#as far as you know the 'teenage' smut they write is based on their own experiences or emotions at the time

[kurokoros]

imagine blatantly mocking people for being 25+ in fandom spaces, then going on to say you aren’t ageist while in the same breath declaring that it’s okay to be wary of people over 25 because they’re older than most people in fandom spaces, as if fandom isn’t known for being started by 30+ year old women writing kirk/spock fanfiction

[stabortega]

LOTTIE MATTHEWS – NSFW ALPHABET

Summary: Lottie Matthews' NSFW alphabet.

Pairing: Adult!Lottie Matthews x Fem!Reader

Warnings:: NSFW. Mentions of kinks. Smut(ish) No mentions of the crash. Implied fem reader (she/her pronouns used). G!P reader. MDNI.

Author's note: Just a little something to get my writing going, let me know what you think!

MASTERLIST!

AFTERCARE.

Lottie is extremely affectionate after sex. She likes when you hold her tight and caress her hair, it makes her feel like a silly teenager again. She'll definitely take care of you if you're feeling tired as well, always making sure you're okay before going to sleep.

BODYPART.

She loves your abs. Right after your face, your abs are definitely a body part that she loves to kiss and touch all the time. And your hands, too. In her own words, they make wonders.

CUM.

Lottie absolutely loves when you cum inside her. She is the happiest when you fill her up with your juices, it makes her feel so dirty and naughty, which is a side of her that she never shows due to the fact she's running a wellness center, and she needs to be on her best behavior 24/7. Also, she's grown to love the feeling of getting cum on her face and mouth. And she makes sure to swallow every last drop.

DIRTY SECRET.

You're the first person that she has ever told this, but the thought of you fucking her in one of the center's common areas, with the imminent risk of getting caught by one of the fellow members and staff, really gets her going. She knows that the risk is far too big, but as of this moment she's content in having that thought only in her mind.

And also threesomes because she would love seeing you fuck another girl to show her how much you're learning.

EXPERIENCE.

She had a couple of sexual encounters here and there, but you're definitely the first person that she's exploring all of her fantasies with. She trusts you enough to let you in, physically and emotionally speaking.

FAVORITE POSITION.

Lottie has a whole list of positions she enjoys. Most of the times, she prefers to be in charge, even if she's the one receiving. In those situations, she enjoys riding you. But she recently started to enjoy getting fucked on all fours, as well. Missionary is a must; being able to touch you and look straight into your eyes while you're pounding her really gets her going.

GOOFY.

She tries her best to mantain her posture in sex. Lottie knows that being older really arouses you, so she prefers to take advantage in that by being serious, demanding and controlling most of the times. But there are situations that the both of you just want to enjoy some carefree sex to relax your minds for a bit.

HAIR.

She never really fully shaves, but she prefers to keep it trimmed. A simple strip of thin hair is more than enough for her. And in terms of your hair, she doesn't really care if you shave completely or not.

INTIMACY.

Like mentioned earlier, Lottie is a dom. She's a bottom most of the times, but she's the most powerful bottom you'd ever seen. Most of the times she likes to boss you around, telling you what she wants you to do with her.

"Be a good girl for Mommy, baby. You know you're the only one who can make me feel good, right?" She said while holding your hardened cock by the base, while both of you were in the missionary position, your cock almost penetrating her dripping cunt. "Look at how hard you are, baby. Is that all for me, huh?" She asked, but you were too turned on to answer. "Oh, my love... You're seem so out of your head today." She said while masturbating you slowly, your pre-cum leaking through the head of your dick, and she made sure to rub her thumb right on top of your sensitive tip. "Seems like Mommy here needs to show you how she likes to be fucked, hm?"

Also, there are times where Lottie just wants to feel like a bad girl who needs to be punished. Sometimes she just wanna let loose and she what her little girl is capable off. Which is why there are times where she purposefully wants to make you jealous enough so you get to fuck her life out of her.

"Fuck, baby... I didn't knew you were getting that good." She says, out of breath, right after you came violently inside her swollen pussy. "Guess Mommy taught you well, hm?"

JACK OFF.

You worked at the wellness center with Lottie, and obviously dating the head of the compound had its perks. One of them is being able to ask Lottie to assign you any job you'd like, and that's exactly what she did when you asked her if you could take care of the compound's horses. You were so passionate about animals and being able to work with them made you the happiest ever. But, oh boy, she should've thought this through before assigning you to that, because it made you busy with the horses almost 24/7. So, let's just say that there are weeks where Lottie masturbates more than she would like to.

KINKS.

Lottie definitely prefers to be in charge, in like, 80% of the times. She doesn't really care if she's the one fucking or getting fucked, but ever since she started the compound, she realised how much she enjoyed being the one with the power on her hands. She likes to tie you up, to blindfold you, and she most certainly has a wax kink. Cockwarming is something that you guys are trying recently, as well. She obviously has a huge Mommy kink, and the thought of you being an innocent person which had to be teached about everything involving sex arouses her more than she likes to admit.

But when she's subbing, though, she has a completely different kink list. She likes to feel like a whore, hands down a complete bitch who's only purpose in life is to be your cum dump. She absolutely adores when you pull her hair, slap her face and calls her a slut; to her, it's like she's teaching you how to fuck when she's topping, and when you're topping you're showing her everything that you've learned. She loves to be your teacher.

LOCATION.

Even though Lottie wanted to have sex at some risky locations, she knows that the risk of getting caught is too big, no matter how much she wants it. However, there were a few times where you fucked her in her car, in the compound's parking lot at night. Not very risky, but it was the best you could do.

MOTIVATION.

She has a weak spot for your body, in general. If you show her the tiniest bit of your skin, it already gets her going. The times where you have to boss a few people around in the stable also turns her on. And when you call her Charlotte, of course.

NO.

It goes without saying that Lottie wouldn't do anything that you don't feel comfortable doing. She wouldn't ever cross your boundaries and she knows you would never cross hers. If we're talking about kinks, Lottie isn't really a fan of pet play and I also don't see her trying.

ORAL.

Lottie is a sucker for oral (no pun intended). One of the things she loves the most is to have your cock in her throat. To Lottie, that's not even foreplay. She likes to think that she's the best head you'd ever gotten (she's not wrong). She's the kind of woman to give you the whole job; she deepthroats you, massage your balls, swallows your cum or licks it off right off of your stomach. She loves it when you put her hair up in a ponytail and fuck her face, as she was lucky enough to have absolutely zero gag reflex.

Recieving is also a must for her. Like the great teacher she is, Lottie is the kind of woman to guide you when you're giving her head, telling you where she likes your tongue and what she likes the most.

"Fuck, baby, right there... Look at Mommy while you're sucking her, alright? Let me look at your pretty eyes." The older one said, while holding your chin slightly as if she were to guide you. "You see how you're dripping? You see how wet you make me, baby? You're so, so good..."

PACE.

Like mentioned before, Lottie prefers to be more gentle yet demanding when she's topping. She likes to take her time with you, guide you slowly. There aren't a lot of occasions where she's a rough top. However when she's subbing, she wants you to get as rough as you can get. (Which you do, considering that most of the times when you top, is because she purposefully made you jealous). So, it really depends.

QUICKIE.

Only when she's anxious or stressed. When she has an important meeting or something that triggers her anxiety, she asks you to fuck her a couple of minutes before her appointment to calm her nerves. Other than that, she's not a huge fan.

RISK.

Lottie is down to try pretty much anything with you, as long as is something both of you are down to try. There are only a few things that she's not really comfortable trying, but they're not many.

STAMINA.

Lottie works out, has a healthy diet and occupies her mind with yoga and meditation. So naturally, she is unstoppable when it comes to stamina. Usually she cums, at least, three to four times when you have sex, and she tries her best to make you cum the same amount. Considering you guys fuck almost every night, of course. There was one occasion where she managed to have eight orgasms and tried to make you have eight as well, but you only got to five.

TOYS.

She has an considerable toy collection. It's not too much but she's happy with that amount. Lottie has a couple of vibrators to herself, one or two butt plugs that she really wanted to use it on you, if you allow her, some ropes, handcuffs and blindfolds.

UNFAIR.

Lottie only teases when she wants something. If she wants you to fuck her brains out, she'll tease and make you worked up enough until you burst and fuck her like the whore she wants to be.

VOLUME.

She's a screamer. Thank god her cabin is a little distant from the other ones, it allows her to be as loud as she wants, especially when you're rough. When you're having soft sex, however, she's not very loud. And she doesn't really mind if you're loud or not.

WILD CARD.

Lottie loves when you masturbate in front of her. The first times you didn't even knew she was there; she liked to watch you by her own. That happened a lot until you caught her, of course.

"How long you've been watching me...?" You said, your face blushing from embarrassment while you tried, unsuccessfully, to hide your hardened dick with both of your hands. Lottie felt her cunt throb just by looking at you; your guilty eyes, the sweat slightly dripping from your body. "Long enough, baby. I don't wanna be rude and interrupt you, my love. Continue."

And now it's something you do regularly, the shame you used to feel is now vanished. Lottie loves to see you in your most intimate moment, and even though she has the permission to ask you to touch yourself for her, she still watches you in secret when you're alone.

X-RAY.

Like mentioned earlier, Lottie works out. Her body is slightly tanned and ripped, she has some muscles on her abs but nothing too big.

YEARNING.

She's not the kind of person who wants to fuck 24/7, until she met you. And even though she finds you crazy hot, it's something she's trying to control. It's not her fault you make her go insane by just doing nothing.

ZZZ.

Depends on the occasion, but mostly she falls asleep after sex after 20/30 minutes. She likes to take proper care of you first, and she knows you like doing that too, so sleeping right after sex is not something that happens between you two.

[criminalmindsgonewrong]

a run down would be appreciated😭😭 and i sure hope coffee at midnight is a happy fic bc that one i did start reading and its my current obsession, i wont be able to take it if something bad happens to my babies

I won't spoil Coffee at Midnight, but I'm glad you're loving it!!

My other fics, though, I'm going to try and put into categories.

The Multichaps

A Fine Line will take you through every emotion. It's smutty and angsty and stressful but it has a happy ending!

illicit affairs is an ongoing multi-chap that's nowhere near finished. emily and aaron sleep together before her first day on the job, when neither knows who the other is. the affair they begin has consequences for years to come.

touchy subject is complete and is an emotional journey. a teenage emily aborted aaron's baby without telling him, and deals with the consequences of that decision in the decades that come after.

impact married Hotchniss are in a car accident that leaves emily in a coma.

the price we pay. I'll start by telling you that Emily's dead. that's not a spoiler, i literally tell you in the comments. this fic sees JJ try to come to terms with her death and her unresolved feelings for Emily at the same time.

Nodus Tollens is annoyingly incomplete. A complicated fic based on the Arizona-Callie-Mark triangle n Greys.

The One-Shots

The Five Stages of Grief are a Myth is a journey, but it does have a happy ending!

phantasmogoria - emily struggles with the trauma of having spent seven months in isolation, with only her own mind for company. hotch is her lifeline.

found family is a cute little fic i wrote for the 'accidental baby acquisition' tag for criminal minds week 2023. the team find a baby.

built a home and watched it burn may or may not stay an angsty one-shot. it's the first chapter of an unfinished fic i took down a while ago, in which emily and aaron are getting divorced.

Eulogy is an angsty af one-shot of JJ and Hotch telling Emily about the Paris plan.

You'll Always Be My Person is angsty Jemily fluff that I woudn't say has a happy ending, but it's sweet and short.

Habits is a cute little Jemily drabble.

in love with you is Emily POV Jemily angst.

twelve things that didn't break aaron hotchner and the one that almost did is Hotch angst with a happy Hotchniss ending.

The States Game is a cutie team fic based on That Friends Episode.

The Smutty One-Shots

Heat is the only 'only one bed' fic i've ever written. it's just pure, unadulterated, shameless, steamy Hotchniss smut.

every lover's game is what happens after you send the girl you fancy in to flirt with a creepy guy called Viper. it's pure filth. it's great. probably my favourite filth i've written. you're welcome.

trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat is angsty Hotchniss smut. like I earned the angsty smut tag on this one.

when it rains, it pours - more angsty Hotchniss smut. back from Paris, emily is struggling. then comes a storm.

Coming Home is wholesome Jemily smut.

Stress Relief and Debriefing are just pure Emily/Luke smut.

Hotchner's Future Au (in chronological order)

technically these all have a happy ending because emily and hotch are married and trying to cope with parenting x

nature vs nurture after having her first child, emily struggles with her mother's first visit and her criticisms.

a good cat never goes far - proceed with caution if you love Sergio. that's all i'll say. but also read it because i'm proud of it <3

the last first day - emily struggles with her last baby starting school

good intentions, bad excecution - livvy hotchner is a menace, but she's also a great big sister.

red-handed the kids catch emily and aaron in a...compromising position. based on a request to write a hotchners future au fic inspired by the modern family episode 'caught in the act'

my mama's in the kitchen worrying about me - emily struggles with having a teenage daughter who's exactly like her.

Good Crazy - jack announces that he and his girlfriend are expecting. emily and aaron temporarily lose their minds, but what's new?

[sproutwings]

20 Questions for Fic Writers!

The lovely @crestfallercanyon tagged me for this weeks ago, and I haven't been ignoring it - I just didn't get around to it sooner. Sorry!

How many works do you have on AO3? 380 (382, technically, because two are still anon/unrevealed exchange works.)

What’s your total A03 word count? 1,123,214

What fandoms do you write for? Currently, mostly DCU, The Flash and a bunch of tiny fandoms, but I've been writing fanfic for ages, so I went through quite a few fandoms.

What are your top five fics by kudos?

a) cut me open, take my heart (DCU, JayTim, 1744 kudos) b) A Bird in the Hand (DCU, Dickstroke, 1694 kudos) c) Hook(er), Line and Sinker (The Flash, Coldflash, 1586 kudos) d) No Shortage of Blood (Original Works, Starving Vampire/Vampire Hunter Having A Moral Crisis, 1453 kudos) e) Portrait of the Artist as a Middle-Aged Man (Gossip Girl, Dan/Blair/Chuck, 1149 kudos)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I always try to, but sometimes it takes a while to get around to it. /o\

What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I have no idea. I used to write a lot of angsty stuff back when I was younger but the older I get the more I gravitate towards fics that leave the characters in a... well, maybe not necessarily in a good place exactly, because I tend to ship a lot of dysfunctional ships and write unhealthy relationship dynamics, but I don't want the characters to feel hopeless and unhappy in the end, so even when they're in a bad situation, they're making the best out of it.

A very old, very angsty fic of mine is Too Close To Touch (Harry Potter, various permutations of Draco, Harry and Hermione). I don't know if it's the angstiest overall, but it occasionally still gets comments so it's fresh in my mind despite having been written almost two decades ago.

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Oh no, this is similarly hard to answer. Maybe Throw Away the Plan (The Flash, Coldwestallen)? Most of my endings seem to be "the main conflict of the story is dealt with, the ship kisses and things are okay-ish for now". 🙃

Do you get hate on your fic? Maybe once or twice, but nothing dramatic or memorable, luckily enough.

Do you write smut? Sometimes.

Do you write crossovers? No.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Yes! Someone copied a few of my fics word by word, replaced the names and posted them as Kpop RPS. D: D: D: I got the author to take them down, but they did it with a lot of people's fics and eventually AO3 banned them.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes, a few! I blanket allow translations, as long as they're credited properly and not posted anywhere but AO3.

Have you ever co-written a fic? Yes, but it was a really long time ago, and coordinating was pretty stressful. I prefer to work on my own schedule.

What‘s your all-time favourite ship? Noooo, don't make me choose. I love so many ships! If I absolutely had to pick one, it would be Tommy/Bubonic from Eye Candy, but it mostly depends on what I'm in the mood for right in that moment.

What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? There's Coldflash BDSM fic based on a long-forgotten Tumblr prompt I would have loved to write one day, but it would be far longer than anything I'm comfortable writing and it's only 'in progress' in so far that I have a few dialogue snippets from it written down yet.

What’s your writing strengths? Character voices and snappy banter, probably.

What’s your writing weaknesses? Plot!!!! As you can see by every fic I've written where the characters get captured or attacked by some nameless villain for nebulous reasons. I always handwave stuff like that because I simply can't bring myself to care about it or put any thought into it. 😅 Sorry!

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? As a reader, It always throws me out of the story. :(

First fandom you wrote for? The X-Files! Mulder/Krycek was teenage Sandrine's first fanfic obsession. (Though technically, I wrote terrible Star Wars and The Three Musketeers fic long before I knew what fanfic was! But I've decided that doesn't count. 😅)

Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

(never been) so much at stake (OW, Vampire Moonlighting As A Barista/Exhausted Vampire Hunter In Search Of Caffeine) is probably the best, but The Biggest Score of All (The Flash, Coldflash) has my heart!

I'm supposed to tag people here, and I'm terrible at this, so @waysheswings, @sunherirai, @moriavis, @zeroducks-2, @hithelleth, @elasticella - if you want to do this, consider yourself tagged and if you want to ignore it, pretend I never mentioned your name. And anyone else who sees this and wants to answer, you're also tagged! Yes, I mean YOU. :D

[viperwhispered]

hi hi ner!! 👻💕🎨 for the ask game !!

Aaa Ian here you are again coming in with the questions that I really have to think about (it’s fine don’t worry but oof these aren’t easy ones for me to answer).

👻 What is your wildest headcanon?

I mean all my opinions are factually correct so… Jk, jk. Kind of a tricky question, tho 🤔

I know I’ve said this before but I kinda never know when character / canon interpretation or interpolation crosses over into headcanon territory. Plus I generally do try to be pretty canon-compliant and base my interpretations on that.

Basically, for all those folks making headcanon lists and stuff, my brain just does not work that way and not sure I'd ever be able to produce one of my own.

Hmm…

Honestly, I’m totally drawing a blank here, sorry 😔 I guess if I’ll ever throw something wild into a fic, you’ll find out?

Only thoughts I can even kinda grasp rn are nsfw and uhhh some of those are definitely more personal wish fulfillment than actual headcanons.

💕 What is your favorite fic that you’ve written?

Aaa how can I even choose.

I mean also a big chunk of it is smut and a lot of it isn’t widely available (and I probably can’t remember the existence of half of it off the top of my head), so…

I suppose in some sense Of Cows and Curses and Consequences (Hatsuharu x reader, Fruits Basket) is my magnum opus, at least as far as longfic and plotting is concerned. Yes, it is very unfinished and I haven’t touched it in ages, but I worked so properly on that one, outlining my chapters and the story (like, I’ve got notes like 10 chapters ahead of what’s been published), which makes it stand out. Plus it was one of the first if not the first fic I ever wrote (if we don’t count the beginnings of a young teenager self-insert for Earth’s Children that never made it past couple hand-written pages). So yeah, a bit of a “go big or go home” start to my fic writing journey. 😅

Also whatever was the first fic I wrote with a friend’s tastes specifically in mind. Always love it when I can get someone right in the feels (definitely a big reason for why I write in the first place, but that’s a story for another time before I get even more off-track).

Honestly there’s so many pieces I could consider notable for being a first in something or otherwise meaningful but I really can’t pick just one.

🎨 If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

Oh boy so many Jamil scenes coming to mind. Fixation would have so many tasty bits (some of them even sfw, oop), some whump for the Kali & Shiva analogy thoughts (it could be so cool even if it also would hurt me so bad 😭), Jamil’s first realization moment (or any flustered bit, really) from How Not to Be Swept Under… All of them would be lovely ngl.

Though honestly, if anyone ever were to make anything (draw, write, whatever) inspired by my works, I would probably just combust and live off the high for a week (or a few).

I’m afraid my answers for these ones are kinda rambly and not super definitive but alas, it is what it is. Can’t pick just one for many of these. Still, ty for the questions Ian! I hope my answers weren't too disappointing.

(ask game here for anyone else curious)

[coalswriting]

introduction + links

hey!! i'm coal. like the rock. yeah.

you can find my masterlist for all my yellowjackets fics >> here! <<

requests, as of now are open, but i operate on a motivation-based system. therefore, i will do your request based on if i want to do it, not based on the order that i get it. this is because i suffer from severe motivation dips alongside having a job that keeps me quite busy.

>> rules for requests! <<

please state what character you want in the request! also state whether they are their teen version (will probs age up to 18 depending on the req.) or their adult version!

give me a prompt! unfortunately, my imagination only goes so far on it's own so a prompt would be helpful. furthermore, i might go with a bullet-point style if i'm struggling to write, but i'll try not to.

That's it!

>> limitations <<

i will not write -> male readers, anything severely triggering (your request will be ignored), and i don't think i feel comfortable writing smut right now; not with adult characters and most definitely not with the teenage depictions of the characters.

I'm not too sure how I am with poly relationships (i've seen that lottienat x reader is popular), i would give it a go but don't expect it to be amazing.

other than that, feel free to send in requests through my ask / request link on my blog.

>> who the fuck is coal? <<

so, as aforementioned, i'm coal! :))

my pronouns are she/they and i identify as a lesbian!

i have an interest in social science, psychology, and criminology!

my favourite games are probably pokemon games and minecraft, and my favourite colour is probably sage green or orange!

i am the world's biggest phoebe bridgers (she may come up as an inspo in my fics a lot), but i also really enjoy florence and the machine, mitski, bring me the horizon, linkin park, and etc!

thats all thank you <3 i also left a drawing of my persona (pretty accurate to irl me, ngl) so that yall know what i look like!! :DD can't wait to write for you all! <3 <3

[deviltries]

THE     DEVIL     WITHIN     !        A     PRIVATE      AND      SELECTIVE      WRITING      BLOG      FEATURING         PARK     YEONJIN   FROM      THE GLORY.         A     STUDY     INTO     THE ADVANTAGES OF MONEY, THE ROT OF SELF, SELFISHNESS AT ITS FINEST, AND     THE     WORLD     THAT     COMES     CRASHING.        LARGELY    HEADCANON    BASED     WITH     PERSONAL     INTERPRETATIONS.         AS     VILIFIED     BY     MACY.        EST.    MAY   2023.

