#everyone shits on him constantly and you can have your critics but goddamn

[verysium]

PLEASE DO BLUE LOCK ICKS IM BEGGING🙏😭🌹

😏 coming right up anon. gonna channel my inner critic and not hold back on any of these.

RIN

brother complex. not much else to say except that he needs to get a life. not everything is about metaphorically crushing your older brother's dreams and brooding in the dark hate of retribution.

competitive but only because he is a desperate whore for external validation. ignores everyone but craves the attention of a sole person named sae itoshi. was defeated by isagi once and has never let go of it since. has a one-track mind that is impossible to derail. stubborn when he wants to be.

probably a virgin and will continue to be one until his late 30s.

has not known a single day of peace ever since sae ditched him for the popular girlies. as a result, he has developed a very concerning case of social awkwardness. his idea of a conversation involves a brick wall and thirty minutes of you staring at his resting bitch face. constantly looks like that one grumpy cat meme. judges you for your poor decisions but then gets aggressively defensive when you point out his own mistakes.

reeks of so much teen angst that even metallica can't save him. the problem is that he has nothing to back up his emo persona. his insults lack creativity and, unfortunately for him, phrases like "lukewarm" and "half-baked" and "hell" do not make his words carry more weight. uses the f-word but in the most embarrassing context that it makes you facepalm and internally cringe.

SAE

zero social awareness. this boy's head is empty. the lights are not on up there. there are no picture frames or furniture. the curtains are drawn, and there is not a sliver of clouds or sunshine. cannot read body language and does not know what a filter is.

the source of all of rin's stress. he is the original trauma projector, creator of generational cycles. not even subtle about it. "turns out i was wrong. i thought japan was incapable of ever giving birth to decent forwards." sir....with the way you worded that, you knew exactly what you were doing when you gave rin false hope.

swears but it's even worse than his brother. literally called his elders a "fatso and bob cut duo" and "insect turd." i mean....there is a line between what is considered a legitimate burn and what is a first grader making up insults in his coloring book.

has a horrible haircut and no fashion taste. i already talked about this previously, but it was so bad it deserved a second mention.

a freak but tries to justify it rationally. like what do you mean you can tell a person's athletic ability from their buttock size? just admit you have a kinky fetish already.

somewhat of a coward but i'm gonna give him some leniency due to his tragic child genius backstory. tbh he's just an eighteen-year-old boy who needs a goddamn break.

KAISER

alexa please play clown music. this man sets himself for failure and then wallows in self-pity when he actually fails. like what did you expect? you knew what was going to happen the moment you challenged isagi like that. it was most definitely your fault you got violently humbled.

has a borderline god complex (currently calls himself an emperor but has not evolved into a deity yet.) unfortunately, he does not stand on business. cue the dramatic meltdowns when he realizes there is an actual gap between his ability and his reputation. if you're going to lie, at least make it believable.

insecure and mentally unstable. he probably cuts and re-dyes his hair every single time shit happens. no wonder his locks get shorter every time.

lazy when it comes to anything that is not football and expects others to do it for him. demands princess treatment wherever he goes. unfortunately, not all of us have servants with no self-respect like ness.

"it is not enough that i should succeed, others should fail" type of person.

does not wear shoes and even if he does, it's sandals. put them grippers away.

NAGI

a literal sloth who has so much potential but uses none of it. has no intrinsic motivation of his own, so if he's going to do anything, it has to be you behind the wheel, making sure he gets put to work.

does not have a close relationship with his parents, and so he has no sense of community, holidays, or traditions. no fun at all if you want him to do things like christmas shopping or birthday celebrations.

rots in bed all day and then has to nerve to ask you to carry him around. your back better be strong because his 190 cm body is not going to be light.

not loyal (need i say more.)

REO

second male lead syndrome. also known as that one popular guy who's always picked last.

acts like a victim but then when you realistically tell him to how to change his situation he refuses to do so. you cannot ask for advice and then take none of it to heart. no wonder you're still not over your ex.

"i can fix him" mentality. no, you can't. you are a seventeen-year-old child, not a licensed therapist and nagi isn't even all that.

NESS

touch-starved to the point he will stay in a toxic and abusive relationship in order to gain some scrap of affection. just because you were the black sheep of your family does not mean you can lose all sense of personal dignity.

probably stalks all the people he hates. has a burn book like regina george from mean girls. cuts out and glues little pictures of kaiser all over his bedroom. doodles hearts all over it with glittery gel pen. isagi's face and name are scratched out of every team photo.

delusional and prone to mood swings. medicated but at this point, he is beyond saving.

ISAGI

a home wrecker. has ruined more relationships than he can count on ten fingers yet still manages to smile like he's some angelic saint.

solves jigsaw puzzles for a living (not very cool if you ask me.)

has some unresolved anger management issues. probably repressed all his negative feelings when he was younger, so it all comes out when he's on the field. unfortunately, his twilight-sparkle-friendship-is-magic agenda is not going to work if he keeps cussing out his teammates like that. but then again, he is the main character, so i guess his plot armor makes up for his pitfalls.

says that he's a good guy but then holds personal vendettas against rivals he doesn't like. boy was so ready to throw hands when #kaisagi was trending on the internet. but when you actually think about, he's similar to kaiser in more ways than he'd like to admit.

BAROU

has the worst case of high and mighty "holier-than-thou" attitude. isagi put his ego in check, but it still peeks out from time to time.

he was the ugliest baby when he was born. i am not going to hold back on the child barou slander because it is true. no, he was not a cute and lovable bundle of joy. he looked like a demonic gremlin.

he needs to take more risks in life and try cross-dressing. simply imagining him in a maid uniform will not suffice. it needs to be made into a reality.

with how nit-picky he is, i doubt people can realistically stay within a 1-meter radius around him. unless you are a clean freak yourself, his constant complaints will start to get annoying after a time. even if he does have good intentions, he needs to let people have a little breathing room sometimes. a messy room is not going to kill you.

BACHIRA

this boy's brain is smooth. no folds. no gray matter. no intelligence either. his pencil and eraser have been left untouched since day one. if he wasn't crazily good at football, he would be unemployed and homeless in the future. not even a mcdonald's wants him.

one of those people who will do the literal opposite of whatever you say. you want him to stop talking? well, now he's never going to shut up. you tell him not to step on a pile of dog shit? well, now he's going to walk right into it. you want him to quit running around and act normal? well, now it's his life's mission to make you as annoyed as possible. please pray for your hair follicles because at the end of the day, you're not going to have many left with how much he makes you want to tear your hair out.

has the cerebral capacity of a toddler. if he thinks monsters are real, he's going to think anything is real. super gullible when it comes to any form of scam, ploy, or trickery. the only way he would not be fooled is if he's also played the same prank before.

SHIDOU

a brazen pervert. says the most out-of-pocket things and refuses to apologize for them. sometimes it comes out a little too sleazy for your liking.

"to me a goal is fertilization! a shot is the seed and the goal is the egg!! and the birth of that joy i call an explosion!! my genes are gonna knock you up!" let us give ourselves a moment of silence to digest this quote. only shidou ryusei would come up with a sperm and egg metaphor to describe football. (i guess protection means nothing to him.)

has no empathy. if you dislike him or cannot keep up with him, you're a literal nobody in his books. no sportsmanship. no compassion. no self-awareness.

you cannot say "balls" to him in a serious tone without him misinterpreting it as something dirty. that alone should tell you enough. stay the hell away from him.

where do men get the audacity? right here. from this little bastard. he invented the term "shameless slut." boy was getting off during the u-20 arc and on live TV too. no wonder sae said he was disgusting.

and finally, he comes from a long line of cockroaches. he's even got the antennae to prove it.

i think this might have been a little excessive, but i have no regrets about it. you're welcome anon ♡

[ceilidho]

Those soap/reader friends to lovers asks are making me go feral I need it 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 I can't stop thinking now about reader maybe trying to put an end to their friends with benefits thing a few times, but each time it doesn't work and ends with them having sex, it's hard for reader to stand her ground when giving in means toe curling orgasms. also soap makes sure each of those times he reminds her of how no man can measure up, and reader always ends up marked with hickeys and unable to walk properly. more and more the lines between friends who fuck and dating get blurred, soap is always around and whenever they have sex he ends up staying over for long periods of time, has been leaving so many of his things at her place, makes sure to have her sitting in his lap at any social gathering (whether it be meeting her parents, or going out with friends/colleagues) and be constantly touching her (wrapping his arms around her from behind, kissing her hair, her neck, then later straight up kissing her in public, etc). everyone that knows them already thinks they're dating and has started to refer to soap as reader's boyfriend and vice versa.

I couldn't even look at this ask for more than ten seconds without blushing oh you get me, anon.

Possessive best friend Soap bringing you as his +1 to weddings and never correcting people when they assume that you're his partner. Makes sure everyone sees them leaving in an Uber together at the end of the night. Criticizes sex scenes when you watch movies together and tells you he'd do x, y, z instead and then demonstrates on you so that you can't even watch a goddamn movie without thinking "Johnny would be better at that."

Possessive best friend Soap who ingratiates himself to your parents and friends so that your friends start giving you shit like "why are you friendzoning him?? He's literally so sweet" and you don't know how to explain that it just wouldn't be a good idea even though you're both obviously attracted to each other. Because Soap keeps flashing his absolutely baby blue puppy dog eyes to everyone to get them on his side.

Possessive best friend Soap who knows the password to your phone because you've been friends for years and he blocks the guys that send you weird DMs on Instagram (which is actually helpful, but he also does it to guys when you initiated the conversation lmao). Takes intimate photos of you because "what if you want to send them to someone one day, kitty? Gotta make sure they're good pictures." but then he just? Keeps them on his phone? Never sends them to you? And you have no idea what he's doing with those photos at home.

[rebrandedbard]

Alright so, I’m gonna send this as an ask instead of clogging your comment box on ao3. And I’m still laughing at the fact you call these essays when it’s just unedited night ramblings. 🫡

Full disclosure, I have absolutely zero knowledge about music. I’m not even going to pretend like I knew what I was doing with those annotations and I certainly don’t know enough about poetry to articulate how that would work either… But I still very much hold firm to the belief that this would make an excellent recitation. The only other way I can articulate it is by insisting that it is a melodic kind of language. I see what you were going for and you’ve done it so well and I am so excited to see this kind of style and specific diction of language.

My education and experience is more in painting, art history, critical analysis so you know I’m not a complete hackjob and just blowing steam out of my ass! But I really have like no knowledge of music. 💀

I also very much hold firm to the belief that Jaskier is always going to be a choice. That is ultimately at the heart of the found family trope/genre. It’s not about shoehorning people into traditional family roles, but rather and I’m going to borrow from your fic here to support this, it’s about people coming together and the care and love that exists between them regardless of background, experience, and pre-ordained fates.

“Ciri put herself between the stranger and Jaskier, waving a large branch in warning. “Keep away,” she growled. “If you come any closer, I’ll scream.”

This is great. This is important. This is also really funny. A small child protecting a larger child. I know Ciri is more powerful, and perhaps even stronger than Jaskier. But the mental image of her defending Jaskier against a witcher with a branch is hilarious. I bet Lambert was telling everyone about it when they got to Kaer Morhen.

What’s important about this observation is that Jaskier lets her. It cannot be easy for a grown man to suddenly have to rely on a child to take care of him, but he lets her and there isn’t a shred, not an ounce of resentment between them.

Also, I did not originally mean to analyze this against the hero’s journey and the monomyth, but the witcher so often explores the concept of destiny and fate that I find myself falling into it constantly. What this fic does though, as I’ve mentioned before, is refuse the call and subvert the myth which I love.

I’m very interested in that perspective, thank you. I was a little suspicious because Jaskier was clearly picking up on something but I knew from his reaction at the end that he really didn’t know. It’s that thing where as an audience we have more information than the characters which again very much puts me in mind of a play and the fics other artistic qualities. I think I feel more like Ciri in this instance, and also a little like Jaskier. One is kept in the dark because she’s a child and the other because he’s literally blind.

Omg okay last disclosure… I couldn’t remember the word for prose poetry (idk why) and it sent me on a deep-dive. I just really love writing, and fanfiction and all this shit. It’s my goddamn jam, and I’m literally incapable of shutting up. I’m about to vibrate out of my skin.

I never ever ever forever want you to shut up. I love this. I love ALL of this. I want to read this analysis like I'm in an english lit class. I am eating it up with two serving spoons like I've been given the entire tray of sweet potato casserole to kill off at thanksgiving. PLEASE I beg of you, CLOG MY INBOX. I would LOVE to have this in my inbox to keep and to treasure. In fact, I keep my favorite ao3 comment emails in a special folder! Please please PLEASE copy and paste this and put it beside the other half so they are together. Your comments are FAMILY you can't separate them! They need a loving home!

[foolbo]

told my friends hal was actually my second favorite dc character and they were all in shock like babes you know what my tumblr is and one of you follows me do you not see my tim drake themed blog

[dyketubbo]

i think this will be the last thing i say on it for now until something else pops up but like. it is genuinely disheartening that sooooo many people find it in their best interest to protect the fuck out of dream and keep up the best possible good faith readings of what he says and does and its like. jesus christ can we just admit he fucks up a shitton already. like he doesnt need protecting or babying. give a bit more of the shit about the people he hurts for once instead of trying to defend his pride and going on over and over about how its everyone elses fault But dreams.

this shit is way more fucking complicated than just him being forced to come out (which, yes, is bad, but its disheartening that thats all people can focus on), people have pointed out that theres been continued fucked up behavior, that he has a tendency to redirect and show enjoyment in dunking on the haters or whatever with barely a care to the fact that its an immature way to handle his platform. yes theres a clear show of the fact that hes grown from some racist floridian kid on reddit or whatever but its undeniable that hes still a white adult who needs to take shit seriously and stop constantly avoiding the real issue of antiblackness in his community outside of just "well its against my boundaries yknow ^^"

like hoooolllyyy fuck its just insane that people are so busy asskissing dream that they cant just admit he needs to do better. at the very goddamn least he needs to take a break so he can actually think about what hes doing and where to go from here. black people have gotten doxxed because of his irresponsibility, people have privated and shown fear after he spotlighted them to his toxic fanbase and his fans mock them and he has shown very little signs that he wont continue to just let the victims suffer, only putting a little bandaid of "well doxxing is bad and illegal so dont do it" and a little small cup of "if youre small theres less chance something bad will happen". that does not help these people in any way.

like. my god if there is a bigger show of white queers being white before theyre queer i dont want to see it. the amount of people who hold his hand and pat his back over him putting in the bare minimum of effort while getting pissy at anyone who dares to criticize him and point out that hes doing a shit job at damage control and needs to be more responsible with his platform instead of bragging about how big it is truly fucked up. the very fucking least you could do is at least stop acting as if dream is some little baby who just doesnt know what hes doing and has come sooooo far and is trying soooo hard and cant do anyyy wrong all because some people are unfair assholes to him.

yes dream has changed, so instead of stagnating his growth by defending him at every turn, keep pushing him to change and take accountability. people dont change when you make out everyone who goes against them to be unjustified idiots who just wont leave your precious cracker alone. there has to be an actual mix of realizing when people are being unfair and when the person getting criticized is just being a genuinely immature asshole, just because pretending dream is the spawn of satan isnt productive doesnt mean pretending like hes a squeaky clean cherub that earned his halo is

[anunvalidcritic]

MORTAL KOMBAT (2021)

(DISCLAIMER: MY OPINION IS MY OWN AND CAN BE DEEMED INVALID TO THOSE WHO DON’T CARE FOR IT.)

I don’t even what to say in this introduction... I mean... *sigh* don’t get me started on Sanada Hiroyuki (what an icon)! And freakin’ Lewis Tan and Ludi Lin! Those two have come a long way and so cool to see them show up and show out in this movie, but let’s not forget the others! You know what... let me hold my tongue because I can’t make this introduction to long KMSL. “LET’S GOOOOO!” - BUSTA RHYMES

ofc the opening scene is of Hiroyuki!

this is a Sanada Hiroyuki stan page and if you don’t like that, you can get tf out!

the door is to the right!!!!

bro you can whispering my ear too

That baby got quiet awfully quick.

“Where’s Hanzo?” - BI-HAN

he’s fetching water bruh

I genuinely thought the flowers on the tree were blood stains... i gotta get my eyes checked. 

He stopped crying real quick!!!

UGHH right through the fucking skull!

Y’all fuckin’ with the wrong one!!! But then again, you got the wrong one at the right time. So, 

GOOOODDDDDAAMMNNN!!!!!!

HE ABSOLUTELY FUCKIN’ SALTURED THEM!!!!!!

“I may not understand your words... but I promise I will kill you.” - HANZO

BI-HAN said that shit in Mandarin (forgive me if I’m wrong) out of spite. He said it in his native tongue because he knew if he said that shit in Japanese he would’ve gotten cut the fuck off! That motherfucka truly is foul lol. 

Got that fuckin’ cheek though ROFL

That baby better not make a fuckin’ sound during this fight!

Come on!

NOOO HIROYUKI!!!!!!! oh shit, I mean HANZO!!

Get away from the fuckin’ rock, bro!

HANZO GET CHO ASS UP

AHHH FUCK!

his blood is runnin’ like a river...

oh now that’s just nasty... that wound is deep as fuck! (ik I’m dramatic, get tf over it)

...well shit did the baby starve...

nvm they answered my remark lol (it’s been a while since playing/watching MK so I vaguely remember the storyline...)

“Earthrealm is on the verge of catastrophe should it lose one more tournament, the savage realm of Outworld will invade but an ancient prophecy fortells that a new group of champions will be united by the rise of Hanzo Hasashi’s blood.” 

Listen, I’m here for the violence... I don’t give two fucks about a romantic storyline, and I put that on me constantly playin’ this game as a child.

SUB-ZERO is.... cold blooded...

pre-fucked up JAX

first things first, why tf is your child puttin’ your business out there in the streets like?!

snow in July ain’t that somethin’ huh

he said BLADE like he was speakin’ to the vampire LOL

“And they will kill whoever they have to to get to you.” - JAX

“You want your family on a fucking slab in the morgue.” - JAX

bruh they can hear you rofl 

I still think it’s so cool that he was able to freeze that bullet. 

JAX + SUB-ZERO = severe frostbite... (ik ik I’m full of shit kmsl)

I understand that film makers only have a limited amount of time to film, but the scene where SONYA explains everything to COLE felt rushed. But once again, I understand.

“Kano. Kano none of your fucking business!” - KANO

KANO’s always hilarious, no matter what the setting is. 

Mini Godzillia

“You gotta pen you wanna write this down. Get fucked.” - KANO

“3 million, that’s my final offer.” - KANO’

dude, it was your only offer lol

LIU KANG!!

“Alright MC Hammer, that’s far enough.” - KANO

KANO comin’ in hard with these one liners

ICONIC DIALOGUE

LIU KANG - “There’s much to learn.”

KANO - “The fuck?”

LIU KANG - “But not here. Follow me.”

Ofc the one with fuckin’ GORO speaks to KANO

dude KUNG LAO came out the ground just the video games!!!!

“The time has come to end this.” - 

Who tf gave KANO some snacks?!

KUNG LAO smooth with it

I wouldn’t want to fight LUDI LIN as a character in a movie or real life...

listen... ik she’s trying to be encouraging but I would’ve been told her to such tf up

I can’t deal with KANO man lol

how tf does he have his phone??

“Yeah, that screech is a real turn on.” - KABAL

I don’t think NIATRA looks the greatest... they could’ve done better...

“Well, well, well you back stabbing two faced ugly motherfucker.” - KABAL

well, we already knew KANO was a trader

Alright so COLE’s armor is on that Black Panther shit ya feel me

I skipped through the hugging scene because... I said what I said... fuck the lovey dovey shit..

goddamn it not KUNG LAO

“Please tell me I get the bitch with the teeth.” - SONYA

FINISH HIM!!!

“Yeah, these motherfuckers work.” - JAX

KANO + ACETONE = Stitch with a Glitch

At least she left her spine intact...

you need to channel SCORPION GODDAMN IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

LET HIS ASS OUT!!!!!

Bro that’s pretty rad to see your ancestor kickin’ ass in person

I’m on HANZO’s side, but that blood-icicle was pretty lit. 

oh shit... triggered

Listen, I don’t fully understand Japanese but I would’ve walked tf away as well rofl

Man, look at Hiroyuki in all his greatness!

FATALITY BITCH!!

“Take care of my bloodline.” - HANZO

Oh, damn not CAGE lol

____________

What a whirlwind! I’m still stuck Sanada Hiroyuki! I wish that film was of origin story for some characters that could’ve continued onto the next movie within the franchise, but I understand what’s trying to be executed by the director, scriptwriters, film company, crew, and actors. I’m going to leave it at for right now... I’m gonna sleep on this one, literally lol. When I come back, I’ll write a better closing statement. Until then, continue to remember that everyone’s a critic when their opinion matters the least. 

Edit 4/26/21:

I’m still trying to find the right words to sum this up. I don’t think I have anything bad to say... 6.5/10... that’s all I’m gonna say for now 😂

[multiplefandomsblog]

“Offer”

request; Can I get an imagine with Kokichi with an artist S/O who wants to paint him but he keeps flustering them with suggestions of a nude painting of him?

warnings; kind of suggestive, mention of nudity, cussing, mutual pining i think, i made it kinda crack fic, reader has an ultimate talent(artist), not edited too well, ended it weird like always, kissing, lowkey making out tho- 

note; wow i wrote way too much- but hey, i still hope you enjoy this!

word count; 1.9k+

You walked around the school, looking for Kokichi to ask him to be your model.

Although you have sketched Kokichi several times before, you felt you needed to ask him face-to-face so he could just stay still in his goddamn chair instead of changing positions every 5 seconds and ruining your half-done sketch. And so, you went off to go find the boy, finding it surprisingly hard to catch him. 

“There you are! I was looking for you-” You puffed out a sigh of relief, clutching your art supplies close to you as you saw your purple-haired classmate. Not a second after he caught sight of your figure jogging towards him, he had started taunting you. 

“Oooooh, hey S/o, you seem mighty happy to see me, hm? I wonder why that is…” He took a funny-looking step towards you, voice laced with an interrogating tone.

He had that strange smirk on his face, and not the one you liked. N-not that you liked his smile! In consequence of staring at him and sketching him constantly without his knowledge—or so you thought—, you have become almost a master of reading his mood and expressions. 

“Don’t get any wrong ideas, I just wanted to ask you if I could paint you.” For a small moment you swore you could see his expression twist into one of shock, before quickly melting back into his shit-eating grin. “Well of course you would! I’m the ultimate supreme leader, after all.” He acted as if he wasn’t just gob-smacked a second ago.

You beamed up at him, you had been in a small art block for a while and the moment you saw Kokichi, you knew he would be the cure to it. And so, you were ecstatic when he said what he said, “So you’ll do it?” You jumped a little too high, and spoke a little too eagerly.

“Mhm! —but with a catch, of course.” Your face dropped, you should’ve known the little fucker would try and get something out of you. “Nishishi!”

Unsure if you even wanted to know, you asked carefully, “W-what’s the catch..?” Your voice laced with caution, brain suddenly being reminded of all the pranks and blackmail he had fucked everyone else over with in the past. Knowing him, it could vary from, ‘Eat a bug.’ to, ‘Survive a knife game against me!’ 

But what he said was definitely worse than the former, and the latter. 

“You have to paint me fully-nude.”

… It was suddenly very quiet, the echo of his insane remark, bouncing off the walls. The silence mostly coming from your side—then again, what did you expect? Painting Kokichi would mean the end of your art block and a painting of Kokichi, like, c’mon, but painting Kokichi nude would mean- Well, you weren’t sure what it meant; hence, the silence.

Impatient and somewhat annoyed by the silence, he poked at your shoulder, “So? Are you gonna paint me naked or not?” You stared at your shoes, too afraid to make eye contact with the boy you were now thinking of... naked. 

“... C-can’t I just paint you normally?” He pouted, a comedically high whine erupting from his throat as he replied, “But that’s no fuuuuuun!” 

“Don’t you want to see your ultimate supreme leader, whipping out his wang?-” You shoved his face away from your warm one, “Y… I mean n-no, no!” Your tone weak before getting loud and defensive as you caught yourself before all hell broke loose. 

You felt your stomach drop as you thought about the possibility of Kokichi knowing you wanted to see him, and I quote, ‘Whipping out his wang’, Kokichi would never let that one go. 

“Aw man, well I guess you don’t wanna paint me theeeen.” He slowly stepped away, a pout on his face as his back faced towards you. He hummed circus music as he teetered on his feet, balancing on one foot at once as he ‘walked’ away from you agonizingly slow, obviously waiting for you to tell him to come back. 

“Koki-” In a flash, Kokichi had been by your side, dragging your hand to god knows where. “You have me convinced! I’ll let you paint me because I’m suuuuuch a nice guy. Nishishi!” Although you should’ve asked where the both of you were going, you felt knowing the catch was more important, “B-but what’s the catch?” 

Kokichi kept at his speedy pace, yet he answered with a voice that still had so much energy in it, “Aww, I’m hurt you think there’s a catch, do you not trust me that much?”

Silence.

“Meanie... but yeah, you were right to suspect me. The catch is.... “ He drum-rolled on your palm, “You just have to kiss me for payment!” He slowed down a bit to send a cheeky smile your way. You almost tripped on your feet as you heard him, “What!? Bu-” 

Kokichi quickly interrupted you, “Uh-uh, don’t try to pretend you don’t wanna. I know you have nooooo problem kissing those little sketches of me when you think no one is looking~” His voice quieted down sinisterly as he spoke, the evil smile spreading across his face once more. Although he had been wearing an extremely thick mask of a smile to hide his true feelings, anyone would’ve noticed that small blush on his upper right cheek. Anyone.

“You saw that?” Kokichi cackled at your agitated and flustered face, “Nishishi! Don’t worry, I’m the only one that knows. After all, no one finds you interesting enough to actually notice that.” You furrowed your brow at the subtle hint he had given you, “But you did-” 

Kokichi put on a teasing smile this time, “That was a lie! I didn’t see anything with my own eyes, I just assumed you have and so you helped me confirm it! Nice job on fucking yourself over, S/o! Nishishi~!” You rolled your eyes, you liked this guy?

Well anyways, it didn’t seem to matter whether you questioned your feelings for the liar, as you finally made it to where Kokichi had been dragging you to. You watched as Kokichi skipped away from you and hopped on the bench, surrounded by moss and other wild plants. 

“Ta-da! When I first saw this place, I immediately thought of you! You know, because you’re a nerd who likes cliché art settings.” He grinned, posing on top of the bench, “How’s this? Nishishi! Don’t answer that, I know this is perfect.”

 ... He looked like an idiot. But a cute idiot.

