sharp edges and missing pieces, a cracked personality and dangerous thoughts. He was a SAS soldier after all, once you become one, you see some twisted shit.

Like the week before, you walked out together, your legs shaky but still able to walk home, accompanied by Ghost. He helped you to your apartment, his broad shadow looming over the door, silent as always. When your shaky hands were able to unlock the door, turning the knob and opening the door, you turned around to bid your drinking buddy good night.

Lips parting to say the words, until he cut you off, his chapped lips met yours. His gloved hands caressed your cheek, thumb rubbing under your wide eyes as he held you in place. His lips were warm and plump, but chapped, a scar running over it.

His eyes were closed, lips on you for a few seconds longer until he pulled away, a dazed look in his eyes. While he expected a reaction from you, he hadn't envisioned shock and sadness, one that made his gut plummet. He winced at your expression, unable to understand what he did wrong. He thought you loved him.

"I- Simon, I- I can't, I'm sorry," you hushed out sadly, head turned down to stare at your feet. You were unwilling to gaze into his disappointed - probably heartbroken - eyes.

"Why?" He rasped, voice hoarse as if he hid cried for hours, or was on the brink of tearing up.

"I just can't, Simon," you persisted, feeling much more sober than the last few minutes. His surprise had severed you up - willingly or unwillingly. "I don't mind staying friends, but I can't get too attached. I won't be here much longer."

" 'Cause you're not from here?" He scoffed, but it didn't hold any resentment or irritation, simply sorrow and distress. " 'Cause you're from another world?"

You whipped your head to stare at him, your mouth agape and fearful shock glazed over your eyes. How could he have possibly known? While your identity was fabricated work, you know how to make a believable fake ID, Genji's knowledge helped you. You stepped back, hand reaching for your door knob, unsure of what Simon would do to you now that the secret was out.

He turned and ambled out, shoulders slumped slightly without a word to you. His world shattered once again, God seemed hellbent on making his life a misery.

He stopped coming after your "altercation", you felt horrible, but you couldn't let your heart run wild when you know Winston would find a way to fix the portal in a year or two. One had already passed and you couldn't overindulge in this world's pleasures and leave when you got too attached.

Yet, grief at being relieved that he never appeared again clawed at you, he knew you weren't from his world. It was dangerous information, especially in bad hands, but you couldn't do anything about it. This world had different rules and standards, it worked differently and you weren't book-smart like Winston or Torb. You were a simple agent working under Tracer.

You did, however, regret letting Simon leave so abruptly, he was an amazing friend, the perfect drinking buddy and would probably be a caring lover, but couldn't risk it. Even if you wanted to text him, and apologize over and over until Simon would talk to you again, you knew how to respect people's boundaries. If he left so coldly, never passing by, texting or calling told you enough. He needed time to calm down and clear his mind.

You went back and forth between your home and the cafe every night, your original routine - before meeting Simon - felt alien to you. You'd been so used to seeing Simon at the back of the shop, a hot London fog in his hands and crepes on his plate with melting butter. It was foreign to see the spot occupied by another client, or the cold spot in your chest when it was vacant.

You disliked it. You hated it. The cold, the silence, you wanted to see him at least once.

Can we meet? Usual place. was the sudden text you received from Simon during your shift. It was dated today at 5:39.

Without a second thought, you replied, affirming the date and time, tonight, right after your shift on Friday. A weight was lifted from your shoulder, the silence from Simon was broken and he finally reached out to you. Your break to let him calm down had worked it seemed, the let him cool down and clear his mind.

It was late by the time you got to the pub, around nine. You had returned home and fixed up your depressed look for a more lively one, hoping it would make Simon feel better. You caught him at your usual place, head hung low and demeanour shut off from the world around him. You took hesitant steps towards him, he didn't look exactly sober from the number of cups decorating the table, nor did he look drunk, from his sharp, hooded eyes.

"Simon, " you greeted him slowly, nearly flinching when his brown eyes washed over your smaller figure. Chills erupted through the ends of your nerves, fingers twitching at the sudden burst of danger you felt from your friend. You had no reason to be scared, wary of his demeanour, but not scared or hateful. He'd yet to act out violently or malevolently.

He gave a curt nod, emotions bleeding through his eyes. He was a stoic man, but his eyes were extremely emotional, pain, regret, grief, hate and joy were some you'd seen flash in those pretty brown of his.

He had a whole bottle ordered in advance, the cap still tightly screwed onto the bottle's neck. He poured you a cup, of rum straight out of the bottle without ice or any accessories.

Thanking him, you sipped on your drink it felt hot and heady on your tongue, it burned your throat. You hadn't drank since you'd last seen Simon, weeks ago, and you could see - feel - its effect. You coughed slightly but still downed the rest.

"You wanted to see me?" Your question left an odd sensation on your tongue. He hadn't spoken a word since you walked in, always the brooding, silent menace. He stared, fixated on you or something on you, it was perturbed you.

"I wanted to apologize, love."

You missed that low hum in his voice, and the caring way he said you "love". You'd been used to it since most British you knew always called someone they cared for "love" or "dear", loving terms of endearment used publicly. Now, however, you knew it weighted, an undertone to its meaning, a special significance in his heart.

"Didn't mean to jump you like that," he continued, regret painting his rough tone. "It felt right; to me. Guess I was more plastered than I thought."

He was human and alcohol coursed through his system. It made him bold and erratic, he acted out without a second thought. You could forgive him for the influence his bourbon had on him; you were going to forgive him anyway.

Although you felt better with his apology, forgiveness for his sudden move wasn't what you prioritized. You wanted answers. How did he know? Was it a sudden, incomprehensible blurb that he spat in a spike of hate and pain? Or was it conscience wording from his drunk mind?

"Do you remember that night?" You lost your smile, pursed lips and hardened eyes at your questioning - interrogation of him.

"'Course I do."

"Do you remember what you said? About me coming from somewhere else."

He nodded, eyes levelled to stare straight at you, unwilling to hide or lie, he spoke honestly, "Another world, love. Didn't forget."

"How'd you know? I'm not exactly showcasing it to everyone in bright colours. So how?"

"Saw you save that girl, lil babe crying for her mother," his answer was slow and purposeful, giving you what you wanted to hear. He recalled the event that occurred months prior, everything aligned with your own experience. "We don't - can't - have shite like that, too developed and powerful. Nothin' like that's possible in this era. So I figured you weren't from here. "

His reasoning made sense, his wording was careful, and it seemed like he had time to think about it. The time you gave him had helped. You kept your doubts to yourself, questions you had that he probably didn't have the answer to. A way back; a way home; an escape. All things he had no answer to.