RULES BELOW CUT.

GENERAL

18+ only.    mutually exclusive.     softblock when breaking mutuals.

formatting doesn’t matter to me.     just cut your posts,   and do not use a picture/screenshot as your reply.     i’m selective with those who primarily use gifs as it screams being affiliated with a certain icky side of the rpc.

DNI.

do not interact if you use idols for faceclaims ( exceptions are made for some );   are a multi and primarily use east asian fcs    ( especially if they are korean )    because that screams fetishization to me;    write historical or real muses;     use youtubers/influencers as fcs;     and/or soley focus on sexual nsfw.

CONTENT & TAGGING

i don’t use tw tagging format,   and i only tag overtly graphic and explicit content.

be aware that the glory is centered around abuse, trauma, bullying, torture, and suicide ideation. follow at your own risk.

this blog will have implied sexual nsfw content,   but very rarely,   as it’s not my thing.     smutting will likely not happen unless we’re close and it will never be on dash.     

SHIPPING & MAINS

this blog is multiship,   though yeonjin is a fairly difficult muse to ship with off the bat.     that being said,   romance is typically not top priority for me and i tend to prefer other forms of dynamics:     antagonistic,   platonic,   familial,   etc.

mains and exclusives happen if we vibe a lot or write a lot,   otherwise don’t ask &lt;3

WRITER & CREDITS

i’m macy,   23,   she/her.     this is not my main blog so activity will limited.     discord available upon request.

ABOUT PARK YEONJIN :

park yeonjin in present era works as a weatherwoman. well known, established, renowned. wealthy, classy, and elegant. has a young daughter whom she dotes on and a husband she couldn't be happier to have. her life is sparkling and clean and everything a person could want. but she hides an ugly past and wears a mask that has been super - glued on for the sake of blending into society. park yeonjin as a teenager was the devil incarnate, taking advantage of her mother's wealth, power, and influence to dish out violence to whomever she wanted to. yeonjin cared about nobody and dealt with her boredom in cruel, unorthodox manners. with a small group of friends who followed her every step, she terrorized her targets at school to do her bidding ( and to simply provide herself with entertainment ). if anyone knew, they wouldn't say it. if anyone dared to tell on her, they would regret it. park yeonjin always got her way.

although her cohorts had been with her for most activities, she hides the truth of one of their victims — she was the cause of yoon sohee's death, of which had been ruled a suicide.

as an adult, yeonjin had grown more skillful at hiding her true self and presents herself as the charming, kind wife and philanthropist. even with her position at the weather channel, she exploits younger assistants to write her scripts for her and uses fear to maintain control over younger, ambitious co - workers seeking to replace her.

her body count is one and a half, but that's only if we're counting literal deaths. she's snuffed out far more spirits than that.

HOW TO WRITE WITH YEONJIN:

your muse would never know that she was a bully in high school. your muse would never know that she killed someone in high school or that she nearly killed someone as an adult. yeonjin is an expert at acting and playing a role. she's charming, funny, gentle, down - to - earth. she would be a good friend at first. she's incredibly fake though so it would make sense for your muse to be put off by it or sense that something is off. she could've been an enemy during high school or college or even during her early career days but in a ' shielded ' manner so it's not so scandalous as being labelled a bully. yeonjin also has connections in high places, mostly due to her mom, so that's an option. anything could work tbh !

[xavantina]

I posted 2,645 times in 2022

9 posts created (0%)

2,636 posts reblogged (100%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@i-see-you-jon

@sjweminem

@vildmus

@strideerandflashlightgirl

@powerbottombrucespringsteen

I tagged 1,483 of my posts in 2022

Only 44% of my posts had no tags

#our flag means death - 145 posts

#stranger things - 90 posts

#hannibal - 81 posts

#loki - 73 posts

#succession - 69 posts

#loki series - 68 posts

#mobius m. mobius - 52 posts

#eddie munson - 50 posts

#ugly laughter - 46 posts

#the sandman - 44 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#five minutes of awkward silence eventually replaced by him starting to tell me in detail the workings of elevators and the odds of us dying

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

cries i love your loki memes

Thank you 😊 I appreciate the support of my meme follies.

1 note - Posted October 24, 2022

#4

Spotify being down causing such a level of distress worldwide really says a lot about our lives…

1 note - Posted March 8, 2022

#3

This is my cat. Her everyday name is Good Girl, but her full name (as written on her pedigree) is Good Girls Go to Heaven.

So you can imagine, based on that, how much Meat Loaf’s music means to me. I’m genuinely upset by this loss. I mean yeah, he had deeply problematic political opinions, but in this case I’m happy to separate art from the artist. Bat Out of Hell is one of my favourite albums of all time, ever since I was a child. It’s one of those cases of “your dad played it a lot and you automatically imprinted on it”. I think we owned it on fucking cassette tape? So yeah, his music is intrinsically tied to my childhood.

Rest in peace, Mr. Loaf.

2 notes - Posted January 22, 2022

#2

I am so very bad at actually doing these things, but I was tagged by the lovely and talented @gavotteangel, so I finally got off my butt and went to town.

Fanfic Writer 20 Questions!

1. how many works do you have on ao3? A measly 31. But in my defense, I’m ancient, so I have posted at least twice as many on LiveJournal back in the day.

2. what’s your total ao3 word count? 162,236  

3. how many fandoms have you written for and what are they? Six are represented on AO3, including a mix of various RPF fandoms, Hannibal, Law and Order: SVU, A Series of Unfortunate Events, and recently Loki. But back in my teenage years I wrote fic in the Lord of the Rings fandom, Harry Potter, and as I got older even more diverse RPF, mostly centered around US political media and, uh... Top Gear. Look, I have a past, okay, leave me alone.

4. what are your top five fics by kudos?

Assemble, a lighthearted, non-graphic-but-still-very-shippy Marvel RPF

As Loud as the Hell You Want, smutty Will Graham/Frederick Chilton

The Ties That Bind, a Barisi soulmate AU

Arrest Me - another Barisi fic, this one smutty

Young Police Cadet Bottoms for Busty Blonde - a Carisi/Amaro (and Carisi/OFC) porn fic where I’m actually super proud of the title. it really sets the tone 😂

5. do you respond to comments? why or why not? Almost always. If you took the time to comment, I will take the time to say thank you. Especially when I get the really juicy comments, like those that quote favourite lines and stuff. I love those comments, they’re so helpful!

6. what’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? I’m really bad at following through on angst, I wrap that shit up with a vaguely happy ending. That said, Control You is pretty bad. It’s also locked, because I lock RPF religiously. kill them; kill them with fire is technically still a WIP, so it doesn’t count, although it’s some of the angstiest fic I’ve written.

7. do you write crossovers? Not so much these days, but I used to

8. have you ever received hate on a fic? Oh yes, before the US Pundit fandom hid all the RPF away in secret, thoroughly locked LJ communities, there were some pretty ugly instances of hate going around.

9. do you write smut? if so, what kind? Ahahaha, yes, I do. 23 of those 31 fics are rated E. And it was the same back on LJ.

10. have you ever had a fic stolen? Not as far as I know.

11. have you ever had a fic translated? I’ve received requests for a couple of fics to be translated into Russian. I gave my permission, but I have no idea if they followed through with it.

12. have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes. Way back when I was 18 I had a 42 year old BFF from California who shared my brand of absurd humour and we co-wrote a sprawling 20K+ Pundit RPF comedy zombie AU, where we took turns writing the chapters as we went along, playing off what the other person had written in the previous chapter. I was a great experience, like the fic equivalent of improv comedy groups. An entire story based on ‘yes, and...’ as a concept.

13. what’s your all-time favorite ship? I can’t possibly answer that question, I’m a bit of a whore in this respect. I mix and match. Although judging from my AO3 account it’s Chilly/Willy and Barisi, and it’s true that I love those ships.

14. what’s a wip that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? kill them; kill them with fire probably. It’s a ASOUE Zombie AU with stand-alone chapters focusing on different characters in different locations, but in a vaguely chronological order. Can you tell that I adore zombie AUs? Anyway, I was very proud of this one, because this particular zombie apocalypse is totally “realistic” in-universe. It takes an existing killer-fungus danger and replaces ‘certain death’ being the result of infection with ‘zombies’ being the result. So yes, it’s The Last of Us-style “zombies”. I actually stole the terminology from there as well, because I couldn’t be bothered with creating too much lore. I never care about the actual zombie horror anyway, I care about the human reaction to a deadly crisis. 

15. what are your writing strengths? A writer I admired very much in ye olden days once told me that I was good at blending genres and moods organically, in those day it was combinations of action, humour, and smut. She then asked me, me, for advice on a fic. I still think about that every single time I feel down.

16. what are your writing weaknesses? Definitely a tendency for overly detailed, flowery, self-indulgently elaborate prose. I spent years forcing myself to use a plain ‘said’ more often, because God knows I struggled with the concept from the beginning. And commas. So many commas. I often joke that Ernest Hemingway would fucking deck me if he was alive and reading my stuff. Oscar Wilde would you rather discuss writing with? Case closed.

17. what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in another language? I think it’s fine in controlled doses, especially if you consult native speakers to confirm that google translate isn’t about to make you look really silly to native speakers of the language in question.

18. what was the first fandom you ever wrote for? Lord of the Rings, I think? At least in English. I was 14 when the first film came out, so it was around then. It was really bad. English is my second language, and my grammar... left something to be desired. Okay, technically I wrote fic for The Hobbit first, because our teacher was pretty cool when it came to assigning various writing challenges, and in this case he made us all write fanfic that should be a twist on the pretty anticlimactic (according to him) ending of the book. I proceeded to literally kill off half the dwarves in a gruesome Smaug-fight. Very indiscriminately, I might add. Completely random. Just piling up dead, scorched dwarves for shits and giggles.

19. what’s your favorite fic you’ve ever written? Okay, bear with me here, but I’m just really proud of Young Police Cadet Bottoms for Busty Blonde. Probably the smuttiest smut I’ve ever written. I enjoyed every second of the writing process, I had a wonderful time, and it lives up to its title in terms of balls to the wall PWP insanity.  A Guide to Recognizing Your Ghosts and Unfortunate Living Arrangements are also up there, because I’m still a Chilton fangirl at heart.

20. who do you tag? all of my old ASOUE peeps! @beatricebidelaire, @virginian-wolfsnake, @kitsnicket etc. etc. You know who you are.

6 notes - Posted November 22, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Nine months clean and sober. The party I’m dolled up for is for my dad’s though, he turns 60 today.

48 notes - Posted March 27, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[single-malt-scotch]

me and my controversial topics will stay under the cut lol.

i know i blabbed lightly of this probably but obviously one of the things that put me off from mcyt for a few years was when the "rpf is bad" opinion started circling the internet more frequently, in tumblr's 2014-2016 toxic callout culture era. i think that era shifted YT fandoms as a whole and turned loads of ppl to presenting creators with their "characters" specifically (like i recall this early on w markiplier and jacksepticeye) and clarifying it often. but i find this all very amusing when 80% of the ppl dont actually play characters at all, and ppl are either just writing "rpf" or theyre just turned a creator into their own OCs. i think its sometimes just a way to not associate with the idea of rpf even if its like, right there.

like, the problem i think is that the majority of fans, namely the young teens that are the main audience, are very consumed by purity culture and being free of problematic interests in such a black and white way. i get it, i understand why you dont want to be associated with rpf. when i think of weird and uncomfortable rpf i think of.... fan fiction of the Beatles, or something. a band or a movie actor is someone we can easily define as "not a character" but... when it comes to mcyt, its a little more grey, because i know some of them goof around in games and do bits and exaggerate themselves.

and yet i still think its counter productive to get caught up in these woes, and to deny what exactly it means for something to be rpf, or have rpf elements. ironically i think the indulgence people have with making them characters worsens the parasocial/obsessive/skewed lens people have on creators these days. how? well its bc of how ppl get super attached to characters... comfort characters, kinning, etc. i love characters just an intensely, but when you apply this to a youtuber who like, doesnt actually play a character? even tho you wanna act like they do? .....there can definitely be issues in that and its def what makes me not get into the fandom as it is. you elevate them with your view of them as a character by being able to indulge in them way further bc they are kind of "yours" now. but also theyre not really.

but specifically back to the rpf vs not rpf topic- basically what i really intend to say is that like. there is harm in becoming too concerned over what youre writing bc you can fall into that mindset of being far too aware in a way thats just gonna make you feel terrible all the time (i experienced this myself when i was like 15 on tumblr and wanted to avoid any potential of touching something "problematic"). this post isnt to declare you are writing rpf, or you arent, or whatever the"rules" are about when it is or isnt, but just that theres always time to just accept shit as it is when the blurry lines arent actually doing any harm in this case. and that even trying to force yourself into the seemingly right direction doesnt exactly solve all the other problems either.

cuz i did all the things ppl would wanna call me out for and i dont care at this point. i wrote fan fiction where the guys where more characters than themselves, in a fantasy world for the server. but i also wrote fan fiction that was irl and based during minecon! and it was smut. and all i can say to that now is...ok. im not even gonna sit around and vehemently condemn it either? even if i never plan to do it again. cuz i dont see the need to punish my past self, nor do i see the reason to continue questioning the nuances of where the line between hard rpf and hard fiction lies with this bc its a never ending conversation. its just not worth my time to worry anymore. i know how to not be weird about it, i know my boundaries between creator and fan, i dont even get near the extent that some people do... i feel like im aware enough to feel like im not causing harm/can make logical choices when issues arise. i was a niave teenager before, and wrote such things with little thought, and had a much less healthy mindset about it! but the way the internet laid on the pressure of these strict definitions was the moment i felt shame, and as if i couldnt ever redeem myself from actions i understand far better now. its really not worth the stress and heartache to get so caught up in it.

[yoonpobs]

back-burner | 12

what is free, will sometimes hurt

PAIRING. min yoongi x reader

GENRE. sister’s best friend!au, best friend to lovers!au, frenemies?to lovers! au, angst, *slow burn*, eventual smut, eventual fluff

WARNINGS. another Yoongi POV!, multiple confrontations, sexist views on marriage and a woman's worth, misogyny, emotionally unavailable parents, toxic parenting, alcohol as a coping mechanism again, misunderstandings, fluffy moments too, further heartbreak, ANGST (sorry loves)

WORDS. 8k

NOTES. yeah this chapter will play with ur emotions bc I was going on a rollercoaster ride while writing it 😩 im sorry babes but...slow-burn must prevail!

back-burner masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

Standing outside a place he’s practically engraved to memory should’ve been easy. The journey through the familiar moss-green trees and the uphill slope was one he’s taken more than enough times to count; years of experience took him down this same road—yet, it feels different. It definitely is.

“You didn’t have to come along.”

Yet, there’s still a semblance of familiarity with the foreign situation. A voice that’s tied to fond memories as he grew out of the lanky body that used to house a more immature version of him; the childish nature that was endearing years ago and unnecessary now. It’s a voice that’s comforting, but the situation wasn’t.

“I did,” Yoongi replies easily, hands stuffed into his pocket. The house is atop of a relatively large hill—your parents were rich, that enough was known. It’s only a given that their home reflected their ambitions in life; mountainous, daunting—almost unrealistic for the average person.

“I could’ve talked to my parents on my own,” Haerin huffs, staring ahead at the king-sized walls. “This is my battle.”

Yoongi looks over to her with a levelled gaze. Her hair is tucked in the collar of her coat, the tip of her nose slightly flushed due to the chilly weather. He’s known her since they were teenagers and much less put together than they were now; so he knows. He knows that the eyes that avoid him weren’t saying that it was her battle.

It was telling him that it wasn’t his.

“You know just because it didn’t work out doesn’t mean I don’t care about you, right?” Yoongi says with a raised brow.

Haerin sighs. “I know. But you know how my parents are and …” her eyes drift to her feet before she peers up to the same doors that separate the unknown and the present, “I rather save you the hassle.”

Yoongi mutely nods his head, not agreeing, just in understanding. Then, he takes in a deep breath and releases it timely as he offers Haerin a gentle smile.

“I’d have to face them eventually,” he points out and Haerin nods. “I rather them find out from me instead of anyone else.”

“Honestly, with how obvious you were, I’m pretty sure they know but chose to pretend that they didn’t,” Haerin snorts, earning a twitch of a smile from Yoongi’s lips.

Truthfully, he was thankful for Haerin. In more ways than one. There were people that entered your life that were there to teach you something, and Haerin was that person to him. It may have seemed obvious to others that he would’ve fallen in love with her; it was natural to romanticise the idea of falling in love with your best friend. He did love her, as far as he could love Jungkook—a young boy turned into a capable man.

There were people in your life that taught you that love was constant, and there were people in your life that taught you love was eternal.

You taught him that love was eternal.

“Still,” Yoongi smiles softly, “I need to do this.”

Haerin nods her head for a few beats before a gush of wind blows against both of them. She jogs on her feet, likely to ease her nerves as Yoongi’s hand reaches out to squeeze her shoulder. A silent declaration of support; an apology; a good luck sign; anything that she needed.

“Yeah,” she breathes, “We need to do this.”

Yoongi takes a deep breath before the door opens, almost as if your parents manifested out of nowhere based on the echoes of his and Haerin’s voices. Your mother is primed to perfect, as usual, with her slicked hair without a stray in sight—Chanel coat paired with matching heels. Yoongi thinks it’s excessive that she was dressed like this for a simple meet—but she was the wife to your father, and only perfection was expected of her.

Your father, despite being the breadwinner and commander of the house, is dressed far laxer than his wife. He’s in a polo cardigan, khaki sweats tying the typical look of a wealthy man as his glasses are perched precariously on the bridge of his nose.

Your mother smiles first, amicable.

“Haerin, sweetie,” she grins, then turns to Yoongi. “And Yoongi. It’s lovely of you to join us.”

“It’s important,” Haerin blurts, uncharacteristic and it’s obvious. Her father raises a brow before she purses her lips, shooting a brief glance towards Yoongi.

“I bet it is,” your mother smiles, then she steps aside before she gestures the both of them in. “Shall we?”

Your father is an intimidating man. In court; outside of court; commanding a room of superiors; when he frowns; simply, his existence is frankly quite overwhelmingly intimidating.

Yoongi’s never been on the receiving end of his intimidation, mostly because he was in good graces with Haerin, and that automatically translated into Yoongi being in your father’s good graces too. Your father had always considered Yoongi a son, treating him more than amicably and welcoming him into your home ever since he was in high school. Yoongi was one of the lucky ones, Haerin would say.

So, this is different. Very different. Because despite his clear aura of intimidation, his face shows no indication of it.

Your mother, however, is baffled.

“You broke up?!”

Yoongi purses his lips, but Haerin is already quick to intervene.

“It was never going to work out,” she says softly, fiddling with her thumbs. “We don’t—we don’t love each other like that.”

“How is that possible?” she shrieks, “You’ve spent every second as teenagers together! He takes care of you and you take care of him! He’s a doctor, Haerin. He’s safe. The two of you—!”

“You can’t force me to love someone I don’t,” Haerin seethes, earning an astonishing gape from your mother. Yoongi’s borderline surprised, too, because Haerin was never the type to speak out to your parents. She had always been the quiet, compliant daughter that did everything your parents asked of her.

“The both of you are successful young adults with a history,” your mother exasperates, “You’re not getting any younger, Haerin. How are you going to get married?”

“Why does that matter?” Haerin cries, “I don’t love him!”

“Do you think I loved your father at first?” The woman before him is absolutely livid, yet Yoongi’s not surprised. Her voice is venomous, the type of venom he’s only ever heard towards you. He’s never liked it; never appreciated the way her voice would curl when her eyes narrow at you. Now, she’s the monster she’s always been. “Do you think he loved me at first? He didn’t. I didn’t. But we had a duty to our families and we carried it out.”

“That’s such a backward way of thinking,” Haerin scoffs. Your father is still silent; lips pursed into a thin line. It’s not a coincidence that the men remain quiet. “I don’t owe you anything.”

“Don’t speak like your sister,” your mother snarls.

“My sister has a name,” Haerin growls back, “It’s ___. It’s goddamn ___ and you should say it because you gave her that name!”

“What has gotten into you?” your mother gasps, turning to Yoongi, finally acknowledging him with a rather pleading stare as if he had the power to placate the anger that boils within Haerin. “Yoongi. You must know, you must talk her out of this—right?”

“We don’t love each other,” he says, calm as ever.

“She’s getting older, Yoongi,” your mother says desperately, “You’re the only man in her life. Who’s going to marry her if it’s not you?”

Yoongi can see Haerin trembling next to him, her fists clenched and he feels for her. His heart hurts for her because the words spat by your mother are nothing short of abhorrent. It’s vile and horrendously insinuative how Haerin’s worth was tied to her eligibility as a bachelorette. He wants to yell, wants to tell your mother that she was wrong and disgusting for suggesting that.

“Someone who does love her,” Yoongi replies, “She doesn’t owe you anything. She owes herself her own happiness.”

“You can’t be serious,” your mother gawks, “Did ___ put you up to this?”

Yoongi clenches his fists under the table.

“Haerin and I are grown adults who are capable of settling our own problems internally. Haerin will always be my best friend, but I do not love her in that way and I cannot force myself to feel something that’s entirely foreign to me,” Yoongi says slowly, enunciating each word as your mother looks ultimately disgusted. Your father is still silent, eyes resting on Yoongi’s figure, unmoving.

“What does she need to do, Yoongi? Tell us so we can do something about it,” your mother begs.