Suppressing a laugh, you gestured downwards to guide him down from his strange pose, “U-uh, maybe you could just, sit down? Like a normal person, I mean.” He sneered at you, before reluctantly sitting down, “You’re so boring.” The way he sat on the bench reminded you of a child who had just gotten denied candy. 

Smiling in relief, you quickly took a seat on the bench opposite to him, bringing out your supplies excitedly. Despite the pout on Kokichi’s face, and the grudge he wanted to keep, the way you so excitedly took out your canvas made his heart melt as well as his attitude. 

In the corner of your eye, you swore you could see Kokichi’s genuine smile, albeit it was lopsided but it still made you flush. Without thinking, you spoke, tilting your head upwards to look at him better, “You should smile more, you’re really pretty like that.” He… his mind blanked for a second, his façade fading away slightly to reveal a genuine expression of shock.

He quickly gained his composure back, “Um, okay? I always smile, are you blind?” Despite his passive-aggressive reply, you couldn’t find any reason to be mad, although you should’ve been. You smiled fondly and shook your head, diving back into concentration towards your canvas.

--

After an hour of pointless conversation, flirting, and calculated strokes of your brush, you were satisfied with the result. “... Alright, I’m done.” Kokichi sighed exasperatedly as he stood up and stretched, “Finally! I was afraid my limbs were going to freeze forever in that position.” You stared at him accusingly, “You didn’t even stay still the entire time. At one point, you did a fucking cartwheel-” 

Kokichi slid on over you, leaning over your seated figure to peak at the painting of him. “Lemme see!” He reached for the painting with his pale hands, causing you to jerk the painting away from his reach. “It’s not dry yet! Just look, don’t touch.” You scolded, unamused by his pouty expression. “You’re no fun S/o-chan, but okay. I know how much you like to be in charge~” He teased, before finally laying his eyes on the painting he stayed still one whole hour for. 

You felt your anxiety rise at his silence, “... Well, d-do you like it?” Although you were pretty confident in your ultimate talent and skills, for some odd reason, you felt extremely nervous when you showed it to Kokichi. 

You were confused as to why your hands were shaking, you’ve shown your artwork to galleries, museums, the harshest art critics in the world! So why the hell did it matter so much to you if this one boy liked it or not?

“I think it looks super handsome! And by it, I mean me. Nishishi!” He grinned, “I look good in everything after all.” You scoffed, you couldn’t believe you actually expected a genuine compliment from Kokichi, of all people. 

“Hey so, it’s time for your payment you know?” Payment... what? You looked up at him in confusion, big fat crocodile tears sprung out from his eyes, “Waaaah! I can’t believe S/o forgot our deal!” You flushed again as you were suddenly reminded of the kiss. 

You sighed tiredly, “You were serious?” He glared at you, “I’m always serious!” You gave him an accusing look that screamed, ‘You know that’s bullshit.’ But sighed defeatedly for what seemed like the umpteenth time. As you stood up to walk up to him, you set your painting down nearby.

Squirming underneath his expectant gaze, you leaned in torturously slow until your noses were nearly touching, your eyes were glued to his lips nervously. You kind of just… stood there, waiting. Waiting for him to take initiative, as he usually does. “... You know, You’re kissing me, right? Not the other way around.” His voice was lower, quieter than usual, and you could feel his breath within each word.

He smirked at your awkward shuffle towards him, finding your averting eyes and flushed face extremely endearing. Though Kokichi would never admit it, deep down he was nervous too- But of course, he refused to ever admit that reality. Even to himself. 

“I-I know that! I was just… preparing.” He hummed a skeptical ‘Okay’, standing patiently for the kiss you owed him. Letting out a shaky breath, you quickly pressed your lips on his, before immediately pulling away. Well, you tried pulling away. Kokichi gripped your collar, eagerly going in for more. His lips enveloped yours roughly, he could feel you trying to back away and so he just decided he had to go even harder. 

Once he pulled away, he saw your lips puffy and swollen, and face completely dazed. You wanted to ask him why he stopped but he interrupted you before you could, “You know, I never said you had to kiss my lips, pervert〜” Your eyes widened at his statement, “It seems you’ve been wanting this for a while, huh?” You didn’t say anything, only fuelling his fire. 

“Nishishi! You’re so obsessed with me, it’s adorable~” You took a defensive step back, “I-I am not!” He suddenly leaned his face dangerously close to yours, grinning sadistically as he heard your whimper. “You shouldn’t lie, you know? Especially not to me.” He leaned in next to your ear, catching your earlobe between his teeth and biting gently. 

“Anyway!” You snapped out your daze as he barked suddenly, “The nude painting offer still stands, you know!” He yelled out, walking away from you, strangely.

[duuhrayliegh]

watch your six - part five

pairing: eventual bucky x reader (they’re together in the next chapter i stg)

warnings: language (several f bombs bc i feel like bucky would be liberal w them), sam and bucky being little shits, bad nicknames, 

word count: just under 2500

a/n: long awaited but it’s finally here! i’m super proud of this one :) i hope y’all like it also this was the first time i’ve written something like this so constructive criticism please. i hope i did the characters justice 

p.s.: my requests are still open babes! i’m working on the next part of this series and also possibly continuing TFCL ;) my tag lists are still open as well

please like and reblog if you enjoyed the story 

xoxo ray

series m.list

ray’s m.list

***********************************

The tension in the room was palpable. “What do you mean you know her, Buck?” Steve questioned. Bucky’s eyes were flitting around the room, landing on each face of bewilderment. He honestly didn’t know what he meant but that, it kind of just came out. Where the fuck did that come from? Who is this woman?

“Uh, hello? What’s going on in that cyborg brain of yours?” Sam interjected quickly, to which he received a sharp glare from both Bucky and Steve. Sam shrugged his shoulders and a quiet snort was heard from across the room.

“He’s got a point, Terminator.” Tony said as he plopped himself into one of the rollie chairs. “You can’t just say something like that and then not explain it.” Bucky’s brows furrowed and he expelled a grunt as his response to Tony.

“Bucky, you’ve got to give us something to go on here.” Natasha said calmly as she eyed an increasingly agitated Bucky.

Since coming back from Wakanda and being brought into the compound, Steve, Sam and Natasha have learned how to read Bucky. Steve has always been able to read the one hundred and six year old, they have shared life experience. Natasha was is a trained master assassin, trained in the Red Room by the Winter Soldier. One of her most valuable skills is her ability to read the emotions of anyone around her. And Sam, well he still leads a support group down at the VA. Being a war-torn veteran himself, he knows what it’s like to have to deal with the memories.

“Look, I don’t know what I meant by it.” Bucky finally said, throwing his hands above his head in exasperation. “It just came out, ya know? I didn’t process it before I said it and now, it’s out there. And to top it off, I don’t have the fucking memories there to back it up. They’re definitely there, but they aren’t just presenting themselves to me on a silver platter.” The group around him silenced.

Bucky was known for being the quiet, brooding type. His murder stare was comically famous around the compound. Sam constantly picked on Bucky about it, so hearing the man spout more than a few words at a time was a shocking experience for all of them.

“You know, there is a way that we can know what even your own mind doesn’t want you to know.” Tony said, darting his eyes over to Steve, who stood stoically in front of the large monitor.

“Goddamn, Tony! We said this isn’t an episode of FRIENDS!” Sam shouted.

“He won’t like that Tony. You know he won’t.” Natasha cut in quickly.

“But, if it works and it tells us if this woman knows anything, then it’s worth a shot.” Tony shot back.

“Tony. No. He’s already been through that and you want to subject him to it again?” Bucky was listening intently to their conversation, trying to figure out what they were referring to.  Natasha seemed adamant that Bucky would not be a fan of whatever it was. Tony, as usual, couldn’t care less.

“What are we talking about?”

“Wanda.”

“Who’s Wanda again?”

“She’s the witch.”

“We have a witch on our team? That’s not possible, there’s no such thing as witches and wizards.”

“Uh, yeah there is, cyborg.”

“No, there's not bird brain.”

“Yeah. There is, dumbass. She’s the one who does the hand thing and then there’s the crazy red glow around her? She’s got long hair? Dating the android?”

“There’s an android on the team?” Bucky was still getting to know everyone on the team, but he was positive he would know if there was a fucking android on the team.

“Yeah, the guy with the yellow glowy thing embedded in his forehead? Do you pay attention at all, Bucky? He’s dating Wanda, the witch with the red glowy hand thing?” Sam was waving his hands in front of his face and gesturing to his forehead.

“There’s no fucking way. Steve? Is there an android on the team?” Bucky turned to Steve, expecting an answer. All of the sudden, a red mass phased through the wall behind Steve. Vision appeared, looking quizzically around the room.

“Did someone ask for me?” His British accent carried through the room, once again causing the room to silence and turn to Bucky. Bucky’s lips were pursed, disgruntled that Sam was once again right in their little squabbles.

“Alright fine, but there’s not a witch right?”

“If you’re referring to Ms. Maximoff, then no. She simply manipulates molecular polarity allowing her to alter the reality around her.” Vision said it as if Bucky was meant to understand it. When in reality, Bucky was still getting over the fact fangirling that there was an android talking to him.

“However, if calling her a witch makes you more comfortable,” Vision paused and turned towards the doorway on the other end of the room, “I believe you should ask her permission before doing so.” He raised his hand causing Bucky to follow its direction.

“Hey Tony. Friday said you wanted to see me?” Wanda glided into the room, doing a quick survey of its occupants. Her gaze eventually landed on the vibrant being beside Steve. “Vis, you left in the middle of us making dinner. We’ve talked about that.”

“Yes, do forgive me, my love. However, I believe your expertise is required outside of the kitchen.” Wanda’s orbs flicked to Steve’s first and then to Tony’s, waiting for instructions.

“We want you to go inside Barnes’ mind and retrieve memories about someone for us.” Tony stated plainly. Bucky’s eyes widened and his fear grew. She can do that? Who the fuck was going to tell me that? Can she read my mind too? Is she listening now?

“That’s not exactly how it works, Tony.”

“It doesn’t matter because I never agreed to that, Stark.” Bucky said firmly. He was tired of his brain being put in a blender. He was finally getting comfortable in his own body again. He was gaining more and more control over his mind every day. Granted, he wasn’t sleeping because of the nightmares.

No, not nightmares, because of the memories. Why the fuck would he willingly subject himself to that during the daylight? No, his pain, though constant, was only to be shown at night, when he was completely alone and there’s no chance that he could hurt anyone else.

“If this is the only way that we can know for sure, then we need to do it.” Tony pushed, “You know I’m right, Cap. After what happened with the Sokovia Accords, even though they aren’t monitoring us as closely as they could be, they’re still watching. And if we storm in there without any good reason to, then it’s our asses on the line.”

“Hey, I don’t remember giving you authority over my brain. So what the fuck gives you the right to try and get me to do this shit?” Bucky stood as he spoke, “You’re heroes, goddamn it. It’s your fucking job to save people who need you to. So you should fucking do it. With or without a goddamn reason, you prick.” He shoved the chair away from him and stormed out of the room, passed Wanda who watched with a pained expression.

“He’s right, Tony.” Steve said quietly.

“About what, Cap?”

“We shouldn’t have to have a reason to do our jobs.”

“All I’m saying is that if he has information about this woman that could help us, we need to know it.” Tony glanced back to Wanda, “What if he’s enhanced like Wanda and Pietro and we go in there guns blazing. What happens if she perceives us as a threat? What then Cap?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, Tony.” Steve was the Captain, so ultimately it was his decision. This left Tony incredibly unsatisfied, giving him a reason to implement a plan of his own. “We leave tonight. Be ready to leave in three hours.”

The room emptied quickly, everyone having their own rituals to do before departing on a mission. Steve and Sam were the last to remain in the room. “Do you really think this is a good idea?” Sam asked in a hushed whisper.

“It’s the only one I got, Sam.”

“Are you going to let him come on the mission?” Steve made a face as he clenched his jaw. “I mean, Tony has a point. If he knows something, I think we should try to figure out what it is.”

“We can’t ask him to do that, Sam. You know we can’t.”

“I’m not saying that we should, but if you bring him on this mission and he remembers something in the heat of the moment?” Sam turned his body to fully face Steve, “What are we going to do then?” Sam brought up a valid point, but Steve knew he wouldn’t be able to stop Bucky from coming on the mission.

“Like I said, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

********************************

It was somewhat therapeutic for Bucky to be sharpening his knives. He sat quietly on one of the overstuffed couches in the compound’s common area. A wide array of matte black knives was laid out on the coffee table in front of him. He held one in his hand, raking it against a damp stone to create a slick silver edge on the blade. His solitude didn’t last long, not that he expected it to, especially here in the compound.

“Hi, I don’t think we’ve ever formally met. I’m Wanda.” She stuck her hand out for Bucky to shake which he did, with great caution. There is no telling what this woman is capable of. I don’t need to get too comfortable with her.

“Bucky.” He kept his replies short, in the hopes of deterring her from wanting to interact with him. He knows that is exactly what Steve and his therapist in Wakanda told him to stop doing, but that’s irrelevant.

“I know what Tony was suggesting for us to do isn’t ideal, Bucky.” Bucky shuddered unintentionally, his fear rolling off of him in waves. “I just wanted to let you know, I would never do that to you. Not unless you asked me to and even then I don’t know if I would.” Bucky turned his head to face her. She seemed sincere, but then again people are always rotten on the inside.

“I promise, I won’t.”

“I’ve heard one too many promises in my day, Wanda.” He shifted back to his original task, flipping another knife into the palm of his hand and dragging it along the stone. Wanda nods and lifts herself to her feet, about to retreat to the kitchen.

“It’s the nightmares, isn’t it?” Bucky froze mid-drag, eyes boring holes into the table in front of him, not responding to Wanda. “The reason you don’t want me in your head?”

“What do you know of nightmares, witch?” Bucky sneered defensively.

“You would be surprised what I know of nightmares, Bucky.” She approached the back of the couch, curling her hands around the plush fabric. “My brother, Pietro, and I, volunteered for the experiments with HYDRA.” Bucky whipped his head around to face her, immediately registering her on a higher threat level. She lifted her right hand and a glowing red ball danced between her fingers as dynamic vines licked up her palm.

“We thought that they were there to help after everything that we went through in Sokovia.” Her accent thickened with each word, “After Stark’s bomb didn’t go off, we thought it meant we were destined to take him down. So we went to the closest freedom fighter group we could find.”

Bucky watched as she dropped her hand, the red energy dissipating immediately. “We weren’t the only ones, though. There were hundreds of us. Pietro and I just so happened to be the ones that were able to withstand what they put us through.” Their eyes met, gaze holding as she continued speaking. “Then, I watched their future. And in their ideal future, we weren’t there. None of us. No Avengers or enhanced people. No humans whatsoever.” She swallowed thickly, “That’s when we knew they lied. We had suspicions earlier, but we just did what we were told so we could get what we wanted.”

“What exactly did you want?”

“We wanted Stark dead.” She held Bucky’s eyeline. “But now, my brother is dead. And all I want is to see HYDRA's downfall at my hands.” She glanced back down at her hands, “What Tony wanted me to do,” hesitating as she continued, “I know he just wants me to go through your memories and pick out the ones specific to Agent Libra, but that’s not how it works.” Bucky looked at her and then leaned back into the couch cushions, gesturing for her to continue. “The way that I would go about that would be to have you experience the whole thing over again.”

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean,” Wanda sucked in a deep breath, “It’s like a lucid dream. Your body would be moving and you wouldn’t be in control of it. Any action that you did at that particular moment in history would be reenacted exactly as it occurred.”

“So, if I were to do this, it would be like I was the Soldier again?”

“If that’s what it felt like, then yes.” A shiver ran up Bucky’s spine, he definitely didn’t want that. “I just wanted you to know what you would be getting yourself into if you did decide to allow me access to your memories.” A stiff nod was all she received in return.

He knows she’s just trying to be nice but he can’t help but want to run away and hide in a dark room. Bucky has been through so much because of that freedom fighter organization, he couldn’t fathom people actually volunteering their bodies for their twisted scientific experiments.

“Thanks for letting me know, Ms. Maximoff.” Even though Bucky wanted nothing to do with this woman next to him, his mother still raised him to be respectful of everyone.

“Oh, you can call me Wanda.” She smiled as she began her approach to the kitchen yet again. One thing was still nagging Bucky and he had to know the answer.

“Hey, quick question Wanda.” She stopped and turned to face him, sending a small hum in question towards him. “Are you a witch?”

Her head tilted thoughtfully, “Yes, I am.” She left it at that, leaving Bucky with wide eyes and a mouth that was hanging open. Goddamn it, I fucking hate it when Sam is right.

*****************************

watch your six tag list

@indigo123789 @austynparksandpizza 

[boys-from-santacarla]

Note; I deeply apologize seeing as this is going to end up being long. Onto the information; My name is Ghost(mainly go by this one), Acid, Killer(more of a nickname), or Gore(more of a nickname). I go by he/they/xe/its, and I'm a dude, MLM and poly so it really doesn't matter much who it is. Born March 31st, being an Aries I'm a very loud and energetic person. I'm also very impulsive and get myself into deep shit, even if I don't realize I'm doin' it. I get overly loud when the topic is about something I enjoy or is into, if I try flirting on purpose it's ass but when I do it without realizing I get called a huge flirt. Big music and art geek, I have sketchbooks upon sketchbooks filled just sitting around in my room. I listen to a lot of rock like Queen, Guns N Roses, Red Hot Chilli Peppers, ACDC, Nickelback, KISS, Slipknot, KoRn, and on and on. Although I listen to every genre of music minus country(although there are few songs I can deal with). Big tattoo/piercing person, if you have one visible I will point it out and geek out about it. Although literally don't ask me to name a few songs unless I've been rambling on about it because I have the shittiest memory. I dye my hair so often it's surprising my hair is still healthy. I have literally bleached my hair, dyed it red and let that fade for a week, then dyed it blue and have been touching up the blue ever since then. If it wasn't due to money problems and the fact it's hard to borrow in my town my hair would probably have my hair a different color every two weeks. I ramble quite a bit and have the shittiest focus and memory, so you may have to pull me to the side and tell me to calm down. Would definitely compliment on the boys looks, specially their outfits. I'm a coffee and monster addict at this point, you'll see one or the other in my hand, and the occasional water bottle because I try to keep myself health. My love language is through touch and insulting people. Ex, "I fucking love you dumbass" or flipping you off playfully as a way of saying "i love you bitch". Smoking doesn't bother me, grew up around it my entire life. I love riding on motorcycles, no matter the weather, is it cold asf, nice idgaf, is it raining, shit lets go. I have a bad(good in some people's eyes) of using petnames/nicknames for everyone. Everyone has a wholesome petname from me and then I'll call them a whore or some shit. I cuss too much for my own good, I literally don't have a filter in my entire body. I will impulsively say shit, sometimes that's a good thing and sometimes it's a bad thing. Due to my anxiety I try to stay away from large crowds, but if I'm in them (aka on the boardwalk) I will have music blaring in my ears and my ears glued into my current sketchbook. Although I currently don't have them, I'm going to add them anyways because I'm going to end up getting them when I have the money to go to a piercer or to get a kit. I want a shit ton of piercings. Such as snake bites(lip piercing), tongue, septum, all of the piercings finished on my ears, and bridge. I've stated once I'm a big tattoo geek, so I want a quite a bit of those. I'm definitely a big "oh let's do it myself" person, and I have tried giving myself a septum piercing. (it would've worked if it wasn't for the fact I did it too low to be able to flip it up to hide it) I love the adrenaline of fights, it doesn't matter if I win or loose, although I do prefer if I win. I literally get the most random urge to fight someone for the hell of it. Probably has something to do with impulsive thoughts and shit, but oh well. I'm a big respect person, I live by the motto "you respect me, I'll respect you". I have blackouts sometimes due to rage and anxiety, so I try to keep myself from having them. I have a bad habit of rambling and saying sorry too much. I tend to repeatedly say sorry whilst rambling as I tend to get overly excited and loud when I ramble. I'm a very talkive person if I know and trust you. If you're around me and you don't get your ear talked off or messed with, you're probably not liked or

you need to leave. It's one easy way you'll be able to tell if I get along with you or not. I kinda have a whatever/punk/alt style, a lot of time I just grab something decent and throw it on. Although you'll always see me wearing a belt and my platform shoes. I'm 5'0, so my obsession with platforms grew because of my need to be tall. I wear a lot of baggy clothing, I'm definitely more of a comfort over style person.

Ok, my dude, I'll definitely pair you with...

Marko and Paul

Oh, man, you three are gonna be some threesome (and not necessarily in the sexual way lol)

Just imagine THE MESS

The boys think you're adorable when you get into the romantic mood and try to flirt but end up saying bad pick-up lines, so they'll laugh, but will twirl their hair as whoerish as possible and follow the game. Or they would get on with their manly act and fight to see who will flirt back better.

Now, the chatting will be so goddamn long! You three will go on 4 hour-long conversations that'll get from a "look at this new t-shirt I got" to "so that's why Ronald Reagan was an alien". The worst part is left to the spectators like David or Dwayne since none of you three will be the sane individual and shut y'all up.

The blondes like your drawing, and ask you to draw them or random stuff and people CONSTANTLY, so you'll have many opportunities to improve your skills and try with different models. When they happen to find some of your sketchbooks, they try to impress you or simply give a small present by drawing you or something you like, or at least make the attempt since some of the "fine pieces" as they call them, they give you are like children's school projects.

And, man, about the hair, are you blessed to have the glam diva Paul by your side to give advice and constructive criticism to your hair. He will help you choose the color and will give it style from time to time if you accept. The process to dye it will be so much fun, and so chaotic; experimenting with the pigments ends up with wounds caused from the bleach and the currently used wardrobe disposed later.

A thing they love about you is that you can stand up for yourself if needed, but they rather you not to, because they know you handle yourself and the others well, maybe too well for your good. Paul tries to take care of you as much as he can so there is no need for you to possibly get hurt. It was enough trying to control Marko so he didn't get involved in some stupid street fight every night at the boardwalk to now have to worry daily about you too. Marko shares the passion for the adrenaline of this and will think it is hot as hell, but he protects you as much as Paul, maybe a bit softer than him about it tho, but if you're in the middle of a fight and it starts to get worse than expected, he dead ass will force you to back off. He'll finish the business himself, sweetheart.

As for your love language, don't worry, these dorks will accept you playful pushes with joy, and they'll give you some of them too. But if you accidentally flip and fall some meters before hitting ground, you know the rule: laugh first, help second.

Oh, and you better get prepared for the bullying. You're the smallest in the group, so that leads to a constant attack as a hobbit. Marko joins the quip, but I mean, he'll get humiliated along. Let's just say Paul gives you two a hard time about it. With all the love of course.

They love to get out with you and the others and go to the boardwalk, but they try to take you out on days it is not that crowded, or in hours where a small amount of souls are having a stroll. But, if you happen to go out on a crowded night, they will keep you focused on having a good time, but just mention your getting uncomfortable and you'll be back at the cave in less than a minute.

Paul and Marko really love your style, they think it looks badass and try to match tough outfits with you from time to time. Giving you cool shirts and leather jackets with some patches on them that they think are awesome. Don't ask why some of the clothes have strange-colored stains on them tho.

They go with you to get you ears or nose pierced from the moment you three decided doing it diy style was a bad idea cuz y'all ended up with a bleeding nose and an ear infection the first time of trying it, and because there's no voice of reason in the threesome, Star and Dwayne had to give you kids a very long lecture of not doing those things by yourself.

[rayofspades]

How to Write a Horror Story: The Magnus Archives

This post is kinda weird since most tumblr fandom content is based on the assumption that Everyone Has Seen The Thing, but since this is a transcript of a video essay, it’s more broad. 

I might link the video in a reblog since, you know, tumblr doesn’t like links.

Anyways, here’s the post:

Hello Jon, apologies for the decep-

I’ve seen a lot of mystery shows in my day, and some supernatural shows, and the common thread between them is that they kind of...fall apart as they go on. 

Obviously, this is a generalization and I haven’t seen every mystery show or every paranormal show, but it’s a pretty common problem. 

At this point in pop culture criticism, it’s basically common knowledge that these shows fall apart due to a lack of planning. If a mystery series is making shit up as it goes along while trying to surprise the audience, it’s going to stop making sense at some point. And if an episodic paranormal show is constantly trying to up the stakes, eventually it’s going to become absolutely ridiculous and stretch the audience’s suspension of disbelief past a breaking point. 

Other people have already talked about this stuff to death, but today I want to talk about a paranormal mystery show that actually succeeds at what it set out to do.  

The Magnus Archives is a podcast written by Jonny Sims and directed by Alexander J. Newall. It ran from 2016 to 2021 and it’s...really really good. It’s an episodic horror story, taking place at the fictional Magnus Institute where the head archivist reads various statements about people’s encounters with supernatural entities. It’s got it all; scary stories, mystery, an overarching plot, office comedy, office romance, office tragedy, a villain that’s making straight men everywhere question their sexuality, and an overall really solid structure. 

If you listen to the Q+As put out by the writer and director, you’ll hear them talk about how they planned the series from the beginning, setting up the layout for each season. Some things were definitely changed throughout the actual writing process; that’s just inevitable and necessary when you’re working on a long running show, but in a general sense, they knew where they were going. But, writing a good story doesn’t just involve knowing where you’re going; it’s about executing whatever plan you have effectively. And I think the execution of The Magnus Archives is pretty brilliant, so I want to talk about it. 

And for the record, I said “brilliant,” not “perfect.” I do have a lot of criticisms of this show, and I’m definitely going to talk about those too, because honestly? Even the problems with this show are interesting in their own right. 

Ok, let’s go. 

Oh, spoilers by the way. For the whole plot. Whole thing. 

Part 1: Horror and Mystery 

Ok, so The Magnus Archives has two separate plots going on: the episodic stories that can be listened to individually, and the underlying meta plot. The former is where most of the mystery storytelling takes place, and it’s a really engaging mystery. It’s starts off slow, and almost undetectable at first. The main character, Jon, also known as The Archivist, is just reading out old scary stories that people have delivered to the Magnus Institute. Stuff like; a college student sees a ghostly inhuman figure asking for a cigarette, a woman’s fiancé dies and she finds herself trapped in an empty graveyard, there’s this goth kid who apparently murdered his mother and then skinned her? But she’s kind of still alive? What the f*ck? Hope we never see that kid again. Also, this “Jurgen Lietner” guy wrote a bunch of cursed books and Jon knows about this? Are more books gonna come up? And then you’re like, wait is the goth kid who killed that burn victim the same goth kid who killed his mom like 8 episodes ago? Holy shit the family of that girl’s dead fiancé FUNDS THE MAGNUS INSTITUTE? Did this famous youtuber meet one of the missing people from episode one? The goth kid is back and he’s looking for Leitner books? The name “Michael” has come up like 6 times? Are they all the same guy? I just—who the f*ck is Jurgen Leitner? 