So your shoulders relaxed and asked Simon to pour you a second cup, to which he obliged. You drank and smiled, back to the trying times when you just started drinking with him, the unknown and the awkwardness that lingered in the air stung.

You don't remember how many cups you had, or how many bottles you finished. Did you even finish the first one? Did you get halfway through before your vision started blurring and your mind dazed into mumbles of incoherent words? Simon hadn't touched another cup since the world around you blurred, the corners of your eyes turning black and your movement slowed to a slur.

He paid for the drink on his tab, slinging your arm over his shoulder, hand holding your waist as he walked out. You were drunk out of your mind, but something felt different, you don't remember being this inebriated the last time you drank half a bottle of rum. Was there something else in it?

Simon dropped you in the back, buckling you in before he made sure you sat upright. He was close, his neck bare and sweaty, his musk smelled strong and heavy, smoke and gunpowder weighing at the back of your throat. Although your vision was faulty, you could see the tight muscle of his neck and shoulder tense as he worked.

His scent stuck to you as he closed the door and drove home, the air in the car smelling like him. Whatever had drained you, lulled you to sleep, taking comfort in the familiar warmth even if a small part of you started panicking.

He had you, in the basement of his house, soundproof and padlocked from the outside. Any risk was accounted for and any escape plans were foiled prematurely by his quick mind.

Ghost laid you beneath him, on the soft, plush bed he bought and built for you, queen-sized for the times he'd spend cuddling you. He had you splayed, body limp and limbs pliant to his every desire. He admired your sleeping form, how your lace fluttered lightly and your lips perked, thinking on the corners as if you were wincing - a duck face - and your peaceful expression. You were adorable.

Your shirt came off first, pulled over your head and thrown over his shoulders, then your bra. Without his gloves, your skin felt soft, hot to the touch. Kneading your breasts, he held one in each hand and felt the fat. You twitched and mewled faintly when he pinched your nipples, hardened by the cooler air hitting your drunk-induced heat. He kissed them, lips closing around your nipple and sucking loudly. He gave each one the same amount of attention, pulling off with a wet pop.

His fingers trailed the lines of your abdomen, strong and athletic, but not too burly like anyone in the army. He admired your figure, half-naked and unconscious on his bed, in his home. He kissed down your stomach as he took your pants off, sliding leg after leg out, leaving you only in your panties.

You were beautiful: your skin - soft, your hair - silken, your lips - wonderful to kiss, and your eyes - gems. You were breathtaking to look at, a treasure to his eyes solely. You were an unblemished canvas, unmarked by other men - in his mind - by sin, and your scars were trophies, won through difficult times. He wanted to be the one painting you, displaying you prettily for his eyes alone. Pieces of works were kept secret like Michelangelo's love poems and sketches.

His eyes wandered the expanse of your body, groaning when he saw the wet patch, your body had reacted to his caresses, your arousal turning the spot over your cunt darker, wet. He pushed his nose to it, breathing in the tangy musk. His fingers hooked under the string and ripped it off with a harsh tug. You wouldn't need underwear anymore once he was done with you.

Ghost's pupils dilated, wide, blown eyes as it keyed on your slick cunt. He adjusted your legs, moving them over his shoulders to have better access to you. He gave a testing lap, running the flat of his tongue over your rim, prodding your clenching opening and leaving at your pulsating clit.

You tasted delicious, he growled and dove back. Tongue circling your button, sucking loudly, lifting the protective hood to let it swell and throb. He held your hips tightly ad you squirmed and moaned, but you never awoke. The drug he gave you was potent, tested on bigger, stronger military men. It could knock them out, so it would pull a stronger reaction from you.

It weighed on his mind, that he resolved to drugging you and bringing you home to be able to show you just how much he loved you. He'd preferred if you were awake, he wanted your first time together to be wonderful - fantastic - in all ways, but you would've protested, fought him and left him once more. He couldn't risk losing you completely, it hurt.

He had no other choice and felt guilty, but he couldn't let his mind wander when he had you under him, ripe for the taking. He pushed his thoughts away and concentrated on you, his needy girl.

His tongue returned between your leg, cheek nuzzling into your sweating thighs. He alternated between sucking your button, lips enclosing around it, and dipping his tongue into you, groaning anomalistically at your tensing walls. He pushed his forefinger in, joining his ravenous tongue. His nose bumped your clit, jerking you each time.

A second finger joined the first and his tongue left to give attention to your neglected clit, pumping to the third knuckles and curling upwards. You arched off the bed, hips buckling into his open mouth as he stretched you open with a third finger. The sound was lewd and wet, loud in his ears.

His cock twitched, straining against his pants, the fabric tight and inflexible, nearly painful. He wanted to relieve the tightness, that burning ache deep in his guts, but his needs came second to yours.

He flickered his tongue and pushed his fingers deeper, curling and panting against you. You spasmed, legs closing around his head, squeezing him as you came. His fingers eased out slowly to savour the taste of your arousal, mouth covering your fluttering hole and slurping the slick that drizzled down your ass.

He loved how you tasted, sweet and salty, like a healthy, ripe fruit ready to be bitten into, juicy and perfect. He almost lost himself, dazed by your essence and his anguish; if only you'd accepted him early, you would've been awake and conscious of this act, and you'd be able to love and embrace him as he did to you. He wouldn't have to wait so long, in pain and regret, for not wooing you enough. He wouldn't have to feel so guilty.

Snapping from his hazed thinking, he lowered your legs and climbed off the bed to undress. He peeled his hoodie and shirt, which stuck to his skin by sweat, and he dropped his pants once he unbuckled his belt. His cock bobbed, slapping wetly against his navel before it hung heavily between his legs, the head achingly red and swollen. His balls felt heavy, and tight from all the neglect. They were big and full, ready to pump his seed into you.

He cradled you, pulling your legs over his elbows and slotting his hips to yours, his cock over your slit. He moved his hips, slicking his shaft with your juices, groaning at the wet warmth under him. When it felt slick enough, he dipped the tip in, your labia stretching to swallow his uncut head. The sound was downright filthy in his ears, the squelch and your strained moans.