Yoongi fills an acidic taste on his tongue. The fact that your mother was more cross at the fact that Haerin wasn’t enough for Yoongi than Yoongi saying that he didn’t love her unsettles Yoongi. The fact that her own daughter is sitting right in front of her, accomplished and herself—while she berates her in front of her best friend.

Yoongi takes a deep breath.

“Nothing,” he blinks, “Nothing because she shouldn’t change herself for someone to love her.”

“Say something!” Your mother turns to your father, hissing when he remains still. “God forbid your daughter actually—!”

“Shut up!” Haerin stands up, voice booming as her hands slam onto the table. Yoongi’s eyes widen when he turns around, ready to tug her down, but she’s driven by her inhibitions than rationale, and Yoongi knows he can’t stop her.

“How dare—?”

“I have listened to you my entire life,” Haerin whispers hoarsely, “From the very moment I was born I did everything you wanted me to do so you could feel proud of me. I did everything by the book; won awards in my name and doing the best I could in everything,” she exhales, then her eyes are menacing when they rest on your parents. “I have done nothing to wrong you, and this shouldn’t be the first.”

“Why can’t you see that we’re worried about you?” your mother begs, “We don’t want you to end up like your sister—!”

“____ is amazing,” Haerin hisses vehemently, “She’s accomplished, strong, beautiful and goddamn fucking capable. I’ve had enough of you berating her when she’s not here and making her feel like absolute shit when she is. If there’s anyone that I want to be like it’s her.”

“Haerin—!”

“I’ve kept my mouth shut long enough and I’m sick and tired of it,” she spits, inching closer as her body leans forward. Yoongi still can’t get a gauge of your father’s expression, and it’s scarily stoic. For a moment, he’s terrified to wonder that if he even cared. “You’re a horrible person. You mould people into the expectations you expect of them and not what they can truly offer the world. You’re sick, and you’re vile—!”

“Haerin.” Finally, your father speaks up, and the table reigns silent. Yoongi stills and Haerin pauses. “How long have you felt this way?”

Then, Haerin’s dam breaks and she sobs. Her body almost topples over at the force of her weeping; unsteady when her fingers dig into the antique wood of the dining table. Yoongi thinks to reach out, he shifts ever so slightly to do so but Haerin raises a hand to stop him—still shaky, but somehow, Yoongi feels like this is the most assured she’s been.

“Long enough,” she tells him, oddly steadily.

The answer is vague and it displeases your mother who scoffs. But Yoongi gets it. There isn’t a timeline for pain; there is no clear beginning or ending to how one feels the agony—but it’s very much there. No one calculates the intensity of their hurt but it’s present enough to loom over you like a shadow.

Haerin takes a deep breath, before opening her mouth to speak once more.

“I don’t need you,” she declares, and Yoongi’s eyes widen. “I don’t need your approval, and I don’t need you to tell me what to do. Despite how things turned out I’m still grateful for you for pushing me to do my best,” she confesses, soft as if she’s conflicted with her internal turmoil. “But I won’t have it anymore. I want to live my life the way I want to live it.”

“And your sister—” your father starts but Haerin’s quick to intervene.

“___,” she grits, “Her name is ___.”

Your father’s lip purses, and then he takes a tentative breath before nodding.

“____,” he says, rolling his tongue against the roof of his mouth as if he’s familiarising himself with how the syllables of your name feel. Yoongi almost scowls; because what father doesn’t care to say his daughter's name? Utter it to the world as he exclaims his love for her? But Yoongi keeps silent, because while irritation bubbles—it won’t serve his purpose. “Have you spoken to her?”

“Yes,” Haerin says confidently, her shoulders straighter while he avoids your mother’s stare. “She was the first person I went to after I decided.”

Your mother scoffs, but your father is blank and impeccably stone-faced as always.

“Haerin,” he says monotonously, “Your mother and I care for you. We push you to do things that are difficult because you are capable. It’s…nice that you and your sister are getting along but you must not let her influence you like this.”

Haerin’s jaw drops and so does Yoongi. The way your father speaks is nothing like a father to a daughter; more formal and business-like than ever before. It’s almost as if the way of law and the corporate world has infiltrated every fibre of his being and he was incapable of separating the two.

But what fuels Yoongi with absolute anger is the way he speaks about you.

“Stop! God fucking stop,” Haerin screams, tugging at her hair frustratedly, “For once in your life stop being a fucking businessman and start being a father!”

“Young lady,” your father says firmly, though not angry.

“I rather have you scream at me and get angry at me because that shows you actually care but you’re not! You’re stupidly calm and it fucking sucks because you’re everything but a father,” she says through her sobs, “When will you see that you have two daughters who aren’t just figments of your unfulfilled dreams? Huh? When will you see that we’re both so fucking different?”

“Your sister is…” your father continues, still calm, and Yoongi’s fingers are practically digging a dent into the chair with how much he’s restraining himself. “Hopeless. In business terms, that means we’ve let her be because we’ve given up.”

Yoongi freezes, impossibly still.

He hears Haerin’s breath hitch, but beyond that—his ears ring.

“____ is not hopeless,” Yoongi seethes, losing every bit of calm he’s come here with. Your father raises a brow, still in perfect order while Yoongi falls apart right in front of him. “____ is all the things you could never see in her because scums like you are one-dimensional, superficial; and horrible people.”

“Min Yoongi,” your father grits, teeth scraping like chalk on a whiteboard but Yoongi’s long-forgotten to care.

“Sometimes I wonder why some people become parents when they do anything but parent their child,” he chuckles darkly, jaw clenching. “I’ve had enough of the way you speak about ___. You are not going to belittle her in my presence or insinuate that she is hopeless. While you’re here, living your pathetic, conforming lives—____ was out there doing the one thing you think she can’t. Give people hope. She’s not working her ass off for you, for me, or for anyone but those people she’s trying to help and if you can’t see that then you’re the problem.”

Yoongi’s chest heaves in exertion as he stares down the two people he’s reckoned to see as other parental figures his entire life. The same people were nothing but kind to him but were terrible to the person he loved. Yoongi’s had enough.

“Be careful on what you say, boy,” your father hums, amused. And Yoongi needs to remind himself that your father was sick. Not physically but he was vile. Because no one, no one, would find the desperation in Yoongi’s voice amusing given the context of the situation.

“I don't care what you think of me, and I don’t care what you do,” he hisses, “You want to threaten me? Fine, I’ll get my family’s lawyers if that’s what you want to do but I won’t take back my words because I mean. Every. Single. Thing. I said.”

Then, he lowers his gaze to the two adults in front of him, prouder than ever to declare the next words that leave his mouth.

“Just because you don’t love her doesn’t mean I don’t.”

Your mother gasps, as if that was the most unbelievable that was said for the night and Yoongi doesn’t believe in hitting people but God is he angry.

“Yes, I love her,” Yoongi says, calm, “I’ve been in love with her and I’m telling you this because you should hear it from me and not anyone else. But from this point onwards,” he takes a deep breath before finalising his resolute stare. “I don’t want anything to do with the both of you. Thank you for treating me well all these years but I won’t tolerate the way you treat ___ or Haerin anymore. If either of them wishes to keep that relationship with you, I respect that but I don’t stand for anything that you do or say.”

Then, Yoongi picks up his phone from the table before pushing himself off his seat, feeling lighter but equally relieved when your parents’ stunned expression follow his movements.

“And despite everything…” Haerin says, soft after Yoongi’s own words. “I still love the both of you. But I’m done.”

Haerin follows Yoongi, grabs her belongings and turns away before he can say another word. Yoongi refuses to leave shallowly so he bids a final nod of respect to your parents before turning on his feet—and walking away from the toxicity that’s plagued them all.

Coming home almost feels like a chore on most days. It’s the same, bland routine that Yoongi follows when he walks up to his door and keys in his code before dragging his lethargic body through his living room, then to his bedroom before he carries out his nightly regimen.

Undress, shower, grab a drink, sleep. Always in sequence, never out of place. It was one of the things in his life that grounded him in his busy schedules, his jumbled mind.

After the day he had, he needed a sense of normalcy, of routine. The shrill shrieks of your mother’s voice still ring clear in his ears, and the way your father disapprovingly glared at him when he told them that he and Haerin were no longer together.

Yoongi knew how much they adored Haerin, at least to an extent that they portrayed her as this do-no-wrong angel that would never disappoint them. He knew how unfairly they treated you, and there were moments where he so desperately wanted to speak out, to tell them that they were godawful people for saying and doing the things they did do you.

But silence overtook him. Every time your smile dropped, he remembers. Every time you look away, he catches you. Every time you shrink into a shell, he sees it.

It almost felt cathartic, the way the venomous words left his lips.

So, as his feet trawl against the floor of the hallway to his apartment, he’s ready to lift his fingers to do their job at punching in the code to his home—but there’s a bump in his meticulously crafted schedule, one that he’s not expecting, but somehow welcomes.

“____?”

Your body is leaning against his door, forehead pressed against it when he spots you. Fortunately, you hear him, either his footsteps or his confused voice, but you do. Your head lifts, and Yoongi immediately frowns.

“Are you drunk?”

“No,” you lie, and Yoongi knows you’re lying because there’s a dopey grin on your face when you blink up at him; clearly drunk.

“You’re lying,” he says blankly, slowly making his way towards you as his arm instinctively wraps around your waist to steady you. There’s a hazy look in your eyes and he knows you’re really drunk. The worry intensifies because what were you doing here? How did you get here? Did you walk?

The thoughts consume him, and before he can open his mouth to query you, words tumble out of your mouth in a slur.

“Don’t ah-cuse me,” you sass, loose-lipped when you open a singular eye to glare at him in a way that was not intimidating at all.

“____,” he sighs, quickly punching in the password onto his keypad while he simultaneously attempts to keep you upright then you decide to rest your entire body weight on him, slackened arms wrapping uncharacteristically tight for a drunk person around his body.

“Yessss,” you drag your words out, “Why do you look like that?”

“Like?” he sighs once more, finally kicking his door open with his feet while he lugs you upwards with his arms, your chest pressed against his when you wrap around him like a koala bear.

You were drunk. Not him. So he feels every bit of your frame mould itself against him and it feels nice, the way your warmth radiates into the seemingly cold depths of his heart. You were touchier than usual and Yoongi wasn’t complaining but he was confused. Especially when you dig your head into the crook of his neck as he attempts to direct both of your bodies into his living room.

“Like you hate me,” you mumble softly, and Yoongi already has a response on the tip of his tongue before your head snaps up, eyes narrowed into a sottish glare. “So why did Haerin say you loved me?”

Yoongi knocks his knee against the wall and curses when the words leave your lips. He feels his heart drop to the pit of his stomach when you continue to glare expectantly at him as if you hadn’t dropped the biggest bomb of revelation onto him within a span of two seconds.

“She—what?” Yoongi’s not pissed. Well, he couldn’t be when you pout at him the way you were. It’s disparate from your usual persona; disposed to your sharp tongue and eyes; unwilling to let yourself appear softer than you’d allow. Someone who was all bite, but Yoongi knew just wanted to be heard.

You were drunk, he reminds himself. You probably didn’t know what you were saying.

“Yeah, stupid,” you scoff as if he was the unreasonable one for being rightfully confused, in his apartment no less. “You—you do this to someone you love, huh? Look like you hate them? All angry and frowny and wrinkly?”

Yoongi knows your drunk. He can see it, he can practically smell the alcohol with how close you were to him, so he chooses to ignore your jibe at him to drag your stubborn body into his living room so he could regain control of the situation.

“Answer me!” you demand petulantly, huffing when Yoongi grabs a hold of your waist to settle you onto the couch while you squirm. “Dummy.”

Some things don’t change, he thinks dryly when you continue to call him names despite your inebriated state.

“Stay here,” he says before he quickly darts into his room to shrug off his coat and dump his belongings onto his bed.

He’s never moved as fast as he was moving right now in a long time. He’s driven by the knowledge that you were an unyielding drunk, ready to snark at him one second and clinging onto him the next. It wasn’t only that, but the fact that he needed answers that only you had.

Yoongi jogs into his bathroom, scrambling for some makeup wipes he remembers having because he anticipated moments like these happening. He never expected them to actually happen, but alas, his forethought served him beneficial when you looked like you had an early night out.

Then, he feels his stomach bubble in irritation because how did you get here if you were piss drunk? Did you take a cab in this state? Clearly too intoxicated to remain vigilant? Or, did someone drop you off—and if they did, how reckless were they in leaving you in this manner when you could’ve seriously gotten hurt?

His eyes meet his reflection in the mirror as he takes a breath, shaking his head to focus on the main matter at hand. After rummaging through some drawers, he finds the brand you like, memorising it one night because you had casually let it slip. Then, he quickly grabs the standby bottle of water on his bedside table before he’s returning to his living room.

In the short span of when he left you alone to now, you’ve managed to sprawl yourself on his couch as if you were planning to take up every inch of space possible with your form.

“____,” he calls, kneeling in front of the couch until he was eye level with your head. “Hey.”

His voice is soft. He knows not to get angry just yet. Even if he was, more so that he was worried, he needed you to cooperate and he couldn’t set you off.

“Wuh?” you mumble, rapidly blinking as you attempt to focus your eyes onto his figure. “Yoongi?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” he offers you a small smile, “Can you sit up for me?”

“No,” you snap indignantly.

Yoongi sighs, fully knowing that it wasn’t going to be as easy as that.

“Please? Just this once,” he reasons, “Sit up for me, yeah?”

“Nooooooo,” you whine, “You’re annoying.”

“I’m not annoying,” he murmurs, opting to reach a hand out to brush your hair when your cheek digs into the plush material of his sofa as you glare at him. “Okay. I am. But I promise I won’t be if you sit up for me?”

“Liar,” you sniff.

“____,” Yoongi sighs, feeling like he’s just aged ten years when you refuse to cooperate with his attempts of getting you into bed.

“Yoongi,” you quip back cheekily.

“Don’t Yoongi me right now,” he snaps, attempting to jostle you up by the arm.

Apparently, you’ve decided to make his life ten times more difficult with your refusal to listen to him when you make a home out of his couch. That wasn’t the first thing you’ve done and certainly not the last; because apparently, you didn’t want to listen to him at all.

“Why are you so mean,” you say quietly, timidly, nothing like the fierce woman you’ve grown to become.

“Listen to me and I won’t have to be mean, okay?” he asks softly, still crouched down at your level when your eyes flutter shut. “And don’t you think you’re being mean by not listening to me?”

His eyes trace over your features and even now, he thinks you look stunning. You’ve always been beautiful. It’s an everlasting truth that won’t change no matter how stubborn you’re being. Yoongi would even argue that even when you were unbending you were gorgeous because you were you.

Even now, when your mascara is slightly smudged underneath your eyes and your lipstick is patched, you still carry yourself with a clumsy sense of confidence (and that was only because you were drunk). Your cheeks are blotched red, a pretty shade that Yoongi yearns to brush his thumb over; but you suddenly lean your cheek against his knee.

“But you only pay attention to me when I’m mean,” you pout.

Yoongi raises a brow.

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes you do,” you complain petulantly, huffing as your eyes peer up at him.

From this angle, the two of you are so close. Yoongi can trace each freckle on your face with his fingers if he reached out. His lips were inches away from your face, and he’s hyperaware of the way his breathing begins to become more controlled, less like a bodily function when you blink up at him; innocent and … dejected.

“I don’t know if you realise but you’re kind of always mean,” he says, not unkindly, a small smile on his lips when you gasp.

“M-Mean?” you clutch his calf in despair as if he’d just committed blasphemy. “I’m the nicest person everrrr.”

Yoongi knows you weren't the type that acted cutely; you were far too feisty for that and he's grown to appreciate it. But it was moments like these, where the slightest things you would do would have his heart-clenching, a fond smile slowly making its way onto his face when he observes you silently.

“I don’t doubt that sweetheart,” he hums, softly rubbing circles on your shoulder as you sigh into his touch. The term of endearment slips out against his conscience but you don’t seem to point it out. Thankfully. “You know what’d make you nicer?”

Your eyes immediately snap up, wide and curious as you await his next words. Yoongi tries his best not to let it show that his heart was melting. Thank God that couldn’t literally happen.

“If you sit up for me,” he says.

You frown, unsatisfied with his answer as you shake your head.

Yoongi sighs, disappointed but not the least bit surprised.

“That’s no fun,” you mumble.

“Then you want to stay mean?”

“Mean?” you gasp, “I’m not mean!”

“Hm, you are,” he teases, watching the way your ears turn bright red. “Mean girl.”

It’s the only way he knows how to placate you right now. It’s almost amusing when you look genuinely aghast that he’d suggest you were anything but an apparent angel. He knows not to provoke you, and he finds that he … likes this. Likes the way that you’re soft, almost carefree in the way you were talking to him when sober you would never allow yourself to be the way you were.

“Yooooongi,” you whine, and Yoongi’s never found whining attractive—but there was something about the way that your words slur together, and your soft breath, that made him think that it wasn’t too bad.

“Come,” he encourages gently, pushing himself to stand up as he wraps a tender hand around your bicep. “Drink this and I’ll help you remove your makeup then we can talk, how about that?”

Somehow, that does the trick. You quickly snatch the bottle from him and clumsily uncap it before gulping down gallons of water. Then, you’re immediately on your feet with a beam on your face as you follow him towards his bedroom, then the bathroom, a skip in your step. He almost laughs, even if he feels exhausted. He trails closely behind, grabbing the makeup wipes he’s grabbed from his room on the way to his bathroom.

When he enters, you’re already perched on his sink, legs together with your hands clasped on your lap. You look stupidly polite and Yoongi can’t fight the fond smile that appears on his face.

“Remove my makeup,” you demand, levelling him with a glare that he thinks that you think looks intimidating. It only makes Yoongi hide a laugh.

“Yes, your majesty,” he rolls his eyes, already pulling one out.

Yoongi goes to stand in front of you, your legs parting on instinct to allow him in between the space so he was able to access your face. It’d scarily domestic, the way that Yoongi carefully brushes your hair out of your face and gently swipes the makeup wipe across your skin to remove the makeup adorning your features.

His eyes stay trained on the wipe, practically forcing himself to look anywhere but your eyes that intently follow his every move.

“You have really nice skin,” you blurt.

“So do you,” Yoongi returns, throwing the first makeup wipe away before he’s reaching for another.

He nearly chuckles when he realises that you look even more like a racoon. Somehow, you still look beautiful.

“Nooooo,” you insist, suddenly leaning forward as Yoongi’s eyes widen. “Your skin is so soft. What’s your skincare routine?”

Your hands are squeezing his cheeks, forcing his face to look at you as you inspect his skin like it was your duty. It was comical, really. How loose-lipped and carefree you were. The fire in you was definitely still there, just a little lighter and with a lot more sparks that crackled.

“Drugstore cleanser and moisturiser,” he replies.

You gasp, brows scrunched as you huff, squeezing his cheeks one more time. His lips are stuck in a pout, and his words are muffled but you seem to understand them anyway.

“No fair,” you sniff, “I spend a shit ton on money on skincare just so I can look pretty.”

Yoongi tilts his head to the side when your grip loosens ever so slightly. And before he knows it, the words come tumbling out of his mouth as if he was the drunk one.

“You’re pretty regardless.”

For someone that Yoongi knows is comfortable and proud in her own skin, you flush at his blatant compliment. Even if Yoongi’s intention wasn’t to fluster you, he did exactly that and he can’t lie—but he enjoys your reaction far more than he’d expected.

“Don’t just—don’t say that,” you mumble shyly.

He smirks.

“Flustered?” he teases, quickly taking your moment of vulnerability to swipe the makeup wipe across your face once more.

“N-No!” you deny petulantly, pouting at him as he uses his other hand to hold your face still.

His palm easily covers your cheeks, thumb softly pressing an indent on your skin as he focuses on removing the makeup around your eyes. He didn’t want you getting an eye infection because of his carelessness.

Silence overtakes Yoongi and you, but it’s comfortable. There was no pressure to speak or to fill the void. Your legs swing by Yoongi’s hips as you hum a random tune, eyes filtering everywhere as Yoongi finishes removing all your makeup.

Yoongi doesn’t quite know how to navigate the conversation even if he was hyperaware of your previous curiousities.

“You’re thinking so loudly,” you frown, arms suddenly wrapped around his neck when he mechanically finishes removing your wakeup and throws the last bit of makeup wipes into the bin.

“You a mind-reader?” he snorts, and he notes that you’re pleased when he doesn’t pull your arms away.

“A penny for your thoughts?”

“How did you get here?”

You purse your lips.

“Jungkook.”

“You guys went out for drinks?” he asks with a raised brow.

You nod your head, then his jaw tightens.

“And he dropped you off here? Drunk?”

“Jungkook didn’t drink,” you mumble, “He just—I asked him to drop me off here.”

“And he let you up here in this state?” He’s growing more agitated by the second, wondering how the hell Jungkook thought it was a good idea even with your insistence to leave you here, alone, wasted.

“He said he told you,” you say quietly.

Briefly, his eyes quickly make their way onto the screen of his phone after he fishes it out from his pocket.

From: Jeon Jungkook

___ is drunk

i dropped her off at your place

and before you get mad at me, I think u need to talk to her, hyung. none of this back and forth bs. She deserves the truth

Then, a message that came a little later, split from the rest.

u know why she’s drunk. all i could do was try to support her.

Yoongi sighs, shaking his head before he taps you twice on your thigh, gesturing for you to get down from the sink.

“You should drink some more water,” he says instead.

You don’t budge, and Yoongi isn’t the least bit surprised. He’s dealt with more difficult moments with you.

“Yoongi.”

The fact that you call him by his name makes him freeze, especially when you level him with a far more serious stare—and your sobered face resting on his.

“Why does it sound like you’re about to interrogate me?” he attempts to joke.