So yeah, as you can see, a lot of these stories connect in cool ways, and I’ve only mentioned like, 0.2 percent of all of those connections. Furthermore, these stories are told out of chronological order, and sometimes the same scenario appears in more than one statement, told from different perspectives. This asymmetrical storytelling and odd doling out of information creates a mystery that’s really interesting. It also makes for a great re-listen, since you can retroactively see what elements were set up before you even realized that they were going to come back.  

The audio format contributes to this too; you can’t just see that the table from episode three matches the pattern on the box in episode eight. You have to pick up on clues that were mentioned and pay attention to what people are describing, and it’s highly rewarding when the pieces all start to fit together. 

There is a bit of a downside to this though. Technically The Magnus Archives is a horror story first and a mystery second, and these two elements can mesh in weird ways. 

The horror is element is really strong. Each story is completely different, sometimes focusing on psychological horror, body horror, or supernatural versions of more primal fears like heights, darkness, enclosed spaces, etc. Basically, if you’re afraid of anything, there will be at least one episode of The Magnus Archives that gets under your skin. 

Jonny Sims can really sell his stories through both his writing and acting. He plays Jon, by the way, and plagiarized his own birth certificate for the character name. (For future reference, Jonny is the actor, Jon is the character). Overall, he’s really good at writing prose, and each narrator has a very distinct voice even though the large majority of the stories are being read by one character/actor.  

Obviously not every episode is a bull’s eye. Sometimes it’s due to the subjectivity when it comes to what you as an audience member are scared of, and occasionally it’s just weird writing decisions. I’m thinking specifically of episode 21 where the line “the sky ate him” is said, and it is the worst line in the entire show. The whole goddamn show. That’s it. That’s the number one worst line. 

But still, overall, the horror storytelling is incredibly solid, and some episodes even gave me brand new fears, like the unholy isolation of being in space, or the concept that someone you love could be replaced by someone completely different without you noticing.  

But here’s the thing; 

A lot of good horror is based on the absence of explanation. Most of the episodes that gave me the most visceral reactions of genuine terror come from the first two seasons, because that’s when the audience has the least amount of information. 

For example, in episode two, a really terrifying coffin is introduced. It’s creepy, it reacts very strangely to water for some reason, and appears to compel people to try opening it. By the end of the episode, the audience never finds out what’s in that coffin and that is a good thing. That is a huge part of what made that episode so unnerving.  

And then a few seasons later, we do find out what’s in the coffin, and to be fair the answer is both very creative and very scary, but it also takes a lot of the punch out of episode two. 

 No matter how f*cked up your thing is, it’s not going to compare to whatever the audience can conjure up in their own mind after such a creepy set up. This problem isn’t just stuck in this one scenario either; there are a lot of early episodes that, while still good, seem a lot less creepy in hindsight after you learn more about the scenario. 

I don’t think it’s bad writing, but I do think it’s a double-edged sword. Jonny Sims even mentions this sort of issue in the first Q+A. 

But yeah, to sum up; the narration is good, the ideas are creative, and seeing the mystery unfurl itself is deeply compelling. And for the record, the mystery elements aren’t of the Sherlock Holmes variety. It’s less about finding out who did the thing, and more about discovering how all of these individual points are intricately connected, pulling on each other as they move. Woven together like a... oh shit what’s the word? Gah, it’s on the tip of my tongue. Ah, whatever, I’m sure it’s not like a running motif or anything.  

Part 2: Stakes 

One of the main reasons I stopped watching Supernatural is that it devolves into complete f*cking nonsense. At the end of season five, the boys literally defeat the devil, and then the show...keeps going? Which would be fine. It’s also, largely, an episodic show, so if they have more creative ideas, they could definitely keep going with it. In fact, there are some post season five episodes that I thought were pretty good. But as they kept trying to outdo themselves with Bigger Bads, it got kind of difficult to suspend my disbelief. And the final nail in the coffin for me was the end of season nine, when Crowly basically points out to the audience that the main characters keep dying and coming back to life, so there are no stakes. The most-badest bad guy can always be defeated because some new Thing can just come out of left-field, and dying isn’t even on the table as a threat since people have tons of ways of coming back to life. 

The Magnus Archives, while being a show based in the supernatural, notably doesn’t bring anyone back to life, even though some very beloved characters die. I say “notably,” because in the season three Q+A, Jonny even says, “We make a point not to bring people back from the dead in Magnus, I know it sometimes feels like that, but we are very careful to never actually resurrect anyone.” 

Upon listening to this I said “oh my god, these guys are the only writers left who at least kind of know what they’re doing.”  

Also, as far as plot progression goes, The Magnus Archives is lowkey structurally perfect in the way the threats escalate in the underlying plot; both in terms of destruction and power and in terms of emotional consequences. Season one starts off with one major threat that’s dealt with by the end of the season, season two reveals the main villain, season three lays out the grander forces at play, season four ends the world, and season five is about un-ending the world. The difference between season one and season five is vast, but how we got there makes perfect sense. 

As for the emotional stakes, let’s talk about themes and characters. 

Part 3: Themes and Characters 

At the very end of season two, it’s revealed that the supernatural happenings in the Magnus universe are the result of entities far beyond our understanding. Since their existence is so fundamentally different from what we can comprehend, they interact with the world through cursed items, creatures, and humans who have dedicated themselves to an entity.  

A lot of people read this as a metaphor for late-stage capitalism, and I am one of those people. A bunch of faceless entities exploiting humans through means of dehumanization and causing people to suffer because it feeds them seems like an appropriate metaphor. 

While we’re on this topic, I do want to talk about Elias, since he’s the main villain of the entire series and also one of my favorite villains of all time. The Magnus Archives is a series that deals with a lot of moral questions and has a lot of characters who do morally questionable things, so one might assume that the villain of said series is, you know, morally ambiguous and sympathetic to some extent despite being “the bad guy.” 

Nope! No stops, full bastard. It’s great. 

He falls under what I’ve deemed the “unbeatable boss” archetype. He just doesn’t tolerate insubordination or resistance, and that combined with his lack of empathy means that anyone who crosses him is either killed or brought to heel. His power set is cool too. On the surface the ability to see out of any eye and read minds sounds useful, but not deal breaking, but the way he uses that power to manipulate people and anticipate threats...yeah, it makes him kind of impossible to beat.  

He’s just...so evil and he loves being evil and every single f*cking thing he does pisses me off and makes me want to kill him. It’s. Great. 

Anyways, I think Elias’s role as the central antagonist is what makes the capitalist reading so common. He’s the head of the institute, he’s wealthy, he’s powerful, and he dehumanizes people in ways that are both brutal and chillingly indifferent. He seems like an appropriate stand in through that lens. 

I also love how voice actor Ben Meredith plays him like’s he’s trying to seduce the audience.  

With all of that said, I wouldn’t call this the critique of capitalism a direct allegory or anything; in much looser terms, this could be a metaphor for any power structure that exploits humans. Organized religion or cults might be even more on the nose, considering there’s a lot of mentions of rituals and worship within the show. 

But if we boil it down to its barest aspects and focus on the avatar characters, The Magnus Archives is a series about people becoming monsters. Or, at the very least, becoming worse versions of themselves. That can mean a lot of things to different people in a metaphorical sense; the tense relationship between desperation and morality, the eagerness to please at the cost of one’s own mental health, the psychological traumas that lead people down dark paths, and how personal choices can still be dictated and manipulated by outside influences. It’s kind of heavy stuff, but put into a digestible package through the show’s abstractions. 

Well, for the most part.  

There’s some debate as to whether or not Daisy’s arc was handled tastefully. While her demise and Basira’s character arc were clearly meant to condemn police brutality and the deeply corrupt system that allows it to foster, it’s still a weird subject to discuss in such a fantastical context, and there is a strange sympathy for the devil angle that can get kind of uncomfortable for some listeners.  

Okay, stepping back from that for a bit, let’s talk about Jon and how he fits into this whole “people becoming corrupted” thing. 

Jon has one of my favourite brands of character arc, which is one based in deterioration alongside growth. The most obvious way this takes form is his departure from humanity as his relationship with the Eye drives him to psychologically harm others, and he finds himself sympathizing more and more with the people he was afraid of, stating in episode 152 that anyone listening to his recordings might compare him to the other avatars that have had their minds and morals twisted. 

Over the course of the series, he is repeatedly traumatized and the show makes a point that he is being both physically and emotionally scarred. These happenings are what drive his motivation for revenge in season five, and he even states that revenge is making him a worse person. As a character he’s constantly berating himself and his own monstrousness, much to Martin’s dismay.  

That’s why the finale destroys me in the best way. Upon seeing that Jon has betrayed him and basically given himself over to the Eye, Martin asks “how much of you is even left?” And when Jon tries to reassure him that he’s still himself, Martin’s response is “how would you even know?” This cuts through me every time. Up until this point, Martin had consistently stood up for Jon and Jon’s humanity, even in the face of Tim’s doubt, Basira’s mistrust, Elias being cryptic, and Jon’s own self-hatred. This is the ultimate breaking point, the point where even Martin, the love of Jon’s life, doesn’t really recognize him. It’s brutal. Because at the end of the day, Jon is still himself; he’s a deeply broken person trying to make the right decisions.  

We’ll come back to the finale later, but for now I want to talk about the romance. 

Jon’s emotional growth throughout the series is largely tied into Martin. Martin’s the first person that Jon really opens up to, and this later grows into trust which then turns into a genuine emotional connection.  On the flip side, Martin’s growth in season four is largely tied into Jon. Martin starts season four basically waiting to die, but Jon’s return gives him a reason to keep living, and he’s later able to recognize his own value outside of the pure utility of ‘you need to set yourself on fire to keep everyone else warm.’ Both of them give each other reason to push onward despite everything becoming more and more hopeless.  

It’s a good romance. I wish the two had had a few more scenes together before the culmination, but it is built up over the course of four seasons and comes together in an utterly fantastic confession.  

And yeah, the scene with Martin and Jon in the Lonely is cheesy as hell, but it is the highest quality of cheese. These are some gourmet nachos.  

Umm, also kind of stating the obvious here, but it’s also pretty cool that the main character in this horror story falls in love with another man. You don’t see that a lot, and it’s cool that no one even makes a big deal out of it. It’s just a normal romance, but with two guys. It’s nice. 

So, they go to Scottland, they hang out, they’re in love, Jonalias starts the apocalypse through Jon, the world ends, and season five starts! 

...Let’s talk about season five! 

Part 4: Season 5 

At the very start of this post, I said that supernatural mysteries tend to get worse as they go along, and I am deeply sad to report that I don’t think that The Magnus Archives is an exception. It just goes downhill in a very different way than its ilk. 

And, so we’re clear, I don’t think season five totally tanks or becomes unlistenable, it’s just, in my opinion, notably worse than the rest of the show. 

As discussed earlier, it doesn’t fall apart due to a lack of planning; everything still makes sense, but the presentation has changed drastically. The episodic statements are no longer scary stories, but more like slam poems about the various hellscapes that Jon and Martin are trekking through. Honestly if these were published in a book of slam poetry, I would probably think they slapped pretty hard. I genuinely believe that Jonny Sims is a good writer, but as a podcast a lot of these statements just made me zone out. There’s at least four that I don’t even slightly remember. Myself and many others have noted that they just...aren’t scary, unless there’s a specific episode that really gets under your skin due to a certain fear or phobia. 

To quote my friend, “it’s harder to feel a solid impact when the setting is literally divorced from reality. People would either go numb or insane to the point where their fears become unrelatable.” 

And, to be honest, I think that this same surreal odyssey set up could have worked with a slight shift in narration. Two stand out episodes for me were “Strung Out” and “Wonderland.” Both of them show the tormented target actively trying to resist and interact with their tormenter, instead of just trying to escape or live through their situation. “Strung Out” is also more of character study; you learn about Francis’s life before the apocalypse through their interaction with the Web hellscape. Meanwhile “Wonderland” is just...f*cked, and you get to see Jon take the perspective of first-person Bad Guy throughout the whole thing, which is its own level of disturbing. 

But the majority of episodes feel so abstract that I kind of forget the people trapped in them are supposed to be characters and not just concepts, so it’s harder to feel their dread and pain. 

But I’m still here for the metaplot, the drama, and the romance. And when that’s good, it’s great! I think the final handful of episodes are really solid in that regard. 

Buuuuuuut... 

A decent chunk of season five is dedicated to the “kill bill” plot. Jon discovers he has the power to smite people, and while at first, he’s embarrassed about this, since he actively enjoyed killing Not!Sasha, Martin is super into it! He’s encouraging Jon to murder people.  

This is actually the set up for a really good arc. As Jon gets more and more into his own avenging angel persona, Martin could get more and more disturbed by it so by the time they get to London, Martin could be really upset that Jon is so willing to wreak his own divine justice by killing or torturing all of the avatars. 

And this does kind of happen. We do reach this end state, and it makes for a good final conflict, but the way we got here was borderline nonsense. Thematic gibberish, if you will. 

Throughout the journey, Martin is clearly motived by a sense of justice; these people are bad, and so they should die. Whereas Jon is clearly more motivated by revenge; he only goes after the avatars that hurt him personally. At one point, Jon admits that maybe all of this killing isn’t making anything better, but just making him worse. Martin apologizes for egging him on, Jon absolves him by saying he started it, and then Martin’s like “I’ll keep my apology then.” This is the second worst line in the entire series, right after “the sky ate him.” And it’s close. 

But it kind of feels like we’re back at square one. Jon is back to being ashamed of killing and Martin is still keen on his justice stance, but now just less pushy about it. The arc is basically half resolved at this point. 

But then it doesn’t matter, because Jon kills Helen anyway. So, Jon’s back on his revenge/justice thing. Then what was the point of his earlier revelation? Why have that if it’s not going to matter and the conflict that was escalating still culminates with Jon leaning into the avenging angel stuff, and Martin being disturbed by it? It just makes both of them look like huge hypocrites! I f*cking hate it when they’re in the tunnels and Martin says “you weren’t meant to enjoy it this much,” regarding Jon’s smiting. Where did this come from?! Why didn’t you say this earlier? Third worst line in the series. 

And yeah, I’ll say it; the boys fight too much in this season. I loved their romance up to season five, and their cute moments and more lowkey serious discussions are still good in this season, but God, they fight so much. And I’m not saying couples can’t have fights or tension, that’s just realistic and also stories need conflict to be interesting. Jonny Sims is on the record saying that balancing a healthy romance with the stress of a literal apocalypse was a priority, and I’m sorry, but I don’t think it’s well balanced.  I’m just saying that sometimes it feels like they don’t even like each other and it really started to grate on me. 

Maybe it would have been better if the beginning of this season was dedicated to charming romance at first, so we as an audience could better appreciate how strong their love is and how it’s truly being tested. But obviously that was never on the table— 

ALEX NO. 

So, yeah, I have a lot of problems with season. I think it’s the worst one by far, even though there is a lot of it I still enjoy, including the ending. 

As I mentioned before, the moment where Martin confronts Jon in the panopticon absolutely kills me, and Jon’s reaction kills me even harder. Throughout the season, Jon had largely been motivated by revenge, martyrdom, and the subconscious call of the Eye, and all three of those factors led him to his position as the pupil. He’s getting revenge against the powers, sacrificing his humanity to get rid of the Fears, and taking his place as wearer of the watcher’s crown. But all of this gets thrown out the window when he realizes that Martin is going to die. And not only is Martin going to die, Martin is going to die specifically because he loves Jon and refuses to leave Jon alone to die horribly. Martin had always been an underlying motivation for Jon, his “reason” as stated in episode 167, but now love as a motivator has come to the forefront, and Jon can no longer go through with his plan because of it. But at this point in the series, they’re both utterly doomed, and Jon concludes that the only possible chance they have of surviving, however unlikely, would be to sever the pupil of the eye, technically killing Jon, but maybe, just maybe, allowing them to escape with the Fears. Whether that’s meant to be literal or more ethereal is left unclear. Hell, maybe Jon’s just making it up completely and creating his own potential happy ending. It’s a pretty potent ending in emotional terms; Jon has to release the Fears and Martin has to kill Jon, and those are the two things they were dead set on not doing.  

The Web, arguably the real main antagonist, basically won, and their manipulation of Jon worked. The destruction spread, and there is kind of a bleak underlying tone to that. 

But at least this ending has some semblance of hope to it. I’m not saying that releasing the Fears was objectively the correct moral decision; the entire point of the dilemma is that there was no objectively correct moral decision. But, while Jon’s solution does have merit, it was also the most hopeless. I think dramatically, any one of the choices on the table could have worked if the writing was well executed, but thematically this one seemed like the perfect combination of grim and optimistic. Like, all of the evils that plague humanity can’t just be defeated forever and things could get worse, but maybe not. Maybe everything works out... 

So yeah, The Magnus Archives...is a podcast. And it’s a really good podcast. Great, even. I can complain about season five all I want, but regardless of how that worked out, you can tell throughout the entire show that the people working on it were trying to tell a genuinely excellent story. 

It’s good. Go listen to it. Even though I spoiled the entire thing and if you’re still here, you’ve probably already listened to it. Listen to it again. 

[psychovigilantewrites]

Baby Bird- Rewrite

Pairing: Jason Todd/Reader

Genre: SMUT

Word count:  5296

Summary: This is a rewrite of my first ever fic! I didn’t really incorporate the whole Baby Bird thing in this one, and i did change a lot of it, though the story is still very similar to each other. I’m pretty proud of it! Let me know what you guys think!

You can find the original on my Masterlist

Read it on Ao3

Kofi

You had a relatively good relationship with most of your brothers.

You loved watching rom-coms with Dick when you both got the time, and he was always there to lend you an ear. He was the first person whom you truly loved unconditionally, as he brought you out of your shell when Bruce first found you and took you in.

Tim was a bit harder, but mostly because he was shy. You didn’t really have many things in common with Tim except that the both of you were more business savvy than the rest. The two of you were the main attractions during Wayne Enterprises’ functions, and you would even share projects together.

Damian was a tough nut to crack, but after he came in, it only took you a couple months before he started showing you that he didn’t mind you. Scratch that- you were pretty sure that you were his favorite. Everyone else treated him like he wanted to be treated, an adult. But you maintained a perfect balance of shaking his hand business-like when you meet him, and spoiling him with hugs and kisses he pretends to hate.

You never had brothers before, but you were sure that the ones you had now were as perfect as brothers could ever be.

But then there was Jason.

You didn’t see him as someone you loved brotherly, someone you relied on, or someone you shared hugs and kisses with. That’s because for some reason, he hated you.

Well, hate was a strong word. Maybe he just really disliked you.

In fact- he disliked you so much that he would try to avoid you as much as possible. You tried so hard to get on his good side. Read the same books he did just so you could have something to talk about, even took his side whenever he argued with the boys or Bruce.

In which he would respond with a gruff “I don’t need your help.”

You were at a loss. All you wanted was to be close to him. Maybe cuddle up with him on the sofa, leaning against his hard body. Maybe feel his large, thick, magnificent hands resting on your thigh whenever he sat next to you during dinners. Maybe brush your lips against his chapped, pink-

Whatever his problem was, it made you frustrated.

***

“Where are you going?” Jason glared at you from the living room. He was lying down on the sofa with his feet up, peeking at you from behind his book.

You blinked your eyes in surprise. He hardly ever initiated conversation with you. Perhaps he was finally warming up to you? You tried to hide your smile as you walked closer to him from the staircase.

“I’m going to see someone,” you answered and smiled sweetly at him, trying your best not to agitate him in any way.

“Who?” he frowned, sitting upright.

You tried to hide your surprise again. Two questions in a row? He must be in a good mood.

“Uhm, Ray,” you replied, “We take the same class in college.”

“Why are you wearing that?” he shot a dirty look.

This time, you frowned and looked down at yourself. You were only wearing a tight baby doll t-shirt with a skater skirt that went up to your mid-thigh.

“Uh, I always wear stuff like this,” you told him.

“No, you don’t,” he narrowed his eyes at you, judging you from top to bottom.

You felt a bit offended. Was he really questioning your sense in fashion?

You wanted to bite back, but refrained from doing so. You really didn’t want to get even further on his bad side.

“You’re right,” you forced a grin, “Maybe my choice in fashion tonight is a bit odd. I think I’ll change my sneakers to flats. What do you think?”

“It’s not the shoes,” he rolled his eyes, “Whatever. Do what you want.”

And he went back to his book.

You stood there in silence, mouth slightly ajar, confused as to what happened. Before you could gather your thoughts and say something, your phone rang.

“That’s me,” you announced, “I’m going now.”

Jason didn’t answer.

***

The date went well. Ray was a cute guy. His olive eyes complimented his tanned skin, his chestnut hair falling in soft locks around his sharp, angular face. He was polite as well, even walking you up to the door from his car.

“I had a good time, Ray, thank you,” you giggled, slightly buzzed from the cocktails he bought you.

“Me too,” he smiled, flashing a set of perfect white teeth. “You look so pretty tonight, did I mention that?”

“Yes, like five times,” you laughed, slapping his chest. “I’m glad you think so. My brother basically snorted at my fashion choice.”

“What, this skirt?” he widened his eyes, pulling you closer by the waist. “This skirt drove me crazy all night.”

“Your damn flirting drove me crazy all night,” you purred, snaking your arms behind his neck.

“I’ve been thinking of kissing you,” he admitted, his voice turning low. “Can I kiss you?”

You didn’t reply. Instead, you tiptoed and crashed your lips against his, eliciting a deep and guttural moan from him. His hands slid from your waist down to your ass, bunching up your skirt with every squeeze.

Suddenly, he was gone.

You blinked a couple of times before realising what had happened.

“Get the fuck off her,” you heard a familiar snarl.

Jason had ripped Ray off from you, causing him to stumble backwards. You were speechless, mouth gaping like a fish out of water.

“Jason!” you hissed, “Ray, I’m so sorry. This is my brother, Jason.”

“Yeah, I figured,” he chuckled nervously.

“Adoptive brother,” he corrected you.

That made your chest tighten.

“Ray is my date tonight,” you told Jason, ignoring his previous statement, “He was just saying goodbye.”

“Well?” Jason crossed his arms, “Say goodbye, then.”

“Uh, it’d be nice if we had some privacy,” you tried to tell him.

“No,” he simply stated, looking straight at Ray as if sizing him up, daring him to do something.

“Jason-”

“Get scarce, or I’ll break your jaw,” he growled.

“O-okay,” Ray surrendered, “Going now. Bye, I guess.”

And he half walked half ran to his car without waiting for your answer.

You just watched him silence as he drove off, and then turned to Jason angrily.

“What the hell was that?” you barked, shoving him aside to enter the manor.

“He had his hands all over you,” he replied coldly.

“So?” you argued, “I’m an adult, Jason. I can sleep around with guys if I want to.”

You thought you saw his jaw clench.

“You can’t,” he grit.

“Excuse me?”

“You. Can’t,” he repeated.

Now, you know Jason had some anger problems, what with the Pit and daddy issues and all that. And you have seen him throw his tantrums. Whether it was breaking chairs, or beating people up. If you lived with Jason Peter Todd, you knew how destructive he could be.

And you knew it wasn’t his fault. You knew that he was constantly trying to be better, which was why he moved back into the manor in the first place. To be with family, hoping that the company and care and attention would help his mental state.

Yet, against all your inner voices screaming at you to stop, against all you rationality, you couldn’t help but provoke him even more, because you were just fucking sick and tired with him treating you like shit when you had tried so hard to be nice to him.

“All this while you refuse to acknowledge me as your sister, you ignore me, push me away, fucking criticize my choice of clothes,” you seethed, “And now you’re telling me that I can’t do whatever the fuck I want with my own body?”

“You can do whatever you want,” he replied, “I just won’t let you.”

“Let me?” you repeated, “Let me?! Who the fuck are you? Because you’re obviously trying very hard to not be my brother!”

“Fucking hell, listen to yourself!” he groaned, “Spouting all this brother, sister crap! I know you try your goddamn best to fill whatever void you have with this family shit, but you want to know the hard and honest truth?”

He stalked towards you, jaw set and mouth in a thin line before leaning in close and saying the harsh words in a dead voice, “I will never think of you as my sister.”

Your breath stuttered then. If it was any other situation, it would have been because he was so close to you that you could feel his warm breath on your face. But this time, it was because you were trying hard to force back the tears into your eyes.

Did he really hate you that much?

Instead of asking him that direct question, you tested his patience even more.

“Just because your own mother betrayed you, doesn’t mean the rest of the world will,” you lashed out, “But you know what? I can see why she did it.”

And you regretted every single word you said the moment it came out of your mouth.

You saw Jason’s expression change, from the stable frustration before, into a flash of white hot anger. He was shaking, his nose flaring, his hands in fists.

“I- I-” you stuttered, “I didn’t mean-”

Before you registered what had happened, you jumped when you heard a loud bang!

In the raging anger he felt, Jason punched a large crack into the old wooden wall of the mansion, and then stormed off, kicking a vase down in the process of walking up the stairs. The final noise you heard from Jason was his door slamming shut.

Fuck.

You were a horrible person for saying that. The guilt crept in as you realised how harsh your words were.

Well, it wasn’t like he was nice to you either.

Still, he didn’t stoop so low as to bring up your painful past and use it against you.

Sighing, you argued with yourself in your head as you walked up the staircase to go to your own room. Jason’s room was just down the hall from yours, and you hesitated in front of your room, considering that maybe you should go and apologize.

With a deep breath, you head over to his door and raised your knuckles to knock, but midway, just a split second before you hit the wood, you noticed that the door was open by a teeny tiny crack.

And a tired moan coming from inside.

You froze, fist still in the air, eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights of a truck.

Another moan, and the sound of the springs of his bed creaking.

No. No, no, no, you weren’t supposed to be there. You weren’t supposed to be listening in on his private, intimate moment.

You felt a tingle between your thighs.

Fuck, and you most definitely were not supposed to get turned on either.

Yet, at the back of your head you couldn’t help but add this piece of information like you would a note on a calendar.

Jason Peter Todd jacked off when he was angry.

Your brain told you to run, because what you were doing was wrong, an invasion, perverted. But despite your rational thinking, your feet were still glued right in front of his door, ears hypersensitive, straining to pick up every sound you could.

You closed your eyes and breathed in deep. Okay. You recollected yourself. Now it was time to go and maybe release your frustrations in the same way- but in your own bed with your door locked.

But as soon as you made to move, something else held you back that made you lose all your senses.

Another moan coming from Jason’s room, but this time it was your name.

He moaned your name.

You froze on the spot then, morals thrown out the window, you carefully inched closer to the gap between the door, straining your ear even more.