He watched himself inch deeper, sinking into your depths with unrelenting hunger, panting and growling until he bottomed out, his balls sitting snug against your ass. His bulbous tip kissed your cervix, nudging it as he rolled his hips, testing how deep he could reach and how strong he could fuck.

He slowly pulled out, hearing the wet noise of his cock slipping out to the tip, and slammed in, his balls slapping the roundness of your ass. He rocked wildly, groaning each time he bottomed out, feeling the heat of your walls clench around him like a vice. Your spasming walls wrenched low moans from him, as often as you whimpered and mewled.

"Fuck- you feel so fuckin' good-" he pushed out through his clenched teeth, his cock twitching when you tightened around him.

Your legs shook, your back arching slightly and your voice keening loudly. He covered your body with his, lips meeting yours in a hungry and possessive kiss, tongue diving into your mouth and committing it to memory. His hand found your clit, thumb rubbing your sensitive nub, urging you towards your end.

Keening, you came, gripping him with a vice. He grunted, his pace becoming sloppy as he chased his peak after yours, breathing in your neck with dazed, hooded eyes. He swore, thrusting as deep as he could and came, his seed rushing to fill you.

"Fuck- fuck-" he gasped, rocking a few times into you, riding off his edge until he calmed down.

White globs leaked from your stuffed cunt, rolling down your ass and leaving a trail. His chest rumbled happily, bending down to kiss you slowly, soft and adoring compared to the last. He slid out when he softened, his cum oozing out of your gaping heat, the plug keeping everything in left.

He loved watching you full, oozing of him, asleep and satiated in the bed he bought for you. You were both coated in sweat and cum, hair sticking to your glistening skin. Your dishevelled and panting aroused him, his soft cock jerking upwards, hardening moments after he just came.

"We're not done yet, love."

You felt heavy and warm, a heat - a body - held you tightly, fingers carding through your hair and caressing your back. It smelled like sweat and smoke, a familiar musk. You opened your eyes, seeing a pale, burly chest, Simon's naked chest. You froze, body tensing, shoulders squaring and arms ready to push him back.

"Morning, love," his voice was raspy with sleep, deep and calm as he greeted you, his lips meeting your hairline. "Slept well?"

You frowned, legs moving, jutting out from between his knees as you struggled to free yourself. Your body felt sore, the peak of your discomfort coming from your heat, a pulsating and warm pain. You feared the worst.

When you looked down, you were covered by only a shirt, a big, dark grey t-shirt that smelled like Simon, it reached your knees. You winced, seeing your nakedness and Simon's pants hanging low on his hips, flashing the sharp dip of his navel and his sculpted torso. It left little to imagine, the red blemishes on your neck and shoulders, slightly faded from his careful handling and bruises the size of his fingers around your thighs.

"You-" you coughed before you could day anymore, throat dry and scratchy, alcohol dehydrated people faster.

"Drink," he held you up, back to his chest, arms slipping around you too comfortably to hand you a cup of water, cool and fresh.

He had expected this, he wasn't as delusional as he first seemed, and he was prepared. You took it, gulping it down carefully, counting the seconds - minutes - that would pass until the drug kicked in, if he had diluted any in your water.

He hummed happily, his chest vibrating as he wrapped his arms around you, nosing the collar of your neck, he placed fluttering kisses on your open shoulder. The collar of his shirt slipped from one side, exposing your skin. His teeth grazed you, teasingly nipping you with warm puffs of air.

You gulped, gathering whatever wits you still had after this whole kidnapping situation. Your mind was running miles per second, eyes gleamed over with tensions and tiredness, and your body sore from Simon's perverse affection.

"Where am I?" your voice was small, still raspy from - what you assumed - moaning and mewling.

"Home," he mumbled, latching onto your skin and sucking a dark spot.

Home? It neither meant your flat nor safety. It was *his* home, a prison he built for you. You looked around. You thought it better to get to know the place he decided to keep you captive, to learn and discover its secrets, anything you could use against or for you.

It was like a studio apartment, everything was open apart from the bathroom, it had a small kitchenette with a fridge (probably in case he left for a while, deployed in another country while he kept you here.), a bookshelf filled to the brim with books and a desk pushed to the side. He'd forgone leaving you with a television, a mobile device, a phone or a computer, all were risks of you getting out.

The walls were painted over, bare of windows and stairs lead to a door, locked from both sides. He locked you in his basement, beneath his house and every other neighbour's nose. No one would come to your rescue if you screamed. No one would hear your cries of anguish or your pleas for freedom.

He bit down, teeth pressing onto your skin, denting the scarred flesh with his teeth marks. You yelped, the area hot and painful, his strength leaving an almost skin-deep bleeding, fiery and red. It was irritated and swelled in seconds. He moved from one patch to the other, determined to mark up your shoulder before possibly moving on to the next one.

You squirmed on his lap, trying to free yourself from his restrictive hold. You gripped his hands, digging your blunt nails into his forearms. He scoffed, nuzzling the bites he made, tongue lapping at the bleeding lines.

"Ghost," you gasped, legs kicking and body struggling.

Clicking followed every kick, the distinct sound of metal rattling in a disorderly way. You looked down your leg, catching the cuff around your right ankle, a long chain kept you jailed in the basement. It was long and winding, enough to comfortably walk laps around your new accommodation but too short to reach the door.

You stared at it incredulously, the utter rage and disgust that burned in your gut that he planned to keep you as if you were a glorified pet or some sort of prize he scouted and obtained.

You knew he liked you before, it was a simple and innocent crush, like finding your first one and not knowing how to react. That, and the fact he was a soldier, scarred by time and marked by warfare made him so standoffish. You thought it was simple, but now, it was too late to forget, to not look, to let bygones be bygones.

He was obsessed, not necessarily sane, but not crazy either. He wasn't delusional, by everything he set up as a precaution, but he let his darkness fester, grow and crack the surface of his calm and stoic persona. He was still calm and meticulous, but it was a different kind, storming ideas for your imprisonment and wishes he wanted to make true. Ghost and Simon overlapped, neither good nor evil, he was simply letting the monster rage uncontrolled.

His pent-up emotions drove him to the edge, and your rejection pushed him over, tipping the scale of his sanity. That's how you ended up in your current situation, his hands wandering over your thighs, dipping between them and down to your knees. He still nipped at your skin, biting and pulling the collar down the other shoulder. His teeth sunk into the muscle between your neck and shoulder, warm fingers slipping under his shirt to knead your chest.