“Why did Haerin tell me you loved me?”

Your question nearly causes him to choke on his saliva. He can’t run, or turn around, or deflect because your grip around his neck is tough. As if you’d expected him to flee the moment you caught him in a vulnerable spot.

“You should drink some water and change,” he avoids your question entirely, “Are you still drunk?”

You nibble on your lip, “Does that matter?”

“Yes, because I want to have this conversation with you knowing that you’ll remember what I say,” he says softly, holding your chin in-between his fingers when you frown.

“So you didn’t have this conversation with me when I was sober around you all those other times?” you snap.

“____…” he says hesitantly, hands inching to wrap around your waist but he remains rooted in positive like a stick in the mud.

“Why—why did Haerin say you love me?” you say straightforwardly, and somehow—it isn’t the admission that stuns Yoongi, but it’s the way your eyes avoid his as if you were unsure. “I just … am I not—why don’t you …”

Yoongi’s face softens when you stumble over your words, clearly nervous.

He’s never seen you like this before. He’s seen you angry, annoyed, happy and cheeky. Not unsure. Not ever when you looked like you were doubting yourself because of him.

Somehow, the fact that he knows it’s because of him—makes him feel like shit.

“Hey,” Yoongi calls softly earning your hesitant gaze, “It’s just me.”

You nod your head as if you were reminding yourself that it was in fact—just Yoongi. Not a stranger, but Yoongi. The same Yoongi that you’re holding, and taught you how to drive.

“Why did you choose Haerin?”

Yoongi blinks.

You’re serious, he realises. Your face is tight but it’s trained on his, gauging his reaction. Yoongi’s still blank-faced, even though he’s attempting to gear his brain for a response. An honest one because you deserved nothing less than that, and more than what Yoongi could offer.

“It was safer,” he says truthfully. There wasn’t a hint of a lie in his eyes, or in his words. You seem to realise this, too. “And Haerin was…she came to me with the idea and—it seemed safe.”

He knows it’s a shitty explanation and so do you. You continue to frown at him, eyebrows furrowed when you attempt to absorb his words. He’s half expecting you to come to your senses and realise how pathetic his reasoning was; push him away and leave. But you don’t. Instead, you take a deep breath.

“Why…” you trail off, fingers absent-mindedly trailing up and down on the nape of his neck. He shivers. “Why don’t you want me?”

“You know it’s more complicated than just wanting you, ____,” he says softly.

“So I wasn’t enough for you?” you accuse, jaw slackened when your grip suddenly loosens, realisation marring your features.

“____,” he soughs, “I don’t want to have this conversation when you’re drunk.”

“I’m drunk but I know what I’m saying! Stop treating me like I don’t know what the hell I’m saying!” you hiss.

“Trust me, I know you know what you’re saying but it’s late and this isn’t something I want to talk about in my bathroom,” he says, “Please.”

Before you can pull away, Yoongi’s hand wraps around your wrist to keep your hold there.

“I promise you. We’ll talk about this when you’re fully sober and not drunk,” he reasons once again, slightly more desperate when you scowl. “There are things that I want to tell you that deserve a better setting than this.”

Knowing that you were aware of his feelings didn’t … scare him. What scared him was that you thought he didn’t want you. But at the same time, he couldn’t blame you for feeling that way. Not when all he did never implied otherwise.

What scared him was how things could change.

“How about you tell me why you’re drunk?” He attempts once more, gently, tender; kind. Yoongi wanted you to know that he wasn’t here to fight. “I don’t like seeing you like this, ____.”

“Cause I’m so fucking confused, Yoongi,” you mumble, forehead dropping to his shoulder as he almost flinches at the sudden contact. “You say you don’t like me doing this and that but haven’t you—haven’t you considered that it’s because of you? Huh? Or is it just me? Because I’m so—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” he says firmly as you glower. “I don’t like seeing you like this because you could get yourself into danger. What if I hadn’t come home on time? I know I haven’t been the best friend I should have been but I don’t want you doing this to yourself because of me.”

“You don’t control me,” you sneer through a mumble, “Y-You don’t, Min Yoongi. You just—you’re so confusing and it sucks and it hurts and I want answers but you’re not giving them to me because you’re mean. You’re mean and dumb and stupid,” you cry, shoulders shaking as he waveringly rests a hand on your back in an attempt to soothe you.

“I’m sorry,” he apologises, but he knows it’s no use when you sigh.

“Are you,” you say dryly, head still tucked into his neck. He notes you were allowing yourself to remain close, but for some reason, it still unsettles Yoongi. As if you were preparing to pull away anytime soon. “You…why would you do this to someone you love?”

It’s when your voice breaks that his entire heart shatters. He hears it loud and clear. Almost as if you grabbed it with your own hand and crushed it into smithereens. When he feels the dampness on his shoulder, he’s pulling you away in alarm to get a glimpse of your face.

“Please don’t cry,” he whispers, thumb already wiping your tears away.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” you sneer through a sniff, blinking away your tears as you attempt to duck your head away from him. “D-Do you think I want to? Huh? You do all these things for me and then—then you choose everyone but me and…and I-I just wanna know why I wasn’t good enough—”

“Don’t say that,” he interrupts you with a frown, cupping your face in his hands.

“Why? Because it’s true?” you seethe vehemently.

“No,” he snaps, “It’s not. That couldn’t be more false. I told you, I don’t want to have this conversation when you’re clearly not sober. You can sleep here for the night and we can talk tomorrow morning.”

Somehow, that doesn’t do anything to appease you or to stop you from crying. He hates that you are because of him. He hates that the devastation is clear on your face when your expression crumbles.

You push him away with enough force that his hands drop from your cheeks.

“Why do you always push me away? Why do you always keep me at arm's length? Why do you say and do all of these things but not choose me when I was always here! Why? Why?” you cry, slamming your hands into his chest as he takes the brute force of your hits.

Yoongi purses his lips as he hears your cries grow louder. He doesn’t know what to say; at least not something that could explain why he did what he did in a way that was enough for now.

“Please, ____, we’ll talk tomorrow,” he whispers once more, attempting to reach out to you again.

When you dodge his hand, he feels an arrow pierce through his heart.

“You don’t love me,” you whisper quietly, eyes dropping to your lap from where you’re sat on the counter of his bathroom. “How could you?”

Yoongi flinches, then he takes a long hard blink with his eyes trained on your figure. He’s almost appalled at how sure you sounded. As if this was your truth; the one that you’ve deluded yourself into believing when Yoongi’s only ever known to love you with every fibre of his being, albeit in silence.

“Don’t you dare say that,” he says so levelly that it even scares him. “You don’t know—"

“That’s right! I don’t! I don’t know anything because you never tell me anything and the one time I’m asking you a question you’re trying to deflect by telling me that we’ll talk tomorrow. But you had time, Yoongi. You had years and months and days and hours and you didn’t say anything! How—how can I know if you never tell me anything or do anything to indicate that you love me? You don’t love me! You don’t you don’t you—”

Yoongi tried his best to remain collected, receiving your shouts with a brave face—but he couldn’t. He couldn’t listen to you telling him that he didn’t love you when his heart says otherwise; the way that it grows larger in size whenever you were around; the way he finds himself thinking about you at random intervals in the way; the way that you’ve woven yourself into every aspect of his life without him even realising.

He was a patient man, but he had his limits too.

So maybe that’s why he loses it, just for a second. Maybe that’s why he does the one thing he tried his best to avoid, for now, at a time that he knows isn’t right.

Your voice is cut off when his lips slam against yours. It’s desperate. He hears a gasp and it could be either of you. He cups your cheeks in his hands before pressing closer, forcing himself to paint the truth onto each crease of your lips so you’d know. To tell you things in the words that he never said.

You taste like alcohol, but beyond that, you smell like home. Comforting. Present. You. A type of softness he’s only ever had from afar, comfortable enough to be next to you without being with you.

Then, you pull away.

You’re gaping, and Yoongi feels his heart drop.

“Fuck you, Yoongi,” you whisper, trying to hop off the counter as he stops you again.

“Fuck,” he curses, eyes fluttering shut, “I—I didn’t mean to kiss—”

“You didn’t mean to? Did you not mean to choose Haerin either? Did you not mean to hurt me? Did you not mean to love me?” you snap.

“That’s not what I meant at all,” he frowns, “I said we’ll talk tomorrow. I didn’t mean to kiss you now. Not when you’re drunk. Fuck. I didn’t want this to happen like this.”

“Then make it clear! Make me understand!”

“Stop being stubborn and listen to me,” he snaps, finger reaching under your chin so you’d be forced to glare at him straight on.

“Fuck you,” you say hoarsely.

“Curse at me all you want but I won’t talk about this until I know you’re sober and the both of us aren’t exhausted,” he whispers, “This isn’t something I take lightly, ____. I want you to get that.”

“Let me go,” you hiss.

“No,” he blinks. “You can be pissed at me all you want but I’m not letting you out of my sight tonight. You’re drunk. Be pissed at me in my home for all I care but I’m not letting you go. Never.”

“You’re such an asshole,” you spit, and he sighs. His head is light, and he can still feel the slope of your lips on his own. But that wasn’t the point. There was a time and place for everything, and now he needed to ground the both of you.

“I am,” he admits, “But please. Sleep here tonight. I won’t bother you anymore.”

You blink at him multiple times before you’re shoving him aside. This time, he lets you. You’re still wobbly on your feet, and his hands naturally dart out to balance you but you shift away from him.

“Don’t bother me ever again.”

The implication stings and Yoongi can only stare at your back when you reach the door.

Now that hurt.

“You don’t hurt the person you love, Yoongi.”

When you walk away, you leave Yoongi breathless with the potency of your words.

[har-rison-s]

mask & seek:6

batman x fem!reader

based on: Hello! May I request Battinson x SpiderWoman!Reader fic where she's from the MCU but then she ends up in Battinson's universe and meets him? Maybe he doesn't trust her at first but once she saves him from something, he relents then begins to trust her and maybe then a relationship ensues?? Thank you so much and have a great day!! ❤

a/n: hello! sorry to be gone for a few days, work and school are kicking my ass. hardly finished this chapter, and i hope i finished it good. christ, i'm nervous and scared because i feel that as soon as my story starts to gain popularity and attention, my writing for it becomes worse?? idk why but i certainly hope that's not the case, and i always give my all to each of my writings. also - thank you for the amazing, incredible feedback on this series. it means the world to me, i could not be happier with all you loving this story and my writing :')) thank you so so so so much, and happy reading!

main masterlist

bruce wayne masterlist

part five

part seven

warnings: descriptions of injuries, of fixing one; steamy times but not smut; injury getting worse; mentions of sexual experience; oh and the best one - silent pining :)

word count: 6.4k

song req: unseen tides by rachel portman

gif credit goes to creator / owner!!

gotham can take care of itself while y/n is bed-ridden, bruce had decided. perhaps it’s pink, heart-shaped glasses that he might be wearing, but for now, she is his number one priority, and the crimes in his beloved city don’t seem as important to prevent as it is to be by her side and help her progress. only a day has passed, and they’ve yet to know if she can walk—on her own or with help.

bruce is always ready to go by and far to please her desires, whether they’re talking food, entertainment, medical acquirements… he’s ready to pull whatever strings he can to get her what she wants and needs, and he’s succeeded thus far. she doesn’t have a specific taste in food or books or movies, and she also doesn’t want the guy to get everything that she likes, because it would just be too much asked of him. well, not to bruce. if he’d hear that argument, he would argue strongly against it. there’s never something he could do too much for her. what might seem too much for someone, is just barely enough in bruce’s eyes.

they both owe a debt to each other, but that debt is also constantly being paid between them both. they’re constantly exchanging favours to the point that their relationship is something more than partners or team members. it’s something more than friendship, too, but neither of them could put it into words if they were asked. an interesting relationship that exists on a set of unspoken ground rules, as well as their own trust and sometimes even hesitance for trust. truly indescribable.

neither of them have brought up those few fleeting kisses they shared that first evening she was conscious. they’re both too anxious to talk about them—they don’t want to make it awkward, don’t want to weird the other out, they don’t want to ruin its sacredness. both of them loved the kiss, and loved sharing it with precisely the other, and that kiss somehow means a lot to both of them. but they couldn’t talk about it if they tried.

in each silent look they give one another, there’s always questions in their eyes. what did the kiss mean? will it happen again? what did it mean to you? should it happen again? did you like it? do you like me? and all kinds of similar questions. both are adults, and yet are as shy and anxiety-ridden as teenagers.

there’s something hiding behind that truth. in some way, bruce still is a teenager, he has both the awkwardness and inexperience of a teenager. he also has the instincts and behavioural traits of that age group. mood swings, sexual urges, the-whole-world-is-against-me syndrome, no-one-understands-me syndrome, as well, and all kinds of others.

it is true, he hasn’t had any sexual experience apart from what he chooses to do by himself. whether that makes him more appealing or less so, he doesn’t know, and likes to think he doesn’t care. but it’s not true. since that kiss, he’s felt so nervous around her he can hardly say the most elementary words to her. can she tell he’s inexperienced? what does or would she think of him if that topic came up? would she still like him? would she still want to kiss him?

y/n herself, in truth, hasn’t had much experience, either. no one liked her in secondary or high school, or even college. and because she’s led this double life since sixteen years of age, it’s never been a prominent problem to get on or solve. and from the horrible things she’s seen happen to women and children, she’s quite sure nothing could make the topic of having any kind of sex safe or comfortable to her. sure, she’s thought about doing it with a couple people throughout her adult life, but all those times the thoughts seemed… forced. almost like she just had to have them, when in reality they’re not thoughts she’d want to have or has by default. and nothing happened out of them, anyway.

somehow bruce has changed that. especially now, when he’s comfortable enough to just hang around her in his trousers, wearing nothing more, those thoughts are all she has. she can only guess none of the people before were right for her and her comfort, while previously she thought something must have been wrong with her in the way she was wired. but now bruce has come along, made her see herself differently, and made her comfortable enough around him, and to be comfortable with herself.

she might even say he’s changed everything. due to alfred’s command not to make any moves for one more day, y/n is stuck in her half-sitting, half-laying down position, but bruce is always by her side to get anything done in her stead. at some point, she’s started to feel like a helpless little girl, and nearly gets angry at him for doing almost actually everything for her. but she tries to keep her anger inside, because it’s not bruce’s fault that she feels like this. it’s her own twisted brain.

they’ve spent so much time, and so intimately most of it, together that he’s learned to be able to tell when she wants to reach for some object or do something out of her recommended movements, and he’s there for the help. he can nearly sense every desire of hers to move. now that they’re laying across each other—y/n at the headboard of the bed with a book in hand and bruce leaning against the footboard of the bed with his notebook and a pen in hand—there’s complete calm between them. there’s silence in the room, but alfred’s playing his beloved classical music in a different part of the tower, and y/n and bruce both can hear it.

before she even parts her lips to say what she wants to, before she even finishes the sentence in her mind, bruce already tilts his head slightly to her and looks at her. their eyes connect, and y/n grins and shakes her head in disbelief. he’s like a security guard. “i swear, you’re picking up that instinct of mine,” she tells him quietly with a chuckle, and then closes her book, her thumb serving as a bookmark. bruce gives her a light smile and sits up.

“what is it?” he asks her, already knowing there’s a request coming his way. perhaps her spidey sense really is sticking to him. like the flu.

y/n picks at the edge of her book, “i just wanted to ask…” she starts to say quietly. bruce does the same thing with his notebook as she did with her book, only he uses his pen as the bookmark, his back brought forward to listen to her intently, “whether you want to come closer? lay next to me? if it’s alright.”

bruce gives her a wider smile, thinking i thought you’d never ask. but he doesn’t say anything, he just nods and crawls over the bed to lay next to her. since it’s a more comfortable position to write and draw in, he lays on his stomach right next to her and puts his notebook on one of the pillows before him before opening his pen again. y/n smiles at him fulfilling her request, and bruce watches her hide that smile behind her book. he grins and goes on filling the pages of his notebook, that grin staying in place all that while.

now that he’s close to her, she can feel the heat of his body practically radiating off of him in a half-yard radius. he’s like a heater all on his own, and since she’s been quite the immobile, therefore not providing any heat for her body herself, she appreciates that. his closeness to her, and the strange fact that men usually have a higher body temperature than women do. it’s a weird fact, but one she is much thankful for right now.

sometimes during the night, it gets too hot for her—to sleep under one blanket with bruce. and she can’t sleep when it’s that hot, so she unfortunately, much to her own and his dismay, has to ask him to slepe above the blanket. she wouldn’t want him sleeping on the sofa or in that beloved arm-chair next to the bed instead, even though that’s what he always offers to do. no, she always wants him here, next to her. it just so happens that it gets too hot during the night with his heating device of a body.

y/n has to admit she can’t focus on her book much anymore, even though it’s more interesting than anything she’s read before, while bruce is laying next to her with that sculpted back of his on full display. scars litter the skin on almost every inch of it, his back being an autobiography as much as his kevlar suit that she examined closely is. someone or something is behind each of the scars she sees, and now she’s more intrigued to find out who or what exactly it was.

she puts her book down at her side and turns her body slightly to the side to face bruce more properly. he turns his head at her immediately, the black strands of his hair making him look so much younger than he is from the angle she’s in right now. he watches as she reaches her hand out and once it’s out of view, he feels the gentle touch of her fingers on his back. he gives her weary eyes, but she looks back with soft ones, trying to tell him she’s not doing anything bad or intruding without actually saying it. a tiny smile also lingers on her lips, and he takes that into account, relaxing himself.

he feels her tracing over his scars and bumps, and for a second there, he gets really insecure. he looks down to his notebook, avoiding her eyes and the question she might ask at his strange behaviour, but then he reminds himself: it’s y/n. she’s seen practically the worst of his nights, they worst they can get. and he’s seen her nearly-fatal injury for a couple times now over the past few days, and she had no problem in it being seen by others. because she was holding bruce’s hand all the while, and, as she later assured him, he was with her for the entirety of it.

so nor does he have anything to be insecure about, he also doesn’t have to get unnecessarily nervous. that’s hard to fight, of course—anxiety. but she seems to be curing his one step at a time. and so he lets her touch his scar-ridden back with her soft, well-meaning hands, without any avoidance or hesitance. and bruce discovers he likes his back being touched. such a soothing manner that occasionally sends a shiver down his spine, and most of all—it’s y/n who is touching him. that’s a big factor on its own.

“you have so many of these,” y/n says in awe, speaking so quietly she nearly whispers the words, “how long have you been doing this?” she asks, and they both realise this question has never come up in their conversations before. all these four months, and though they’ve been curious about each other’s duration of this vigilante work, they’ve never asked each other this.

bruce flips through the pages of his notebook to get to the very first page, and he reads the date on it. “almost two years,” he tells her. y/n raises her eyebrows. she certainly expected a shorter time period.

“wow,” she just says in response and continues tracing the various scars. the one closest to her, right under his right shoulder blade, picks her interest. it’s part of a whole group of scars around that area, and all of them look brutal. but she traces that one precisely, like a musician would read notes on sheets of music, “how did you get this one?” she gently asks in her marvel at the sight of it, and she looks to bruce. he’s almost tucked his chin over his shoulder to see it, and when he does, he rests his head on his folded arms before him. y/n can’t help but admire the look of his arm muscles, the way they tie with his shoulders and back, making her realise more and more how much everything in the human body is connected.

“the joker,” he tells her and their eyes connect. the what?, “at least that’s what the newspapers call him. it was the night i finally caught him and brought him to gordon, my friend in police,” bruce tells further, and she nods, remembering the guy’s name from when bruce first mentioned it a month before, “he has a knack for knives and other sharp, tiny objects.” y/n smiles at how bruce says the word ‘tiny’, in some way he makes himself sound tiny by saying it. “stuck them all up my back, because… it was just convenient and he wanted a good laugh,” bruce subtly shrugs and lays the side of his face fully across his crossed arms, and he looks up at y/n.

his tar black hair is falling into his eyes, and y/n smiles at that. she moves her other hand to those fallen strands and pushes them away from bruce’s face, trying to tuck them back in place, but they keep falling back away with each of her attempts. they both laugh at that circumstance, y/n feeling a bit hopeless that even she can’t move it into place. but it must be from the way bruce is laying down—his hair can’t deny gravity. it would be able to do that had he not showered the last couple days, the grease in unwashed hair usually keeps it in place in a very weird manner. but because he’s with her, and because alfred is checking up on them every once in a while, bruce has tended to a showering time-table, surprising even himself.

“he sounds intense,” y/n says in a voice nothing more than a whisper, her hand still on bruce’s hair. they’re looking closely into each other’s eyes, “and unwell.” she adds. bruce chuckles at that.

“he is,” bruce confirms, “serving multiple life sentences in arkham right now for what he did.” another word that sounds like one y/n should know, and yet she doesn’t. arkham. sounds pretty intimidating. “a serial killer who wants nothing more than to watch the world burn, as alfred said.” bruce tells her, and a light smile hangs on his lips. y/n nods. sounds like gotham is much more insane than new york, or the whole universe she’s from.

she remembers the russian lunatic who attacked tony stark. she also recalls helmut zemo, who just wanted to destroy the avengers from within. not to mention the big, angry purple titan who felt entitled to salvaging the world (spoiler: it didn’t work!) within his own terms. the world is full of crazy guys with the guts to change the world to their liking, and they seem to be concentrated in this one universe and city: gotham.

“how long ago was the joker business?” y/n asks, her hand still tracing over the scars soothingly. once again bruce can tell she’s not from here. joker business. she didn’t even say anything about arkham. both the joker and arkham are strangers to her, unknown to her, have not penetrated her library of knowledge and known information. somehow he really likes that. someone blind to this world of horrors he’s been living in since birth.