“Fuck, fucking bitch, fuck,” he panted.

Jason wasn’t terribly loud, but it was obvious that he was trying to restrain himself from being too noisy. After all, you all lived in a house full of vigilantes with trained heightened senses.

Now you were scared of being heard, because though you were only listening in, you could feel your breaths getting heavier and heavier, not unlike Jason’s.

And you kept on listening.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathed out loud, “Teasing people with that- hnngh- fucking skirt. Fuck!”

You accidentally let out a soft giggle, before clamping your palm against your mouth. You wanted to run away in fear that you were heard, but once you ran away, you knew you wouldn’t find it in you to come back and listen.

So you stayed your ground.

“Tight fucking shirt,” he continued, and you knew you were safe.

Huh.

Jason Peter Todd also liked to ramble while he jacked off.

At least now you knew why he hated your outfit so much. Who knew it was because he felt like he was being teased?

You were becoming more amused by the second, because hell- this was the guy who had his walls up so high, the same guy who refused to share anything remotely personal with anyone, and to see him crumble down and fuck his fist-

He let out a long, deep groan- and fuck.

Fuck.

Did the sounds of his cock get even wetter?

You needed to see him.

You decided to get on your hands and knees on the floor, thinking that standing up would cast more shadows and make it a bit more obvious that someone was outside the door listening in. So you crouched and tried to make yourself seem as small as possible.

You pushed the door very very lightly, hoping that the hinges didn’t creak.

Now you had a view of Jason, who was lying down on his back, his dark blue t-shirt riding up to his chest. Your eyes trailed down to the deep V that went down to his body, a small patch of his happy trail, his grey sweatpants hitched down to his knees, and his perfect, thick, swollen cock hard in his fist, glistening wet.

You sucked in a sharp breath at the view, feeling your panties getting soiled by the second.

Have you ever been that horny in your life? Probably not.

Jason was brutally fucking his fist, and fuck, even though the view was less than perfect because you were too scared to push the door open wider, you could see how fucking tight he was gripping his shaft.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathed, “Wanna fuck you so bad.”

The rustling of his movements, the heavy stuttering breathing, the slick sounds.

You tried to resist, you really did.

But then, he raised his palm to his mouth and fucking spat onto it loudly, fucking filthily before going back down to continue.

That’s it. You couldn’t take it anymore.

You lifted up your skirt and pushed your panties aside, sliding a finger in between your folds and biting your lip so you don’t moan.

So you don’t run inside his room and beg him to take you right then and there.

Your eyes travelled back up to his face and was hardly surprised to see that he didn’t exactly look like he was pleasuring himself.

His eyes were shut tight, his eyebrows stitched together, his expression in an angry scowl, occasionally biting his lower lip, occasionally parted to take in deep breaths, occasionally whispering your name.

He looked furious as he stroked his cock.

“Fucking Christ,” he rasped, “Wanna fuck. Wanna fuck you. Fuck.”

And of course Jason Peter Todd would take the Lord’s name in vain while he had his dick in his hand.

What was wrong with your brain? The man was technically confessing that he wanted to fuck you in depraved growls, for fuck’s sake. Why were you focusing on the stupid little details?

Like how long has it been since he started? Did he immediately take off his pants and start masturbating right after your fight, the minute he slammed the door shut, while you were downstairs wallowing in guilt?

Kinky son of a bitch.

You started rubbing circles on your clit, feeling the shoot of pleasure spread in your body, heightening your heart rate even more.

If he really did jerk off right after your fight, does that mean he does it every time he got angry?

You added a note at the back of your head again: Make Jason Peter Todd angry more often.

Fuck, but didn’t that mean he had been going at it for awhile now? Was he going to come soon?

You resisted a groan that almost escaped your lips at the thought of being able to see him spurt his cum on his washboard abs.

You picked up the pace of your own, matching it to Jason’s.

But your back and knees were getting kind of sore already, so you tried to shift around a bit. In that process, you lost your balance. And to regain your balance, your unoccupied hand went straight for the door.

And accidentally pushed it open, stumbling into his room.

“What the fuck!” you heard him gasp.

You froze on the spot, your hand still down your skirt, making eye contact with Jason who was already standing up, cock tucked back in his sweatpants- though that didn’t make a difference because phew, a hard dick in a pair of grey sweatpants was a sight.

You cleared your head and scrambled back to your feet, heart thumping loudly and face heating up at the embarrassment of being caught.

“Uh- I- uh- I thought of saying sorry,” you panicked, “And uh- I didn’t- I didn’t hear- see! Ididn’tseeanythingsorrybye-”

You turned to run away, to lock yourself up in your room and never ever come out. You didn’t even see Jason cross the room and snatch your wrist, pulling you inside and closing the door behind you.

He had you against the door now, his grip on your wrist tight, his body just inches away from yours and god you wanted to feel his hard on against you.

“I think,” you started, “I think you broke the lock when you slammed the door hard. It’s okay I’m sure Alfred can-”

“Why are your fingers wet?” he asked in a low voice.

“Wha?”

You noticed that the hand he was gripping was the one you were using to touch yourself, and he was gripping it high up to his face.

You gulped.

“I was just- uh- washing!” you rambled, “I was washing my hands and didn’t dry them off. Oopsie daisy.”

You let out a nervous laugh, but then was cut short when Jason tilted his face towards your wrist, his nose touching and breathing onto your skin. He took a deep breath, smelling your hand as he travelled from the fleshy part below your thumb up to your two wet fingers.

You clenched your thighs.

“Washing, were you?” he smirked, his eyes hooded and dark.

“Mhmm,” you nodded furiously.

He closed his eyes and continued smelling your fingers.

What the fuck?

Then, and you admit that a piece of you died a little and went to heaven at that point, he let out a small lick at the tip of your index finger.

And fucking groaned, the kind of groan the reverberated back into your bones, the kind of groan that made you feel everything he was feeling.

Your brain basically short-circuited.

When you thought that he couldn’t get any hotter, and any more embarrassing, he took your whole two fingers into his mouth.

Your jaw dropped.

He started sucking on your fingers, his eyes now opened and staring at you intensely, and fuck you could feel his tongue swirling on your fingers, wet and hot and desperate.

“Jason,” you breathed.

He let your fingers out with a pop, and the released your hand.

“Touch yourself,” he instructed.

And you weren’t going to fucking argue with that.

You hiked your skirt up, pushed your panties aside again, and with the fingers that had just been in his mouth, you started rubbing your clit.

Your mouth fell into a little “O”, and Jason?

Jason just watched.

With his breathing hard, his warm breath fanning across your face, he didn’t even look down to where you were touching. No, he just stared deep into your eyes as you continued.

Then, he rested his forehead against yours and let out a soft moan. You heard rustling again, and you looked down, and saw him fisting his cock near your lower belly, as you kept on going at your clit.

“Oh my god, fuck,” you looked up at him, breaths mingling with each other, tips of your noses brushing against one another, as you both touched yourselves.

“You made me angry, baby,” he purred, his other hand going up to cradle the back of your head.

You watched as his thick biceps flexed and rippled as he jerked his fist.

It was funny to you. Just a few minutes ago, he told you that he would never think of you as his sister, and now here he was calling you baby.

Oh. Oh.

Boy, were you stupid.

“Do you always masturbate when you’re angry?” you whispered.

“Sometimes,” he breathed back.

“I just made a mental reminder to make you angry more,” you told him.

“Hmm?” he smirked, “And why would you do that?”

“So I can spy on you,” you blurted.

Jason chuckled the hottest fucking chuckle you’ve ever heard. “You don’t need to spy on me. All you gotta do is ask.”

“But,” you argued mid-wanking, “That takes the fun out of everything.”

“Oh, really?” he said, taking steps back.

His fist kept on going non-stop while he walked backwards towards his bed, and you didn’t notice it before, but his pants were completely gone.

He walked until his knees hit the edge of the bed, and then he sat down, all the while never stopping his strokes.

“So you think this,” to make a point, he started fucking his cock faster and harder for a bit, “Isn’t fun?”

You didn’t understand how someone could be so hot.

“Okay, fine,” you conceded, leaning back against the door because you were worried your knees were going to go out anytime, “You’re right.”

“Of course I am,” he scoffed, “Comere.”

“There?” you hesitated, suddenly nervous at his invitation.

Even in the midst of horny bliss, you suddenly remembered that Jason was never close to you. You didn’t know a thing about him, and you never really connected.

“Yeah,” he frowned, his fist stilling, “Unless you don’t want to.”

“No!” you hurriedly said, “I do. God, trust me, I do. But it’s just…”

“But?”

“I always thought you hated me, Jason,” you stopped your fingers as well, standing upright, “I don’t want this to be a one time thing, and then you go back to hating me.”

“I don’t hate you,” he shook his head in surprise, “I never hated you.”

“Really? Because somehow I find that hard to believe.”

“Look,” he sighed, “The reason why I was so mean to you is because I didn’t know how to act around you. And being mean was the only thing I know how to do. But I never hated you. It’s the opposite, in fact.”

“You like me?” you asked, hopeful.

“Sure I do,” he shrugged nonchalantly, but you noticed his ears slowly turning pink.

“Wow.”

“What?”

“I never imagined that Jason Peter Todd would tell me he liked me while he was sitting on his bed without any pants,” you giggled.

“You wanna come here or not?” he huffed.

You smiled and walked over to him, stopping right in front of him, between his opened thighs. You looked down into his eyes, blue and fierce, and always so intense. He took off his shirt, so he was there, right there, in all his naked glory.

“Take off your clothes,” he murmured.

You didn’t know what to say back except to just do what he had instructed you to do. So you firstly peeled off your tight baby doll shirt, and then slid down your skirt.

What do you know, you thought you noticed him gulping.

“All of it, sweetheart,” he demanded, “I want to see all of you.”

You nodded, and reached behind to unhook your bra, letting your breasts fall. You saw Jason’s immediate change in expression. His jaw went slack, and was looking at you in awe. You were just going to slip down your panties until-

“Too slow,” he said, and then gripped you by the waist and threw you onto the bed on your back.

He immediately went to attack your breasts, sucking and biting and nipping onto your nipple, pinching the other one with his free hand, squeezing and tugging.

“Jason,” you moaned, his warm tongue drawing circles on your nipples. He travelled further below, leaving a trail of opened mouth kisses on your skin.

And finally he reached the place you wanted him to be at the most, his hot breath hovering over your panties. He proceeded to start licking your folds over them, drenching your already wet panties even more with his mouth.

He continued to mouth at your core, teasing you with occasional nips, but never directly stimulating your clit.

He was good at driving a girl crazy in more ways than one.

“Jason,” you whined, “More.”

“More?” he smirked.

“Yes, stop teasing,” you complained.

He laughed and pulled your panties down swiftly, but he didn’t go back in between your thighs, where you arguably thought he belonged.

He came up to you and kissed you deeply, for the first time. He sucked on your lower lip, playing at the entrance of your mouth with the tip of his tongue, prodding but never really entering.

Unfortunately, he was also doing the same with his cock.

You had your legs spread as wide as they could, presenting yourself to him, yet there he was still teasing you by pushing up his tip against your entrance, but then going to your clit to circle on it, and then brushing down your slick folds to tease you some more.

“Now you know how I feel when you wear those short skirts out,” he growled against your lips, “Fucking cock tease.”

“They weren’t even that short,” you pouted.

“If I can get glimpses of your panties when you bend down, then they’re short,” he argued back, “God, the things you do to me.”

He went to your neck to suck on the delicate skin, no doubt leaving marks to be questioned by everyone in the morning.

“Y-y-you,” you stuttered into a sigh when he started tapping his cock against your clit, “Your arms are nice.”

Stupid, stupid.

He burst into laughter, muffling himself using the crook of your neck.

“My arms are nice?”

“Yeah, I want you to choke hold me with them.”

He suddenly met your eyes, surprised.

“What?” you asked.

“Holy fuck,” he simply muttered, and then crashed his lips into yours again, this time shoving his whole tongue inside to taste you.

And thank God, he did the same with his cock.

He slowly pushed in at your entrance, stretching you deliciously apart.

The both of you groaned in unison, finally able to really feel each other.

His pace was slow, but it soon build, all the while you were thrashing about, trying to grip onto something, because his cock had filled you up so fucking perfectly, you knew you were going to feel it for days after.

“Fuck, Jason,” you closed your eyes tight.

“Yeah, baby?” he panted in your ear, “You like my cock in your pussy?”

“Yes,” you whispered, unable to voice out more in fear of being incoherent.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned out loud, his pace increasing even more, “Feel so good around my cock, baby.”

You only heard his dirty, sexy voice, the wet sounds amplifying with every thrust, his stuttered laboured breathing and his sharp intakes of breaths, and fuck that was enough to tip you over the edge.

“Jason,” you moaned, unable to say anything else.

“Take my cock, sweetheart,” he gasped, “Fuck, so much better than I imagined.”

He gripped both your thighs in each of his hands, and then pushed them back towards you, so he could fuck you at a better angle, a better pace.

And he pummeled into your pussy, fucking you into the goddamn mattress as you did nothing but cry and whine and whimper and moaned, his cock hitting every pleasure spot inside you.

You felt yourself climbing, going higher and higher into ecstasy with every “fuck” coming from Jason, every loud groan you knew someone in the house would hear, every breath he took that was becoming more irregular.

“You want to come, sweetheart?” he asked, “I can feel you getting tighter, fuck.”

You nodded furiously, trying so much to reach that high.

Then, he leaned in, and whispered in your ear with the lowest, huskiest, desperate voice you’ve ever heard.

“Too fucking bad.”

He stopped his motions altogether.

Your eyes shot open.

“What?” you nearly shouted, “Jason!”

“You made me angry, didn’t you,” he gave you a shit eating grin, “Did you really think I was going to help you get off after that?”

“But-but-” you started, “I already said sorry!”

“Sorry’s not enough, baby,” he tutted, “I want you to beg for it.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” he raised an eyebrow, “Beg.”

Thrust.

“For.”

Thrust.

“This.”

Thrust.

“Cock.”

Fuck, you were going absolutely insane.

“Jason,” you whined, “Jason, please. Please, I need your cock, Jason. I need you to fuck me. Please.”

You threw away every single dignity you had.

Hey, the man’s got a good cock.

“Why should I fuck a girl who likes to piss me off?” he growled, jaw clenched.

“Because, sir,” you tested. “I promise to be good next time. And if I’m not, then…”

You trailed off.

“Then?” he prompted.

“Then you can punish me,” you finished.

“Fuck,” he started fucking you again, “Fine.”

That didn’t take much. Jason obviously had a thing for begging and being called sir.

This time, he pounded into you with a force that knocked your breath out, and he continued to do so until you were climbing again.

And this time, he didn’t stop.

“Baby,” he rasped, “Baby, come with me.”

“Jason.”

You felt his thrusts getting faster and faster, though more sloppy and irregular, desperate to chase his own orgasm.

“Fuck, I can feel you,” he gasped, “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

You felt it, the moment Jason let go, you reached your peak, feeling yourself sliding into the realm of pure pleasure as your pussy fluttered around his cock.

He quickly pulled out and came all over your stomach, some reaching your breasts, some hitting your fucking chin. Then, he collapsed next to you, breathing hard.

“Fuck,” you breathed.

“Fuck,” he agreed.

The both of you burst into laughter, the first laughter you ever shared together.

And you knew from then on, it was okay if he didn’t see you as his sister, because you most definitely could not see him as your brother- and you realised you never did.

You were just so desperate to get close to him that you’d use any excuse you could find.

But you’ve successfully closed the gap between you and Jason Peter Todd, and you knew you were currently witnessing his walls slowly crumbling down, bit by bit, right in front of you.

[uncertaininnit]

who wants to read an essay about my relationship with simping/an appreciation(/simping lol) post about Will+Eret and also seperately tommyinnit that was written at 4:22 am and then added to the queue because i love the queue system also fun fact i pronounced the word ‘queue’ as ‘cc-week’ for like an entire year and idk why anyways

lets just jump into it

lol

so. if somebody was to ask me who my favorite mcyt is, i would think about it for a moment and eventually answer with either Wilbur or Eret. and i think that is purely out of simping instinct or whatever the fuck. 

to start, Wilbur; the prettiest man, period. i do not take constructive criticism. he is literally gorgeous and i get so mad at him for putting himself down all the time because he doesnt deserve the shit, especially not from himself. he is 24 years old and has the lowest self-esteem out of anybody i can think of. i want to yell in his face all the time. i want to tell him simps are the same species as him, and they have REASONS to simp. if you keep seeing appreciation posts about yourself (which im sure he does) that means people APPRECIATE YOU and WANT YOU to feel APPRECIATED. 

anyway, back to simping. let’s start from the top. his goddamn hair. it is, it is, and i just took a deep breath, so pretty. maybe it isnt the hair itself, probably, but the way it is done. wavy dark brown hair all floofy in the front. and he is constantly messing with it, which is THE cutest thing. when he is excited, he moves a lot, and his hair moves with him and gets messed up and ahhhcvkvyr moving on.

his face? lets start with his eyes. they are so pretty. i think my opinion on eyes is probably weird, and allow me to explain why. i never ever notice somebodies eye color when talking to them. i just dont even look. so when i am actively paying attention to somebody’s eyes, they are that much more important to me. but idk, i kinda feel like his eyes are one of the biggest factors of his face? like, he looks really pretty whether he is smiling or not, because his face doesn’t ride on his smile.

sidetrack paragraph about george: i think george is that way. he is adorable, but he is only really adorable when he is smiling. if i look up ‘georgenotfound cute’ it will be entirely him smiling, and never any other facial expression because he genuinely looks like the fucking weirdest thing sometimes when making a serious face. back to will.

i dont pay attention to noses because who even cares dude but i’m sure his nose does a good job of supporting his looks as well so good job nose

his SMILE. he doesn’t need to smile, but dude, when he does, it’s like i always used to say (and still would say) in regards to eijiro kirishima. it’s like... sunbeams, like rays of light are in his mouth and escaping when he smiles.i wonder how he keeps a star in there. because his smile literally lights up my heart. and when he tilts his head(basically all the time luckily)? so goddamn pretty. pretty man. pretty. 

that brings us to his neck, which is- no, kidding, but i do want to talk about his vocal chords! firstly his speaking voice, which i guess as an american it hits different for me because of the accent. but- i dont think i can put it into words. but the way he puts thoughts into words-(lol) idk, his voice is just really sweet. and his SINGING VOICE, here we go.

so he sings, duh. and i- holy fuck. he just sounds good, you know? he is a good singer. i want to put my emotions simply this time. he sings well, and he sounds good. a pretty voice for a pretty man. i cant even try to elaborate.

basically the only other thing of my concern is his fucking yellow sweater? or jumper or whatever the fuck? and his beanie? on his body? damn. i am genuinely attached to that sweater. it just looks good, ok? it does. 

oh yeah, and he’s hella fucking tall. 6′5? are you kidding? you couldn’t have at least been short so we could make fun of you?

oh yeah and his laugh-

it is now 4:53 am and a bitch is tired but i have an entire fucking train of thoughts and they must be somewhere before they slip away

the next part- Eret. i adore Eret. so incredibly much. and let me start this by saying i’m going to consistantly call him a he, because he doesn’t care and so that makes it easier for me. ok? ok.

he is the opposite of Wilbur in this one regard, confidence. and self-esteem. eret loves himself. that attitude spreads. look, not only is he like the #1 bicon in the world as far as i’m concerned, but he also actively fucks gender roles any day. strawberry dress pog? strawberry dress pog.

but seriously, he rocked the strawberry dress. and the suit, though i missed that stream. he rocks his crown, his sunglasses, just anything he puts on. and don’t get me started on the BOOTS

(im started on the boots) so firstly the heel boots, the first ones he got. when i first saw clips, my only thought was something like ‘woah.’ or maybe ‘damn.’ at that point i didn’t know much about him, just that he looked STELLAR in those boots (and the betrayal and shit yknow) and the PLATFORMS DUDE

the platforms are the same but moar tall, which is incredible. oh and now back to strawberry dress- have you seen him twirl? the twirl? hello? have you seen it? you must. 

also i havent even talked about HIM yet. hove you seen that picture of him with a bird on his shoulder? he is facing the bird, i think looking at it, with a wide smile across his face. and it is so pretty. he has the prettiest smile. 

also today i was looking for flour at the store place and a clip of him was playing in my mind- he was doing like an announcer voice, like in every superhero movie trailer- and he was just coming up with something to say, and what he ened up saying was ‘in a world... where.... cookies.... are made of pringles’ and OMFG its making me laugh even now. like of absolutely anything, that was the example he made. just thinking about it is making me smile. 

speaking of, have you heard his voice? his normal voice is really really deep anyways, but he has crazy range- he can effortlessly(i originally wrote effortly and when i noticed i laughed because i am so fucking tired bfv9wuocl) go from like an elmo impression (and a good one) to a just REALLY low voice, lower than his normal low voice. 

AND HIS SINGING VOICE! he doesn’t like actually make music like wilbur but on that one stream where he did kareoke (how the fuck is it spelled) with fundy and his voice is SO LIKE its deep and its just pretty and i never want to hear normal sweater weather ever again, just him singing it.

i think this is where i’m done with eret- it is 5:18 now, and a BITCH IS TIRED but i need to finish this while i’m still feeling this wayy or i’ll never finish it, i know this from experience.

and now it’s tommy time

the og reason i decided to make this an actual post . but i had to explain the simping thing before i got into my thoughts about tommy. 

but let me start this with just saying yes, i love him. he is a big man and i want him to be happy. which is the topic for today’s discussion, AHEM. 

so tommyinnit, right? he is 16, which is why i do NOT simp.i dont care that im also a minor, i wouldn’t do anything to make him feel uncomfortable, ever. in any world. never. because look- i dont know how to put it, but tommy is SIXTEEN. still young and impressionable and all that junk. and he is a fairly fucking famous twitch streamer. he does that almost daily.

what i’m saying is i dont want him to get hurt. him, and tubbo too. they are a part of the world, part of the public, all the time. don’t you think that is stressful? do you guys remember his haircut stream? on the day of his haircut? and chat was making fun of him for it, and wilbur was making fun of him for it. that is how i express affection, with my real friends as well. playful bullying. but at some point while Will was teasing him, he says something along the lines of ‘yeah, the big man hasn’t been having too great a day’ or something like that, and dude, my heart dropped.

a. he had mentioned earlier that he didn’t want to stream the day of his haircut because hair is always weird that first day, but since he hadn’t streamed in a good bit he felt obliged to. i dont really.. idk, i dont really like that. i dont want him to have to put himself in uncomfortable situations because he feels like he needs to for us. i don’t think that is healthy.

and b. chat and wilbur were bullying him. good-naturedly, but still, when he mentioned he had been having a bad day, the chat turned around and instantly started yelling shit like ‘AHHHH SORRY BIG MAN YOUR HAIR IS FINE’ and when Wilbur kept teasing him (you fucking beautiful bully man fuck off) yelling stuff like ‘WILBUR QUIT WE ARE H U R T I N G HIM’ and ‘WILL STFU HES HAVING A BAD DAY’ so im glad we all want him to feel ok

but still, it cannot be healthy. when i first got into MCYT, i though tommy was fucking loud and annoying. and he is! he is. but that is a big part of why i like him so much. and everyone jokes about him being a child, because he is, but i choose to not say stuff like that in chat just because i want him to be happy. those jokes are fun, but i want him to be happy. and he is happier when not being called a child.

im not attacking you, do whatever the fuck you want. i dont know why i feel the need to protect him or whatever, if he read this he would probably think i was hella creepy. i just- listen, i just want him to be happy. i just want him to smile and laugh. i sound SO GODDAMN CREEPY but- as ive said- i just want him to be happy. 

is this literally just what having a comfort streamer is? am i not crazy? does everyone experience this? and can we talk about tommy’s playlist it’s literally so sweet and bubbly compared to his personality and i love that. and the song he always plays at the start of stream and always like buzzes along to? that moment in time is my very favorite.

it is 5:44-

[sunriseseance]

HECK YEAH alrighty here we go then! 1. Broadly: what do you predict we'll see from Klaus in s3? I know you've mentioned him snapping a bit- what're your thoughts on what that might entail? (1/?)

I think that Klaus is experiencing his first full moment of independence, especially power independence, at the same time he is experiencing extreme emotional turmoil. They’ve told us that alcohol (at east) does jack shit to prevent his powers. I think that he has spent a long, long time with people who (IMO) do care about him, but don’t think about him all that often. “Klaus is still Klau” as a modus operandi for the entire family, at least at default. Now he no longer has a Powerful or Moral (although I have my problems with this interpretation) Ben to lean on, I think we’re gonna see a Klaus who is coming into his own, who is hurting deeply in ways the sibling do not (and possibly cannot, Klaus lies and masks A LOT) know, and who feels that the turmoil inside of him belongs outside. 

2. Do you expect to see Klaus’ powers expanded on in s3, and if so, how do you think they’ll go about that? I think levitation and telekinesis would be amazing but seeing as they’ve already given those away to his siblings, I don’t think it’s all that likely. I love your clairvoyance theory (more on that shortly), and I've been playing with the idea of a telepath or empath Klaus, something akin to his "channeling" powers from the comics. (2/?)

I think that probably the primary thing in store for Klaus is commanding ghosts and being possessed. These play together interestingly and are both extremely powerful. He can command an army without a second thought, and they listen to him, but also if he slips up they can jump in his body, he’s gone and they’re in charge. It’s an interesting and fruitful dichotomy and power structure. Also I think he can make ghosts possess other people. They made a big point of showing that Klaus was conscious before Ben entered Vanya’s mind. If he can command spirits, and spirits can possess other people that is a great deal of power. (Also, like, Klaus is able to make Ben not possess him. Neither of them may know it, but he DOES command spirits. He does.)

As to his comic powers, I think we may very well get them!! They’ve teased levitation multiple times in s2 alone, and I think this idea that a show about shitty superheroes would care if their powers were redundant does not quite vibe with me. Like, what’s the point of Luther if Vanya can stop bullets and lift a tank with sound waves. Klaus’s version of TK could EASILY have its own niche (no need for a trajectory or sound waves). I don’t want to promise that it’s coming because, like, focusing on his psychic related powers is more cohesive, but I don’t think that the option is in any way off the board. 

3. If they go ahead and give him clairvoyance, how would you like to see that play out? 4. Similarly, do you think his possession powers will be explored further in s3? (3/?)

I think that giving him clairvoyance would be a very handy plot device on top of being interesting for the character. Klaus’s powers have pushed him to the extremes of apathy. Imagine what that would look like if he has the capacity to know everything? He is a person who deals with the hurt of others by denying everything. He has had too much asked of his empathy and compassion. Giving him clairvoyance gives him access to all the hurt in the world. I would love to see that. I would love to see his brain forcing him to care about people because in this particular regard he CAN 100% help. 