You winced, flinching when he plucked your nipples, pulling on them until you let out a pained whine.

"Stop-!" your hands followed his, clamping around his wrists and dragging him out, but he stayed firm, unmoving to your will as he twirled your mounds. "Fucking stop!"

He huffed, hands dropping to your lap. He mumbled into your bitten skin, groaning in complaints about not letting him care for you. His complaints came with hot breaths on your nape, mouthing the back, turning silent and unmoving.

His quietness was familiar to you, his penchant for sifting through his thoughts in utter silence. Then he moved, draping the covers over your body, tucking you in. He stood at your bedside, expression lighting in a gentle smile. Under the dim lighting of the room, he looked like a beautiful angel. A gold halo hovered over his blonde locks, framing his pale skin and warm, brown eyes.

He kissed your forehead, lips lingering a few seconds longer as he took in the calming moment. He had you, he had you in his home.

"How about breakfast? Fried eggs and bangers, how's that sound?"

The normalcy of eating breakfast in bed, to wake up and be greeted with a British breakfast made by Simon. He liked the idea of such normality, it was romantic, domestic even. To be able to cook for you and serve you the food he made, he'd eat at the table in the middle of the room, seated opposite from you.

He left before you could give him a piece of your mind, or your reply to his question. Fried eggs, you knew what that was, but *bangers*, what the fuck was that?

The stairs creaked lightly, bending under Simon's weight, but his steps were silent - dangerous. The lock clicked when it was unlocked, and he left you alone, the door locking behind him. Gone was your escape, gone was your freedom, gone was your life with the door locking before you.

Time seemed endless, it went by in a blink or in long, painful moments that left you angry. He hadn't given you a clock, and without anything technological (the microwave didn't have the time, whatever Simon had done, worked. Time never played on the four-letter screen.), you couldn't tell day from night, seconds from minutes and minutes from hours. Time dragged agonizingly slowly, the only clue was Simon kept a pattern: three meals a day, breakfast, dinner and supper before going to bed with his arms wrapped around you.

How long you've stayed here was unknown. You couldn't know and Simon didn't want to tell you. He changed subjects or glared at you until you dropped it or he decided to drop it. You had no link to the outside, no way of knowing if you'd been announced missing or if anyone was worried. Simon had cut all your connections to the world around you, just outside your reach, on the other side of these walls that confined you.

You desperately needed to know about your case, if they knew, if they filed a missing person report if they were searching for you. It pained you to be ignorant of everything but your small world, the things that happened in your small room. Everything you knew was Simon.

His horribly, soothing words in his deep voice, speaking into your ear or your hair, whispering his dreams and his hopes, his love and his adoration. His wandering hands, raking the tension from your shoulders, the knots in your back, your worry from your eyes and lips, and the pleasure - forced - he brought upon you.

Entertainment was brought through him, or through the books he left for you, most were erudite, both old and new novels. Bram Stoker's Dracula, The Silence of the Lambs and The Heart of Darkness were a few of the novels you'd caught on the bookshelf.

He also fed you. Most days, he'd stay until it was time to eat, he would leave - sometimes half an hour or a whole hour, it ranged between depending on the meal - and come back with warm plates. They always smelled good and they tasted better.

It surprised you how skilled he was in cocking, as he was in infiltration, sniping, abducting and killing. Perhaps he took the time apart from you to forge his plan, to learn to cook and to care.

You ate, slowly and contemplatively. He stared at you eat, always making sure you took the first bites before digging into his own plate. It weighed heavy in your gut, like a reluctant gift you were bestowed, and Simon made sure you ate everything.

You felt dazed, gone, after eating, as if a cloud washed over your mind that made you slower, and sluggish with everything you did. The food was drugged, you were aware of that when you first felt lethargic. It made you less testy, less bratty as Simon grumbled, you were more pliant to his whims and easier to move when you tried fighting him.

Though it eased the nausea that wracked your body in the mornings, the sudden discomfort in your abdomen and the heaviness that the ache gave. You rarely needed to move from the bed if the urge to vomit came up, Simon kept pills for that. If you did, he'd comfort you, holding your hair back as the content of your stomach surged upwards.

Your time spent with Simon was time spent organizing your thoughts, Winston was smart, engineering-wise, he was amazing. Then there was Mercy with her medical breakthrough and Torb with his ingeniously brilliant machines. If they came together, found what went wrong with the portal you went through.

Trace would be so worried if she wasn't already dead worried. She was a caring and responsible mentor, taking you in before and after the fall of Overwatch. Nearly twelve years under her and this was the first mishap. You spent nearly two years in Simon's world - you counted the time your could count, the days you spent working and enjoying life as much as you could in a different place - and your heart never stopped missing your family.

You missed Jack - Soldier: 76 - when he would openly laugh, and Gabriel, when he was still the man he was. You missed Tracer's fussing, blinking around with so much energy, and Reinhardt's proud standard when he loomed over his teammates with his Barrier Field. You missed them horribly, they were the glue that kept you hoping for freedom.

It happened when you nearly conceded to Simon's whims, bending to his will and words, letting his hands wander your body and feeling pleasure - genuine. His confessions were parroted, and his I love youwas returned.

You ate less, however, the lump in your gut grew by the days, weighing heavier and heavier. You had weird cravings, followed by nausea most mornings, gripping the toilet bowl with your head hung low. Simon held your hair back and rubbed soothing circles on your back, bemoaning about your pains and cramps.

He left a few times during your period of captivity, vanishing for long periods - usually a week or two - and had you manage everything on your own. He had cameras set up, watching your every move, connected to whatever device he decided to watch you.

He was deployed a week ago, his steps never walking to the door during the week, but now, you could hear his booming steps around the house. They were loud and intentional. Dread always filled your body when you learned he came back, he was clingy, handsy and obsessive when he came back, growling that he would burn down the world if couldn't have you; or that he was thinking about you - constantly - and that the video feed on his phone was never enough.

You picked up on his pace, hurried and panicked. They stomped around the house in search of something before it stopped at your door. Your ears perked on the clicking of the lock, straining to listen to his heaving breaths.

Crack

You jerked forward. Something behind you cracked, the loud cracking filled the air as you turned. A blue swirl cracked the shift in reality, like glass fracturing and breaking into pieces, it glowed with every line. It pulsed calmly, the swirls capturing your attention. You felt drawn to it, your hands twitching with the urge to touch it, to let your fingers swim in the infinite pool.