“a year,” bruce says, “around a year ago.” he says surely, but a heavy feeling sits on his words. y/n can read him so well. finally, she can do it.

“they took some time to heal, huh?” she asks him, her fingers now making figures across the skin on his back. triangles, squares, rings, even a pentagon. bruce nods. the scars don’t look easy to get over, judging partly by the fact that they’re still visible.

“took a lot of convincing from alfred to take a break for a while from…” he tilts his head from side to side playfully, “well, you know what.” bruce looks at y/n as he says this, and gives her a light grin. she returns the gesture, and nods, and keeps tracing the forms on his back. she can tell he likes it by the way his body responds to her touches. a shiver here and there, but over all a big agreement and welcoming of her touching and tracing his skin. he doesn’t turn away from her, he doesn’t twitch or get startled at any point. it means a great deal to her.

“you like that?” she asks him in a very quiet whisper. her eyes glance between bruce’s eyes and her hand tracing lines and figures on his back. bruce blinks at her with half-oblivious eyes, and their stares connect again in that sacred connection. “tracing lines and figures on your back?” she asks more precisely.

he does. he really does. it’s something new he’s just now discovered about himself, and it’s y/n who made him have that discovery. what a sacred thing. bruce nods, “yes,” he truthfully tells her in just as quiet a whisper as she spoke in. y/n smiles at him and continues tracing those lines, forms and scars on his skin, and nods in acknowledgement to his answer. who is bruce to not tell her the truth? what she’s doing feels heavenly, and if she knows the effect on him, she’s not going to stop doing it. unless she gets bored, of course. he knows her well.

and so she lays there, turned to bruce at the best of her abilities, tracing scars and figures into his skin like they’re sacred text. she can’t stop marvelling at him, at his scarrings, and the tales each one must tell. after his short story about the joker, she realises she’s very curious about each of the scars and their backstories. but she also likes the silence settled between her and bruce. and as much as he likes to boast about who he beat up, took on or whatever, she can tell he’d much rather just lay and let his back be softly touched. and bruce enjoys the silence, as well. he always does, with her.

bruce likes to watch her, also, while her fingers work the gentle magic. how both concentrated and focused her face is—how her lips slightly pull tighter against one another then, how her eyebrows ever so slightly draw closer to each other, and her eyes grow a bit darker. she is a sight for his sore, bag-adorned eyes, and he could stare at her forever. occasionally, she looks over at him, too, and on those occasions bruce gives her a light smile. their kisses exchanged more than a day ago, and her recently spoken words fresh in his mind.

she feels him looking at her all this time, and, for a person who really does not like her face out in the open or any attention on herself for that matter, she really enjoys him doing so. she guesses it’s bruce that makes the whole difference… he makes her feel really comfortable, more comfortable than, she guesses, anyone has before him in her life. and it’s an indescribable feeling. like weight falling off her shoulders, a feeling she’s never had before, really. there’s always been so much pressure and weight on her, nearly all her life. and he’s taking it away. how can he do that?

“don’t go falling asleep on me now,” y/n says to bruce a bit louder than she previously spoke, having noticed his droopy eyelids and his head occasionally dropping lower. he smiles at her faintly with his eyes closed, but then he opens them and smiles wider upon seeing her. she looks into his eyes, “come closer.” she requests in that same whisper as before, and who is bruce to deny her that pleasure? he supports his body on his elbows and pushes himself sideways, closer to where she helplessly lays, with her torso and head atop that pillow support system. she withdraws her hand from his back for the short time being, but when the hand returns, it’s no more just a finger or two. it’s her entire palm.

she lays it in the middle of his back, near the small of it, and looks at him again. their bodies and faces close as they’ve ever been, close as they were on that evening they kissed, and they’re looking into each other’s eyes that you might think if either of them looked away, it would mean death for either or both. like nothing good outside of the other’s captivating orbs exists, or ever could.

everything that they both feel at that moment is evident starkly in their eyes. nervousness, longing, yearning, adoration. they’re reaching for something, but not with physical hands. each other. the urge is to connect, to stick to one another limb by limb until they become one.

with that hand of hers on his back, bruce feels closer to her already. but it isn’t enough. so he scoots even closer to her and turns to lay on his side. y/n lays partly sideways, because her injury won’t permit her to turn completely, and only looks into the man’s eyes as he cautiously moves his hand towards her face. he’s nervous and dreading rejection, so he does cautiously and slowly.

his palm rests on the very side of her face, cupping her cheek gently, the pillow under his thumb colliding with her cheekbone. the thumb itself caressing her blushing cheek with a slow stroke, bruce looks into her eyes and searches them. for what? the truth, maybe. giving in, also. his orbs move nervously from one side to the other among the whiteness in his eyes that seems to match the paleness of his skin. his eyes, eyebrows and hair the very dark contrasts in his visual appearance.

“can i…” he begins and then trails off, not knowing really what to call that accidental incident they had on that evening before. to call it what it is—kissing—seems to bold now. bruce feels that if he might say that word out loud, an explosion might occur in the room. he gulps, still looking at her, and seeing that there’s awaiting in her eyes, “can i do it again?” he asks in a subtle manner, a whisper below a whisper.

y/n knows what he means. she wouldn’t dare call it what it is out loud, either. and she thought he’d never bring it up again, and that she should keep the memory and all her enticing thoughts about him just to herself forever. her face makes a very wide smile at first, at his question, so wide it nearly makes her shed tears. but then she gets herself under control, blinks a couple times to clear her vision and makes the smile grow smaller, until it’s just a very faint one on her lips. and then she gives bruce a nod in response. an eager one at first again, just like with the smiles, and then a less-eager and more confirming one.

bruce could write a whole notebook or two full of just thoughts about this very small, short moment between them both. more about her reaction, the emotions he saw on her face, in her eyes, the reaction he coaxed out of her. for him, it is an honour to be able to do so. and so he gives her the gentlest smile and a subtle nod, just to say he’s accepted her answer, before he leans his head closer to hers and does what he asked for her permission to do.

and when their lips are at last joined together again, both their eyes close on their own terms and the two people relax against one another. to the point they melt together in an intimate exchange. both of them thought they might never be able to do this again, unless a miracle happened. the miracle in question was bravery. bravery did appear in bruce, and now they’re both pleased again. more than pleased. ecstatic would be a better word to describe the feeling.

much like teenagers, they’re yearning to know what the other likes. as well as what the other feels like at certain moments, positions, situations. what would they think if this happened, if one did this thing or other? curiosity to know one another from start to beginning, to the very deepest of depths. and with each kiss, they think that curiosity will be fed. and after each kiss they discover that it isn’t fed just like that. and so they do something a little differently, and the cycle goes on repeat without end.

their noses and foreheads bump together here and there, and it makes both of them chuckle airily when it happens. it’s lips on lips, kissing more and more heatedly with every next one, until it’s tongue against tongue, and then the first noises of pleasure appear between them, but none of them loud enough to echo around the room. not that it would matter for either of them, they’ve completely forgot about a world outside of themselves.

most of them are from y/n, and she doesn’t feel at all inclined to lessen them because she can tell bruce likes her making them. she guesses it’s a way through which he knows he’s doing something right. and honestly, he’s doing a lot of things right. one of his hands holding the side of her head, the other gently holding her side, since he’s nervous, doesn’t want to step over the line, and doesn’t want to hurt her, either.

it’s nearly painful for both of them how good all of this feels. like someone keeps digging a knife into their heart, but is also feeding them their favourite meals at once. it’s certainly strange, but something they both seem to like, too. it’s when bruce moves his lips from hers, and instead lays a kiss on her cheekbone, that she moans aloud for the first time. with his hand holding onto her face, he moves his thumb under her chin to lift it ever so slightly and kiss right under her cheekbone, and then just under her ear, and then down her neck along her artery.

one of her moans gets stuck in her throat at that, and y/n fears she won’t take another breath to save her lungs for the foreseeable future. but all is saved in the next second, and she gets over herself, as she grounds herself again and regains her breath, although made in gasps and pants. “you liked that?” bruce whispers to her, and y/n nods. bruce feels that response more than see sit, so he kisses over again just that one spot that drove her insane, to cause her pleasure, and coax that wonderful reaction from her that goes straight to the sensitive place in his body. had she not got her injury, he wouldn’t be able to control himself. he hardly can even now.

y/n places her other hand across bruce’s chest, and she admires it as she moves her palm across the endless rows of muscle and skin. god, she adores him. everything new that she learns about him, sees in him, is inviting her inside his world more and more, making him better than the best possible thing she has imagined about him. she can’t believe he’s real, and that he’s in her hold, and that he’s kissing her. bruce is kissing her.

though he’s touching her as well, she feels him rigid against herself. she guesses it’s been a long time since he last did something along the lines of this. but then again, that nervousness is different. the way he feels under her, against her, is the anxiety of an inexperienced person. she doesn’t know how she can tell, because she’s just the same as him. but perhaps that is the exact reason why. she knows how he feels, because she feels the exact same. they’re one and the same, again.

bruce’s hand only cautiously holding her side tells her enough. and so she gently takes it in between her own fingers and guides it under her shirt, where he can feel along her bare skin. for a second, he stalls, and looks into her eyes for confidence. she gives him a quick nod, lays his hand on her waist, and then kisses his lips again, so that he could be convinced without thinking twice about it. “you can touch me, bruce,” she whispers to him, “you can touch me.”

that’s practically all he needed to hear, though his nervousness does remain. it’s deeply-rooted within him, he’s afraid, with no way to get rid of. but he can touch her, she said so herself. so he moves even impossibly closer to her, that hand of hers still on his back, fingers digging into his thick skin here and there, when bruce touches or kisses her a particular way. her other hand, the one that guided his to her waist, is cradling the back of bruce’s head and cording through his night-black hair strands. he loves when she does that.

bruce lets his curious hands venture up towards her breasts, and he handles one of them through her bra. y/n moans immediately and her grip on bruce’s hair tightens. “fuck,” bruce nearly combusts, and from the wave of electricity washing through his body, he rests his head in the crook of her neck, his warm skin against hers. as soon as his trance is somewhat gone, he begins kissing on the other side of her neck, kissing and lapping at her soft skin that he can’t get enough of. both his hands are now under her shirt, fondling her breasts to the best of his knowledge and abilities. he’s never done this before, he doesn’t really know what to do. all that he knows is that he has his instincts, and that there are certain movements that make her feel good.

“yes, bruce,” y/n manages to squeak out between her moans and panting breaths. her hand is nearly uncontrollable in bruce’s hair, she is nearly yanking it every time he presses just the correct buttons in her. without asking permission now—he really has become braver and bolder since her quiet assurance that he can touch her—he pulls the same shirt he put on her just yesterday up and over her head, disrupting their physical bond just for a few seconds. but as soon as it’s off, they’re joined again, and bruce moves his lips from her cheeks and neck down to between her breasts.

y/n moves her body to lay on her back again, and bruce follows her along. he settles a leg on each of her sides, towering above her in every sense of the word, and leans down to her barely-covered chest again. her hands free, resting by her head, she squirms under bruce’s most pleasant assault on her skin. he kisses her breasts, he kisses the skin above, below and between them, and occasionally he laps at it like a kitten would lap milk. like he’s hungry for her, like she was his only bowl of water on a deserted island. her eyes are screwing shut, she throws out moan after moan, and they all work for bruce’s own pleasure, too.

but from all her squirming and writhing, her side starts to hurt. very subtly at first, so subtly that she barely notices, but as bruce and herself get more and more heated, the pain grows from subtle to very apparent and then to intolerable. it is at this point that y/n cries out again, but bruce can tell it’s not because of him. he stops immediately, sobering up in a split-second, and looks at her from slightly above. he sees tears running down her cheeks, her face holding an over-all painful expression, and his heart nearly dies in his chest.

bruce moves immediately off her, and sits next to her instead. she’s not saying a word to him, and he finally remembers what might be wrong. he looks down at her left side, and sees that the injury looks more red than it did this morning. bruce panics, his breath catching in his throat, and he moves his hands around in an awkward, not-knowing-what-to-do manner. alfred isn’t here, and it would be very awkward to call on him now, though that idea does flash in bruce’s mind.

he would mostly be embarrassed for himself and y/n to explain why her wound started hurting and turning redder. and as much as he hates feeling shame himself, it would be worse for her. so he just struts the few steps over to the trolley with all the pills and medical instruments on it and searches for—painkillers! painkillers are what she needs. he keeps hearing her quiet sobs and cries while he looks for the pill-type ones, because god knows alfred has all kinds of liquid ones that should be injected through a catheter. but bruce knows his skills at inserting a needle, and they’re practically non-existent. but they’re even more so when he’s stressed and under pressure.

finally, he finds the box of pills, and then fetches the glass of water on the nightstand, and sits next to y/n again. bruce pushes three pills out of the folium line and places them in y/n’s shaking hand. he knows three might be a lot even for her, and that it’s likely they’ll send her into an immediate sleep, but her pain is internal more than external, and so three will be a good amount, “here.” he tells her quietly, but loud enough so she could hear above her own cries. y/n takes the pills and looks at bruce with tear-filled eyes, a sight which breaks his heart.

“hurts,” she whines to him before downing the pills. bruce is quick to hand her the glass of water to help get the three little painkillers down.

“i know, baby, i know,” he tells her in a rush, only afterwards registering what exact words he used. now, y/n may be in a lot of pain and upset with herself, but those words reach her ears and nearly make her spit the water out. baby? bruce looks at her with the same lost expression she has on her face, but then she takes another swig of her water like nothing happened. and so he follows that example along, looking away and moving his hands nervously up and down his thighs.

y/n gulps and lays back against her pillow support system, panting and sniffling here and there, trying to level with the pain. in a few seconds, bruce doesn’t feel embarrassed anymore, and he turns to look at her. at the sight of her, that oh-so-painful sight of her, his hand instinctively reaches out and rests on her thigh. just for comfort. she turns her head to the side to look at him. but then she shakes her head and hides her face with her hands.

“shit, i’m sorry, i didn’t—” she doesn’t know exactly what to say, and she shakes her head again, “i had no idea that would happen, i’m sorry.” she takes her hands away and looks at bruce. he sees her eyes filling with tears again, and her lip starting to quiver. bruce squeezes her thigh in what he hopes is a comforting way and shrugs.

“there’s no way you could have,” he assures her, “and don’t be sorry.”

“no, i am—” she begins, “i know you…” want me, “wanted—want—to…” she can’t seem to finish any thought that she starts. her head shakes again and she even breathes a sad chuckle, “you know. and i did—do—too. but…” she looks away from him, disbelief in her eyes that wander across the room. bruce leans in closer to her.

“it’s not your fault,” he tells her with a gentle shake of his head. y/n looks back at him. and she just stares at him for a minute, for as long as he lets her do it. searching his eyes for something, anything—what?! she shakes her head once again.

“i don’t know what we’re doing here,” she tells him honestly. and at first, those words hurt bruce, “i’ve never done… anything before, really. but i’m liking it so far—though that is an understatement.” y/n confesses. “but i think we’re gonna have to wait however long for my damn side to heal.” she gets angry at herself, and it makes bruce chuckle because he finds her so adorable. he lays a kiss on her forehead, which pleasantly surprises y/n and makes her cheeks blush. she nearly gasps at the affectionate gesture.

“i don’t know, either,” he tells her in a whisper, “but i like it, too.” he says. the question of really? forms in her mind and is evident in her eyes to bruce, and he immediately nods. “and i want it,” he admits and leans his head down to her neck again, kissing it softly, “i want you.” now that is a game changer. to say you instead of it really turns everything around, and makes everything clearer for the both of them. he wants her? he really does? does he want her as much as she wants him? should she even ask that? “so much that i can wait.” bruce assures and pulls back to see her.

“you will?” y/n asks with a smile and tears in her eyes. bruce nods and gives her a warm smile. y/n’s smile grows in size and more tears fill her eyes. she’s so emotional again, she can’t stand that. but she rests her forehead against bruce’s and closes her tear-filled eyes, letting the tears fall from them as she sighs out in relief.

“i never want to hurt you,” bruce tells her in a whisper no one else would be able to hear, and that confession makes tears run to y/n’s eyes again. she bites her lower lip in a smile she makes, all the while doubting that this man is real. how can he? he’s got the characteristics of the perfect man, but they don’t exist. and least of all, here in gotham. but it’s clear that he’s proved her wrong a lot of things. about herself, about him. the list keeps growing, and y/n is glad that it does.

if anyone wants a tag next time, please let me know :)

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[glowingbadger]

birb men birb men birb men!

what about reader initiating courting with reyson accidentally (offering him some food, asking him to dance which could be interpreted as a mating invitation, etc.) and it ends up triggering reyson’s heat which he hasn’t had in a while (by a human too!) so just lots n lots of sexual tension as reyson desperately tries to explain the situation and not die from the hot humiliation (tibarn giving him some oil and winking doesn’t help either) as by heron culture they are essentially married-

Teenage me obsessed with the PoR official art would be so proud that I'm finally writing Reyson fucking

Me: so I finally get to write 'in heat' smut about the heron guy from Path of Radiance Fiance: cool lets watch some heron mating videos for research Takeaways: Herons poof up and display decorative feathers, stretch out their necks, groom each other, play-fight a bit, build a nest and fuck with the male holding the females neck in its beak to steady itself. Cool stuff.

It's interesting thinking of Reyson in this kind of scenario though- on the one hand, Heron Laguz are so demure and reserved generally, but on the other hand, Reyson is canonically pretty feisty for a Heron. Plus, you add the "in heat" element and he's naturally going to be a bit more forward. I dunno, y'all tell me if I got it right lol.

Reyson (FE: PoR/RD) x AFAB Reader

NSFW 18+ v

Heron Laguz biorhythms are a delicate thing, and sexual arousal is a powerful disruptive force. Reyson, true to his kind, is not often subject to such base instincts. Perhaps this is why even he had not expected that you could so easily shake him.

It had started innocuously enough. Reyson's people are not warriors, and so when he happened upon you stretching your body after a routine training session, the sight interpreted itself quite differently to his mind. Every curve looked like an offering, every slow, sensual movement like an invitation. But he halted himself, calming his pounding heart and reminding himself- you are a Beorc. Your ways are not the ways of his people, and this tempting display had a utilitarian purpose far from the flirtation it would be taken as among his own kind. Yet his plight only worsened.

Time passes, and your presence is both a comfort and a trial to the fragile sensibilities of the Heron Prince. The first time you casually brush a hand to his arm to get his attention over a nighttime meal, he nearly freezes up. Worse even, one evening when you reach to him to pluck a stray leaf from the tresses of his hair. He burns bright red, and excuses himself to his tent early that night. Such a brazen overture! That you would so willingly groom him- and in full view of your comrades! What's more, he's certain Tibarn saw, and the last thing Reyson needs is the Hawk King's unsolicited perspective on mating etiquette.

He knows his body is responding to this onslaught of temptation. It's only natural- he has not experienced his Heat for so long, perhaps he shouldn't be surprised that a Beorc is capable of triggering it. Especially when he's allowed himself to become... fond of you. But even Reyson knows that your kind don't experience Heat. He can't possibly approach you about this- no matter how he burns and aches for you. In the solitude of his tent after yet another day's march, he grits his teeth and pleads with his overactive mind to grant him sleep. Restless energy boils in his gut as images of you mewing and sighing beneath him play across his imagination despite his efforts to stifle them. If only you hadn't approached him so brazenly earlier that night... he remembers your words, and he bites back a groan. His cock throbs uncomfortably hard, but he refuses to indulge in base impulse. He simply has to endure this.

~

You hesitate at the entrance to Reyson's tent, unsure of how to proceed. There's plenty you still don't fully understand about him and the culture he comes from, but you've gotten to know him well enough to know that he's been strange lately. You'd thought that the two of you had actually gotten... well, at least fairly close- your own persistent and distracting little crush notwithstanding. This sudden distance between you fills your heart with painful anxiety.

Still, if it were only a few awkward conversations with abrupt endings, you wouldn't be seeking him out in the middle of the night. Tibarn had told you that Reyson was unwell, and that you should check on him, which had flooded your mind with concerns. Why you, when there are healers, and those who understand Heron biology better than you do? Why had the Hawk King's demeanor seemed so unconcerned? If anything, his subtle smirk had given the impression of someone enjoying a private joke.

Finally, you take a single deep breath, and begin to part the flap into Reyson's tent.

"Reyson? Are you around? Sorry to bother you so late..."

He breathes out your name and sits upright on his bedroll. You swallow hard and struggle to discipline your line of sight. He wears only close-fitted breeches and an embroidered tunic of a thin and delicate fabric, and so near to him in the privacy of his tent, you're offered a striking view of him. His skin seems flushed to a more ruddy, pinkish tone than usual, especially evident at his lips and the tips of his pointed ears. Those olive green eyes seem more vibrant than you've ever seen them, his gaze arresting, entrancing. You almost don't even notice that, though they're carefully drawn in behind him, his wings seem fuller than usual, as though the feathers have grown thicker and longer somehow.

"What- what are you doing here?" Reyson's tone is harsher than he tends to be with you, and you're reminded of how he used to address all Beorc not long ago. Your face heats up, but you manage,

"I was, uh, just checking on you-"

His brow lowers. Damn the Heron's senses- he can tell you're not being entirely truthful.

"Well, to be honest, Tibarn said-"

"Tibarn," he groans, and hand rubbing irritably at his forehead. Your lips tighten for a moment, then you sigh and say,

"Well, if you're not unwell, can I at least ask why you've been so strange towards me lately?"

You come to sit near him by his bedroll. He instinctively shifts himself an inch or two away from you. Those bright green eyes flicker over you once, then he breathes in deeply.

"Do you recall what you said to me earlier this evening? After... After Leanne and I sang for everyone at the fire."

You frown deeply, and take a moment to recall.