Yes absolutely I think his possession powers will be explored further. I know this is a controversial subject, but I think the show took care to make it clear that is is awful and terrifying for him (however it was for Ben) and that it plays interestingly with his ability to summon and command spirits. It serves as a way to even the playing field, almost. He command them, they can take him over. That’s scary for everyone. I don’t think this is one and done at all. 

4. I would LOVE to hear more about your thoughts on Hotel Oblivion's influence on TUA s3- disclaimer, I haven't read the comics (yet). (4/?)

YES OKAY. Based on my own personal desires and my knowledge of the comics (Sparrows locked up) and also the Sparrow crest, I think s3 is going to include at least some of Team Zero locked in the hotel. It could EASILY be all of them, but I could see Reg deciding to keep Five, and even Vanya. This would be interesting because it allows Five to age, allows Five to rest, allows Vanya to see the horrors of actually BEING on a super hero team, and requires 1-4 to save themselves, and in my IDEAL world, save Five from Reg, as well. It would be so fun to watch 1-4 escape the hotel and rescue Five. IMO the hotel is going to be the best if it is treated as a piece of horror. Not something they can understand, something simultaneously enticing and hostile, and something that they have to fight their individual Bullshits to escape. Whoever is in it. I think that would be beautiful. 

5. How would you like to see Klaus' character develop this season? Seeing as s2 has left him unprecedentedly broken, I think this will lead to an AMAZING pay off in s3, esp when it comes to him being without Ben. His powers have so much potential (even w/o the comic book expansion pack) but they have all have come back to Ben's help. This is true of his choices too- Ben is constantly supporting/criticizing him. I'm so excited to see him alone and newly independent. (5/?)

YES SO MUCH. We watch Klaus shatter and regress completely in s2. I know a lot of people feel he wasn’t treated with respect by the narrative, and I respect that, but my general thinking is that this is a part of the whole, and everything we saw of him is in line with a) intense hurt b) the act he puts on. I think that Klaus shattered in s2. He killed the love of his life, he relapsed, and he did his best to make sure nobody cares about him. Ben turned into more of a harmful figure in his life than ever before, and now he’s lost him completely, left with only guilt, resentment, and complicated feelings. 

I think Klaus is going to actually have to DEAL with himself. He’s been able to deflect or hide or bury his hurt and his power and everything else. Like you said, he relied on Ben for a lot, and now it is only him. I think he is going to externalize the chaos he feels inside (and so does Sheehan), and I think he is going to have to confront who Klaus REALLY is, whatever that means. I think he will admit he is powerful, he is hurt, and he is angry. Ultimately, I think this will lead to him with more balance, and he will have a better understanding of himself. But I think he MUST snap a bit first. Nobody takes him seriously, not even himself. He has to change that before he can move on. 

6. How would you like to see Klaus' relationships with his siblings grow this season? I am wondering how him mourning Ben will be received by his siblings. I am also thinking a lot about whether him hitting rock bottom & truly alone for the first time will push him to be more vulnerable and open with his siblings OR if it'll be his breaking point where he shutters out everything he can, emotions and more OR a mix of both. (6/?)

This is a really good question. I’m not at all sure I have a definitive answer, but here I am typing anyway. I think the obvious setup of the first 2 seasons is that everyone thinks Klaus is fine, and that he can Manage, whatever that looks like. This includes Klaus. So my Most Fruitful Idea is to show that he isn’t fine, in a way he cannot hide. I feel like possession could be a good start to this, but so could him diminishing in his ability to respect ghosts, or many other things. Basically, I want the siblings to see through Klaus’s act. None of them, fucking none of them, ever have. He’s done his best to make that the case. I want the act to spread thin in s3, which I think is supported by how the act looks in s2, and I want the sibs to see through it finally, and I want it to be almost too late because he’s lost and angry and goddamn POWERFUL and he knows them in ways they have never known him. 

Also, I like the idea of Klaus and Allison snapping together. They are the two who lack hope, the two who accept as a blanket the end of the world, the two who enable each other, and also the two who bonded with Vanya. Seeing them go down a dark path, and seeing Vanya recognize it and help them stray away from it? Amazing. 

7. Any songs you would love to see in s3? (7/7) Sorry for the IMMENSE amount of questions, comments, and concerns, I have been pondering these things for weeks and since I always adore your tua content, I would love to hear your thoughts and any input from others!!

YES SO SO SO MUCH

I would love “Be True To Your School” by the Beach Boys because of the 60s and the irony factor. Any Bob Dylan song would send me to an early grave due to joy, but I’m gonna say especially “A Hard Rain’s A Gonna Fall” which is an incredible song about futility and trying and hurt. I also love the idea of ANY Masseduction by St. Vincent song, but I would especially nominate Masseduction, Young Lover, and Happy Birthday Johnny. 

ALSO NO NO NO NEED TO APOLOGIZE AT ALL THIS WAS SOOOOOOOOOO FUN OH MY GOD do this any time (or come off anon and into my DMs I promise I’m friendly). Thank you so so much!!!

[jimlingss]

Inside My Mind [M]

➜ Words: 19.2k

➜ Genres: 50% Fluff, 50% Smut, High School!AU

➜ Summary: You're safe in the confines of your mind. Free to think whatever, free to fantasize to your heart's content. And your imagination tends to quite a wild turn when you’re dying from sheer boredom. But when some GUY IN YOUR CLASS CAN FUCKING READ MINDS - YOU'RE NOT SAFE ANYMORE! WHAT THE FUCKSKDKASDFGHJKL—

➜ Warnings: semi-public sex, attempts at dirty talk, consenting minors engaging in sexual actives with each other, first-time sex, brief depiction of tone-deaf sexual education that doesn’t do shit.

You’re safe in the depths of your own mind.   No one knows what you’re thinking — they can’t tell when you have a constant poker face and the only change in your features is the way your brows furrow in concentration every so often.   But if the teacher and your classmates knew what was going inside your brain, they’d be aware that you were bored out of your goddamn mind.   “Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear. So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows, as yonder lady o’er her fellows shows. What does this mean? Flip to the page fifty eight and the modern translation is her beauty is too good for this world; she’s too beautiful to die and be buried. She outshines the other women like a white dove in the middle of a flock of crows. Now with the critical analysis of this soliloquy, we can deduct—”   You’re drowsy. Sleepy. Your eyelids are heavy and you feel yourself losing consciousness, head beginning to dip slightly. Everyone else seems to be dulled from the lesson like you, but none are asleep and the last thing you want is to fall out of your chair and draw attention to yourself.   So you try jostling your leg. But after a moment, it doesn’t dispel the seduction of sleep. You resort to pinching yourself, but it doesn’t work either. So you go to your last resort, allowing your mind to wander, pulling yourself away from reality….   You imagine someone crawling underneath your desk. Their rough hand tapping up your thigh, shoving your skirt up before carefully pulling your underwear down. This faceless person’s hot breath would skim against your leaking cunt and you’d feel their soft lips right on your flesh.   “You like this?” They’d chuckle lowly, vibrations traveling through your skin. “Eating you out in the middle of class like this. What a bad girl. It’s disgusting. What if they see, hmm?”   You envision them beginning to eat you out, face pulled up on your slit. Their tongue would penetrate through your hole and you’d clench around them. You’d grab their hair, sinking your fingers through their strands, pushing them closer to you while throwing your own head back to moan.    These fantasies make you wide awake again and no one can even tell you’re not paying attention.   //   The lunch bell rings and you’re finally dismissed from class, freed from the horribly dull lesson.   You’re one of the last to leave the classroom, taking your time and humming while walking out by yourself. But your mind is still reeling from your most recent conjured up fantasy. You’re still thinking about the way this faceless person would lick you up, from the bottom of your slit all the way to your clit. Their tongue would swirl around your folds, eyes glancing up to look at your fucked out expression, their tiny chuckles that would vibrate through your body and make your core clench—   Wide eyes shock you back to reality.   You go crumbling back to the ground, head out of the clouds.   Someone’s stopped in the middle of the hallway, blocking your path.   They’ve whirled their head around.   The dark-haired boy in thick rimmed spectacles looks at you in unadulterated horror and mortification, brown eyes locked into yours. The pair of you stare at each other. Colour drains from his face, lips parted, jaw dropped. It’s almost as if you have said your thoughts out loud for him to hear…   “Namjoon!”   His friend calls out his name, breaking the private bubble between you two. He runs up to him and quickly takes a glimpse of you. You don’t waste a second to step aside, moving out of the way and walking by them.    “Who’s that?” Jinyoung asks, eyes following your backside.   Namjoon answers after a delayed beat. “Y/N.”   “Huh.” His friend frowns. “Never heard of her. Anyways, what did you think of—”   Kim Namjoon is a smart, quiet individual. You’ve known him since sixth grade, but you’ve only spoken a few sentences to him at best when you were forcibly paired up by teachers for group projects. You don’t remember much about him. Only enough to recognize his face.    He’s an outsider….much like you are.   People think you’re a pleasant, hardworking, studious girl who’s compliant and no-nonsense. At least that’s your exterior. The type to live a quiet life and die quietly without contributing much to society. And you like that image — it’s not too far from the truth. But more importantly, it protects the true thoughts brewing inside your head.   But as you walk away, you can’t help glancing behind, over your shoulder towards the boy.   He’s weird. And you can’t remember what you were even thinking about anymore.   //   Against your will, you begin to notice Kim Namjoon.   You share biology and health class together; he sits a few rows away from you by the wall. And your eyes can’t help but stray off to him constantly. It’s just strange. You can’t stop your fixation about the way he looked at you, brown eyes shocked and scandalized, cheeks coloured in pink embarrassment.   It’s suspicious.   The teacher drones on and on about how the myelin sheath deteriorates and the gears of your brain start turning in sheer boredom. You glance at Namjoon’s profile from meters away before you look over to the door, envisioning someone striding in, disregarding the teacher completely.   They’d march up to your desk and pull you up by your arm until you’re standing on your feet. You imagine being pulled in, your crotch pressed to theirs. Your mouth would be devoured by their probing tongue. You’d whine at the back of your throat, grabbing onto their shoulders until they’d grunt back, having enough of it and whirling you around.    You imagine being bent over your desk, underwear pushed aside and thick fingers mercilessly shoving into your cunt. They’d curl up their knuckles and you’d cry out, grabbing the edge of your desk, notebooks and pencil cases tumbling to the ground. They’d poke and prod, pulling their fingers out to plunge them back in again, collecting your slick between their fingertips.    “You like that? Look. You’re leaking all onto the floor.”   Your fantasies continue.   For the rest of class, you continue to daydream, head in the clouds without anyone noticing.   The bell eventually rings. The students are dismissed.   As you leave, your eyes stray off to Namjoon again. He’s still sitting in his desk, unmoving. And again, there’s that horrified expression on his face. He’s red from his chin to his forehead, refusing to meet your eye even when you’re blatantly staring. More importantly, there’s something weird poking out in his lap and as you pass, he covers it up with his backpack.   Weird.   There’s something not right about this and you’re sure you’re not imagining this.    You’ve made your observation. You’ve created a question. You’ve formed a hypothesis and as outrageous as it is, it’s the best educated guess you got. And for the rest of the week, you conduct your experiment and collect the data through examining him afterwards.   When Monday arrives, you waltz to biology class, stealing a seat directly behind the guy.   Class hasn’t started, each person is still getting settled down. You prop your elbow on the desk, cheek rested in your hand as you stare at the back of his head. The strands of his hair are poking in different directions — you wonder if it’s bed head — you also spot a few moles on the nape of his neck and your eyes trace them, drawing lines like you’re making constellations.   There’s no way, but there’s no other explanation.   With a deep breath, you test your theory.   Namjoon.   He turns around. “What?”   The corner of your mouth tugs into a discreet smirk. You weren’t wrong.    His eyes widen, nearly falling out of their sockets and his jaw goes slack. He knows you’ve caught him red-handed.   But you merely shake your head, going expressionless and you stare back at him. “I didn’t call you.”   You didn’t. You thought his name.   It shouldn’t be possible, but rather than being shocked or confused, you’re excited that your hypothesis was correct after all. It’s crazy and wild, but you were right!   “Y/N—”   “Alright, alright, kids. Settle down. We have a lot to get through today. Your midterms are in three weeks and we’re slightly behind the other class…” The teacher interrupts and he’s forced to turn back around and pay attention.   For the rest of class, you think of nothing, simply paying attention to the best of your abilities despite becoming more and more drowsy.   By the time everyone’s dismissed again, Kim Namjoon whirls himself around fast enough to get whiplash and he grabs your wrist before you can flee. “C-Can I talk to you?”   //   The two of you end up at the back of the school, standing on the dead grass beside the spray painted wall. It’s a place where love confessions happen or fights are scheduled. You’re pretty sure he’s going to do neither — no one has crushes on you and while the guy is taller and broader than you are, you doubt he would try to beat you to a pulp. Probably.   “H-how did you figure it out?”   Namjoon’s a nervous mess, pushing his dirty glasses up the slope of his nose. It slumps down again, but he doesn’t seem to care. He’s sweating buckets, swallowing hard, panicked.   You shrug. “I just did.” You don’t want to talk about your fantasies out loud and how you caught the look on his face. You’re more interested in this skill of his, curiosity piqued. “So it’s true then? You can read minds?”   The boy’s trying his best to explain himself. “I-...I was born with this ability. It...it skips a generation in my family and I was the one to get it. I’ve always had it. D-don’t tell anyone. No one else knows and I don’t want to be part of an experiment.”   Like the one you did on him, except you imagine a proper experiment might be worse. NASA would probably strap him to a table and pull apart his brain to see what’s going on.   You get his fears and he seems to read your mind, becoming relieved at your thoughts. “Sorry for putting you through my experiment.” You step closer, invading his personal space without realizing. “But can you really do it? It’s just a bit hard for me to believe. What am I thinking about right now?”   He stumbles back a step, uncomfortable. “Me.”   It’s obvious, so you envision a string of numbers inside your head. “What number am I thinking about?”   “One thousand five hundred sixty four.”   Your mouth draws open. “What an—”   “Horses.”   “What—”   “Blue.”   “Shit!” You’re grinning, arms in the air, unable to contain how impressed and excited you are. “This is so cool! Why didn’t I know about this before?!”   A timid smile pulls onto his cheeks. “I mean we don’t really talk—”   “Oh my god.” Your expression washes over to a deadpan, lips pressing together. “Do you get good grades because you cheat on tests?”   “I mean...I try...not to…”   “God, this is so unfair, but also,” you eye him up and down while stepping back, “really invasive.”   The boy swallows hard, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as he redirects his vision downwards to his shoes. “Sorry about that.”   You grimace, muttering, “d-don’t expose my thoughts….”   Namjoon becomes red in the face, knowing exactly what you’re referring to. “I won’t. I don’t think I’d even be able to say the things you think out loud.”   You scoff, crossing your arms and defending yourself. “It’s normal, you know, for people our age to be a bit….hormonal.”   “Alright,” he answers, but you can hear the skeptical tone. You’re a freak — it’s true, but you didn’t want anyone to know, Namjoon is most definitely not an exception to that either.    “Don’t reveal my secret and I won’t reveal yours. Deal?” you offer it up, negotiating and he nods, promising not to.   It’s cool that Namjoon can read minds, but you’re not sure what to do with this new information. You guess you have mixed feelings with the idea that your thoughts and fantasies are no longer safe, but it’s not like you two interact with each other much or even talk. It’s still exciting, but doesn’t change much of anything.   The pair of you part ways, returning to the strangers that you are.