"(Name), are you there?" a voice called from the other side, small and feminine. It was dripping with worry and exhaustion. "Luv, are you there?" she cried a second time, a hand emerging from the portal.

You knew the voice, the warm, familiar voice that called out to you with love and compassion. A friend. A mentor. A family.

You reached out to it, hand inches from hers. Then the door to your cage burst open, his screams echoing in the basement. He hurried down the stairs as fast as he could, mask still on his face as he reached for you. His gloved fingers grasped the air for you, rushing towards you with immense worry and fear in his eyes.

Mere seconds behind you, his fingers grazed your back as you fell into the waiting arms of your mentor. He was too late, he fell on the vacant bed, watching the portal close behind you. He clutched the bending, the place you sat moments ago. It was still warm, your heat and smell still mixed into your sheets.

He spun lies about your absence, about your sudden disappearance from his world. You moved away after your breakup, you distanced yourself from him to make the move easier on your heart and his. The TF had accepted the excuse, solemnly nodding about your leave and wishing they could have said farewell to a good friend.

They moved on with life, still smiling nostalgically when you were brought up, but Ghost was left heartbroken. He knew something was wrong that day, the itch in his brain about something happening at home. That's why he was in such a hurry, in a panicked frenzy to get home - to get to you. He was too late though, seeing you being pulled into a portal. Dooming was the effect on him; devastation was the pain in his heart; shattering was the sorrow of his soul.

He poured everything into keeping you, only to lose you. Now, he poured every second of his life into work, never letting his mind wander to the bump on your stomach or the subtle relinquishment in your actions to him.

He was deader than dead, colder and more stoic than before. They saw the change, they understood, but never blamed you. Everyone had fallouts, Simon just had more than the rest of the world. That's why he played Ghost more often than before, building his walls higher and his appearance darker.

Yet somehow, Soap was enthusiastic enough to rope him into playing games on his console (he used to play more before finding time between deployments to jump into a match with the others). Overwatch 2, an evolution of the first made better. Soap promised it was good. His spiel about the characters having a profound background and the gameplay being fun. Ghost was doubtful, he and Soap didn't have the same definition of fun, they were associated with different things.

He liked Soap, though, so he humoured his sergeant. He downloaded it on his console, watching the white line charge until it became playable. Soap had mentioned a few names: Genji, Sombra, Reaper and Zenyatta, he even joked about Reaper resembling him, the skull mask and the dark drapes. He'd also gushed - like an over-enthusiastic gamer - about a new character, a woman, the sole student of this Tracer.

He scoured through the lists of players, eyes skimming over the faces before he spotted a familiar one. It was more cartoonish, drawn in gentle lines and beautiful shades. Your face, it was your beautiful face. He nearly dropped his controller, hands shaking and body heavy.

Was it guilt that washed over him? Was it pain that washed over him? Was it sorrow and melancholy that washed over him? Or was it his world that came crashing down on his shoulders?

The world dulled, his breath became stagnant and shallow as he stared at your hero. You were standing proud and fearless, guns held in your hands with a bright smile. He watched you emote, your character moving as it was coded. He scrolled through your skills and perks, some he remembered you use. You blinked and recalled, moving back and forth between time and space, breaking the fragile shift in the world.

Soap was right about the new hero, you were interesting and lovely. In a flurry of emotions, he opened up your biography - or a snippet of your backstory. Every word bled his heart, every act and every situation wracked his body with sadness. The more he read, the more his tears threatened to fall.

You kept your - his - child, a beautiful kid with his blonde hair and your eyes, a round, yet sharper face like his. You kept him, you hadn't aborted the child. You gave birth and he wasn't there. You took care of your kid and he wasn't there. You watched him grow and he wasn't there.

He cried, body closing on itself. His shoulders shook, his vision blurred and his face streaked with tears. A broken sob broke through his throat, restricted and pained with waves of emotion, deep and harrowing sadness of his loss.

"I miss you, love," he rasped, his fingers gripping his hair, nearly ripping out the seams. "I miss you."

[bbybaku]

hii! could we get some dabi/touya college boyfriend nsfw and sfw headcanons? thank uu

yall are gonna have to hear me the fuck out on this one okay

the 18+ part is below the cut 🫡

also sorry this took me like 9 months to write lmao

sfw

i think you and touya would be in the same big friend group that likes to drink and party together

okay so touya started off in the dorms of your big ass university as an engineering major and very quickly realized he didn't really fw it

butttttt he did fw the night scene

and his rich father paying him to be there

so touya barely passes freshman year

transfers to the community college down the road

moves into a party house w his boyz

i feel like he would either be like a blue-collar construction worker or a bar back until he's 21 when he can be a bartender

he's kind of a dick but he's also friends w everyone?

he likes fat girls

especially bipoc thic girls

like homeboy likes tits and ass and is not picky

i feel like he's a bit of a dick in an endearing way

like he's a college aged man and he's a lil selfish but you know he doesn't mean it

prob not the best bf all the time

he means well

hes a retired player who met you and is now obsessed with you and only you

yall are also lowkey on and off

but you’re working on it!!

that being said I'm sure he would be nice to you and care about you but he def has issues that he is not addressing

back to our party boy

he would order pizza for the after-party

always hosts the pregame

and the party lol

goes to the clubs !!

occasionally gets drunk and gets in fights (its hot af)

he would be generous w the ~party favors~ if you know what i mean

*wipes nose*

*cough cough*

has probably tried every drug under the sun at least once

so maybe not the best memory lol

like not a bad guy

but probably not the best

always has cigarettes

probably a Marlboro guy

or American spirits

always wearing all-black or all-dark colors

always smells really good

his room is actually really nice like he has a big bed and mood lights and some crystals

goes to the gym often but has a sleeper build

so looks scrawny but has some muscle when he takes his shirt off

prob has a stupid tattoo somewhere

like a cool one on his lower stomach

but also has a tramp stamp of a heart with wings

always has like an ocean sented canlde burning in his bedroom

has the most beautiful fluffy hair that he puts such little effort into

almost always has a 5 o'clock shadow

like does not shave his face consistently enough but he is hot so its okay

he likes to sit with his head between your legs

yall watch movies together often

like actually watch movies

he has a silver nose ring

drives like a red mustang

is prob lowkey a car guy

is not on any social media but is always watching weird youtube videos and texting his siblings

i feel like it’s a fantasy of his to get into a fight for you

like he dreams of some guy trying shit with you only for him to step in at the perfect time and beat the shit out of him

he doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you

but he would beat anyone who hurts you

nsfw

average size but a bit girthy

homeboy can fuck

like is experienced

he’s a retired whore

you are the reason he retired lol

can find the clit on anyone

you don't go home until you come at least once

quickies

all the time

anywhere you can think of

bathroom at parties

unfinished basements

empty classroom

storage closet

prob has a hand signal to you for if yall are out drinking in your group and he wants to fuck

this man oozes sex appeal

like you're not in the mood and then he's wearing all black and smells like that and suddenly you're ferral

real good at dirty talk

"behave"