"You mean... about teaching me a song so we could sing together some time? It just seemed like a nice idea- is that a problem?"

Reyson says your name once more, this time low and agitated, and when he meets your eyes, it seems to take all of his focus. His jaw clenches tight, then, he says deliberately,

"Did you truly mean that?"

"Of course I did," you say without a thought. Something about this conversation seems strange, but before you can question him, Reyson leans toward you and presses his lips to yours, kissing you deeply. You inhale sharply, but arousal leaps to life at your core, and you kiss him back with all of the passion he offers. Long fingers weave into your hair, pulling you to him while his tongue parts your lips and you whimper against him. He smells like fresh grass and the clean air of the forest, and for all of his ethereal beauty, the way he's kissing you now is urgent and forceful. You had never once imagined that Reyson could be like this- passionate and direct, spurred on by unrestrained need. You're so swept up in his pace that you almost forget how utterly baffled you are.

By the time you can think enough to speak, his arm is wrapped around your waist, pulling you close as he leans over you and draws you into deep, erotic kisses one after another. You hadn't even realized your hands had come to cling to the front of his tunic. Still, you force yourself to part from his lips long enough to say,

"Ruh- Reyson, I- what is... all of this?"

His brow creases, his lips hovering not even an inch from yours.

"My Heat," his voice is low but heady, "You have agreed to be my mate, have you not?"

His Heat?! The full weight of the situation suddenly dawns on you. You only know a little about the process, but to your knowledge, Reyson must be in a state of lust-induced agony- one that won't be soothed until it's indulged. No wonder he's been strange lately. At the realization, you immediately feel the wet warmth of your arousal growing between your thighs. Then, his lips meet the tender flesh of your neck, kissing and sucking at sensitive skin. You gasp and arc against him, noting the way his wings flutter in reply.

"Among my tribe," he murmurs, warm breath teasing through your hair, "To request a song with another outside of one's family... it is a clear and direct mating proposition."

Oh Goddess above, you had accidentally asked Reyson to fuck. What's more, your advance had triggered his Heat, and if you agree to as much, he'll take you until his instincts are satisfied. A shiver rushes up your spine, and you gasp his name.

"I... I want it," you whimper into the quiet of his tent, "Let me... take care of you."

He groans- a low, lustful sound you'd never imagined coming from the Heron Prince. Then, the sting of his teeth at your throat sends a jolt through you. Your fingers rake through his hair, your breath coming in shallow, panting whimpers. You're familiar with this too- that Laguz mark their partners before coupling. The very idea that you would wear Prince Reyson's marks for your allies to see for days to come has you squirming in his arms, the ache between your thighs nearly unbearable.

By the time he coaxes you down beneath him on his bedroll, you feel as though you're at the mercy of an angel. Golden hair spills around you as you undress one another between fevered kisses, his wings spread wide and fluttering excitedly. You had never dreamed that Reyson could be so forward- but you suppose that's the effect of his Heat. He needs this.

You gasp as his lips travel down your chest, deep, open-mouthed kisses setting your nerves ablaze. When at last you feel the brush of two slender fingers across the swell of your soaked lower lips, your entire frame tenses, your breath catching audibly.

"Are all Beorc so sensitive?" Reyson says with note of awe in his voice.

"Yes? Maybe? Ohh-!"

His touch presses to you, gliding slick over your hardened clit and sending a trembling rush through you. Already, you're panting and sighing as he teases the stiff little nub, your juices coating the tips of his dexterous fingers. Your thighs tremble- if he doesn't stop, you'll-

Reyson's vibrant eyes seize your gaze and hold.

"You feel ready to take me, and... I am not certain how much longer I can restrain myself," his tone is low and heated. His fingers draw away from you, easing you away from the edge of climax, though something tells you that you won't have to wait long to feel that release.

"I'm ready," you murmur, and you hope you at least sound confident. In truth, you haven't had a clear thought since you entered this tent. Desire superseded reason long ago.

Reyson's hand brushes your cheek, and for a moment, you're surprised at how gentle he is even now.

"Much as I would dearly love to witness your pleasured expressions... the traditional way requires you to turn over."

Your face burns a deep red, and you nod. His hands at your hips encourage you as you turn onto your stomach beneath him, arching your back to angle yourself properly and he positions himself behind you. To your surprise, the next thing you feel is his hand between your shoulder blades. His touch is gentle, contemplative, even. His hand slowly runs down your back, but Reyson doesn't say a word. At first, you think to question him- but some part of you knows why he finds the sight so unusual.

These thoughts evaporate the moment his hands reach your backside and he parts your lower lips before him. Without a word, he presses the hot tip of his manhood to your entrance. You're soaking wet, your slick seeming to welcome him as he steadily pushes into you. Reyson gives a breathy groan of relief as you receive each inch of his cock, squeezing around him perfectly as he drives into you. By the time his pelvis rests against you and he's buried in your drooling hole to the base, you're each panting aloud, sighing happily at the delicious friction of your bodies. You hear his wings ruffle behind you, then feel him lean over you, his chest warm at your back.

"You feel perfect," he says simply. His hips begin to move with a slow, insistent sway, massaging his member into your aching inner walls. The curve of his shaft presses him into you wonderfully, grinding him against a thousand different pleasurable spots as he bucks into you.

"Is... is this really okay? I- I'm... a Beorc..." you're not certain what madness prompts you to ask at this moment, but Reyson nuzzles against the crook of your neck and speaks softly against your skin,

"Herons... are not like the other tribes. Our Heat is not a cycle at set intervals. It is prompted by the courting of a desired partner," you feel him throb, his manhood swelling thicker inside of you as he speaks, "I am not mindlessly attending to my own needs, Y/N. Beorc or not... I want you. Only you."

You gasp out his name and feel your lower muscles clench around him, your climax mounting rapidly. Reyson's pace increases, a hand at your hip keeping you in place as he thrusts into you to the base a bit faster, a bit harder. In the corners of your eyes, you see the dazzling white of his wings fluttering at your sides, surrounding you in a way that feels almost protective. Silky blonde hair cascades down his shoulders and pools on the pillow beside you. Then, sharp pain and pleasure spark at the base of your neck as he presses his lips and teeth to you. You're not certain if this is tradition or raw lust, but evidently, a single mark is not enough to satisfy your mate.

Fists clinging to the blanket beneath you, your thighs begin to tremble, and you wonder if the Herons' unique sense of empathy means that Reyson can feel the full extent of your rapidly building arousal. Perhaps that's why your bodies feel so perfectly in rhythm with one another. His breath comes heavier against your neck, his grip tightening at your hip. Then, his free hand reaches one of yours, lacing his fingers with yours as his pace falters and his thrusts become deep and harsh.

Words have dissolved into gasping moans and grunts. Your love-making is somehow both tender and utterly animalistic, and your eyes threaten to roll back as you near your climax. Then, the hand at your side moves to grab greedily at your ass, spreading you open as Reyson plunges his cock deep inside of you, his thrusts barely pulling out of you like he can't stand to be without your warmth around him for even a moment.

At last, with a final desperate whimper, your body trembles, a tingling rush moving through you as the tension in your core releases and you cum around your lover's cock. It's an overwhelming, dizzying sensation, yet before you've ridden out the length of your own climax, Reyson lets out a groan against your ear that somehow feels more potent than any galdr. His cock twitches, then throbs powerfully as his own release begins to pour into you. He says something in his native tongue- something beautiful and entirely incomprehensible to you- but the passion in his voice is near musical. As the final throes of his orgasm subside, he exhales, his body relaxing around you as you both catch your breath.

Reyson carefully pulls himself from your soaking wet warmth, and runs an admiring hand up your back. His voice still recovering from the strain, he softly says,

"If it would please you, I am willing to try it in the style of the Beorc next- you may lay on your back and face me, if you like."

You half-turn towards him and look up at him with eyebrows raised.

"You- you can go again already?"

Reyson frowns, seeming not to comprehend your surprise. Drawing down to you once more, he caresses your cheek and murmurs,

"Have Beorc lovers truly left you so neglected?"

Yet even as he speaks, he's already urging you fully onto your back so he can press slow, luxurious kisses down your chest. Reyson guides your thighs around his hips, then allows his hands to wander freely while his lips worship your breasts. Heat rises rapidly to your face once more, and between sighs of pleasure, you murmur,

"I think it's more that a Laguz in Heat is a completely different level..."

[chrizbang]

Pairing: Bang Chan x female reader, ft. Han Jisung

Genre: smut, a little bit of angst

Warnings: mature content, partying, drinking, kissing, unprotected sex, oral sex, lowkey fuckboy!Chan

Word count: 8.038

Summary: You had to do a project for the last semester in college before your vacation. Not only you had to deal with the stress of doing it right, but you also had to deal with the stupid crush you had on Bang Chan.

"Felix, I'm not going to kiss Chan"

"Everyone, pay attention here, please," your teacher said. Slowly, everyone stopped with the side talk and paid attention to her. "For your last project of the semester, I decided that we are going to learn about different cultures." She got up from her table and went in the direction of the board. "Remember when I asked you guys to send me the names of your groups? Basically, I'm going to draw random countries for each group. I want you guys to do a study aboout the differences of said countries, based on a theme that you are going to choose.”

She started writing on the board.

“The theme must be something creative. If it is not creative, your project is going to lose points, okay?" she said enthusiastically.

She started to draw the countries for each group. Your group was formed by basically you and Felix. Felix became your friend after the first day of class but you felt like he was your friend since forever. "I want this project by the end of the month, so..." she looked at the little calendar on her table. "You guys have three weeks. Any doubts?" Some people raised their hands but you weren't paying attention anymore, you were writing down the countries that you had to work with: Australia, Germany, Spain and, Korea. You had no idea what to do for your project. Your teacher was very clear: it had to be creative. Creativity wasn't your thing. "Okay, guys, class dismissed," your teacher announced. Everyone started to get up and leave but you sat there, trying really hard to think on a theme. "Hey, we have to go," Felix said. "What are we going to do?" "We have plenty of time to think about it, Y/N." Felix grabbed your backpack and started to put your stuff inside of it. "Three weeks is not plenty of time, Felix." "Okay, what's your idea, then?" "I don't know, that's why I'm asking you, dumbass." Felix rolled his eyes and grabbed your hand, dragging you out of the classroom. "How about we do a project about the foods of each country?" "Hm, that's interesting." You took your backpack from his hands to grab a little notebook to write down the ideas. "But I don't think is creative enough." Felix sat at the bench at the corner of the hall. "What if we did the differences in the skin texture of each country?" Felix looked at you and saw the pout on your face. "Too much?" You simply nodded. You sat down next to him, already tired from all the thinking. "You know what would be funny?" you grinned. "What?" "If we made a project about the way that people from each country kiss and the differences from each one." "Y/N, that's it!" Felix got up, excited. "Felix, I was joking." "No, this is a great idea. It's creative! There are students from different countries in our college, so we can totally do it!" "As far as I know, there's only one german student here. Are you going to kiss him?" You stood in front of him, arms crossed. "You are going to kiss him." Felix looked at you like what he was saying was obvious. "Felix!" "Look, we have four countries. I can kiss two people and you kiss two people. It's not going to be hard." "You know what? I'm going home. I'm going to think about a better theme." "You know you can't," Felix shouted while you left. Felix was right, this idea was the best one. It was creative and bold, but kissing random people was the hard part. Not that you didn't like to kiss, but you were used to kissing people at parties, people that you would kiss while you were drunk and you knew that you would never see them again. Not people from your college where you would have to see them every day. "Hi, Jisung," you said while you opened the door of your apartment. Your roommate was laying down on the couch, playing video games. "Hey," he greeted you. You lifted his legs so you could sit on the couch, putting his legs on your lap. "Are you okay?" he asked, noticing your expression. "Ugh, I have this stupid project to make," you whined, throwing your head back and closing your eyes, letting the frustration take over your body. "Do you wanna talk about it?" "No." Your phone rang, you grabbed it only to see that it was Felix calling you. "Hey, Felix." "What's up Feliiix," Jisung screamed. "Hi Jisung,” he yelled, making you pull the phone away from your ear. “Y/N, can you come to my apartment today?" "Nope. No, I can't." "Why? Do you have something to do?" Felix asked. "I don't want to. You know why." "Y/N, you have to get over the crush you have on Chan one day." "I don't have a crush on him, Felix. He just makes me...uncomfortable. Not in a bad way, in a weird way. I don't know how to explain." "Y/N, he's not even here now. Besides, we have to work on the details for our project," Felix insisted. "Why don't you come to my apartment?" "Because every time I go there we can never get anything done because of Jisung. Please? Please, Y/N." "Fine," you sighed. "I'll be there in twenty minutes." "Are you going to get pretty for Channie?" Felix teased. "Shut the fuck up." You turned off your phone and went to your room. The truth is: you did have a crush on Chan. Chan was handsome, funny, he had a great body and a great personality. He was also a fuckboy. You can't remember the number of times that you saw him with different girls in their apartment, one prettier than the other. Eventually, you stopped going to their apartment because you never knew how to behave like a normal human being around him and, seeing him with pretty girls wasn't helping. You took a quick shower and dressed in simple clothes, you didn't want Felix teasing you. While walking through the campus in the direction of their apartment, you kept trying to calm yourself. It has been a while since you saw Chan, so you were excited, even though you were trying to convince yourself that you weren't. Felix said that he wasn't home, so there was no reason for you to be nervous. You stopped in front of their door and took a deep breath. You knocked and it took a moment before Felix answered. "Hey, Y/N," Felix screamed, giving you a hug. "Don't act like we didn't see each other a few hours ago." You entered their apartment. The structure was the same for all the apartments on the campus, but each one had its own piece of decoration. Surprisingly enough, Felix and Chan's apartment had a great decoration and was super clean. "So... let's go to your room." "Are you sure that you don't want to work in the living room?" Felix asked. "I'm sure," you said, already going in the direction of his room. Felix laughed. He knew you were trying to avoid Chan. You sat on Felix's bed with your notebook in your hands, ready to take notes. "Look," Felix said, sitting in front of you. "I know that you don't want to use kissing as a theme, but..." Felix raised his hand when he saw your expression, trying to explain himself. "It is the perfect theme, Y/N. We are not going to find something as creative and daring as this. And this is important for our grades, we are not doing very well on this subject, remember?" Felix tilted his head. You know he was right. "Fine, you are not going to leave me alone, are you?" "Nope." Felix got up from the bed and grabbed his notebook on his table, to show you some annotations. "So, we have to find people from Australia, Germany, Spain, and Korea. We already know the german student, don't worry, I'll talk to him so you can kiss him." Felix wrote down something in his notebook and continued. "There's a spanish girl in Chan's class, I'm gonna ask him to help me out." The simple mention of Chan's name made you feel butterflies in your stomach. "For korean, I thought about the possibility of..." Felix hesitated and looked at you. "No." "Come on, Y/N." "I am not going to kiss Jisung, Felix." "Fine, I'll look for a korean girl somewhere." "There's probably someone in our college." "The problem is someone australian. Don't get me wrong, I love you and you are gorgeous. But I'm not going to kiss you." "I don't want to kiss you either, Felix." "Felix." You heard Chan calling, startling you. "I'm in my room," Felix yelled. Chan opened the door of Felix's room. You looked at your notebook to pretend that you were occupied. Chan and Felix talked about ordering food for dinner or something. "Y/N," Chan said when he noticed you, making you instantly look in his direction. "Long time no see." He had a stupid cocky smile on his face. His sweet voice made you swallow hard. "H-hi, Chan." Of course, you had to stutter. "You can stay for dinner if you want," Chan offered before leaving the room. "So cute," Felix whispered, looking at your red face. "I have to go," you said, gathering your stuff. "But Chan invited you for dinner, Y/N," Felix teased you. "Bye, Felix." "Okay, let me walk you to the door." Luckily, Chan was occupied in the kitchen so he didn't see you leave. "Text me once you get there, okay?" Felix said. "Okay, bye." You kept thinking about the little interaction with Chan on your way home. He dyed his hair since the last time you saw him. Instead of blonde, it was now black. Both colors suited him so much. He was wearing a black sweatshirt and some jeans, the most basic clothes ever and he looked breathtaking. You hated how you were head over heels for him, you felt like a teenager. It was so silly. Days went by and you had a lot of work from college. Felix already worked on his part and managed to kiss the spanish girl from Chan’s class. Something made you feel like kissing wasn't the only thing he did, but you didn't want to know the details. Some students were planning a party and Chan invited Felix, who invited you. "I don't know, I have so much to do," you whined. "Can I go?" Jisung asked, stuffing some food in his mouth. "Of course," Felix said. "Y/N, that's exactly why you should go." He said that while holding some of the papers that were on the couch while you worked on your homework. "You need to ease your mind from all the stress from school." "He's right," Jisung agreed. "She's so grumpy lately because of college." "Shut up, Jisung,” you whined. "Okay, fine. But only if you help finish this," you told Felix. "Fine." The party was on a tuesday night, Felix would go with Chan so you asked Jisung to take you. "Looking good," Jisung stated, eyeing you up and down as he entered your room. You were putting your earrings on. You decided that since you would have all the work to go to a party, you had to a least look good. So you were wearing a leather skirt with a white long-sleeved blouse that showed some cleavage. "Thanks, Jisung. Are you ready?" "Yeah. Let's go." The party wasn't far away from your dorm so you were able to go walking. It was 9 pm, so leaving Jisung with you made you feel safer. Jisung was the type of person who was outgoing, he talked a lot and made you laugh all the time. Along the way, he talked about college and his classes. He studied music production and he seemed really passionate about it. You thought it was cute how his eyes glowed while he talked about his classes. It was funny because Chan also studied music production, but he was from a different classroom. Some minutes later, you were at the place of the party. You had no idea whose house was that, but you completely forgot about it once you were inside. The first thing you saw was Chan, but he was too occupied to see you. He was kissing a girl. She was gorgeous, with long blonde hair, and a tight red dress that accentuated her curves. You were sure that Chan enjoyed that dress by the way his hands ran over her body, stopping at her ass to grab it. "I'm gonna look for Felix," you whispered to Jisung. You found Felix standing next to a table where people were playing beer pong. "Y/N," he yelled when he saw you. He ran in your direction, giving you a tight hug that made you realize that he was probably, already, a little drunk. "Hi," you said with a sad voice. "What's wrong?" "Nothing. It's not important." "If it's not important, why are you making that face?" He held your face with his hands, looking right into your eyes. "Felix, I don't wanna talk about it, not now." You looked in the direction of the table. "Can I play?" "Sure," Felix shrugged. You played beer pong with Felix and some unknown people and eventually, you started to feel dizzy. "I'm going to use the bathroom," you said, stumbling on some drunk people while you tried to leave. You went to the second floor, looking from door to door when you finally saw the bathroom one. However, when you got closer, you realized that there was someone inside of it. And they weren't alone. You could hear the sound of skin slapping against skin and muffled moans. You widened your eyes, feeling embarrassed by witnessing people having sex. When you turned around to leave, you heard the girl moaning "fuck Chan, harder." You could hear Chan groaning while he fucked her.

You swallowed hard and left. There was another bathroom on the first floor which you found eventually. Once you were inside, you sat on the toilet and cried. You had this stupid crush on Chan for so long and look at you. Crying in the bathroom while he fucked a girl in another bathroom. You stayed there for a while, feeling sorry for yourself until you got fed up. It was time to get over him. You cleaned your tears and got up to go back to the party. You looked around for Felix but couldn't find him anywhere. "Y/N," you looked in the direction of the person calling you and saw Jisung enthusiastically waving at you. He was standing in the middle of the living room where people were dancing. "Hey," you half yelled since the song was loud. "Are enjoying the party?" "Not really." You really wanted to leave, you didn't feel like staying at that party, and you especially didn't feel like dancing. That's when you looked around and saw Chan at the corner of the living room, talking to Felix. You saw that he had his eyes on you. Like he would always do, looking at you like he was checking you out but without it being obvious. You clenched your fists, you were tired of Chan teasing you. You had an idea and you didn't even stop to think about it. You grabbed Jisung's face and kissed him. It was a weird kiss at first, the smell of alcohol exhaling in the air. Jisung's lips were soft but eager, he held onto your waist, getting your body closer to his. He wasted no time before shoving his tongue inside of your mouth, taking you by surprise. You kissed him for a while but you stopped the moment you felt him rubbing his boner on you. You lightly pushed him by his shoulders.