That should be it.   You now know that he can read minds. He knows you’re a freak in disguise. A secret for a secret. There’s no reason for any more interaction or conversations to be exchanged. You both lead your own separate lives…   But while your mouth doesn’t physically make sounds towards him nor do your eyes stray onto him anymore, your mind travels far and wide.   In the middle of a school assembly, forced to stand there and listen to the principal speak, your brain begins to do what it does best — dreaming about fantasies that can’t be fulfilled in reality.   You imagine someone sneaking behind you, arms wrapping around your abdomen. They’d turn your head and force their tongue down your throat, claiming you as their own. Their hands would wander, from the skin of your stomach down to your navel and then past the band of your panties—   There’s a poke to your side, bringing you back to reality “Can you stop?” the person mutters out from the corner of their mouth in frustration.   You look over, finding Namjoon standing right beside you.   OH.   “It’s distracting,” he dips his head, whispering and trying to remain discreet, not drawing the attention of any teacher who would reprimand him for talking when he’s not supposed to.   You open your mouth to defend yourself, but then you remember he can hear your thoughts.   Get out of my head, Namjoon! Oh my god! What’s wrong with you?!   “I can’t,” he murmurs, looking straight forward to the principal who’s now talking about keeping the school as clean and environmentally friendly as possible. “You’re too close in my proximity.”   Luckily enough, most of your fantasies are of faceless people. Sometimes you fantasize about celebrities, but most often than not, you never discern a specific person, never dwelling on their facial details. But that still doesn’t make it any less mortifying.   When someone tells you to stop thinking about something, all you can do is think about it.   Falling onto the ground. Being pinned to the gymnasium floor. Being fucked roughly until screaming—   “Y/N.” Namjoon calls you louder this time, jabbing your side and several students turn around to see what’s going on. None of you move, looking straight ahead and they spin back around. After a moment of silence, he looks at you again. “Stop.”   I can’t! I can’t help it! I can’t contain it. I just...I’m too….horny.   “Oh my god.” Namjoon is flustered and he puts his hands into his pants pocket, shifting uncomfortably. “Can you please pay attention and listen or like...think about what you’re going to eat later for dinner?”   Fine. God. You’re annoying. You’re so annoying! Who told you to get into my head?! This is so embarrassing! I want to die. Oh my god. Get out of my brain! Get out! Get out!!   For the rest of the assembly, you’re insulting him and whining inside your mind, wishing the world would just swallow you whole or at least let you curl up into a ball of shame. It’s not your fault that you like to think about these things. It’s normal in fact. People act on their urges. At least you have enough self-restraint than them and you put on a better facade.   Why do you have to be punished for something out of your control?   //   It turns out you’re not safe anywhere.    Before all this, your fantasies would come occasionally when you were bored in class and your brain began wandering. But now that you knew your thoughts were exposed and you were trying your best not to think about it anymore, it’s inadvertently all you can think about.    It’s reverse psychology at its worst.   It especially becomes severe when Namjoon’s around, namely in biology and health class when you’re actively conscious of his presence. Even when he sits across the classroom from you, as far as he can physically get, every ten minutes, you see him turn in his seat to glare at you with bright pink cheeks.   “I can’t pay attention in class,” he mutters one day when he decides to sit next to you — apparently taking a seat here and far away makes zero difference to him.   “Look, my thoughts are my thoughts,” you harshly whisper, not letting anyone else eavesdrop lest their blood run cold as well. “Maybe you should try zoning me out instead. Didn’t you say you were born with...this? Shouldn’t you be good at ignoring people’s thoughts?”   You don’t understand. There were thirty kids around — you couldn’t be the only one bothering him.   “Yeah, but your thoughts are...different.” He’s frustrated, huffing out and pushing his glasses up. “Can’t you control your urges for an hour?”   For a moment, you forget he can read your mind.   When you remember again, you don’t say anything.   You think of your answer.   No.   But despite your annoyance and embarrassment, you try your best. And you do remain focused for the entire lesson, listening and taking diligent notes. When you get confused at a portion, frowning and erasing a few sentences, Namjoon leans over and passes you his notebook.    There’s a note in the corner that reads: he means protein, not lipids.   It clicks inside your brain and you pass it back to him, meeting his brown eyes. Thanks.   Namjoon smiles and you muse he isn’t such a bad guy….   It’s a thought that has his smile widening.   //   At the end of the day, you pack up your belongings, swinging the backpack over your shoulders to begin the trek home. It’s your usual routine, walking past the school gate, fiddling with your earbuds and listening to some music as you walk down the road. But the main difference of today is that you notice a certain someone is ahead of you, going in the same direction.   You rip out your headphones, quickening your pace to meet theirs. And the moment you get three meters away, he turns around, already hearing your thoughts.   What are you doing here?   “Taking the bus home,” Namjoon answers with a few blinks and when your next question appears, he elaborates, “I usually stay at school for a bit to finish some work.”   Oh. That makes sense. I never usually see you.   “Actually, I’ve seen you a few times...waiting for the bus….not on purpose. You just happen to be standing there.”   Huh. I guess I never noticed.   The boy syncs his steps into yours and he scratches the back of his neck, peeking at you quickly. “Y/N, c-can you talk out loud? It’s kind of weird to other people if I’m the only one talking to you and you’re saying nothing.”   “Oh. Yeah. Sorry.” You nod, having gotten used to communicating through your mind. “Is it...weird to hear people’s thoughts all the time?”   “Yeah.” A tiny smile graces the boy’s lips, having never thought of encapsulating his ability in that one word that undermines yet explains everything he feels. “It’s weird. And really noisy.”   “Seems pretty cool though.”   “You’d think. But that’s until you know what’s going in people’s heads.” Namjoon releases a wistful sigh and steals a glance at you before shying away. You’re the only one who knows outside of his family and he seizes the moment to share a piece of his sadness, wanting someone to understand. He murmurs, “There’s a reason I’m not that close to anyone...”   You stare at him, not sure what to say. You never really thought about the repercussions — solely focusing on yourself and hating how he invaded your head. But for a split second, you see the pain etched onto his features. His ability might be more of a curse than a blessing.   “You’re not close to your family?” you ask. At this point, you’re sure there’s no such thing as boundaries or privacy between each other, no question or topic that’s off limits.   “Not really,” Namjoon admits casually and your heart aches for him, not knowing what to say. “I know what they really think of me.”   “Well a lot of people think things they don’t mean to say or do. Thoughts come and go. And we all get angry and upset sometimes. I’m sure your parents care about you. If they didn’t, they wouldn’t...be around, right?”   He smiles softly, knowing that you’re trying to comfort him. “Yeah, I guess. You’d be surprised though. A lot of people’s thoughts are bad and evil. Yours is just dirty.” Namjoon becomes shy, but he says it so bluntly almost like he doesn’t mind it so much anymore.   Your eyes immediately avert away from him, scoffing and trying not to burn up in shame.   The boy grins and he also looks ahead, down the road sparse of people. He continues, trying to ease the heaviness of the conversation, “Whelp, it’s not all that bad. I’m planning to go to MK National University, so…...yeah, I’ll be able to kind of get away for a while.”   “Oh. What do you want to do?”   “I don’t know yet. I’m thinking maybe their engineering program. I think I’m interested in civil engineering.” Namjoon nods and he seems more sure of himself than how he makes it out to be. It occurs to you how cute his awkwardness is, the way he’s kind of pure and sweet, how his uniform seems more stretched out than it’s supposed to be. But as fast as these thoughts flood into your system, you quickly nip them in the bud before he knows. “How about you?”   “I’ve actually been considering going to MKNU too. I think I want to go into a mathematics program.” You shrug. “But I have no idea what I’ll do with that degree yet. I just like math.”   Other clusters of kids around are talking about what they want to eat later, the latest hot gossip around school, what movies have come out, but here you and Namjoon are, being nerds. You’re sharing your love for math while talking about post secondary and the application process that most don’t even know about yet. It’s been a while since you’ve met someone as passionate about school as you are.   “That’s impressive. Doesn’t their mathematics program require an eighty five percent average?”   “Something like that. I don’t remember the exact number. Engineering’s not too far off, I think. But yeah, things would be okay if it wasn’t for biology dragging my entire mark down.” You exhale a lungful, lolling your head to one side while feeling death upon your shoulders. “I haven’t been really paying attention, so that doesn’t help. It’s just really boring to me.”   “Yeah. I can tell.” Namjoon laughs, a gentle sound that rings pleasantly into your ears. He refers to your distracting thoughts and before you can defend yourself, he says, “I can help you if you want. I get it. Mostly.”   You perk up, spine straightening, steps slowing as your eyes widen. “Really?”   “If you can help me with calculus,” he negotiates with a reserved smile. “There’s some differentiation questions that I’m kind of confused on.”   The boy already knows the answer before it’s come out of your mouth. It’s a deal of a lifetime after all and you’d jump oceans to take it. His smile widens yet again at your excitement.   Deal. “Deal! Sounds like a plan, Kim!”   //   The corner spot of the library is your usual place, chair and table positioned perfectly so you can see the entrance and you’ll be able to quickly look up and call him over when he comes. But for now, you pull out your textbook, notebooks and pencil case, flipping through the review book you printed out and seeing what questions you can answer on your own.   You become lost in your work, focused to the point of forgetting your surroundings, so you don’t see who’s approaching until they slide up right beside you.   “Hey. Seulgi, is it?”   Jung Hoseok has his elbows propped up on the table, cheek rested in his hand as he lazily smirks at you. His dark-hair is gelled back, small gold chain on top of his uniform that you’re sure is bought from ebay, top buttons of his shirt loose like his slacks. You are wholly unimpressed. “What? No.”   “Oh shit. Aren’t you in Mr. Jeon’s math class?”   “No.” You shake your head slowly, wondering why he’s talking to you. The guy doesn’t even know your name. He’s radiating off these sleazy vibes too that you don’t appreciate. You hope he leaves soon. “I’m in Mr. Min’s.”   “Shit.” He raises his hands, palms out like he’s being arrested. “My bad. Swore I’ve seen you before though.”   “Yeah. I go to school here,” you say in an exaggerated tone. You want to go back to work. He’s interrupted you rudely and you still don’t know what he wants with you. “Do you need something?”   “Did your class do those math worksheets?” He leans back. “I...uh...kinda forgot they were due today and was wondering if you could...help me out…”   You pause, annoyed beyond belief. But to outsiders, your meek exterior remains. People always think they can step on you, but it’s not like that at all. “Sorry. We didn’t get them,” you lie and fortunately, he can’t read your mind. Jung Hoseok doesn’t know that you got them two weeks ago, that you finished them a few days after and it’s sitting in your backpack right now.   “Oh, cool. But think you can help me—”   You stand abruptly.   A grin spreads into your face and you wave your arm towards the entrance, completely looking past the fuck boy that is Jung Hoseok.    “Namjoon!” Your shout is too loud for the silent space of the library, and a few turn around to stare. The librarian recognizes you and doesn’t mind the one time offense of being noisy.   The boy you’re signalling comes tottling over with his own smile, books in hand, backpack swinging on one shoulder, pushing his thick-rimmed glasses up the slope of his nose.    “I saved you a spot.” You motion across from you before glancing at Hoseok and shooing him away with an innocent question, “Are you moving?”   At the same time, someone weaves through the bookshelves. A tall, pretty female comes out and by her long black hair and shorter skirt; you recognize her as Krystal. She lolls her head to her shoulder. “Hey, Jay. Are we going or what?”   “Oh yeah. Hold up.” He gets up, tucks the chair in before the librarian yells at him. He throws an arm around the girl’s shoulder and as Namjoon gets settled down, the female looks at both you and him in equal disdain.   “Who did you talk to?” she murmurs, but you hear it loud and clear.   Hoseok shrugs, walking away. “Thought she was in my class.”   You and Namjoon are nobodies and while you don’t know how he feels about it or if he has an opinion at all, you personally like it that way. You enjoy being on the down low, living a discreet life and not drawing any unnecessary attention to yourself.   “Was he bothering you?” Namjoon pulls out his notebooks, stealing a peek at you.   A scoff is pulled out of your throat. “No. He just interrupted me in the middle of solving a question. Speaking of which, I don’t really get number nine. I’m really confused on the concept of trisomy and disomy and figuring out ploidy numbers. I don’t get how the answer can be b and not a.”   “Okay, wait.” He softly laughs, practically dumping his backpack out on the table in haste. “Let me get out the booklet first.”   The two of you study together, getting halfway through the booklet. Namjoon happily answers your questions and clears up any confusion you might have. While he waits for you to finish a question, he works on calculus homework that you’ve already completed and you help explain some things that he’s unsure about.   But as you continue working, the boringness of biology begins to submerge you. At some point, you become drowsier and your brain wanders against your will out of sheer boredom. You imagine being pushed against the bookshelves, uniform skirt pulled up, someone’s hand cupping over your mouth to muffle your sounds as they start to rub their crotch all over you, humping your ass—   “Y/N!” Namjoon shouts your name louder than he’s supposed to, shocked, and you come crashing down to reality. Some people turn around, startled, and they only return to their work when they realize nothing’s happening.   Sorry.   The boy sighs, red in the face. He shifts uncomfortably while you gingerly rub your thighs together beneath the table. A few seconds pass. He swallows hard, flipping through a few pages of his textbook and decides to speak his mind, whispers lowly, “Why...don’t you try porn?”   What? What do you mean? Like watching porn?   No one knows the private conversation that’s happening in the corner of the library. “Maybe that can...help with your situation, so you can feel less…..horny...all the time.”   Oh my god. Don’t say that word out loud!!! And you thought I haven’t tried?! I just...don’t like it. Most of the time, it goes too quickly and it’s too cringey and cliché and I’m not a fan of close ups of...genitalia. For your information, I’ve tried writing erotica too, but I couldn’t finish. I’ve tried, thank you very much.   You slump in your seat, cheeks warming as you admit these thoughts.   Namjoon nods, finding your arguments fair. He tries to search for a solution to your predicament. “Have you ever tried...you know….relieving yourself?”   Sometimes.   You remember those late nights after your parents have gone to bed. In the darkness of your bedroom, you like to put your soft pillow between your thighs and rock back and forth to release some tension in your body. You stifle the sounds with your blanket, but often times the pillow isn’t enough and your hands always go to your shorts, rubbing the spot that makes it feel good—   Namjoon’s hand suddenly propels forward, latching onto your wrist. He lowers his head until his forehead is practically pressed on the pages of his notebook, eyes unable to meet yours. “Can you please stop thinking about it?” he harshly whispers, begging you.   Immediately, you’re mortified.    You let the thoughts slip.   Namjoon knows how you get yourself off now.   I can’t help it!    You feel less like a teenager and more like a hyperactive rabbit in need of reproducing. These primitive urges overwhelm you and while you’ve restrained yourself in a physical manner, it’s difficult to get your thoughts in control as well. But you were supposed to be safe in your own head. Merely thinking and not acting was supposed to be good enough.    You think I’m not frustrated either?! I don’t need these distractions in my life, okay?! I’m just trying to get into uni. It’s your fault for reading my mind all the time. Can’t YOU just stop?!   “I can’t either,” he argues back, huffing with a frown.   It becomes silenced.   A grimace has permanently made its mark on your features. Your mechanical pencil digs roughly against the paper as you move to solve the next question and do the proper calculations. But it snaps with the force of your hand and you groan, pressing the end to bring out more lead.   You force yourself to focus and keep answering. But no matter what you do outwardly, Namjoon can still hear your internal self — he knows you’re angry with him, angry with yourself.   Five minutes pass before the boy can’t take it anymore. He lifts his chin and finds the furrow of your brows.    “Y/N.”   “What.” Your tone is short, curt, decorated with a slight pout. The corner of his mouth tickles, threatening to tug a bit.   Namjoon takes a deep breath to prepare himself. Unlike him, you can’t hear the thoughts in his mind. He has to physically say out the words. “What if I helped you?”   You raise your chin, locking your gaze with his, befuddled. “What?”   The boy in the gawky glasses, awkward movements and oversized uniform moves closer, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, whispering lowly in a rumbling timbre, “I mean….what if we get it done and over with. You know...get over our primitive needs. Then none of us need to ever think about it again.”   It’s like the pair of you are exchanging secrets under a blanket after building a secret fort together. You’re leaning over the table, nearly bent over and he’s moved his torso on top of the surface as well. But you still don’t get it, eyes blinking at him. “What are you talking about?”   “You know—” Namjoon doesn’t want to say it out loud. “—that one word. Three letters. Starts with an S. Ends with an X.”   Sex?! Your mind goes completely blank for a full three seconds. You. You want to have sex with me?   “No-...yes….I mean…” He’s embarrassed that you thought about it so bluntly. If only the passing librarian knew that the two studious students in her library were talking about having sexual intercourse and not biology or mathematics, she’d faint. “I think about it too sometimes and...a lot a-actually...yeah...it doesn’t have to be a big deal, is what I’m saying. I mean we can get it done and over with. Do it once and get it out of our system….”   You’re aware Namjoon isn’t acquainted with many girls. So this is a mutually beneficial agreement. A win-win.   It doesn’t sound like a terrible idea. Don’t you want to wait for someone special though?   “I-It doesn’t really matter to me,” he murmurs, stuttering and he’s fumbling with his words in a way you’ve never seen before. Somehow eloquent Namjoon has been reduced to the word ‘I mean’, repeating them over and over again as he shrivels up in shame. “And I mean...we’re friends. I mean, unless...unless y-you want to wait for someone special.”   I don’t think I have time to be with someone special. Of all the fantasies you have, you honestly can’t imagine getting into a relationship. You have your priorities and the idea of going on dates is kind of cringey and awkward. But what strikes you in his offer is that— We’re friends?   Namjoon’s face has gone red from his chin to his hairline. It’s endearing. And your thought makes the colour of his flushing skin deepen in hue. “I thought we were.”   No...we are. But you’re about to become friends with benefits instead of normal platonic friends.   “Do it once and get it out of your system?” you verbalize your words, making sure that you have it right.   “Yeah, what do you think?” Namjoon searches your expression carefully.   It’s not a bad proposition. Very realistic and maybe even responsible of you. Do it once and you can set your mind straight. You’ll be able to focus on what really matters and no longer have these futile delusions. Considering he has no experience like you, it’ll probably suck and that’s not such a bad thing either — your fantasies can stop after you’ve gotten a taste of reality.   You don’t think of anything. You don’t say anything either.   You simply nod. Agreeing.   //   The house is silent — for the most part. There are noises of thumping from above, footsteps thundering on the carpet that interrupt the otherwise quiet study session. Paper, notebooks, textbooks and worksheets are sprawled all over the table with pencils and erasers. You’re working hard on memorizing diagrams while the person across from you is pressing chains of numbers into their calculator.   No sooner does your mom come prancing down the stairs, bag slung over her shoulder. “Y/N? I’m going to wor—...who is this?” She stops mid-step despite being late, eyes growing wide at the strange boy sitting at her dinner table.   “Hmm?” You lift your head from your notes, playing it off nonchalantly. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. But, this is Namjoon. He’s a classmate. We’re just doing some biology review together since there’s a midterm coming up.”   “Hello.” Namjoon gives a polite smile like a picture perfect son. “Nice to meet you.”   “Kim Namjoon?” she questions, tipping her head to the side.    Your brows raise. “You know him?”   “Yes! I used to be close to your mother when you were in sixth grade and there was that school bake sale with Y/N and a whole bunch of other kids.” Her stern and defensive expression melts into a soft look, smile adorning her face. “I almost didn’t recognize you! My goodness, you’ve grown up so much! I remember when you were only this tall.” Her hand comes up to about her waist.    “You always wore this blue Mickey Mouse hoodie around and you loved dinosaurs. I haven’t spoken to your mom in so long. Is she doing well?”   “Yeah, she’s good.” He smiles, happy that his eleven-year old self made such a lasting impression.   “Mom, aren’t you late for work?” You twist yourself all the way around, trying to get her to leave. She was embarrassing you and Namjoon knows — it makes him grin.   Your mother is reminded and she whips her neck around to the clock then quickly moves to the foyer, grabbing her car keys and slipping on her shoes. In her rushing circumstances, she doesn’t even take a moment to consider the repercussions of leaving a teenage boy inside her house alone with her daughter. After all, he’s sweetheart Namjoon — what could he possibly do to you?   “Right! I should get going. Your dad’s home in a few hours! If you get hungry, there’s food in the fridge and pizza in the freezer! Go heat some up for Namjoon. It’s not everyday that we have guests, so we shouldn’t leave them hungry!”   “Got it. Bye!”   The door slams shut and you turn back around with a sigh. “Sorry about that.”   “It’s okay.” He returns to his work, finishing up with a question.   There’s an extended pause, the sounds of pencil scratching the paper filling the silence before you ask, “What does she think?” You’re curious, wondering if she suspects anything at all.   “She thinks I’m sweet.” Namjoon grins and you realize he has slight dimples in his cheeks when he does so. “And she’s glad you have a friend.”   You scoff. Too bad your mom doesn’t know that this sweet boy she remembers as a sixth grader is about to fuck her daughter. The thought has Namjoon choking on air, sputtering on his spit, but neither of you say anything out loud, focusing on finishing up instead.   In the next twenty minutes, you shut your textbook. Done.   There’s only one thing left to do before he’s on his way.   “Should we—….”   “Yeah, I think we should…”   It’s time to learn some real biology.   “Okay.” You stand, showing him to your bedroom and he picks up his backpack along the way. “You got the goods?”   “I got some goods that’ll help, I think. When’s your dad coming back by the way? I really...don’t want to be killed.”   “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. We got like...three hours. But I doubt it’ll take that long.” More like three minutes.   “Hey.” He gives you a look, pouting.   You’re sheepish. Sorry.   Namjoon enters your room while you apologize for it being so messy. You had actually cleaned it up and one read of your brain, he knows you tried hard and tells you it’s fine with a smile. He takes in the space of your bedroom, realizing it smells like you and he lingers awkwardly, not sure what protocol is. The only female bedroom he’s ever been in was his older sister’s and this was definitely not the same.   He ends up following your lead, sitting beside you on your bed, right at the edge of your mattress. “So…”   “What first?”   “I don’t know.”   It’s terribly, terribly awkward. You begin to second guess everything in your life that led up to this point, but you quickly calm your nerves and after some discussion, Namjoon ends up leaning against the headboard and you’re sitting in his lap stiffly, hovering over his thighs.   “You can sit down properly. You won’t crush me or anything, so don’t worry about it.”   “Okay.” But you’re still tense in his lap.    Namjoon keeps his hands to himself, arms right by his side. He gulps and clears his throat. “We should probably kiss...right?”   “Right. Um...have you kissed anyone before?”   “No. You?”   “Once,” you answer. “I think in Kindergarten while lining up for the water fountain, this kid turned around and our mouths kind of...hit each other.”   “So no then.” He laughs and the sound eases your nerves a little. He swallows a mouthful of spit and his eyes flicker down to your lips for a second before going back into your eyes. “You wanna?”   “I guess.” You shrug. “If we’re going to do it, might as well kiss. C-can I take this off though?”   Namjoon nods and you carefully slide his thick-rimmed glasses off his face, leaning over to set them on the nightstand by your lamp. With a deep breath, you settle yourself back down onto his thighs, psyching yourself up. Okay, okay. You can do this. You can do this. It’s not a big deal.    “You don’t have to be nervous,” he whispers and you nod. “Is it okay if we….”   “Yeah. Just do it.”   “Well...y-you should close your eyes.”   “S-sounds good.” You shut your eyes tight, hands curled into fists and breath hitching in your nose. When it takes too long, you begin to move forward. Unbeknownst to you, Namjoon is stealing a moment to stare at you, your features, lashes, lips, how your face is cutely scrunched up. He smiles and subdues his own nervousness, fluttering his eyes closed, leaning forward.   The boy tilts his head slightly to the left and he misses. Namjoon ends up at the corner of your mouth, near your cheek and when he realizes, he positions himself and finally, your lips graze.   You keep your mouth sealed tight like a toddler who doesn’t want to be fed carrots. He presses against your lips lightly and you muse how plush it feels.   Namjoon moves away after three seconds and you exhale, lids opening. “Like that?”   “I think so. M-maybe...more though.”   “More like how?” He frowns, not understanding and you stutter, unable to speak.   “U-Umm…” Longer? Maybe open our mouths? Don’t they french kiss in the movies? Aren’t tongues supposed to touch or something? Or is that gross? I don’t know.   Luckily for you, nothing needs to be said. Namjoon can read your chaotic thoughts and he goes ahead, trying one more time. He goes slowly enough that it gives you enough time to close your eyes again and he presses against your mouth, a bit harder and for longer. This time, it’s not just a graze.    His nose bumps into yours and you help him by tilting your own head. It’s soft, Namjoon landing multiple pecks on your lips as if he’s trying to kiss a boo-boo away. It tastes like moisturizing chapstick, waxy and a hint of vanilla.   You finally breathe once you can’t hold your breath any longer. In the meanwhile, his hands come up to gingerly hold your cheeks, palms cupping your skin, keeping you in place. You feel your body begin to relax, muscles no longer seizing and you settle more into his lap, feeling something weird poke at you from underneath.   You’re unable to pinpoint it when he pulls away. “Better?”   “Y-Yeah…..that was better. I think….we should try again…just to make sure we got it right.”   “Yeah...okay...alright.”   It’s more intimate than you expected. You never imagined being this close to Namjoon to the point where you can feel his own body heat, have his warm breath tickle your skin, count his lashes, see the crevices of his dimples. But you don’t get to dwell at how awkward this all is when he goes in for a third round.   This time, your lips are parted and his are too. It’s less tense and uncomfortable and the boy has gained more confidence, tiling his head at a better angle. He kisses you, locking your mouths together and as you exhale, he inhales. You don’t realize your hands have lifted to the back of his neck and how he’s pulled you closer onto his lap.    Namjoon pushes harder. It’s sloppy, but also eager and more curious. His tongue prods at the seams of your lips and it draws a noise at the back of your throat. He hums back, vibrations pleasant. It’s warm, slobbery and wet with spit. With the two of you inexperienced, you’re sure this isn’t exactly right. It’s weird.   But also not bad.   He breaks away after a minute or so and you use the back of your hand to wipe your mouth that’s wet with his saliva. Namjoon takes one look at you, reads your thoughts and smiles, glad that it wasn’t too atrocious.   “W-what now?”   “I mean….do you wanna take off your clothes?”   “Uhhh…..”   “We don’t have to. I mean….we only need to take off our pants and underwear. I’m fine with anything if you’re fine with anything. W-we can stop if you want. N-no pressure.”   “Um….I’m fine with taking off our pants.” And our underwear.   “Got it.” Namjoon stands, fumbling with his pants, hands trembling, and you look away, slipping off your own before deciding to just go for it and taking off your panties with it. You’re surprisingly slick, crotch area of your underwear ruined and you push it off your bed to deal with later. “I got some stuff.”   He digs into his backpack, coming out with three condoms and a bottle of aloe vera gel. You eye it and he explains, “It’s supposed to be a lubricant...so you don’t get hurt…”   “Can that go up my….coochie?” The last thing you want is to get an infection because of some boy or worse, go to the ER. You wouldn’t know how to explain that to your parents.   “Don’t worry. I googled it.”   “You’re prepared, Kim,” you banter, making for a more light-hearted atmosphere. He grins and you keep your eyes trained on his, refusing to look down to his pants-less legs and crotch area.   But he knows what you’re doing and becomes insecure by your refusal to look, cheeks becoming warm. “You don’t have to be scared. It won’t hurt you or anything. Do...you want to try touching it?”   For fear of creating a misunderstanding, you brace yourself and look down. Namjoon’s cock is completely hard, red and somewhat curved, a clear liquid oozing from the tip. It looks like a deformed sausage for lack of a better term, but also not so much. While it’s not the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen, it’s an intimidating, good five inches. “S-sure.”   Your hand reaches out, circling around his member lightly. It’s not as hard as you thought it would be, skin kind of soft and fleshy. He laughs, asking you what you imagined it to be like and you shrug. Curious, you try giving it a squeeze and immediately, Namjoon tenses. You look up at him, gauging his reaction. “Does that feel good?”   “Uh-huh.” He nods, releasing a held breath.   Suddenly, you feel a surge of power ricocheting through your veins. His prized possession was in your hands. You have the ability to bring him to pleasure or make him suffer. The ideas swirling inside your head makes him swat your hand away, a bit scared. You grin at him, stifling back a laugh without knowing just how you were riling him up. Namjoon tries to calm himself down before he busts all over his legs, standing in the middle of your room.   Luckily, his dick is not as obscene as other dicks are in porn videos. And you don’t feel disgusted, per say. You just don’t know how that’s supposed to go inside of you. There’s no way.   “It’s not that big. Average actually. It’ll probably fit,” he reassures you. “Ummm….you can lay back if you want.”   “Okay.” You feel comfortable enough around Namjoon to get on your back, head plopping down on your pillow and your hands gathered at your stomach like you’re about to be lowered into your grave — something you’re pretty sure is not off the mark.   Namjoon makes no comment on your metaphor, grabbing the bottle and condoms and climbing onto your bed, sitting back on his knees. “D-do you want me to….do o-oral on you?”   The thought of his mouth on your private parts makes you flinch, worried about a hundred different things, if you smell bad, if you’ll taste bad. The onslaught of concerns makes him blink hard, caught off guard. “I don’t have to. I don’t mind...about anything, so you don’t have to worry.”   “Maybe later,” you mutter and he nods.   “Then should we…?”   “Yeah. Go for it.”   This was unlike all your fantasies — this was very real.   You were beginning to get super nervous, more so than before. And Namjoon doesn’t seem as composed as he makes himself out to be. He nearly drops the bottle of aloe vera, but manages to get it open and squeezes a generous amount on his hands. “Can I—”   “Sure. Go ahead. You’re going to have to eventually touch it, right?” you laugh stiffly, trying to play it off and he nods. Namjoon shuffles forward, swallowing hard. His other hand gently touches your propped up leg and slowly, he spreads your thighs.    He seems to stop for a moment, staring at your pussy and you feel an urge to cover your face up with your hands. The boy says nothing and simply begins to rub the lubricant all over your folds. You jolt at the foreign sensation, of someone’s hands on your body, and he instantly stops.    “It’s cold.”   “Oh. Umm..”   “It’s fine. Just keep going.”   “Yeah, okay.” Namjoon squeezes the bottle again, getting a handful and he rubs his cock up and down, body shivering as he does so. He halts after two strokes and returns to dumping half of the aloe vera into his hands.    You shiver as his fingers touch against your slit, how he rubs up and down, everywhere he can get his hands to. It makes you feel hot inside and out. But he puts so much on that it’s beginning to feel more like he’s trying to frost a cake than touch you. “That’s...a lot, Namjoon.”   “I just don’t want you to get hurt,” he insists in concern and makes sure to get the aloe all over your pussy to the point where you don’t even need your own slickness, pink slit covered with a thick layer of transparent gel. “Okay, I think that’s good.”   “Wait. Don’t you need to put on your condom?”   “R-right, almost forgot about that.”   “That’s a really important step,” you giggle and watch as he fumbles with the condom package.    Ten seconds and he still can’t rip it open. It’s excruciating, so you prop yourself up by your elbows, taking it from him. “Sorry. It’s the aloe. It made my hands really sticky.”   “It’s okay.” You hold yourself back from laughing, but it spills past and he begins laughing too, running a hand through his hair and accidentally getting gel in it. It makes you laugh harder and you finally get the package open. “Wait, aren’t we supposed to roll it on?”   “I think so.”   “Do you know how to put on a condom?”   “No. Do you?”   “How would I know?”   “Well, I don’t.” You try to help him roll the condom onto his cock. With Namjoon’s sticky hands and your inexperience, it’s an absolute mess. The pair of you are gathered together, fumbling with his dick, trying to get it on like you’re attempting to make balloon animals. “Wait, let me pinch it. I don’t want you to accidentally pinch my foreskin!”   You burst out into laughter and he laughs too. “Oh my god! I’m not going to pinch your foreskin!”   “We never know what could happen!” he argues back lightheartedly and manages. “There.” But before Namjoon crawls over, he dumps the rest of the bottle of aloe onto his condom, dousing it from the tip to where his hair is like it’s free fondue.    Lo and behold, after twenty minutes of poorly attempted foreplay and a lot of lubricant-applying, he’s finally between your thighs, positioning himself….or at least trying to.   You lift your head slightly to look at him. “Maybe we should stop and go watch a tutorial.”   “No, it’s fine. It’s just...a lot lower than I expected.”   “Where did you think it was going to be?”   “I don’t know. Higher up. Here, I think I got it.”   “Wrong hole, Namjoon!” you shriek and he stops, apologizing a thousand times. This was going horrifically, but also extremely hilariously. You have mixed feelings in general, but your thoughts begin to quiet down when he finds your hole, spreading your folds enough that his single finger can enter. You shiver, feeling weirded out by it.    It was more like an examination than anything sexual, but you don’t dwell.   “Okay….I think I got the tip in place. Ready?”   You nod. “Go for it.”   It’s slippery, so much lubricant that you his cock brushes back and forth until it finds its place and you barely feel any rough intrusion. Instead, it slides in smoothly and you inhale a sharp breath, flinching upwards. It’s a strange discomfort in your gut. It burns and feels like someone stuck a medical instrument into your intestines. Huh.   Namjoon, on the other hand, is having a very different experience.   He’s shaking above you, eyes shut tight, unable to read your mind when he’s beginning to break into a sweat. He stops halfway and forces himself to look at you. “D-does it hurt?”   “N-not really. Kind of uncomfortable.”   “Want me to stop?”   “No, it’s okay. You can keep going.”   “F-fuck,” he curses and obliges, moving all the way in until he’s balls deep and your knees are bent, thighs parted by his sticky hands. It’s weird, but you’re glad he’s having a good time. “I don’t think I’m going to last long. You’re so warm and t-tight…”   “It’s okay. Knock yourself out.”   “You sure it doesn’t hurt?”   “I’m good. You dumped that bottle on me, so...yeah…”   Namjoon nods, unable to get anything out but a groan when you squeeze around him. He chokes on air and at your approval, goes in for a thrust. He moves his hips back and then yanks forward, eager and excited. It burns and you flinch, not sure if it hurts or doesn’t. This isn’t as amazing as you thought it would be — quite un-life changing actually. If anything, you were more turned on by how much Namjoon was turned on.   You just wish he kissed you again. You liked that.   The second the thought crosses your brain, Namjoon leans forward, seizing your lips with his own and fulfilling your desire. You moan against his mouth, tongue taken by his in a sloppy yet earnest matter that has your belly tickling and fluttering, chest warming up. It feels nice, you decide. And your core clenches, lower stomach tightening.   Namjoon chases after the way your warm pussy tightly hugs around his covered cock, thrusting once and he cums without warning. He merely groans against your mouth and you hug him close to your body, feeling the way he breathes heavily, the way he moans lowly. It takes a good five seconds and then he’s slumping over your body, weight heavy but comforting like a blanket.   “S-sorry…” Namjoon apologizes the second he comes to his senses.   His breath tickles your neck and you smile, running your hand through his hair. “It’s okay. I’m glad you had a good time. It wasn’t too bad for me.”   Namjoon rolls over, slipping out of you. But before you can get up or he can clean up the mess he made, his hand lowers to your swollen cunt and he slides his pointer and middle finger in the pool of gel. He strokes up your slit a few times and then he slips himself into your tight hole, feeling against your velvet walls.   “N-Namjoon,” you choke out his name and he smiles, getting to his knees. He curls his fingers against your walls, a bit carelessly and clumsy, but with enough enthusiasm and observational skills to gauge what your spots may be. You moan, withering against the sheets. “W-wait…”   His other hand lifts and goes a bit higher than your slit. “Is it here…?” he asks for confirmation, recalling the diagrams he’s filled out before and watching your expression carefully.   Your fingers latch onto his wrist and you shift him into the correct position, right where your clitoris should be. Namjoon hums in acknowledgment and begins to fiddle with his fingers, rubbing circles, pressing hard, twisting his wrist while his other fingers curl inside your vagina.   You sob his name, back arching, and he muses how pretty you look like this. Unfortunately with his hands on your clit and the way he’s carelessly rubbing, he’s unable to admire the view for long. Your toes curl and a burst of electricity runs its way through your body, making you seize, left leg kicking out slightly. You cry, spots coming into your vision. It’s warm from your feet to your head, every part of your body.   When you come to, Namjoon’s excitedly grinning at you. “How was that?”   Not bad. That last bit was better, to be honest.   “Was it all you had fantasies about?”   No. It wasn’t terrible though. Kind of meh.   He nods, laying flat on your bed and staring at the ceiling. You also take a moment to process everything that just happened. Though before you can doze off, Namjoon looks at you. “Should we try one more time? Just….just to see if it could be better or not. I mean...might as well since we’re both here.”   It’s not a bad offer especially considering that this is supposed to be a one time thing to get it out of the system. He was right — you were here, so was he. There was never going to be an opportunity like this again. You should make the most out of it.   You smile, eyes glimmering in mischief. “I don’t mind, but can you go for another round? You really tired yourself out there.”   Namjoon scoffs and rolls on top of you, pinning you to your mattress. “We’ll see about that.”