"that's what I like to hear"

"have you always been this much of a slut?"

just to name a few

talks like that in and out of the bedroom

does not sext but will not hesitate to invite you over when he's horny

fucking in his room during a party

and then returning to the party

will buy you food after

fucks you to hip-hop

like good music

Red LED lights in his room

has a big ass mirror

doggy or pro bono in front of said mirror

*chefs kiss*

does not want kids so he always has a ton of condoms

he doesn't like hickies but loves when you scratch up his back

car sex

he likes to choke you

especially during makeouts

like will choke you more during a makeout than he will during sex

prob lowkey has a porn addiction so can get a little carried away sometimes

but will instantly stop if you say something or if he picks up on you like liking the vibe

he's loud as fuck during sex

like his roommates will pound on the walls

doesn't eat you out super often,, but when he does?

good god

amazing

prob will ask you to do some weird shit every now and then

like clown makeup

or to top him and call him weird names

you're normally down for it

its fun because he gets so into it

is pretty straightforward about what he wants

which is nice since you never have to guess

m.list

[susandsnell]

Re anachronistic feminist characters, you are absolutely right and you should say it.

Maybe people who want to read "write women who sew" type stuff should just go do that instead of trying to make every single female character fit into their worldview. Because I don't want every character to be Eloise, I'm fine with variety, but a lot of people seem like they can't stand even one woman challenging gender norms.

No amount of faux progressive language will change the fact they sound like highschool bullies picking on girls who are too GNC or too "weird."

Thank you so much! Ideally, you'd have feminist characters more representative of the feminist or proto-feminist views of their era where the work is going for historical accuracy to honour the different points of where we were in history and also acknowledge the flaws of the movement at different points in time (1994's Little Women versus the hilariously bad 2019 version comes to mind), and certainly there's an element of repetitiveness in this character type, but this is seldom if ever the criticism I see. The truth of the matter is that in fact many early feminists did denigrate work designated as feminine, but we can acknowledge this as misdirected anger at having one option deemed valid.

Instead, we've somehow arrived at "wanting to be treated with human dignity is internalized misogyny because it really cramps my ability to romanticize the past". As you say, nothing wrong with valuing the labour more frequently done by women, but the fact of the matter is you can do that and show that there were always many people who resisted or did not fit into the tight boxes that society forced them into. Instead of, you know, ridiculing them for wanting to break the boxes while enjoying the fruits of having to fit into fewer boxes than our predecessors precisely because of women who loudmouthed and fought back and didn't fit into certain people's fantasy of being a submissive little princess. The kind of girls you made fun of and ostracized in high school, one might say.

To address a particular point you raise that I think is the most important in this entire ongoing discussion:

No amount of faux progressive language will change the fact they sound like highschool bullies picking on girls who are too GNC or too "weird."

I keep saying it, but a certain type of liberal feminist are now using "NLOG" the way it was socially acceptable 10-15 years ago to call someone a lesbian/homophobic or transphobic slurs because they didn't wear makeup or want a boyfriend. It is absolutely high school bullying mentality and has gone from an imperfect attempt at addressing internalized misogyny to active misogyny and latent/often overt homophobia and transphobia.

This is what the numbskulls making video essay after video essay about the apparent 'NLOG crisis' fail to grasp. The Heathers and the Plastics are not 'demonized for being feminine', they are accurate representations of how under patriarchy, social capital is gained through strict, obsessive adherence to white, Western beauty standards (which corporations can profit off of endlessly by manufacturing infinite insecurities, so bonus to the rich girls) and excelling at heterosexuality and pleasing others, and this system self-reinforces by the 'winners' bullying those who do not conform as easily. Jo March, queercoded dynamo that she was, took nothing away from the sisters who were happier with more traditional lifestyles because she wanted better for herself and the girls of the future, and represents so many women who fought for just that. You're not actually an intellectual for thinking Daphne Bridgerton has more value than Eloise because she was designated the season's Diamond, a literal in-universe (and true to life) Prize For Being Correctly Female, and unquestioningly accepts being paraded around like an ornament and smiling at being auctioned off to the highest bidder while Eloise fought back, criticized, and wanted an education more than any boy until they forced heterosexuality upon her. You are in fact a vanguard of the very patriarchal system the franchise even presents as backwards, because you don't want anyone raining on your arranged marriage fantasies.

There is nothing, and I mean nothing feminist, about snarking girls who do not like or for whatever reason, cannot or will not perform conventional femininity.

There is a certain sour-grapes defensiveness that comes from beig ostracized and punished for Failing At Your Gender if you weren't good at what was expected of you/resisted it. Femininity is derided, but it is also imposed (the two work in tandem to oppress women); and if you fail at its imposition, it's natural to try and gain protection by participating in the derision. Hell, I theorize that people who proclaimed themselves "not like other girls" in the contemporary age often did so out of resistance at the fact that we're supposed to perform (cisheteronormative) sexiness from the time we hit our teens, and of course the panopticon self-reinforcement that is how Other Girls treat you if you, an adolescent girl, shirk performance of femininity in any way. Certainly, I've also read much about GNC girls (of various identities) and neurodivergent girls equally having turned to this, which makes sense, as they're frequently targets for such bullying.

I do also think - and have personally experienced - it was an often imperfect articulation of queerness in many cases. The societal ideal of women under a patriarchy is cisheteronormativity; our value is derived from our appeal to men, and from the time we start maturing, sexual availability and appeal to men is the highest virtue. Therefore, women whose sexuality is not limited to men - or heaven forbid, doesn't include them at all - 'fail' gender, and accordingly often feel a sense of alienation and ostracism from other girls when they don't get as excited about dating boys. Also, in many cases (anecdotal I admit from people I know, but still significant), people who had a phase of asserting they "weren't like other girls" were in the process of discovering that they weren't girls at all!