"I have to go," you said, leaving the room. Jisung stayed there, looking at you, without knowing how to react. You decided that you had to leave. You were confused, upset, angry and a little horny, thanks to Jisung. You started to walk in the direction of the gates of the house when you heard somebody calling your name. "Y/N, wait!" You sighed and turned around. The last thing you needed was to talk to Chan. "What do you want?" you roared. "Are you leaving?" "Yes. I'm going home." He looked like he was angry at something, but you simply shrugged. "Let me take you home. It's way too late for you to be walking alone," he said in a serious tone. "I don't need your help, Chan." You turned around to leave when he grabbed your arm. "This was not a suggestion. I'm taking you home," he growled. You pulled your arm from his hands but didn't fight. Chan walked with you to your apartment quietly. Not a word was said until he stopped in front of your dorm. "Thanks," you said, looking at the floor. "So, Jisung, huh?. I didn't expect that." "I'm sorry?" You raised your head, looking at him. "How long have you been dating him?" he asked. He really looked like something was bothering him, clenching his jaw and crossing his arms. You felt like he was fighting with you for doing something wrong. "T-that's none of your business. Goodnight, Chan," you remarked. You went in the direction of your door and stopped. You were so angry at him, you couldn't stop the words from coming out of your mouth. "Where's the girl you were fucking in the bathroom? You should be worried about her." Chan widened his eyes and smiled. You wanted to punch that stupid smile out of his face. "Are you jealous?" he asked, raising his eyebrow. "Fuck off." You unlocked the door and went inside. You lay down on your bed and closed your eyes. It didn't take long for you to sleep since you were exhausted. You couldn't say that you had a good night of sleep though, you woke up with a hangover and headache. Still, you had class first thing in the morning so you had to go. You took a shower and got dressed up when you remembered what happened to Jisung. You were not ready to face the consequences of your actions, so you tried to leave without seeing him. You were sitting in your class, trying to pay attention when Felix arrived. "Hey," he said, sitting by your side. "Hey," you whined. "I have good news. There was a german girl at the party last night, so I did your job for you." "Yay," you said without any enthusiasm. "Aaand, since you kissed Jisung, you have the korean part. There's only Australia missing." "Haven't you kissed any girls when you lived in Australia?" you interrogated him. "I did, but I'm australian. I think it would be better from the perspective of someone who isn't, you know?" You sighed. When you started to pack your stuff to leave after the class was over, you groaned. "What is it, Y/N?" Felix asked. "I have to go home." "And?" "I kissed Jisung, Felix." "Was it that bad?" Felix tilted his head, not understanding your point. "That's not the point. He's my roommate and my friend, that's weird." "Well, unless you are planning to move somewhere else, you'll have to talk to him." You groaned again, throwing your head back. You went home thinking about what exactly you would tell Jisung. You always thought that Jisung was an attractive guy and you would be lying if you said you never took a look at his body when he would walk around shirtless. There was even that one time where he brought a girl home, they tried to stay quiet but you could hear them fucking. That turned you on so much that you had to touch yourself. Still, Jisung was your friend and kissing your friends was not something that you usually did. When you got home, you looked around for Jisung. You heard some noises in his room. You knocked at the door and he stayed silent for a while. "Come in," he said. "Hey," you purred when you opened the door. "I think I need to talk." "Yeah, I think we should." "Sorry for kissing you last night, that was a stupid thing to do," you stumbled on your words, barely giving yourself time to breathe. "Y/N," Jisung raised his hand. "It's okay. You are a good kisser." "Thanks. I guess."

"I have to admit that I couldn't stop thinking about it. I was thinking..." Jisung hesitated for a moment, thinking deeply about what he was going to say.

"Why don't we do it again?" he suggested.

You bit your lips. You had to admit that that's not what you were expecting from him.

You sat at the edge of his bed, getting closer to him.

"Jisung, I... I kissed you because I wanted Chan to notice me, maybe get him jealous." Saying it out loud made you realize how childish and silly that was, you couldn't help but to feel embarrassed.

"Y/N, I don't care. It's not like I'm asking you to marry me," he laughed.

Jisung sat by your side.

"What do you think about being friends with benefits?"

He watched your reaction. You had a confused expression on your face, trying to understand his words.

"When was the last time that you had sex?" he asked.

"I don't know. Eight months ago?"

"See? It's been a while for me, too. Besides, you can even use me to make Chan jealous, if you want."

"Are you listening to yourself, Jisung?"

"Yes. We can still be friends, no feelings involved. Think about it."

Jisung got up from the bed and walked in the direction of the door.

"Ji-jisung."

He turned around to look at you. "Yes?"

"I want it."

Felix, 5:35 pm: Hey 

Felix, 5:35 pm: Did you write your dissertation about the korean part?

Y/N, 5:38 pm: I did

Y/N, 5:38 pm: Even though I don't think it's really useful since I was drunk

Felix, 5:40 pm: You should kiss Jisung again then, lol

Y/N, 5:41 pm: Maybe I will ;)

Felix, 5:42 pm: Y/N??? You nasty little b

Felix, 5:43 pm: Send it to me, please.

Y/N, 5:45 pm: Okay.

Y/N, 5:45 pm: Hey, are going to do something tomorrow?

Felix, 5:48 pm: No, why?

Y/N, 5:49 pm: Let's go to the movies. There's that horror movie that we wanted to watch in the theaters.

Felix, 5:51 pm: Sure!

Y/N, 5:52 pm: Can I bring Jisung?

Felix, 5:52 pm: Yes

Felix, 5:54 pm: But don't you dare to make me feel like the third wheel.

Jisung didn't even know that you had plans with him that afternoon. But you wanted to spend time with him, to ensure the "friends" part of your negotiation. After accepting to be friends with benefits, he didn't talk about it anymore. You thought that he would kiss you again or something, but no, he went to the kitchen to make some mac and cheese for dinner and then went to sleep.

"Jisung," you said, knocking on his door. You know that if he was silent he was probably taking a nap.

"What?" he asked, in an annoyed voice.

"Can I come in?"

"Ugh, no, I'm sleeping."

You entered the room anyway. You swallowed hard when you saw that he was laying on his stomach, shirtless. His back was exposed for you to see. It was not the first time that you saw him like that, but it was the first time since you kissed him.

"Get up, we are going to the theater."

"We?" he asked, looking at you.

"Yes, you, me and, Felix."

"Aww," he whined. "I thought it would be a cute date."

Jisung winked at you with a cocky smile on his face.

"Shut up. You have ten minutes to get dressed."

You agreed with Felix to meet him at the movie theater, so you left with Jisung on an Uber.

When you arrived at the movie theater, you could see Felix at the line to buy the tickets, but he wasn't alone.

"Felix?" you asked when you got closer to him.

"Hey!" he said. "I hope you don't mind Chan coming with us. He insisted that he wanted to come. Like really."

"Hi, Y/N," Chan purred, smiling at you. He then looked a Jisung.

"Jisung," he said in a low voice. His face looked serious, it didn't look like he was happy to see Jisung there.

Chan looked back at you. “I hope you don’t mind if Felix and I accompany your date with your little friend with benefits.”

You didn’t have time for a reaction since Felix pulled you to buy your tickets and some popcorn and headed to the movie. The mood was heavy, Jisung walked around with his arm around your neck all the time and you saw Chan looking at you with an upset expression. Was he jealous? You didn't know.

You sat by Jisung's side on the theater and Felix sat by your side, but after talking about something with Chan, they switched places.

Chan's leg touched yours and you felt your heart dancing in your chest. Why couldn't you get over him? You held Jisung's hand, trying to distract yourself. You were not giving Chan what he wanted.

With the corner of your eye, you would see Chan watching you sometimes. But you avoided looking back at him at any cost.

Jisung would whisper some things in your ear during the movie, making you giggle.

Suddenly, you felt Chan moving next to you. He stretched out for a moment, but he left his arm on your chair, next to your shoulders. You swallowed hard and rolled your eyes. Would you be lying if you said you didn't like the sudden attention you were getting from Chan? Yes, you would. But you felt confused and angry. Chan was acting jealous out of nowhere, to the point where you started to feel guilty, while you had to deal with the countless times where you saw him with other girls. Still, you never acted like a jealous teenager around him, so yeah, you were not giving in. The movie ended and all you wanted to do was to leave the theater. Jisung was by your side all the time, walking with you in front of Chan and Felix. "Let's go home, darling," Jisung purred, after giving you a peck on the cheeks. You could tell that he was loving to tease Chan. You said goodbye to Felix, and, reluctantly, to Chan and left with Jisung. When you got home you sat on the couch, still thinking about everything that was happening. Jisung sat by your side, almost sitting on your lap. "Ouch," you whined. "Sorry. What is up with Chan? He looked really angry at me today." "I don't know and I don't care," you shrugged. "Come on, Y/N. I think he has a crush on you and got all mad now that you have a man." "Oh, I have a man?" you looked at Jisung with an amused expression. "Well, we are friends with benefits, remember?" Jisung laid his head on your shoulder while his hand grabbed your thigh. "I almost forgot since you didn't say anything about it anymore." Jisung's thumb drew patterns on your skin while he talked. "Well, I wanted to give you space, you know? To get used to it." "Awn, you are so sweet." "I am, baby." You looked at Jisung, who was also looking at you. Slowly, you got closer to him until your lips touched. Now that you were sober, it wasn't so weird to kiss him. He was very eager, but not in a bad way. He played with your tongue while he guided the kiss, holding your head with his hand. Suddenly, he grabbed your waist, making you sit on his lap. He kept on kissing you, running his hands through your body. You started to grind on his boner, just to tease him a little. Jisung held hard on your waist, pulling you closer to him, so you would grind harder on him. You couldn't hold the little whine that left your lips when you felt his hard dick against your clit. "Take this off," he whispered, helping you to take off your t-shirt. He didn't waste time, grabbing your boobs and pulling your bra down. he licked one of your nipples while he played with the other.  You moaned loud, rocking your hips on his cock. Jisung started to kiss your neck, working to take his belt off. He opened his pants and freed his dick. "Are you on the pill?" he asked. "Yes." Your skirt was already raised, exposing your wet panties. He pulled your panties to the side and held your waist, helping you out so you could slide on his dick. You whined when you felt him stretching you out. You started to ride his dick at a fast pace, not giving your pussy time to adjust. "Fuck, Y/N," Jisung moaned. "I'm not gonna last long if you keep it like that." "Play with my clit, I'm close," you whined. He rubbed his thumb against your clit while you sat on his dick. After a little while, you came, kissing him on the lips. Quickly, you got off his lap and got on your knees. You grabbed his dick and started pumping and sucking it. Jisung came, moaning loud, filling your mouth up with his hot cum. You swallowed it and looked at him with an innocent face. "That's fucking hot," he whined. "Y/N, we need to finish our project," Felix said. You were sitting in the cafeteria. You had only one week before you had to deliver the project and Felix was starting to panic. "I know, I'm still looking for a guy who is from Australia that's not you." "You know a guy that's Australian and it's not me." "Felix, I'm not going to kiss Chan," you grumped. "Why not?" You turned around to see Chan standing behind you, with that cocky smile that he always had on his face. He sat on the table by your side. "Felix told me about your project. Why are not going to kiss me? Is your little boyfriend going to stay mad?" he teased. "You know that Jisung it's not my boyfrie-," you stopped once you noticed that you were explaining yourself. You cleaned your throat. "I don't owe you any explanation, Chan. And Felix, you really need to stop exposing my life to him."

Felix frowned.

"Come on, Y/N. You would rather fail than to kiss me?" he asked, tilting his head and looking at you, using a soft voice. You hated how he made you feel butterflies in your stomach by the way he looked at you. You hated how he looked so good with that stupid sweatshirt and his messy hair, making you think that he was probably late for college today. Probably because he was fucking some hot girl the night before. "I'm n-not gonna fail. I'll kiss Felix if I have to." You got up and left, going home. Felix called your name but you kept walking. In your college, there were a lot of foreign students, but not many australians, from what you knew. You knew that were no way that Felix would kiss you, so you had to do something. You were looking on Tinder, trying to find what you needed when Felix messaged you asking for you to go to his house. He said that you needed to at least finish to write the project, even if Australia was missing. You went to his apartment, ready to be angry at Chan, but you soon learned that he wasn't there. You and Felix did what you had to do and by the end of it, you were both mentally exhausted. "How come just writing something can be so tiring?" Felix asked, throwing himself on the couch. "Probably because we are both very stupid," you stated. "That must be it. I'm kind of hungry but we don't have anything to eat. I think I’m going to the supermarket to buy us something, okay?" "Okay. I'm gonna review our work while you are there." You were sitting there, doing your job for about ten minutes when you heard the door opening. "Already?" you asked. "Y/N?" "Oh, Chan. I thought it was Felix." you sighed. "Sorry to disappoint." Chan went to his room and stayed there for a while. You found it strange that he didn't come to tease you. "Y/N, can you come to my room for a moment?" "I'm busy." You felt your palms sweating. Was he really inviting you to stay alone, in his room, with him? "Please? It's going to be really quick, I need to show you something."

You wanted to say no, you really did. But you went to his room anyway. Chan closed the door when you were inside and told you to sit on the chair next to the table. He had his notebook turned on. "Put this on," he said, handing you his earphones. Chan played a song. It had a smooth melody, with soft lyrics. The person singing had a sweet voice. The lyrics talked about feelings and liking someone. It was short, about a minute and a half. "Do you like it?" Chan asked, with expectation shining on his eyes. "Yes, it's beautiful." He leaned on the edge of the table next to you. "Well, I wrote it and produced it. I also recorded it," he said with a smile on his face, but this time it wasn't a cocky one, he looked satisfied. "Oh, are you the one singing?" "Yes." "I didn't know you could sing." Chan played with his fingers and looked down. You have never seen him like that before. He looked hesitant, almost nervous. "Y/N, I-" "Hello?" Felix opened Chan's door. "Y/N, I was looking for you. We need to finish our project." Chan didn't say anything, he just left the room. "I hope I'm not interrupting something," Felix added. You shrugged and went to the living room with him. You finished all you needed about your project and went home. You looked for Jisung, until you found him in his room. "Can I come in?" you timidly asked when you opened the door. "Of course." You ran to his bed, getting under the covers with him. He was sitting down with his back against the headboard, he looked like he was studying. "I don't want to bother you, Jisung." "That's fine. What's up?" he directed his attention to you. "I'm so confused." "About what?" "About Chan." Jisung laughed. "Tell me about it." "Today he showed a song that he wrote. It was about love and stuff. And he has been acting all jealous. I don't know how to feel about it." "You really like him, don't you?" You sighed. "Jisung, I don't think we should be friends with benefits anymore." "It's okay, Y/N. Can we still be friends?" "Of course!" you hugged him, resting your head against his chest. "I'm gonna miss the sex though," he teased. "Jisung!" "Just kidding, baby." Y/N, 9:45 pm: Felix Y/N, 9:45 pm: We have one day before our project is due Y/N, 9:45 pm: I'm gonna ask you something Felix, 9:58 pm: Y/N I DON'T WANT TO KISS YOU Y/N, 9:59 pm: It's not that, dumbass Y/N, 9:59 pm: I need you to ask Chan if he will kiss me Y/N, 10:00 pm: But I want to make it clear that this is strictly professional Felix, 10:02 pm: Okay, I'm gonna talk to him You had no other choice anymore. You couldn't afford to have a bad grade so yeah, you were going to kiss Bang Chan. Felix said that you would have to go to their apartment. You already started to feel nervous. When you arrived, Chan opened the door for you. "Where's Felix?"" you asked. You were holding tight on the sleeve of your blouse. You walked past Chan while you entered their apartment and you felt your legs going weak when you smelled his cologne. He smelled so good. "He said that he wanted to give us privacy," he answered. You frowned, that was typical of him. "Look, I'm only doing this because I need to, okay? We don't have much time anymore and we really need to finish this project." Chan got closer to you, looking into your eyes. You wanted to run away. "Okay," he said. You stayed there looking for each other. You didn't know what to do. "A-are you going to kiss me?" you asked. Chan smirked. "I'm sorry, I'm a little nervous," he admitted. "You? Nervous?" "Yeah." "Chan, please. I've seen you kissing a bunch of girls a lot of times and you've never looked like you were nervous." "Yeah, but they were not you." Chan's words danced in your ears. "That's not funny." "What?" he asked. "It's not fun to play with someone's feeling like that." "I'm not playing with your feelings, Y/N. I'm serious." Chan touched your chin, making you feel shivers down your spine. One little touch and he had you on the palm of his hand. "I've known for a long time that you had a crush on me." You felt your cheeks burning. "I've always thought that you were amazing. Gorgeous, funny, smart. I just thought I wasn't good enough for you. But when I saw you kissing Jisung... I don't know. I felt so bad. I think I was used to having you around." Chan's hand that was on your chin ran to your cheek, holding the side of your face. "C-chan," you whispered. Chan shortened the distance between your bodies and kissed you. By the moment where his lips touched yours, you knew for sure that you would get addicted to it. His plump lips were soft and warm, welcoming yours like a tight hug. His other hand grabbed your waist, getting you closer to him. It was so soft and sweet, not something that you would expect from him. You held onto his neck, touching him to make sure you weren't dreaming. You wanted more. You slid your tongue in his mouth, deepening the kiss. Your hand ran through his chest until it reached the end of his shirt. You put your hand under his shirt, feeling his abs. "Y/N," Chan said. "Please," you whispered against his lips. You weren't thinking straight anymore. Chan's lips started to go down until they reached your neck. He sucked on it, making you whimper. "Are you sure about it? We don't have to do anything if you don't want to," he asked, looking right into your eyes. "I want to." Chan held your hand and took you to his room. He told you to lay on his bed. You never thought that this would happen one day. He laid down next to you, facing you. "We don't have to do anything, Y/N." He smiled, the stupid dimples making his face look cuter than ever. "We can just talk, maybe kiss and-" "Chan. I want you to fuck me." You were begging. You were begging for that cock like a little bitch and you were not embarrassed. Chan widened his eyes and swallowed hard. "Okay, okay," he giggled. He got on his knees and took his shirt off. You have never seen him shirtless and you were pretty much pleased by what you saw. You wanted to kiss every inch of his pale skin. Chan got on top of you. He kissed you, exploring your lips. You were wearing a dress that was quickly on the floor of his room. "Fuck," Chan groaned when he saw you only in lingerie. You saw the boner on his pants and licked your lips. You pushed him on the bed and got on top of him. You helped him so he could take off his pants and underwear. His dick was marvelous. Above average, thick, pink tip and veiny. You didn't waste time, you grabbed it and started to lick the head. Chan moaned, closing his eyes. You twirled your tongue around it while you pumped it with your hand. You sucked hard on the tip and Chan moaned again. You tried to go down on it as much as could, which wasn't much since deepthroating wasn't your specialty, but you guessed that Chan was enjoying it by the sounds he was making. Chan grabbed your head and stopped you. "Lay down, baby girl," he demanded. He opened the drawer of the nightstand next to his bed and grabbed a condom but he didn't put it on yet. Instead, he took off your lingerie and got between your legs. He slowly kissed your belly, going down your body. He bit the inside of your thighs, leaving marks behind. He finally went where you wanted him to. He licked your pussy lips, making you whine. He teased you, going from penetrating you with his tongue to licking your clit. You were moaning and whimpering, feeling your orgasm approaching. "Chan, please," you moaned. He started to finger you while he licked your clit. It was too much for you and you came on his mouth. Chan kept licking you until you couldn't take it anymore because of the overstimulation. He took the condom, slid it on his dick and, pumped it a few times. He kissed you, making you taste your own juices. He finally started to slide himself into you, slowly. You whined, feeling him stretching your pussy. "Fuck, baby. So fucking good," he whimpered. When he was fully inside, he gave you a deep kiss. He kissed you for a while, giving you time to get used to him inside of you. "C-chan," you moaned. He started to move, pounding into you at a slow and deep pace. You could feel every inch of him inside of you and you loved it. Chan's moaning was driving you crazy. "So good, baby," he said in your ear. His low voice went straight to your folds, getting you wetter. He kept it slow and intimate, rubbing his pelvis against your clit. "Chan, I'm g-gonna cum." "Cum for me, baby girl." You came again, feeling your legs shaking. Chan kept fucking you until he felt his high approaching. "Ah, fuck, baby," he whined when he came, thrusting deep inside of you. Chan lay down by your side. He took the condom off and threw it in the trash bin next to his bed.

He hugged you, making you lay on his chest. You stayed quiet, listening to his heartbeat, no words were needed. Chan played with your hair, his warm arms making you feel safe. Suddenly, your stomach growled. "Somebody's hungry," Chan teased. He started to move so he could get up. "No!" you whined. "I'm gonna get something for you to eat, baby," he giggled. You let go of him and Chan got up from the bed. He put on his underwear and went to the kitchen. You decided to put your clothes on. Some minutes later Chan came back. He widened his eyes when he saw you with your dress back on. "Are you leaving?" he asked, worried. "No, I just wanted to put it back on. Unless you want me to leave." "Of course not!" Chan sat by your side on the bed, he brought a plate with a sandwich and a cup of orange juice. "Here," he handed it to you. You ate while Chan talked about the songs he was producing. It was interesting to hear even though you had no understanding about the subject. "It's getting late. I'm gonna get dressed so I can take you home, okay?" he said. "You don't have to, Chan." "But I want to." Chan walked you to your apartment. He stayed with you in front of your dorm for a while, kissing and hugging you like he didn't want to let you go. Reluctantly, he went back home. When you went inside, you were surprised to see Felix sitting on the couch with Jisung, playing video games. "Wow, finally," he said. "That was a long kiss," Jisung teased. He didn't sound bitter, it really looked like he was being funny, which made you feel relieved. You sat between them, laying your head on Felix's shoulder. "I had sex with him." "Too much information," Jisung said. They laughed. "It's not funny, guys." "What's wrong, Y/N?" Felix asked. "Isn't that good? You've had a crush on him since forever." "Yeah, but what if I gave him what he wanted?" You got up from the couch, frustrated. "He had sex with me, so he will probably run for the next girl to fuck." "Y/N, I'm pretty sure he's head over hills for you," Jisung said. "I'm going to my room." Later that night you finished your project with Felix. It was due soon, so you were relieved but disappointed in yourself. You let yourself go so easily. You didn't want to feel like that, but you couldn't help it. You were feeling insecure. It wasn't just sex to you, you really felt a connection with Chan. But did he feel the same? What if he just acted as he liked you so he could fuck you? Claim you as his so he could show dominance against Jisung? You didn't know. The day to deliver the project finally arrived. You were relieved that it was finally done and the semester was almost over too. Soon you would be on vacation from college. When you were leaving the classroom, you saw Chan waiting for you outside. "Hey," he said when you got closer. "Hi." He hugged and kissed your cheek. "Wow, right in front of me, disgusting," Felix said. "Can I have your phone number?" Chan asked. "I thought of asking Felix, but I wanted to ask you in person. I also wanted to see you." "Yeah. Of course." "Hey, guys. I love both of you, but you are not going to make me the third wheel," Felix said, standing between you and Chan and intertwining his arms with yours and with Chan's. It was the last day of class. You and Felix got a 9 out of 10 on your project. Felix thought it deserved more but you were just happy that you did well. Your teacher said that she was impressed by the theme you chose. She loved how bold it was and it was exactly the type of stuff that she wanted. You laughed about the way Felix got excited because she complimented your project.