That should be it.   You know Namjoon can read minds. He knows you’re a closeted freak. A secret for a secret. The two of you have had sex too, shared your first times together. You’ve gotten all urges out of your systems, diminished your whacky libido. There’s no reason for any more interaction or conversations to be exchanged. You can both lead your own separate lives, pursuing after your long-term educational goals of going to university…   But you’re weak.   Only now do you realize you can’t get over your primitive needs. To your dismay and contrasting to the way you project yourself, you aren’t an emotionless robot who can simply flip off the switch.   That single experience, the second and third as well, are enough to make you even more needy than before and now your fantasies have truly come to life. No longer are they groundless delusions created from your inexperienced mind. One taste of the forbidden fruit and you can’t stop.    Sitting on the side of health class, your brain begins to take a walk. You recall that third time when Namjoon was curious, experimenting, and pushed you on all fours. Your shirt and bra were discarded beside you, your hands crumpling your wrinkled sheets and his fingertips pressed the small of your back until you were arching for him.   He hummed and you were nervous, talking too much about things you don’t remember now and the boy simply laid down and got into place. He slid himself right underneath you and his hands held your waist, lowering your sex right onto his open mouth like he’s trying to eat a massive taco — inexperienced, odd, but not horrendous.   You were scared of suffocating him, of having to call the police and having ambulances parked right outside your house for all the neighbors to see; and have news spread around that you accidentally killed a high school boy by sitting on his face. But Namjoon was a freak in disguise too and welcomed it. You sat on him and he mumbled something along the lines of it not being too bad either.   You grabbed onto the headboard to steady yourself, legs already shaking as he licked into you, tip of his tongue pushing past your slit and folds, his nose at your bud. His tongue unskilled, technique clumsy. He went too fast, too hard, too much of everything. It drove whines and broken sobs of his name out of you. But while Namjoon was greedy and impatient, he was also excited and eager to please.   He’s naturally observant and perceptive, bringing it into the bedroom as well. You remember the strands of his hair tickling the skin of your thighs, the way you cried out his name, how it felt so good that it was better than having actual penetrative sex. And you remember how he began rushing, afraid of your dad coming home and catching the pair of you in this compromised position.   The memory almost makes you giggle in the middle of class, but you contain yourself and squeeze your thighs together, feeling your panties becoming wet and sticky. You wonder what it would be like if he ate you out here, in class, maybe on the teacher’s desk. He’d kneel on the ground and kiss his way up your legs.   N-Namjoon, you’d choke out his name, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling the glasses away from his face.   Yeah?   Hurry, please.   Why? I wanna go slower. You taste good.   You’re good at controlling your expressions, of wearing a poker face, but unbeknownst to you, there’s a smile tugging on your lips. An outsider might think you particularly enjoy today’s class content. Others who know you better might consider that you’re in a good mood, perhaps daydreaming about something sweet. But there’s someone who really knows what’s going on.   Namjoon is sitting across the room and he turns his body slightly. His eyes are half-lidded, lips parted, chest rising and falling, glasses slipping down his nose. The boy is uncomfortable, beginning to sweat at his hairline. He glares. And your smile grows a bit wider.   He knows you’re thinking about you and him and you eye his slacks, noticing the tent growing in his pants.   Namjoon remains wholly unimpressed by your antics.   “The boy’s bathroom, really?” Your eyebrows are lifted and this time, you’re the one unimpressed with him. Luckily the hallways are empty, but he still tugs you in quickly before anyone can see. Are we fulfilling one of your fantasies now?   “No, we’re not. And if you want someone to blame, then blame yourself.” Namjoon shoves you into the farthest bathroom stall without remorse. If you were caught together with him in the boy’s washroom, you’re not even sure how to explain yourself. No one would believe it. “Who told you to go remembering all of that and thinking about us?”   He turns around and locks the stall. It’s terribly cramped. On one side, there’s toilet rolls and the other is a wall with pencil graffiti. The toilet doesn’t have a cover and it’s dirty. But at this point, the two of you are reckless and desperate enough not to care. “Well am I supposed to forget?”   “You’re supposed to not fantasize in the middle of class, Y/N,” he complains and turns you around, pushing his crotch to your ass. Your hands lift to press against the cubicle walls, keeping yourself steady. “Look at the problem you caused me.”   You can feel his erect cock right on the crack of your ass and you swallow hard, feeling his breath becoming rougher. Namjoon presses you close to him like it might be enough to get him off. “‘M sorry, I can’t help it, you know that.”   “Jinyoung almost saw. I had to cover my lap up with my textbook.” He’s mad and you can hear it in his voice. His hand comes down, fingers pressing on your underwear, rubbing back and forth ruthlessly. “And look, you’re already wet.”   “Namjoon,” you moan his name, grabbing his wrist and not sure if you want him to slow down or go faster. “L-Less talking. We should hurry before they wonder where we are.”   “No one’s going to wonder.” It’s true no one would second guess the two empty desks in the classroom. The pair of you went out at different times — you supposedly to the counselor and him to go make a phone call at the office.   As if to appease you, Namjoon holds the back of your neck and turns your head around. His thick-rimmed, smudged glasses knock against your face but he still kisses your cheek. You don’t know if he missed your mouth or not, if it was an accident, but it’s surprisingly soft and gentle.    It sends butterflies to your tummy.   The eager boy is hugging you from behind, one arm around your waist. He pulls your shirt out being tucked into your skirt and his hand goes underneath it, shoving your bra up and getting a handful of your breast. His thumb flicks onto your nipple, letting the soft bud pebble underneath his tender touch. You keen into him with a whine and he holds you straight, humming.   “You’re so warm and soft. I keep forgetting to tell you that.”   “You’re not going to cum just from touching my boobs, are you?”   He scoffs and rubs two fingers against your nipples harder, almost pinching. And you jump in his arms with a yelp. Namjoon smiles. “I’m not some amateur.”   “Actually, yes, you are.” Your hot breaths are heavy, panting out and your palms press harder against the cubicle wall, searching for some leverage. “If it helps, I am too.”   “Psh. I’m gonna fuck you well, don’t worry.”   You could roll your eyes to the back of your skull. “That’s a really high bar to set— N-Namjoon!”   He’s pressing hard on your clit through your soaked panties, shoving your skirt up. “Pardon?”   “N-nothing.” You turn your head around, trying to speed things up. Sneaking out to the boy’s bathroom in the middle of the classroom is not an optimum time to drag out foreplay. “You have a condom, right?”   “I’m always prepared.” Namjoon smirks playfully and lets go of you, stepping back to dig into his back pocket. You realize how cold it is without his body heat against you, but thankfully he wastes no time, taking out a condom between his index and middle fingers, flashing it to you like it’s a winning card in a poker game or this is the middle of a Yugioh episode.    He does the stupidest things like this that makes you laugh the hardest. “Why are you such a dork?”   “Please, you like it.”   You watch him rip it open. “Need help?”   “I got it.”    It’s quicker and easier than the first time, and the second, and the third. He lets his pants drop, rolling the latex on his cock and then helps you take off your panties, stuffing them in his uniform blazer’s pocket. Namjoon takes a hold of your hips and positions you correctly. He moves the tip of his thick cock back and forth on your slit, spreading your slick everywhere and you feel yourself getting wetter.    “A-are you going to last longer this time?”   Namjoon’s offended and he pouts without you seeing. “I’m getting better. Ready?”   “Yeah.” The head of his cock intrudes your velvet walls, penetrating deep and he releases a shaky exhale. It burns less and feels good, filling a space inside you that you didn’t know was empty.    The first time, it wasn’t bad. The second time hurt a lot and you both had to stop. No one orgasmed then. But the third time was much better and now, there was not even a mild discomfort. It didn’t hurt at all — he’s stretched you out well enough to take his cock. And he can last a lot longer than three strokes too.    “N-Namjo..oon.”   “Everything good?”   “Yeah…” You weakly nod. He’s holding you, humping from behind, drawing as far back as he can before his hips jut forward, trusting in and you try your best to meet him halfway. The two of you are making a mess, fluids running down your legs, uniforms all wrinkled up. “C-Can you kiss me?”   You don’t need to ask twice.   He stops and turns your head around, catching your lips as best as he can in this awkward position. You begin to squirm, rocking yourself back onto him. One thing was certain — the kisses have definitely improved. The way he kisses you is enough to leave you breathless and dizzy.   You pull away and Namjoon continues to pound from behind you. The obscene sounds echo throughout the washroom, leaking out into the hallway; clapping sounds created when his pelvis meets your ass cheeks. Anyone walking past would know what was going on.    It’s also musty, the smell of sweat and sex filling the air. But there’s also the scent of Namjoon surrounding you and it’s nice. You’re not sure what deodorant he uses, or maybe it’s cologne. You can’t exactly pinpoint it.   “H-hey…” The boy slows down the pace, remembering something.   “What?”   “Can you stop envisioning my voice and imagining what I’d say? It’s awkward to hear what my voice sounds like to you in your head.”   He rolls his hips slowly, going deeper with the languid speed and it has you crumbling. “N-Nam...joon...s-stop talking. F-faster.”   “Why? I wanna go slower. You taste so good,” he whispers, making fun of you and recalling the cheesy dialogue you came up with in your daydream.   “F-fuck you.”   He laughs, sound gentle and tinkling. Namjoon kisses the back of your neck, right on the nape and he licks his thumb before tenderly rubbing at your clit. Against your will, loud noises spill from your throat and it has him shushing you. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip, entire body jostling with how he goes faster. You’re scared of someone coming in — but the risk is exciting at the same time.   Namjoon can read your thoughts and he gets off on your fantasies too.   You imagine what it would be like if the bell rang, if a bunch of kinds came in, pissing in the urinals, washing their hands at the sink, talking and goofing off. They wouldn’t know what was going on behind the thin wall of the cubical except that there were two pairs of feet right by each other.   “Nam...too-...too much...” He’s rubbing too hard at your clit, forgetting to measure his strength, overexcited with your imagination and it’s too late. The tension in your lower stomach finally tightens and snaps. Your toes curl and you sob his name louder.   He cups your mouth with his hand, muffling your shriek. Your eyes shut tight and you clench around him. The boy groans lowly, sound vibrating and you hear mumbles of your name. His chin is propped on your shoulder and he thrusts twice, sloppy, milking your orgasm and he cums too.   Namjoon is still hugging you close as you both catch your breath.   Eventually he slips himself out and lets go.   You turn around. “That was….better than last time.”   He grins, dimples marking his cheek, strands of his hair sweaty. He slips off his condom. “Next time will be even better.”   Next time?   You’re fixing your bra and shirt, pulling your skirt down again, but the thought in your head is loud and clear. Namjoon doesn’t say anything. Maybe he pretends not to know and you don’t comment either, afraid of questioning how many more times this will happen, afraid of defining what exactly this arrangement is.    “We should get back before they actually start wondering where we are.”   “Yeah.” You flatten down your messy hair, getting your panties back from him despite them being soiled. As you put them back on with a grimace, you watch Namjoon throw the used condom in the toilet. You don’t think twice as he tugs up his slacks. But then it hits you. “W-wait, don’t flush it down the—”   The toilet whirls down automatically. “Shit, too late!”   The pair of you are frozen, watching the destruction happen right in front of your eyes. It doesn’t flush all the way down and seems to burp back. The water runs without once stopping. It starts to overflow.   “Oh my god.”   There’s no choice, but to run.   //   The chain of things that occur after your little rendezvous with Namjoon would be cause for embarrassment, if only you weren’t so shameless now. It may be because you’ve gotten comfortable enough with him, with sex acts, and because you know he’s equally responsible for everything that happens. As long as nobody else knows and it’s just between you and him, there’s no need to be ashamed.   It’s a secret that the two of you share.   “Everyone, listen up.” The health teacher, Mr. Bang, claps his hands at the front of class, quieting down the conversations of students. “On Friday afternoon, there was an incident here at this school.”   “What happened?” There’s a sea of murmurs that ripples throughout the room and your ears perk, picking up on the girls next to you.   “Didn’t you hear? Someone flushed down a used condom in the boys washroom by the science hall that clogged the toilet. It flooded the entire washroom and they had to shut it down for the rest of the day.”   “Ew, gross.”   “Wait, does that mean someone had sex in the washroom? Ugh!”   “Quiet down, quiet down.” The teacher slaps a stack of papers on the desk, gathering the attention back. “There will be consequences for students who engage in anything inappropriate at school. Okay? I just want to make that clear. It’s completely inappropriate and there’s possibility for suspension. We already know who these people are, alright?”    For a moment, he eyes Hoseok and Krystal sitting at the side, near the middle rows.   Some glance at them too in disdain and disgust. Hoseok finally looks up, snapping back to attention. “Wait, what?”   Mr. Bang clears his throat and moves on. “In light of what happened, the superintendent wanted me to review some things we learnt earlier in this course.”    There’s a collective groan, but he shuts it down by saying this is what happens when something like that at school occurs. He begins to write it on the board, marker squeaking on the smooth surface. He’s returning back to the sex-ed unit.   “Look, I get it, alright? You’re at that age where you went to begin getting closer to people and you want to start experimenting with things. But if you don’t want to get pregnant and birth out a baby that you have to take care of for the next eighteen years, do not have sex.”   The students roll their eyes, leaning back on their seat. Few are still alert, most zoning and tuning out. It’s the same thing over and over again, teachers parroting each other, as afraid of kids becoming sexually active as they are of ghosts. “If you don’t want any horrible STIs to follow you around for the rest of your life, do not have sexual intercourse. You don’t know if any of these people have gotten tested! They could have anything. Protection like condoms and birth control are not one hundred percent effective. There’s always a chance it could happen. The best protection is to not do it at all. Don’t risk disease—”   You’re one of the many that have stopped paying attention. Actually, your awareness of the classroom has long been removed. The words going in one ear and out the other. Instead, you’re busy sitting next to Namjoon, stealing peeks at him. You’re thinking about getting on the floor, crawling under his desk, fumbling with his pants.    What are you doing?   Making you feel good.   You envision unzipping his trousers, pulling out his cock excitedly, spitting in your palm to stroke him. He’d become harder in your hand, redder, and you’d lean close to kiss the top, relishing in it when you feel him shiver. Namjoon would tangle his fingers in your hair and tug you closer. You wouldn’t know what to do, how to do it, but he’d teach you, guiding your mouth on him. You’d try your best to take him as far as you can go, salivating and slobbering all over his dick. It would hurt your jaw and you’d gag, choke, but the effort would be worth it when he praises you.   You glance over at Namjoon in reality, finding him shifting uncomfortably, ears bright pink.   A smirk pulls into your cheek. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Namjoon?   He turns his head towards you, expression impassive. But you catch his Adam’s apple bobbing and he doesn’t say anything, simply nodding.   He no longer protests your active imagination. While it’s still a massive distraction to his concentration, he reads your mind promptly and willingly. You’ve got him wrapped around your finger and you love every second of it.   “Excuse me, Mr. Bang?” You approach the health teacher with Namjoon behind you, backpacks on your shoulders, stack of textbooks in your arms.   The older man lifts his chin. “Oh! Y/N, Namjoon! What can I do for you?”   “We finished filling out the diagrams.” You hand in the sheets of paper of the vagina and penis, perfectly labeled with a small description underneath them. Apparently, this is what the school system thinks is sexual education. “We were wondering if we could go to the library to study for the upcoming physics test.”   He nods. “Did you finish everything else for this class?”   “Yes.” You smile. “We both did.”   The teacher returns your smile. “Go ahead then, just make sure you’ve double-checked everything.”   “Thank you.”   The two of you leave the classroom quietly, the other students still causing a ruckus for him. The door shuts and you happily skip down the hall while Namjoon trails after you, laughing. The teachers think you’re both very responsible, studious students — goody two shoes and maybe academic friends at best. No one would ever suspect and that makes it all the more fun to break the rules.   But while you’re happy keeping these secrets between the pair of you, it’s a shame that no one else knows how attractive Namjoon is. It’s one secret you don’t want to keep to yourself. You wish more people saw what you did. How his awkwardness is actually sweetness and makes him all the more authentic, how his clumsiness is cute, how smart and warm-hearted he is.   As he shadows your steps, your thoughts have Namjoon blushing in a deeper shade. He stares at the back of your head, feeling tingles in his chest, unable to resist a grin when you think about how you at least get him all to yourself.   The librarian welcomes you, busy stacking and registering new shipment of books in the back closet. This early in the morning, there aren’t any students. You’re free to pick and choose wherever you want to go, but without hesitation you walk to the farthest table hidden behind multiple bookshelves. You both drop off your belongings there and scatter off to the corner. He takes your hand and leads you forward, weaving through the maze of shelves in the back where no one else can see.   It’s deathly quiet, enough to hear pins dropping. But in this small space, the noise of soft smacking disrupts the peace. Namjoon kisses you roughly and desperately like he’s trying to get himself off with just this. His tongue is down your throat, his spit entering your mouth. It makes you hot and bothered, Namjoon trying to make you as aroused as you’ve made him. You’ve gotten him riled up after all. It’s revenge.   The boy’s glasses knock against your face, but neither of you care enough. His kisses have made you dizzy. “N-Namjoon,” you gasp, pushed against the corner where the shelf meets the smooth wall.   He lifts one of your legs, palm pressed against the meat of your thigh. It’s done with urgency, less playful, less talking and more serious and intimate than before. Your eyes stray off, peeking through the shelves and gaps between the books, finding no one watching.   Suddenly, he pushes deeper into you, silencing your brain until you think of him and only him.   You’re surrounded in his scent, deodorant, cologne, natural sweat. His hands are all over you, tender touches and eager groping with attempted restraint that fails. His broad body shields you away from any potential prying eyes, covering you from head to toe. He tastes like chapstick and you relish in the gentle sounds drawing out of him, grunts and moans, caught in a trance. Namjoon kisses you closer, deeper until you’re overwhelmed.   He only pulls away when you whimper. A thin line of saliva catches between your lips, glistening in the light. But you don’t notice when he’s gazing at you in such a way, endeared. You swallow hard, feeling small under his intense eyes.   It’s only in reading these thoughts that Namjoon ends up turning away. “We should…”   Wait. What? You’re confused and impulsively, you grab onto him, tugging his sleeve. “Are we not going to….?”   He grins, dimples creasing on either side of his cheek before he pushes his glasses up casually. “We almost got caught last time.”   “No.” The syllable draws out into an unintentional whine. “It’s because you flushed it down the toilet. Who told you to do that?”   He laughs, sound tinkling in your ears pleasantly. “You’re so needy.”    But Namjoon returns anyhow, holding you and pushing your panties to the side. His fingers play at your slit, tapping gently like he’s fiddling with piano keys. It makes you jolt and he nuzzles into you, knocking his head down, forehead pressed against your shoulder.   “C-Can you blame me?”   It feels too good. You wish he could touch you all the time.    Namjoon reads your mind and smiles softly without you knowing. He mumbles into your shirt, “You’re so cute.”   Such a wholesome comment shouldn’t be spoken when the tips of his fingers are spreading your folds and he’s entering you. With two digits, he sinks deep into your leaking cunt until he’s knuckle deep. Namjoon has the audacity to laugh as you choke on air and in retaliation, you weakly hit your fist against his shoulder. He’s amused at how sensitive you still are even after doing it so many times, to the point where you’ve both lost count.   “We’re in the library, so keep it down will you?”   “Then stop doing that.”   “Doing what?” He curls his fingers against your velvet walls, hitting a spot that has you sobbing and pathetically trying to hold back. “You mean that?”   He’s being a sly shit, gained too much confidence touching you — but you don’t hate it. He scissors you, thrusting his fingers in and out, twisting his wrist. You knock your head back. If the librarian finds Namjoon fondling you like this with his hand shoved up your skirt, your panties moved to the side, she would be mortified, maybe even getting a heart attack.   “You really like thinking about people catching us, huh?”   “N-no….” Your objection is weak and he grins. “D-do you want me to...blow you?”   He hums, considering it, but the way the member in his pants stir and how he swallows hard is unmistakable. “N-no, I’m good.” His rejection surprises you. You thought any horny teenage boy would jump at the chance. Your fantasies seemed to make him riled up too. “Maybe later, in my room, if you’re okay with that,” he clarifies your confusion as he pets your velvet walls, feeling around like he’s searching for something. It makes your legs tremble.   You nod and decide to tease, “You think you’re not gonna last if we do it here?”   Namjoon scoffs. “No. It’s gonna take a long time to teach you.”   “I’m a fast learner,” you counter.   “I know. But I kind of...want you to sit on my face again….if you want….” He’s nervous for the first time in a long while.   You piece it together, brows lifting. You want me to blow you while sitting on your face? So like sixty nine?   He becomes red in the face, fingers inside of you halting. “Is that bad?”   No. Just predictable.   Namjoon lightly scoffs, but if you were frank, the plans made you enthusiastic and he knows it too. The boy kisses you, squeezing a handful of your breasts over your uniform blouse, becoming more patient. But you make him pick up the speed and he gets out his condom that he seems to have on hand now twenty-four seven. Both your legs end up wrapping around his waist and while you’re scared of falling or snapping him in half, he holds your weight well while you’re leaning against the wall.   He continues to rut against you, thrusting as fast as he can manage. With his thick girth stretching you out so nicely, you squeeze around him, enjoying it when you can make him sputter. After the third time, he’s had enough of your antics and kisses you, deeper, muffling your noises. Books knock against the shelf, several almost falling. Your wetness might just drip down and stain the carpet, leaving your mark with Namjoon’s.   The two of you are sweaty against each other, getting closer to your release.   “H-Hey….”   “Hmm?”   “Keep your eyes on me.”   You nod, trying your best. But Namjoon can’t hold you up anymore. As his strokes become sloppier, one of your left leg falls when you’re not ready. Your knees buckle and he slips out of you, but luckily, Namjoon catches you in his arms and the both of you burst out laughing.   You lean against the wall, he gets himself back in you and you both return to what you were doing before. Namjoon stares at your expression and you lock your eyes into his. He fucks you like he likes you.   Finally, his hand moves to rub your clit with his thumb. It’s enough for you to be pushed over the edge and you stifle your sounds against his shoulder, slobbering on his uniform blazer. You clench, hot walls of velvet like a vice grip, clenching around his length. He groans and moves twice before cumming.    After a moment of hugging you, he pulls himself out and pushes your panties back to hold in the mess you made.   “Don’t throw the condom in the corner,” you chide.   Namjoon breathlessly laughs. “What? I was going to put my kids in between the dictionaries for someone to find later.”   You weakly hit him, giggling together.