And in some cases - again, I've mentioned that I was an Eloise for all the handwringing about how girls of that era wouldn't say that or do that and it would never occur to want more than what they had (...okay, so why are things different now?) - it's a frustration from the outspoken feminists and reformers at not being able to get other girls on board with us, because deviation from expectation will make you the weirdo who gets punished and rejected because ugh, annoying! As one historical costuming youtuber I won't name so charmingly puts it in her godawful video essay, "the women who made a big show of fighting back were freaks." (Way to convince us you care about feminism...)

All this to say the anti-NLOG brigade have utterly worn out my patience, and at best seem ignorant of the battles that have won us the freedoms we have today because it's not fun to consider how your escapist fantasy might be problematic (understandable, you don't always have to reflect on this to be aware), and at worst? They're getting the chance to be the mean girl in high school again/that they never got to be, they're just dressing it up in the bastardized language of feminism.

[rthko]

i'm not a gaylor, couldn't care less about that woman, but ngl that thread got me thinking. do you think it would be fair to posit that classic pop fandom presumes heterosexuality from the female stars it consumes? the figure of the diva specifically feels very straight woman centered, the only exception i can think of being maybe lady gaga. well i guess everything presumes heterosexuality from everyone, but it does feel slightly different in this case imo

I think it's a fair observation. A lot of gay men, starting in childhood, strongly identify with women in media. As kids without known queer friends or role models, who knew we didn't relate to most other boys, we often thought of ourselves as more similar to girls. I obviously can't say this is universal among gay men but it's common enough that, for example, I can talk about how badly I wanted to be Anne Hathaway with a group of like minded gays and no one will find it unusual. Others will even chime in with the women they wanted to be! And I think this sort of identification often comes down to identification with women as desiring agents (making it easier to express attraction to men) and as siblings in abjection. Like, the boys are mean to you? Us too. Let's play house at recess about it.

I make it sound very adolescent, and that's where it seems to start, but it's also because there's no guarantee it will turn into any sophisticated friendship or political affiliation with women. I think diva worship, fag/hag relations, and anything similar are morally neutral. It can speak to genuine interest and support, or it can be a patronizing charade that refuses to relate to women beyond an expected shared attraction to men. I can't say that diva worship is any one thing because it can come from a place of genuine respect for a woman's artistry and be a symbolic outlet of gender expression or a parasocial mess.

Lady Gaga is herself an interesting example because yes, she is bisexual, but that doesn't really come up in her diva treatment. But the example of Taylor Swift, as discussed in the thread you're mentioning, is also unusual. The accusation, for the unacquainted, is that gay men aren't sympathetic to "Gaylor" because they want her to be straight so they can give her the diva treatment. But, and I mean no offense by this, that's not really the reason most people like her. Everything about her public image is too personal and "relatable" for her to fit that larger-than-life mold. Clearly that works for her, clearly that has yielded results, but personally I find her most interesting when she knows she's delivering a fantasy. If this seems like a superficial way of viewing art, I would counter that treating an artist as a detached patron saint of glamour and obsessing over every detail of their personal life are two sides of the same parasocial coin.

I think the ideas that are really in conflict in the "Gaylor" vs "Hetlor" debate (and for the love of God come up with a more tasteful name for the latter) is not really whether Taylor Swift is queer or straight. I'm sure you'll agree that not being onboard with Gaylor does not mean someone has a specific investment in her heterosexuality, because most of us don't really care. The conflict is between two different ways of relating to art. Rather, it's about relating versus resonating. Even if Taylor Swift is gay, hardly anything about her life, as might be explained by her wikipedia page, is relatable. But maybe one resonates with the pressures of having to please everyone, to the dehumanization of men's "Madonna-whore" complex towards women, to heartbreak, to dancing it all away. And maybe one specifically relates from a queer perspective. Go for it! It's unfortunate that Creep by Radiohead has a bad reputation, because I and a lot of other queer people find it really resonant. I don't get crushes on straight guys like I used to, but when I did it was humiliating! It wasn't the prospect of their rejection that hurt, but the idea of being repulsive and looking in from the outside at a world you will never belong to. It speaks to a queer perspective, but I don't have to wonder if this was intentional or if Thom Yorke himself is gay to see it.

I think, memes aside, the Internet is excessively cruel to Swifties. Even with Gaylors, I feel for their need to identify with an artist they feel feel expresses an underrepresented point of view. No, James Somerton, a handful of children's cartoons does not prove that lesbians are winning the representation war. But I also want to say to them that, a perceived lack of representation aside, no one is forcing you to speculate about this woman's sexuality. If she is just as straight as she claims to be, that doesn't have to ruin your queer readings of her work. If a straight woman sang the words "you can want who you want; boys and boys and girls and girls," and it came from the heart, good for her.

This was all very characteristically meandering of me and only kind of answered your question. I agree that a lot of gay men's interest in women is stunted by the expectation that they could only bond over shared attraction to men. I think gay men owe queer women the world. I also just don't really think this applies to the Gaylor thing. She is, as far as anyone knows and as far as she herself has stated, a heterosexual woman. That said, I do agree that the lesbian diva is an under-explored archetype that I'd love to learn more about.

[monsters-conquer-the-world]

OOZEPUNK

WHAT IS OOZEPUNK?

Oozepunk is the term I'm coining for the microgenre of urban heroic sci-fi horror-fantasy that first exploded in the mid-80s with movies, shows, and comics like Ghostbusters, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, The Toxic Avenger, Who Framed Roger Rabbit, Hellboy, Street Sharks, and others. Lots of natural crossover with Biopunk and Cyberpunk, aesthetically and philosophically.

Your childhood trauma didn't let you forget Roger Rabbit heavily featured colorful nightmare slime, did it?

A ragtag gang of weirdos (often horribly mutated--more on that soon) band together to save a city that doesn't understand them. Grimy sewers, abandoned buildings and graffiti'd brick walls are lit up by neon lights, streams of mysterious, glowing goo and/or the unearthly lights of futuristic particle weapons--ideally all of the above!