You were sitting in the cafeteria with Jisung, Felix and, Chan. At first, the idea of Chan and Jisung together made you uncomfortable, but they seemed to get along, so you were satisfied. Jisung also thought it would be better if he moved in with Felix so Chan could live in the dorm with you, which Chan promptly accepted. You went home with Chan, talking about your plans for your vacation and how you could spend time together. You ate and watched some TV, but you were really tired. Chan laid down on the couch and you laid on top of him, resting your face on his chest. You loved to stay with him like this, feeling the warmth of his body. You just stayed there with your eyes closed and feeling his perfume. Chan's phone rang and quickly answered, he didn't know that you were awake and he didn't want it to bother you. You heard him talking to some guy, he was inviting Chan to a party. "Thanks for inviting me, mate, but I'll have to decline," he said, almost whispering. "I'm with my girlfriend and I want to spend the day with her." You smiled. Chan was what you always wanted and you finally had it, and he also had you.

A/N: This is a long ass fanfic, I tried to proofread it but it might still have some grammatical errors. Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!

[dudeandduchess]

Yakuza!Kyōjurō x F!S/O: Sugar and Spice (Mafia!AU, Modern AU, NSFW Series)[Chapter 8]

Summary: Kyōjurō and (Y/n) meet at a party, only to find out that their lives would change forever— since they had been arranged to be married.

Note: I have nothing against McDonald’s; I love some of their things (Nuggets!!!). It’s just that the contrast between what (Y/n)’s mother had always had, compared to something so normal makes me laugh.

Warnings: Smut, Making Out, Candy Swapping, Semi-Public Sex (Private Beach), Teasing, Champagne Blowjob, Cum Swallowing

||Sugar and Spice Masterlist||

***

It had been a couple of days since the pleasurable incident at the Rengoku clan’s mountain home and, for the life of her, (Y/n) couldn’t get it out of her head. Especially at night, when she begun fantasizing about having Kyōjurō’s hands all over her again, with his chest pressed flush against her back.

She would never admit it, but she was addicted— after only the barest taste of him.

And she would have devised a plan to wring the same pleasure from him again, had he not called her the following morning to say that something had come up in Osaka. That would have been find, if it only took a day to fix it. But, apparently, it was going to take a few days.

(Y/n) had tried not to let her disappointment show in her tone, but Kyōjurō must have picked up on it, since she had gotten the most beautiful bouquet of pink and white hydrangeas— as well as one of Kyōjurō’s button down shirts— a mere hour after they had said goodbye to each other.

The card had even held the sweetest inscription she had ever received, which she quickly used to cover her face— as she raced back up the stairs to get back to the privacy of her room.

At that present moment, with her already done getting herself ready for the day, she took a brief moment for herself and sat down on the edge of her bed; taking the card where she had left it on top of her nightstand, and biting back a smile as she read her fiancé’s writing.

‘You are much like hydrangeas; Beautiful, but selfish with your love. I hope that I can take a piece of your heart while I’m gone, And I hope that someday I’ll have your love, (Y/n).

P.S. I’m giving you my shirt, so that it will keep a little bit of me with you.

Forever Yours, Kyōjurō’

(Y/n) couldn’t help but bite down on her lower lip, if only to bite back the giggle that threatened to spill from her lips. She had been reading the card frequently, yet it still managed to elicit the same reaction from her; as if she were a lovesick teenager.

It was very unbecoming for her; especially over someone whom she was still getting to know.

Kyōjurō was going to become her husband, that was a fact, but there was a tiny voice in her head that always warned her to not get too close. Thankfully, it had been small enough to bury beneath all of her foremost thoughts; yet when she was alone— like at that moment— it gained enough momentum to make itself known.

And the smile on her face, which brightened up her features, turned down into a barely perceptible frown. It was dangerous for her to fall so easily for a man; especially a man that she knew was still keeping his cards close to his chest.

She knew that; after all, she wasn’t that far gone in her blossoming feelings for him.

It would have been so easy to keep herself in check, to guard her heart and keep herself sane… if only he didn’t make her feel like throwing all caution to the wind so she could jump and fall right into his arms.

Just like he had told her that she made him happy, Kyōjurō made her feel the same; along with feeling protected and appreciated.

Before (Y/n) could delve in deeper into her own thoughts however, she quickly shook herself from her reverie and placed the card back down on her nightstand. Then, she got up from her bed and straightened herself out; after all, Rin hadn’t been coming to her room to pester her about attending events in her parents’ stead.

Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t been tasked to attend any political functions ever since Kyōjurō had warned her mother to lessen her tasks. It gave her enough time to actually relax during her break, and it felt amazing.

She had to remember to give Kyōjurō a kiss once he returned. And if she were to be honest, she would say that she missed him.

“You’re too invested, (Y/n),” The young woman muttered to herself with a playful scoff, before shaking her head and making her way down to the dining room. It was time for breakfast, after all; her most dreaded part of the day, since she had to sit there and take all of her mother’s ill-concealed jabs.

Her tasks may have lessened, but her family life sure hasn’t improved.

With all her apprehension about going to see her mother, (Y/n) even dawdled a little bit during the walk downstairs; purposely taking her time to admire some of the paintings that caught her interest, until she arrived at the doorway she was trying to avoid the most.

And with a deep breath, she stepped through and expected her mother’s mildly displeased expression to greet her. Only, the first face that she saw had her immediately brightening up; especially when those lips that she missed tilted up at the corners to give her a handsome grin.

“Kyōjurō!” (Y/n) breathed out, just as a wide smile colored her expression. And before she could help it, she already found herself practically skipping over to where he now stood— only to freeze when she saw her mother’s narrow-eyed gaze boring right into her.

Immediately, the arms that wanted to wrap themselves around her lover froze at her sides; while Kyōjurō engulfed her in a tight embrace, before pressing a chaste kiss to her lips. “Did you miss me, princess?”

“I… I did.” She admitted, her smile almost faltering once, as she felt her mother’s glare boring right into her back. However, she was shielded by Kyōjurō’s face, so she allowed herself a little bit of rebellion and leaned in to peck his lips— all while her hands lifted themselves up and settled themselves at his sides in a pseudo hug.

As her mother had kept repeating to her while she was growing up: it was unbecoming of someone of her social status to show too much emotion to anyone, as it gave people a leverage over her. And it was obvious that it had stuck to her, since she could only act normally whenever she wasn’t around any people who gave a damn about who she was.

Thankfully, she was shaken from her reverie by Kyōjurō guiding her to sit down on the empty chair next to where he sat. “Go and eat, baby. You need your strength for today.”

Kyōjurō’s words were innocent enough, but they didn’t fail to make goosebumps raise across her skin. They were so laden with hidden meaning, at least in her mind, that she couldn’t shake the warmth that pooled at the pit of her stomach.

With those words hanging in the air, she turned her full attention to the food set out on the table— holding back a surprised expression when she saw that it was laden with carry-out boxes from McDonald’s. A laugh wanted to bubble free from the sight of the lavish table paired off with something so… common, yet (Y/n) could only purse her lips together as she grabbed the laid-out silverware to serve herself a pancake.

Breakfasts used to be such a droll agenda whenever she was at home, but Kyōjurō had managed to spin such a humorous twist on it that made her want to kiss him.

The best part? Rengoku Kyōjurō had practically forced her mother— the wife of the Prime Minister, and the prissiest woman to ever live— to eat an Egg McMuffin.

(Y/n) would never forget the undernoted look of disgust that she kept shooting the blond at her side; the very man whom, she was naught to admit, was starting to become such an essential part of her life.

“How’s your McMuffin… okaa-sama?” Kyōjurō asked quietly, looking so regal even with a paper cup of coffee in his right hand. And (Y/n) could only get swept into him even more, when he turned to her and gave her the most attractive wink; one that had her heart practically skipping in her chest.

***

When (Y/n) had heard that she should keep her strength up for the day, she had expected so much more than just going to the beach— which Kyōjurō’s family apparently bought a few years ago— and being told that her fiancé only wanted to relax.

If she were to be honest, she would say that she expected to get railed so hard on the blanket. After all, it was why she had worn the sundress that she was sure accented all of her curves; one that would entice Kyōjurō into doing just what she wanted him to.

There wasn’t anything wrong with hoping to get fucked by such a sexy man, but it had been a few days, and she was sure that he was trying to put on a show just to tease her. That was the problem: he wasn’t giving in to her.

He merely laid down next to her on their blanket— in all his shirtless glory— while he kept eating that goddamned hard candy that was in the glass bowl next to him. And to make things worse for her, he looked so attractive— especially with his abs out on display, and his sunglasses framing his face so perfectly.

She would have long straddled his hips and slipped his cock inside her, had she been that shameless of a woman.

It wasn’t much of a statement coming from her, based on how they had first met, but it was different because they were out in the open; where anyone could happen by and take pictures of them humping like rabbits on the beach.

That wasn’t a headline that she wanted the entirety of Japan to see, even if she knew that the property was as secluded and secure as it could be.

Still, Kyōjurō was making it so hard to resist him. And he knew just how badly he was affecting her.

“Do you want to eat something, baby? Maybe a drink?” Kyōjurō asked softly, raising his sunglasses to the top of his head while he turned to look at (Y/n)— whom was no longer scrolling through her phone, and was blatantly ogling his body.

He would be lying if he said that he didn’t like that, or if he said that that wasn’t turning him on.

In fact, he had wanted to push her down on the table at her house, had her mother not been there to keep giving him ill-concealed glares. But he had to keep it in his pants, since he wanted to see how she would react with a little bit of pushing from him.

After all, he could make her so needy for him that it would make for the hottest nights of their life; especially if he kept on teasing her bit by bit until their wedding night.

It was too little too late, after he had already had a taste of her tight pussy, but it only made things much more exciting for him. If only he wasn’t constantly close to asking her to fuck him.

“A glass of champagne would be nice…” (Y/n) answered softly, the flush on her face getting more evident in the shade, especially when her eyes flickered up to meet his own. They were so intense with need that Kyōjurō couldn’t help it…

He cupped her face with one hand and pulled her in to his face, as he sat upright to meet her halfway.

The first touch of his lips to hers had his entire body tingling with warmth, as if it was coming alive under her touch. And it was only made better when their slow and tentative kisses slowly escalated to open-mouthed ones; ones that had him feeling himself getting hard.

Especially when she reached down and cupped her hand over his hardening cock.

A smirk tugged at the corners of Kyōjurō’s lips then, as he got it in his mind to push the piece of candy in his mouth into hers.

(Y/n) was clearly surprised at first, tensing up the tiniest bit, before getting swept up in her fiancé’s pace. His tongue kept prodding at hers, trying to pull the candy back into his own mouth, which she complied to.

Gingerly, she allowed him to take the sweet from her mouth, instantly missing its sweetness, before it was gently pushed right back in— so warm and a little minty, with a hint of something that was uniquely Kyōjurō.

Or maybe that was her lust addled mind talking.

However, before things could escalate further, the blond pulled away with a grin— his candy back in his mouth. “I’ll be back with your champagne, princess.”

To say that she was shocked and feeling cross with him was a total understatement. She was feeling so irate that she wanted to get some sort of revenge on him— which had been fueled by her less-than-innocent searches while he was gone.

So, she stewed in her own impatience— even sitting up on her knees— just so she could take him by surprise when he came back.

Thankfully, Kyōjurō didn’t take too long with getting her drink; grinning right at her even if she could see the obvious bulge in his swim trunks. It provided the perfect opportunity for her to get back at him, at least even a little.

And when he got back on their blanket, giving her the glass of champagne before making a move to sit back down, (Y/n) got up on her knees and placed a hand on his right thigh— looking up at him and licking her lips, before sliding that hand up to cup his hard-on once more.

“You look uncomfortable,” The young woman whispered, as she slowly undid the tie to her fiancé’s shorts and gently pushed them down his hips; much like how she pushed her own trepidations aside, and threw all caution to the wind.

She was on private property. And she trusted, deep down, that Kyōjurō would protect her and her reputation if it came down to it.

So, she let go of her inhibitions— especially when she was greeted by her fiancé’s hard cock in front of her face. It was thick, and long, and a little bit curved— which had her pussy getting so wet already.

Remembering how amazing he felt inside her even had her squeezing her thighs together, if only to alleviate the lust that she felt bubbling within her.

Gingerly, she took his cock in her right hand, pumping it slowly, and using her thumb to spread the precum that beaded at his tip. A low groan was her reward for that, which only spurred her on even more— especially when she saw his eyes close in pleasure.

Just the faintest of touches and he was already like that. She couldn’t wait to see what his reaction was going to be when she set her plans into action.

And when she leaned forward to suck on the tip of his cock, she felt confidence flaring up within her when Kyōjurō moaned aloud— with his right hand making its way into her hair.

It was hot, but she was not going to get swept up in his pace again.

So, before he could try to give her a nudge to take more of him in her mouth, (Y/n) pulled the head of his cock out of her mouth and took a big sip from the champagne flute in her left hand. And with that, she set the drink down on the blanket— hoping that it wouldn’t topple over.

She kept the cool and bubbly drink in her mouth— looking up again at Kyōjurō, whom was watching her with such a lust-filled gaze— before taking his cock in her mouth once more.

That time, however, Kyōjurō actually cried out in pleasure; hips bucking involuntarily as he felt the champagne’s bubbles teasing his cock. Partnered with the coolness of the drink, and the warmth of (Y/n)’s mouth, the blond was on his slow descent to thinking that he was going crazy with pleasure.

His head was already spinning from the sensations, and she had barely even taking his cock.

But when she swallowed around his tip, before circling her cool tongue around the crown of his cock, he felt his fingers curling into her hair. Hell, he had barely even managed to look up at the security camera perched on a light pole, as a warning for whoever was watching to turn away at that moment.

Slowly, pleasurably, (Y/n) kept taking more and more of Kyōjurō’s cock in her mouth— until she was all the way down to the hilt, with her nose pressed against his trimmed pubes.

And he thought that it couldn’t get any better than that, until she took the hand that was on his thigh to cup his balls and start fondling them.

His eyes almost rolled back into his head at that moment, as he threw his head back and lost himself to the heady feeling of her sucking him off; trying to bring him to the most intense orgasm that he was ever going to get from a blowjob.

Instead of trying to prolong his pleasure though, Kyōjurō began to gently rock his hips into (Y/n)’s face; breathing heavily and moaning aloud as he felt his orgasm crawling up on him.

“I’m cumming,” The blond whispered breathlessly, close to outright fucking his fiancée’s face, when she pulled his cock out of her mouth— leaving just the tip inside— before jerking her off with one hand.

All while the other one kept fondling his balls.

It was so heady that Kyōjurō could only cry out “Fuck, baby! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” as he spurted thick ropes of cum right on her tongue. She was white hot pleasure personified, and he was sure of it at that very moment.

Maybe he really couldn’t wait until the wedding night to have her again.

Especially when she made a show of popping her cock out of her mouth, and sticking her tongue out to show him his cum— before closing her lips and swallowing his thick seed.

“How did I get so lucky, princess?”

[mixelation]

What's your opinion on whether Icha Icha is actually well written smut? I'm thinking, like, in the Elder Scrolls games, The Lusty Argonian Maid is apparently really popular erotic literature, and so if someone in that world ever got my memories, they could live handsomely on smut far in advance of it as a technique. But it's less clear if that's the case in Naruto--it's hard to tell if Icha Icha is just the best available, or if it's actually good.

EXCELLENT QUESTION, ANON.

There's nothing much in canon to show us the quality of Icha Icha, other than that Kakashi is obsessed and iirc there's at least some filler about it getting a movie adaptation, so it must be at least mildly popular. So!! You can headcanon it to be complete trash or actual genius writing and I'm not going to get into a tizzy about it. I think I'd also modify my headcanons to fit whatever story I'm writing, but I do have some main ones I stick to.

Personally, I usually think of Icha Icha as being sort of like a pornier version of Twilight. (NOT Fifty Shades of Grey, because I haven't read that LMAO.) Twilight has some ridiculous writing and plot twists, but it's also weirdly addictive and really easy to binge-read, and it has a lot of fans because even though it's not great on most objective levels...... SMeyer really tapped into some latent teen girl fantasies there, lmao, and it helps that the world she made is like... bonkers enough to want to know more. Also, as someone who was already really into shitty teenaged vampire novels Twilight first came out: Twilight is..... in the scope of YA vampire novels..... not even bad??

Basically, I don't think Jiraiya is a particularly gifted writer in a technical sense, but he has really, and perhaps accidentally, tapped into some of the fantasies of his core audience (which tbh I bet is more grown women than Kakashi-adjacent demographics because that's who reads erotica). I also think he likely writes a lot about ninja life, and so he seems like a better writer than he is because he gets all the details right..... except the ones he just makes up because he thinks it will be sexy. Like, I imagine the Icha Icha novels as being slightly dumb ninja action novels where there's a lot of breaks for descriptions of sexy people having their clothes destroyed by battle damage and then having sex with each other, and the conflict is almost always very neat and black-and-white and often solvable by having a threesome, and this is just a really compelling fantasy for people who have lived through ninja wars.

If you are asking about the smutty parts of Icha Icha in particular: my headcanon is that Jiraiya is not very good at writing it, but he IS more willing to throw in weird kinks and fetishes than other writers on the market. Like, if he weren't getting feedback from readers and happily doing what is basically prompt fills, he would absolutely stick to his own mildly vanilla sexual preferences... but he doesn't and so in later books there's made-up bloodline limits and bizarre jutsu that come into sexy, sexy play.

In particular don't think Jiraiya would be very good at writing female characters bc he's.... sort of a creep..... EXCEPT THAT I also have very complicated headcanons about Jiraiya subconsciously working through his relationship with his own teammates, and so there's a kunoichi character based on Orochimaru who is, completely by accident, one of the most fleshed out and well-written female characters in literature. Like the Tsunade insert is also really fleshed out but Jiraiya is slightly more caught up on the Big Tiddies thing to focus on character...... and Jiraiya just has a lot of feelings on Orochimaru's betrayal, okay. :(

So basically he's not a great writer, but he leans into writing what fans want and also he's accidentally written some really compelling female characters, and so housewives and Kakashi love Icha Icha. u.u

[ffwriteradvisor]

I've never really commented on controversies in the fanfiction writing community. Part of it was that I didn't want to feel that anyone visiting this blog was being pressured to adjust their beliefs either way, but part of it was that I didn't want to apply that pressure to myself here - I wanted to avoid arguments.

But, I can't in good faith continue to pursue that neutrality. Because it has come to a point where it's just allowing ignorance to fester.

I'm not a... proper fandom old, in my mind. I was never on any mailing list, I wasn't online at the time of Strikethrough and I was never personally impacted by the 2012 purges on FFnet - probably because I wasn't popular and because the (short lived) smut I put there simply was too tame to consider banishing. Same with the Tumblr porn purge for the most part.

But I at least tried to stay aware of the history. To know the rules and outlines to being a 'good' member of fandom. Formatting fics well, tagging properly, putting up content warnings where applicable when it came to common triggers and squicks while looking out for those that I didn't care for myself, and not getting into fights over who's fictional characters were better suited for each other.

It was never complicated. If you don't like it, you don't read it. If the writer places a warning sign up for a certain thing, you go in with the expectation that thing will be there. Leave a nice comment when you leave, if that's at all possible.

But that's apparently too difficult for some people.

So let me put it simply; the minute you decide that you're going to use someone's fandom creation or opinions as an excuse to attack them, be it through false reports or physical assault or nasty messages, you have become the bad guy.

I don't care if the person you're attacking was shipping two fictional teenagers. I don't care if their favorite ship is 'toxic'. I don't care if they were writing RPF. I don't care if they drew horny art. I don't care if the character they like is 'problematic' or 'glorifies bad behavior'.

It is all based in fiction. The characters are not real. The things those characters do have no impact on reality. The situations are not real. A picture of a fictional character in a sexual situation is not equivalent to a real person.

The only real people who are being potentially harmed are the artists you choose to abuse because of something that isn't real and those that have entered a space without doing their own due diligence beforehand. And I only have sympathy for the former.

Yes, I know that you can accidentally run into something you wish that you hadn't seen in fandom spaces. It has happened to me many times. And do you know what I've done in response? I learned to tag my things appropriately, put warnings in so that people know what they're walking into. I also made an effort to be better at curating my own experience; if someone I follow has begun posting things I don't care for - I unfollow and leave it at that. If that fails, I block.

I do not pretend to exist on some kind of flawless moral pedestal - I know my failings and I work to improve on them every day of my life. But I also know for a fact that the behavior far too many people are exhibiting in fandom spaces is unacceptable and that every precedent for it ever seen before has only ended in tragedy and tears.

I'm sure that there's plenty of people who can find a bad faith argument in my post - I'm not going to spend the time going back over it to find every potential hole and patch it over before release, because regardless of how 'perfectly' I try to word these feelings, it won't matter to someone who really wants to start a fight.

Because that's all this is about for these fandom Puritanicals - finding a fight wherever they can find one and using it to drag whoever disagrees with them through the mud so they can come out looking spotless in comparison.

It doesn't matter to them if the warning tag on a fic is covering discussion of war crimes. It doesn't matter if a writer puts a warning about suicide on their story so that way people who are triggered by that know not to go in. It's all about being able to point at someone and say 'this person thinks about terrible things and is a terrible person for it'.

They want to be able to point their finger at someone they don't like and say 'I saw Goody Proctor with the Devil', except it's about Goody Proctor even thinking about the Devil existing outside of a narrow 'acceptable' context.