It’s a sunny day, the weather nice and pleasant, warm enough that you don’t need a jacket. With your stomach full of food, you couldn’t be any happier. And your joy is found in the way your steps have a slight skip to them.   Namjoon smiles, watching you and matching his walking pace with yours.   The pair of you had grabbed a meal together at a fast food restaurant. A reward for doing so well on your biology midterm. While the teacher didn’t announce who did the best, she read the top two marks out loud and they happened to be you and him. You got ninety-five percent while Namjoon scored ninety. The fact that you miraculously did better than him in a subject that you despise has you even more bubbly.   The food wasn’t much, but you liked it. Actually, what you really like is being around Namjoon, even if it’s not for sex, even if it’s to do whatever.   These thoughts have him grinning. But you don’t notice.   “—wanted to die, oh my god.”   “I didn’t know she would be there!” he argues back, but the two of you aren’t fighting. It’s humorous banter, created from mortification and disbelief.   “What if she found me, some random chick, in her kitchen giving her son a blowjob?! Oh my god.”   “You’re not some ‘random chick’. She knows who you are.” He shrugs. “Plus, you like people watching so…”   “I do not!”   “You know I can read your mind, right?”   “Stop!” You hate it. “Get out!”   Namjoon laughs. “What I’m saying is that it’s fine. She didn’t find us like that. And if it helps, she actually likes you.”   “Well, I hope it was worth it, because now she probably thinks I’m your girlfriend.” The entire time, you ended up talking to Namjoon’s mom and answering her numerous questions like it was a job interview instead of doing the deed.   The boy smiles. “I don’t mind.”   “What? That I didn’t get to blow you or that your mom thinks we’re together?”   “Did you end up looking at what university you wanted to go to yet?”   “Oh yeah. I was looking into the admission requirements.” The topic is switched so drastically, but you don’t even notice when it comes to your studies. You and Namjoon made a pact to help each other get into university and it was comforting to have someone help along the way. “Apparently, the math program at MK National isn’t bad. I’ve already done some research onto some profs to take and what GPA boosters there are.”   Namjoon laughs. “Wow, so prepared.”   “Of course,” you hum back before remembering something, “Don’t take economics, by the way. It’s not as easy as people make it out to be apparently.”   “Noted.” The corners of his mouth quirk.   “Haseul’s thinking about going into nursing..” She’s one of the few friends that you have. “...so that’s more incentive to me.” Plus, he’s there too.   Namjoon reads your mind and grins to himself, downcast head facing his feet shyly. “So you’ve decided on MK National then?”   “I don’t know. I’m aiming for it, I guess, but if I don’t get in then I don’t.”   “You’ll get in,” the boy reassures. “You’re smarter than I am.”   His confidence in you draws a sheepish smile on your face.   The two of you are strolling to the bus stop together and while you’ll have to get onto different buses, it’s still nice to traipse around with him like this. At least, that’s what you’re mulling until your daydream is broken by the back of his hand grazing against yours.   You glance down before looking away. For the first time in a long time, you’re nervous again. There’s an urge within you to hold his hand, an instinct that tells you that’s the only right way to walk alongside Namjoon. But that’s kind of weird — you don’t know if you should, if that would make things awkward. In fact, you don’t even know what the limits are when you’re unsure of what your relationship with Namjoon is in the first place, friends with benefits or—   You’re thinking about it for too long. You’re making Namjoon get a headache.   So gingerly, he reaches over while nonchalantly looking ahead, deciding for you. His fingers find your wrist and he moves his hand down, tangling your fingers together, palms clasping, gingerly holding your hand. None of you speak.   You don’t like how he can read your mind.   But this is one of the few times you appreciate it.   His hand squeezes yours — your chest feels warm.   //   “Are you alright?”   Why? I’m fine.   Namjoon knows that you overthink. You like to consider every decision that you make, calculating the benefits and the consequences, making plans for your future. Everything is logical to you. The only reason he’s with you now is because of your rare impulse, emotions that you couldn’t handle or control on your own. He’s with you because of your fantasies and lustful daydreams stowed at the back of your brain for no one else to know of.    If you controlled your urges, he wouldn’t be a part of your life right now.    The realization makes him a bit uncomfortable. He was never a part of your plan, a part of what you envision for your future. For once, he’s thankful for his ability — it’s given him the opportunity to get to know you. But at the same time, he’s disheartened to know that you’ve only kept him around for a few purposes.   Aside from that, you like to lie a lot too.   He can read your mind. He knows your thoughts are a chaotic train on fire heading straight for hell. Yet, you like to act like it’s all fine. Like nothing’s wrong. But he knows you better than that. He can read you better than that. He knows you better than you know yourself. And Namjoon knows that despite what you might think, he’s just not just a temporary person in your life.    “Namjoon!” You’re making a ruckus without being aware of it, standing on the tips of your toes, waving your arm over your head. A stupid smile pulls onto his face and he waves back. People’s heads turn. Your friends are confused and so are his. But you don’t seem to care, happier to see him than being mindful of your surroundings.   He can see the way your eyes always light up when you find him in the crowd.    He notices the way you like to ramble about your day to him. “—finished my paper. But I can’t believe she assigned me to edit Hoseok’s paper. He only had one paragraph done. And I couldn’t even read it! His writing doesn’t even look like chicken scratch. It’s like he wrote it while on the toilet using his toes.”   Laughter bubbles up his throat. “Well, not everyone is Miss. Prepared like you are. Did he at least edit your paper?”   “No.” You pout. “He gave it back and told me it was perfect.”   His gaze on you softens. “It probably was.”   Namjoon catches on before you even know yourself.   You don’t need to say anything. He already knows how you feel about him — and this knowledge makes him more giddy than he’d ever like to admit.   //   For the most part, you aren’t deprived anymore.   A certain someone keeps you satisfied enough to pay attention in class, tires you out enough to make you sleep well at night, placate your endless desires. But still, there are times when you’re bored or sleepy in class and you actively begin to daydream to keep yourself awake.    It’s in social studies that your mind begins to wander without restraint, Namjoon not here to turn around and glare or later scold you for making him lose his concentration.   You envision a faceless stranger waltzing into the classroom, boots tapping against the floor. This person would stride towards the teacher’s desk in the corner. They’d plop down on the swivel chair, lean back, spread their legs comfortably, eyes sweeping the room. You imagine their gaze would stop on you and the corner of their mouth would tug, hand motioning you to come.   He’d guide you to sit on his lap, right on top of his thighs. Your hands would find purchase on his broad shoulders. After you’re settled, he would hum in satisfaction and his rough hands would be placed on the dips of your waist, plush lips skimming down your neck, kissing lightly. He’d relish in the way you’d shiver.    You like that? The voice is familiar somehow, but you can’t pinpoint it.   Y-yes. Please hurry…   Why should I? Don’t you like it when people watch us? Look at all these kids looking. They don’t know you're such a dirty girl. Should we show them? Should we do a class demonstration and show them how it’s supposed to be done?   His fingers play with the hem of your skirt, tugging it up while he fumbles with his pants, lifting you slightly and pulling down the waistband enough to slip his hardening cock out of his briefs. The way his tip leaks has you swallowing hard, remembering the salty flavour.    I-I don’t like people looking, you’d protest weakly, meeting the man’s eyes.   He snorts, air rushing out of his nose. You know I can read your mind, right?   There’s a pause that lingers — you nearly shatter out of your daydream. What?   The person you’re straddling doesn’t answer, lips returning to the sweet spot between your shoulder and neck, hot tongue lapping at it and drawing shudders out of your body. Then he sucks hard, making you cry out. His arms are around you, letting you arch but not shuffle away, pushing you close. He ends up grabbing hold of his cock, squeezing the base and lining it up with your slit.   The boy doesn’t wait, shoving his hips upwards and making you sob, feeling your cunt stretch. He fucks into you raw with his red cock. He groans, thrusting upwards a few times before he holds your hips. Ride me, Y/N, he commands and forces you to sink down onto him until he’s balls deep inside of you. It’s enough to have your walls clenching around his girth, for you to moan and tremble.   C’mon, you can do it, baby, he coaxes and you nod several times, trying your best.   With as much strength as you can muster in your leg, you pull yourself up and drop down on him, swiveling your hips and doing what feels good. The boy helps you too, thrusts moving halfway, praises rolling off his tongue.   You’re so cute, he hums, thumb harshly rubbing your nipple back and forth, his hand underneath your shirt, shoved past your bra.   Pleasure takes hold, making your vision blurry, but you don’t focus on reaching an orgasm or pleasing him. Instead, something’s taken hold of your brain and while you ride him, you curl your hand into his hair, fingers tugging the strands. You pull his head back and he moans your name. His chin is lifted, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat and you narrow your eyes into his features.   Who are you?   The faceless person begins to morph under your touch. The fog lifts and you realize it’s not someone random, a mere placeholder of another body, in your fantasy. His hair is dark, matching the colour of his half-lidded eyes staring back at you, dimples marking into each side of his cheek. His glasses sit on his nose, framing his face, accentuating the jawline.   For the first time, your imagination’s found a face. It’s—   “Miss Y/N.”   You come crumbling back to reality, realizing where you are. Your fantasies disperse into thin air. The teacher’s right in front of you, clearing his throat. Everyone’s eyes are on you and the middle-aged man repeats his question, “I was asking you what the branches of government are.”   “Judicial, legislative and executive,” you say without missing a beat.   The teacher smiles, pleased that you were paying attention even though it seemed like you weren’t. He knows you would never be distracted like some of his other students. “Very good.” He spins around on his heel. “You ought to learn a thing or two from Miss. Y/N, Jung Hoseok.”   The student shoots you a glare that you wholeheartedly don’t even register.   You’ve lost your train of thought, but it felt really important.   For the rest of the day, you’re distracted, unable to focus on anything as you try to trace back to what your thoughts were, replaying what you last remembered. But it’s gone. You’re frustrated beyond belief, feeling out of your element, out of control. But no matter how upset you are at forgetting, there’s no point in moping over lost thoughts.   That is until you sleep.   It’s at night, laying in your bed, deep in slumber that it all returns. Except this time, your subconscious has conjured something that isn’t sexual in the least bit. You dream of calling out to someone, of watching them catch up to you, how you hold their hand, entwining your fingers together with them without hesitation. It’s oddly intimate.   You dream about a strappy, tall boy with gawky glasses and plaid flannels. You dream about soft touches, tender kisses, dimples and doting gazes.   In a shock, much like a nightmare — you jolt awake in the middle of the night.   You finally know who it is.   //   “Hey, can I come over today?” you ask in the hall, holding your books to your chest.   The tall boy with his gawky glasses takes one good look at you and smiles. “No. I’m hanging out with Jinyoung today.”   “Oh.” You turn away, only to steal another glance of him. “Can we….go to the library then?”   “Why?” The boy plays dumb, like he can’t read your mind in a split of a second.   “C-Cause….you know….” You’re not trying to play coy on purpose, but it’s cute.   Namjoon can’t help but be endeared by you. He’s known most people to act differently from their thoughts, people laughing with their friends and at the same time cursing them in their heads. He’s known people internally swearing at him before, teachers that secretly thought he was an idiot, his own parents angry enough at times to think that they didn’t want him as a son.   There’s evilness in everyone — dishonesty, backstabbing, two-faced — but when it comes to you, there’s only nastiness in the best sense possible. All you have are dirty thoughts.   He loves it.   “I don’t.”   “Namjoon,” you whine, “you know what I’m trying to say.”   He shrugs with another mischievous smile. “Don’t know till you tell me.”   The pout on your face does little to persuade him, so with a face lit on fire, you end up whispering, “I-I...want you t..to fuck me.”   “Oh.” He nods and pretends to consider it. “But I thought they were doing a presentation in the library today. It’s probably crowded.”   “Then how about the boy’s locker room?” you suggest, completely shameless.   “Hmmm…..that’s a good place. But I don’t really feel like it.”   “What?”   Namjoon shrugs. “I don’t feel like it.”   “Oh. Okay.” Your head turns to face forward, though the nonchalant act does little to cover up how embarrassed you really are. Still, you easily respect his decision with zero protests.   But for the next handful of times, Namjoon completely rejects your advances. He rolls it off his shoulders, purposely acting ignorant and depriving you of all physical contact. It’s confusing and you begin to trace back to what you did. Maybe he was doing this as petty revenge, but you can’t think of anything you did wrong. You don’t understand.   On a Tuesday afternoon, you catch him shifting his pants underneath his desk as you purposely daydream. You stare hard into the side of his face, catching on that he’s having a hard time with this sudden dry spell too, but he does nothing afterwards to satisfy either of you. It’s strange.    Maybe Namjoon’s just lost interest in you. That would make some logical sense. Maybe you’re boring now that he’s fucked you twenty times—   “Hey.”   You turn, interrupted in your contemplation. “What?”   One moment you’re upright and the next, he’s snaked his arms around you, pulling you into his body. You yelp, but the sound is suffocated against his mouth. Namjoon kisses you in the empty hallway, tongue down your throat. It’s risky. You don’t know why he’s doing this here. The bell’s about to ring. But your brain is silenced. All worries cease.   You shut your eyes after a delayed moment, reveling in him.   The sly boy takes his time in drinking in your expression. The passionate kiss sadly lasts for the shortest of seconds, only satisfying you for a mere moment.   He lets you go just as fast as he held you.   And you’re left breathless with swollen lips. The taste of chapstick lingers. “Wh-what was that?”   “Nothing.” Namjoon shrugs, back of his hand coming to wipe his mouth, taking your saliva off of his mouth.   Okay….   Maybe he didn’t lose interest in you after all.   You’re more befuddled than before and more frustrated as well. It doesn’t add up — you must be making him uncomfortable with your sexual frustrations. The thoughts have been swirling around in your brain twenty four seven, purposely at that. You conjure up your fantasies every second you’re in his proximity. Yet, it gains nothing. There is no reaction.   You even try touching yourself one night and while it does little to relieve your needs, you tell him through your thoughts the next day, conveying it with your brain waves. Again. Zero reaction.   Perhaps he’s lost his ability. Maybe you got too close to him and his brain exploded and he can’t read your thoughts anymore. That wouldn’t be such a horrible thing considering you’d get your privacy back…..but it’s also terrible. The one time you want him to know your needs and he doesn’t.   It takes three weeks, nearly a month of no sexual contact, for you to break. And you end up cornering Idiot Kim Namjoon on the way to the bus stop.   “W-what’s wrong, Y/N?”   Nervous laughter escapes him. You’ve literally cornered him in, metal fence digging into his back, mailbox to his left — there’s no escape. You’re near some poor old lady’s lawn, a bunch of high schoolers causing disturbances. But you don’t care how you look to outsiders. You can’t study at all. And when something begins to impair your academic abilities and your grades, you will stop at nothing to rid of it.    “You tell me what’s wrong!” Your foot stamps like that of a petulant child. “Why have you been holding out?”   “Holding out on what?”   “Sex!” you shriek aloud and those passing by look over with widening eyes.   “What?”   “You haven’t touched me since the third of this month! Today is the twenty fourth!”   “I...I just didn’t feel like it.”   “Really?” You eye him up and down, finding it hard to believe. “I get it okay. If you don’t want to. It’s not like I mind. But I feel like you’re hiding something from me, Namjoon. You’re not telling me the entire truth. Suddenly you just don’t want to anymore?”   “I kissed you...if that counts.”   “That was eight days ago!”   The corner of his mouth is shifted up in amusement. “You’ve been keeping count?”   “Yes!” You’re unabashed, but at the same time, you want to cry. It’s so confusing that it hurts your head. “It’s just….ugh! I hate you!”   “No, you don’t.”   “Yes, I do!” You point an accusatory finger at his face, childish. “It’s unfair how you can read my mind like that but I can’t tell what you’re thinking at all! I hate you!”   Namjoon smiles softly and it causes your anger to surge. “I just don’t want you to treat me like your sex toy.”   “What?” By his sudden statement, you’re left hurt. “When have I ever?”   “I need you to admit something to me. That’s why I’m….‘holding out’, okay?”    It’s puzzling. Befuddling. You look at him like he’s speaking another language. This game...this puzzle...it’s too difficult to solve. You don’t want to play. “Admit what?”   This time, it’s Namjoon who’s cornering you. He approaches, fast steps that end up pushing you against the fence. He looks down and wears a dorky, yet gentle smile. The boy leans down and his warm breath against your ear makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand straight—   “You like me, don’t you?”   There’s an extended pause.   Your breath is halted. You’re ten seconds away from combusting on spot, steam coming out of your ears, body shutting down from mortification. You don’t know if you want to choke him out or grab fistfuls of your hair. “Oh my god….Oh my god! Get out of my head, Namjoon! Get out! Get out! Stop reading my thoughts!”   But he grabs both of your wrists, not allowing you to cover your face up with your hands. Namjoon stares at you with the biggest shit-eating grin that you want to smack off. “Why are you embarrassed?”   “You’re not supposed to know I like you! How dare you expose me, asshole!” you’re shouting at the top of your lungs. The grandma in the house is about to walk out with her cane and spank you both off her lawn for making such a ruckus.    You’re not so discreet anymore, drawing attention from everyone. Though no one seems to particularly care, assuming that it’s just kids joking around with one another or it’s young love and just a minor lover’s spat.   His stupid smile is about to break his goddamn cheeks.   “So you like me?”   You’re trapped and he already knows the answer anyway. There’s no choice but to own up and at least try to scrape up whatever's left of your dignity when you say it. “O-of course I like you. How could anyone not like you?”   Namjoon’s heart is soaring in his chest. He giggles, sound bubbling out and gentle. It makes your cheeks grow warmer. “Well good. Because I like you too.”   “Y-you do?” Part of you isn’t surprised, maybe your subconscious already knew it. But the other half that was filled with doubts is finally satisfied. You’re relieved. It’s a huge weight off your shoulders.   “How could anyone not like you,” Namjoon repeats with another laugh, brushing a strand of your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. The soft movement has you stuttering, but he steps back soon after, giving you space.   “So...so what does this mean?”   Is he your boyfriend now? Or is this just a casual thing? What does ‘like’ even mean? Does he like-like you or just like you? Did he just acknowledge you enjoy each other's company? But that’s obvious, of course you enjoy each other’s company. Then...does this mean he wants to pursue some kind of long term relationship? Dating? But what does dating even mean? What do you have to do? What if this becomes awkward? What if you mess up?!   “I think….we should go on a date,” Namjoon suggests, calming you down before your brain goes completely haywire.   He takes your hand, squeezing lightly with a smile to match. Your thoughts compose itself.   “A date?” You blink, letting a few beats pass as everything that’s happened in the past five minutes sinks into you. It’s a lot to process. It’s overwhelming. But also— “That sounds... nice.”   He nods and hums a warm note. “And we can see what happens from there. Step by step. Date by date.”   It’s more than pleasant. You feel at ease in his company, in the way he knows your overthinking tendencies, how he so easily understands you.    But what you manage is a fake scoff. He already knows what you really think. “Who says I’m going on a second date with you? You’re going to have to earn that.”   “Please.” The pair of you are walking down the street again, hand in hand. “We both know you’re not going to leave my dick for someone else’s.”   “Namjoon!”   The clumsy boy laughs, squeezing your hand wrapped around his own.   //   You’re no longer safe in the depths of your own mind.   Namjoon knows what you’re thinking — he can tell your constant poker face is a facade and that every time your brows furrow, it’s not in concentration, but that you’re preoccupied in a daydream.   You’ve been invaded, thoughts exposed, but you don’t mind. He understands you better than yourself, helping you make sense of your occasional complicated ideas, appreciating your rather….strong imagination. He also quiets down your mind when it becomes too chaotic. He can stare at you and dive into your brain across the room, chuckling at what he finds.   His ability is what bound you and him together after all.   But these days, things are too busy to let your mind wander. And that’s okay too.   These days, there’s less of an urgency to have constant romps in the sack. These days, there’s less of a rush to spend time with one another. There’s no need to hurry along when you know Namjoon’s here to stay. There’s no need now that the pair of you are together.   “Namjoon!”   You shout from across the hall, springing up to him on this hectic morning. Yet, you don’t care about the way you draw attention, at how you’re making people stare, how you’re revealing your cover, no longer just the studious girl sitting on the side of class and blending into the wall.   You’re wearing a huge grin that is infectious to him. “What’s the matter?”   There’s an envelope in your hand. But you can’t spit the words out when you’re gasping, out of breath, having ran all the way here to find him. He’s the first person you wanted to tell. And luckily enough, you don’t even need to speak the words. One good look at you and he knows.   I got in.   All at once, his eyes widen. His lips part. Then they tug into his cheeks, dimples pressed on either side of his face. Without being able to resist, Namjoon picks you off the ground, tightly hugging you and spinning you around. You laugh into his shoulder, relishing in his embrace, celebrating.   It’s a moment between you and him in this busy hallway. No one else hears. No one knows.    It’s just a little secret that the two of you share.

[hyperfixationtimego]

the three wingmen of thh; Leon (chaotic), Kyoto (lawful), and Hina (neutral)

Kyoto was 100% the reason Celeste is dating Junko, it’s canon now. She is extremely involved in seating for extracurricular activities (i.e. the tea parties), and commonly puts them together. She finds putting Taka and Mondo apart...helps them?? She has no idea why but if they’re seated far from each other, they are immediately cuddling once they leave the room.

Grey-hair and Blue-hair girls are dating, no I do not take criticism (grey hair has braids I think and protects a mob guy?? and blue hair is the mastermind ig, she has black glasses apparently) - queer eye anon

oh my god yes???

Leon and Chihiro were some very powerful masterminds behind ishimondo ngl 👀 like chihiro’s brainpower combined with kuwata’s sheer strength of will?? UNSTOPPABLE those gay bitches never stood a CHANCE

although to be fair, most of their plans DID involve using a digital lock and/or utilizing alter ego to somehow force them into an empty room and keep them locked in there until they finally confessed 💛

Leon ALSO wingmans for sayaka because they’re besties who hate each other ❤️ he’s constantly cracking jokes with her about how she should just text Mukuro that she wants to fuck, or jokingly advises her to use raunchy pick-up lines on Sakura. He’s come very close once or twice to just. Blurting out “HEY MUKURO! SAKURA! SAYAKA’S GOT A HUGE FUCKING CRUSH ON Y-” only to have the idol clamp a hand over his stupid dumbass mouth <3

it’s okay because sayaka absolutely gets her revenge when she has to wingman for him and makoto (the only reason she doesn’t completely fuck up kuwata’s chances and embarrass him is because she’s besties with Makoto, too, and knows the poor guy’s ALSO got it bad. There’s a lot of Sayaka (and literally everyone else too) having to deal with some gross oblivious loveydovey pining from these fucking dorks, so she gets her fill of teasing)

And Hina wingmanning for Sakura???? Bruh okay u have no IDEA how much serotonin platonic sakuraoi gives me simply because????? Them?????? They????? Love???????? I love them???

And basically Hina’s just the right amount of empathy/sympathy and logic!! Her main, go-to piece of advice is “just talk to them!” And - surprise - trusting her on this usually leads to having fun and making good memories with the object(s) of affection !!

She’s such a sweetheart??? And like yes ofc she doesn’t have an answer for everything, because her heart is just a lil bit bigger than her brain sometimes (ok but mood tho like no shame this is both kin and projecting) but she’s trying her best!!! As she always listens to whoever needs her at that moment and gives the best advice she can - which isn’t even limited to romantic situations!!! She’s one of the go-to students for when someone’s having, like, an everyday problem or feeling stressed because she’s so non-judgemental and soothing to be around!!!

It’s Hina appreciation hours 💛

Anyway, Kyoko-

she also (unfortunately) is forced to wingman for Makoto and Leon, which means a lot of listening to naegi ramble on about how cool and nice and interesting and pretty and blah blah blah kuwata is (don’t get Kirigiri wrong, she adores Leon, but a girl can only take so much, y’know?)

and requests for Makoto to simply......TELL LEON are almost ALWAYS refused because nope no way in hell absolutely not and so she’s like great I’m gonna go bang my head against a desk because I seriously cannot take the two of you anymore

eventually she (secretly) goes and talks to Leon, without betraying Makoto’s trust or disclosing any information she feels he would not be comfortable with, does her best to subtly hint at the fact that hey. koto’s got a crush. you should fucking ask him about it before I go completely insane. Leon doesn’t fully get the hint but does go talk to Makoto, which FINALLY prompts some goddamn CONVERSATION about it thank GOD

also sorry sorry not to ramble but I just????? an idea hit me like a gd truck and I need to talk about it because I love???? I love????? I love

sometime after all this, Kyoko gets inadvertently wrapped up in co-wingmanning with Makoto for Komaru and Toko/Jill. Except. Those three have no clue about the fact that there is any wingmanning going on.

so kyoko’s like “why are we doing this”

and makoto’s like “because she’s my sister and she’s in love and I want her to be happy!!!”

“Okay but shouldn’t they work this out on their own”

“Not if I have anything to say about it!!!”

“*Sigh.* Goddamnit.”

And then Leon eventually hears about it, as well, because of course makoto’s gonna talk abt it with his boyfriend, why wouldn’t he, and anyway kuwata’s like OH?? POG??? because he and Toko and he and Jill are friends!!!! So he’s like I’ll totally help omg Fukawa and Syo are gonna STOKED

(Makoto does not comment on the fact that Toko most likely will not, in fact, be stoked by the idea of kuwata meddling in her love life, but does at least advise his dear 0-braincell partner to be careful ❤️)

okay okay sorry I’m a simp for tokomaru and syomaru on main but anyway back to kyoko and seating charts-

YEAH ON GOD???

And poor Kirigiri already has trouble comprehending how social interaction works that this kinda shit just???? Completely breaks her?????

“Why.....do people.....react different.......like I will accommodate for it but.....I do not.....understand......”

does not fucking compute

(Also shhhhh don’t let Korekiyo know that there was something about human behavior Kirigiri didn’t understand because somehow they will materialize from the shadows to go on a softly excited special interest infodump ramble/lecture that lasts hours and hours)

But yeah???? Ironically enough, she’s honestly the only person from her class who’s able to, for the most part, figure out how Celestia’s mind works, and so she’s able to use that to her advantage when setting her up with Junko!!! (The thing with Celeste was that it sort of became a case to Kyoko!! Celeste was so Obviously different in her behavior and mannerisms than everyone else that Kirigiri basically ended up treating learning about her the same way she would treat trying to solve a crime or something similar!!)

For ishimondo she chalks it up to “absence makes the heart grow fonder???” she guesses????? seriously she has No Clue

also she doesn’t pick up on it but they DO give each other pining puppy dog eyes from across the room the whole goddamn time like they’re just [y e a r n]

And OKAY ANON???? HEY ANON????? WHERE ARE YOU HIDING THE FUCKING GALAXY BRAIN JUICE???? HELLO???????

I. how is it possible to not know the games and yet,,,,,,,conjure up a concept so incredible????? Pekomugi,,,,,,,,,my g o d

Ok ok ok ok ok hold on hold on lemme gather my thoughts because holy fuck

FIRST OF ALL, Tsumugi is a GIANT nerd, so the thought of having a SWORD GF???? A GIRLFRIEND WHO IS A SWORDSMAN???? HOLY FUCK?????? she can live out her wildest samurai anime fantasies,,,,,,,because she quite literally has a swordswoman girlfriend who would protect her with her sword oh my g o d

SECOND OF ALL, Tsumugi also????? fucking loves sitting in on Peko’s training sessions to watch her beautiful incredible wonderful darling partner spar??? and use badass techniques and strategies???? Literally Tsumugi is always blown away??

and she ALWAYS comes and barrels into Peko to give her a gigantic hug and shower her with kisses once training’s over!!!! And Peko doesn’t understand because

“I am hot and sweaty. I am currently very gross, why are you kissing me,”

“No!!! You’re stunning and perfect and charming!!!! You make me swoon!!! Oh, dear knight, hold me in your sweet embrace....”

meanwhile peko’s just like babe pls let me go take a shower

and okay final thing I promise, but....Peko is absolutely astonished by Tsumugi’s cosplay abilities???? Like with a lot of her works, Peko can hardly even believe that that’s her gd girlfriend????? Like sweet JESUS her datemate is damn good at makeup and disguising herself and whatnot

“cosplay is an art and you have perfected it,” like catch tsumugi fuckinf crying

[queenlua]

ok but even more important: *which* characters at the NSA AU? >:)

damn, this anon knows how to sweet-talk a lady!

so, the NSA AU i was thinking about yesterday was Final Fantasy 12

because i was like "damn, Al-Cid Margrace would be so good at this shit"

(do i turn all my faves into engineers/hackers/etc in my head?  maybe)

but in addition to “he seems rather clever,” Al-Cid just gives off very strong Intelligence Community Idealist vibes.  like, when you talk to NSA people, the philosophical justification for their work is: a lot of wars happen because of uncertainty.  countries get all jumpy and shoot-y when they're not sure how the other country is gonna act, and then people die, and it's Not Good.  so if you can just relentlessly spy on each other, there's less risk of unpleasant surprises and bloodshed, more room for diplomatic resolutions, etc.  (if you've ever wondered why allied countries never seem to get mad when they're caught spying on each other, or why penalties for said spying tend to be slap-on-the-wrist tier—it's because, like, everyone's doing it and everyone knows they're doing it to each other, so everyone just lowkey agrees to be chill about it, lmao)

anyway, Al-Cid seems like he’d be very much behind that philosophy, and would much rather keep the peace by trading in secrets, and he'd regard surprises as much worse than mere unpleasantness or disadvantagedness.

but if i’m gonna provide some NSA AUs for somewhat less obscure canons...

* Naesala is some asshole senior director in the CIA who's constantly dunking on the NSA as a bunch of dweeby out-of-touch nerds, listen to my field agents instead, not all those math losers.  except secretly the only reason his department's so goddamn good at their jobs is because he's got A Guy In The NSA who's tipping him off on The Good Stuff TM.  possibly he is sleeping with said Guy In The NSA.  or used to be.  it's complicated!  ("it's Reyson what do you expect")

anyway, Naesala's career ends in some sort of bizarre inside-baseball scandal that he somehow manages to escape from with zero actual consequences (besides losing his job, public shaming, etc), and he goes on a book tour afterwards and all his old colleagues hate the shit out of him but he owns a yacht now so who's really winning here, he tells himself as he cries alone in the middle of the ocean

* ...honestly, the main trio of Three Houses may be Too Jock TM for any of this.  like obviously Claude comes the closest to being an NSA dude, and i think he'd have no problem *doing* the work on a technical level, but like.  he'd do one internship there and spontaneously combust from having to keep so much shit classified.  like yes the man likes having secrets but he doesn't like being legally bound to keep secrets.  this man wants to have a blog.  NSA people cannot have blogs and they cannot do "teasers," they need you to shut the fuck up and do your fucking job.  do you see the problem

* Soren (FE9/10): absolutely terrifying motherfucker who just casually suggests "wait can you do that" levels of backdooring the shit out of allies' critical systems, etc.  he probably authored that obnoxious "SSL Added and removed here! :-)" memo.  and like ok the NSA doesn't really do war crimes but people know he's probably kinda okay with them.  good thing most of his energies are spent being Really Really Good At Crypto Algorithms and he's happy to just hoard money and do math in his office most the time

* Ace Attorney canon:  oh my god please do not let any of these humans into a federal agency The Intelligence Community Will Be At Grave Risk

(okay okay, Klavier would probably be fine, but he'd get turned away at the getting-a-security-clearance step, through no fault of his own, really, but because his brother's been on a secret FBI watchlist for years because of his Sketchy Criminal Foreign Contacts, and that's just a bit too close for the agency's comfort.)