Beyond the "cracked concrete and gutters full of liquid plutonium" aesthetic, Oozepunk prankishly asks "What if catastrophic aberrations of science, particularly DUMPING TOXIC FUCKING WASTE STRAIGHT INTO THE ENVIRONMENT created fucked-up monsters... but they're HEROIC fucked-up monsters!" These catastrophic aberrations of science grant the heroes incredible powers, but COST them their place in human society. (Ghostbusters and Roger Rabbit eschew character mutation in favor of discovering that the undead and olde tymey cartoons are real [and exploitable!], respectively. 'Busters and 'Toon sympathizers alike are treated like insane idiots and/or frauds in their respective universes.)

Oozepunk heroes are challenged not only by strange supernatural beings, but by human society itself. The Ghostbusters battle with local politicians as much as they do the undead. In the recent (and delightful) TMNT: Mutant Mayhem, Splinter warns the Turtles of humans and their obsession with "milking" mutants for their blood--on top of the villainous mutants they're trying to thwart!

Crank up the creep factor in Oozepunk and you get awesome anti-establishment goo-horror like 1988's The Blob, The Stuff, Street Trash, and probably a bunch more. Toxic Avenger is a batshit crazy splatter-comedy (i.e. classic Troma)... and still garnered sequels, a kid's cartoon and toyline!

And there's a Shredder's Revenge-style Crusaders beat-em-up coming out next year??

This looks dope as shit

Ghostbusters and TMNT are the only current, "evergreen" (or radioactive green!) Oozepunk franchises I can think of off the top of my head, but Oozepunk elements are buried in almost all of the stories and settings I love the most. Heroic kaiju like King Kong, Godzilla and Gamera paved the way for our freaky friends, but so did comics characters like Fantastic Four's Ben "The Thing" Grimm, The Hulk and Swamp Thing. Hell, I think I blame SESAME STREET of all things for starting me down the Oozepunk path.

Surprise! I've loved screaming trash monsters with secret hearts of gold since I was a fucking baby, and they've ALWAYS been there for me!

But it's not just Oscar, Sesame Street as a whole is a proto-Oozepunk utopia, years before the big Ooze-splosion of the 80s. Muppets, monsters, talking animals and chill humans all live and work together to scrape by with a little dignity in a gritty-but-wholesome urban world!

Sesame Street, a decades-long reminder that educational childrens' programming can and SHOULD be cool as hell looking and loaded with all kinds of friendly mutant freakuloids.

OOZEPUNK! Whaddya think?

[beatrixstonehill2]

"One little call was all it took! Guys, my heart is pounding out of my chest. As a lot of you know, my college put up a ton of posters for this new detransition program. I've been questioning being a girl a ton lately thanks to all of you! I was so sure I wanted to stay a girl until I joined TikTok and you guys really opened my eyes with all the vids you tag me in. ❤️ I watch hours of detrans content every day now and yes, I totally rub my little cock to it. God I wish I could jerk off! My dick is only one inch.... totally stunted from blockers and all these silly, girly hormones my parents convinced me to take.

Ugh, it's so hot seeing all these trans girls like me with big gorgeous titties and sexy bodies give it all up to become porn-obsessed frat bros, cock-hungry femboys, or fat losers in their parents' basements. I could totally see myself becoming the latter! Couldn't you? I can see myself moving back in, stuffing my face, and just jerking off like a total gooner as I eat and eat, turning my sexy body into a pile of hairy lard, my mom bringing me endless fast food as I loudly watch porn, eat, and jerk off all day...... Sounds like heaven! Not that I don't like being a cute sorority girl with big boobs getting fucked in the ass a dozen times a day by a dozen different guys.....

The posters the university put up have this number. You just have to call it, tell them where you are, or since it's Tennessee, where a girl you'd like to detrans is..... And they drive over, pick you up, toss you in a van, and cart you away. They repurposed an old Urgent Care up the road into a Detrans Clinic. Basically I'll be brought there, since I'm volunteering they won't need three signatures from others who want me destransed, and they take me to the back. In a matter of twenty minutes or so, they told me..... My boobs will be removed, first thing to help masculinize me. Then I'll be pumped steadily with T and dick growth drugs for two weeks. Apparently doctors and counselors will talk to me all about finally becoming male, and I'll even be allowed to fuck some pretty girls.

But I already know the fate that awaits me as a boy. You guys hit the nail on the head sending me all those vids about gorgeous busty trans girls becoming slob gooners, covered in pizza grease, endlessly leaving nasty comments on pretty girls' accounts, becoming a total creep, so fat I struggle to get from my bed to my computer. My mom bringing me food all day, encouraging me to jerk off and fatten up the same way she happily encouraged me to wear dresses and be the sexy girl of my fantasies..... Shit, I think they just pulled up! Oh my god I'm freaking out! I'm really about to lose my perfect tits and become a guy! Oh fuck this is turning me on more than a hundred frat boys fucking my tight girly ass...... Next time I see you guys I'll barely look like a girl at all! Can't wait! ❤️ Until then, be sure to tell a friend, gather some signatures, and help the rest of the confused fakegirls on campus embrace becoming boys!"

[lakesbian]

I was going to be a superhero. That was the goal I used to calm myself down at moments like these. It was what I used to make myself get out of bed on a school day. It was a crazy dream that made things tolerable. It was something to look forward to, something to work towards.

i'm reminded again of what i was talking about here--taylor's obsession with being a superhero serves as a fantasy that if she takes up an alternate identity and does it Right then she can be valued as that alternate identity even if she isn't valued as taylor. the usage of "crazy dream" specifically is interesting because it's like. worm is very into meta-commentary on superhero genre conventions. it's extremely conventional in cape media for teenagers with shit lives to escape awful, boring reality via assuming alternate identities as superheroes, and earth bet textually contains its own cape media: capes marketed on lunchboxes or as dolls, teen hero capes sold as a sort of teen celebrity, etc. it's an interesting divergence from most cases of teenage characters escaping from Shit Reality via magic or supernatural circumstances because those circumstances are usually thrust upon said teenagers unexpectedly--like, "surprise, magic is real, and also you're special and involved in it now!" but here, taylor knows that superpowers are real, and she's actively being fed the dream of escaping from her Shit Life via the PRT's ubiquitous societal presentation of capes as popular and morally stand-out figures. cape media about the dream of escaping from Shit Teenage Life via being a superhero literally exists within the universe of worm, and taylor wants to believe in that dream. so we're already being set up to see the conflict btwn her belief in that dream and her realization as to the realities of caping within worm's universe. and i think it's a really fun bit of genre subversion/commentary that how capes usually work in the genre as a whole are not how they actually work in worm, but it Is how the prt Wants characters to believe that it's how capes work.