#in short: I wish there was more ‘inspired by’ works in this day and age

[reikunrei]

this is a cold ass take but not one I’ve seen around in my online circles, but the scooby-doo reboot has me thinking about how like. I feel like a big part of why it feels like fandom doesn’t last as long anymore is that we’re just constantly getting reboots and sequels of the same 3 things over and over.

and you’d think, wouldn’t that make the fandom last longer? and sure…. for those same 3 things. but like. it makes me think that a vast majority of people look at media and go “if it’s not actively putting out content, then it’s dead” when for so long, fandom around stuff would last for DECADES after a series had ended.

like, nobody lets anything sit and breathe anymore. and it’s exhausting.

and I get that the reason WHY we keep getting reboots and sequels is bc execs are scared to put money into anything new when this old title would immediately have a payoff bc it’s familiar to people. but that doesn’t make it any less depressing. in fact, it makes it MORE depressing, but nobody needs me to explain why.

I just wish people would stop beating dead horses. it’s not worth it, because it will so easily become forgettable when you just keep rehashing the same things, same settings, same characters over and over.

[bobohu4eva]

Illicit Affairs

Characters: Idol!Baekhyun x trainee/idol!Reader

Genre: smut, angst

Warnings: explicit unprotected sex, virgin sex, significant age gap, problematic relationship dynamics, this is purely a work of fiction and in no way representative of a healthy relationship

WC: 9.7k (trust me it needed to be that long)

A/N: Heavily inspired by the song, although the forbidden nature of the relationship is interpreted more as dealing with the age difference and dynamic, rather than being a result of infidelity. I definitely recommend giving it a listen before reading further.

Masterlist

He was one of the last people you met after becoming a trainee, but he was the one you'd been thinking about meeting the most. 

Baekhyun was the reason you decided to become a singer. He was the person that made you fall in love with music and singing ten years ago, so when you finally bumped into him in person, it left you breathless and flustered. 

He was even more gorgeous than you could've expected, and you'd already met many other idols by then. You'd been waiting for your vocal lesson one evening, and he was the person who went right before you. When his lesson ended, he walked out of the soundproof room, and he was standing right in front of you. 

The image of him you'd always had in your mind, based on the countless pictures and videos you'd seen of him throughout the years, couldn't compare at all. With him directly before you, in person, he looked so much better than you ever could've imagined. He was just wearing a black tshirt and sweats, no makeup, hair unstyled and even a bit messy, but you still had to fight off the urge to stare. He was quite a bit taller than you, and you could see the muscle definition in his chest and arms under the plain black shirt. Everything about him was just so perfectly shaped, to you. From his familiar but still somehow surprisingly handsome face, to his broad shoulders, down to his waist and hips. If you found him attractive before meeting him in person, you were down badly now. 

It was so natural and sweet how he greeted you, asking if you were new, and wishing you the best for your trainee journey. Of course you thanked him, but he could easily see how much the sudden meeting had shaken you up, so he kept it brief. 

From then on, you saw him there every week before your lesson, and found yourself looking forward to it every time. The greetings became short conversations, and eventually you even told him how he'd been the one to inspire you back in the day to also be a singer and eventually audition. You would never forget how those words made his face light up. 

“Really? Back then I had no idea what I was doing, I'm still surprised by how much people seemed to like me. It means a lot to hear that.” 

He had one of those special kinds of smiles that you only see a few times in your life. It made you feel seen, appreciated, like to him, you were the only other person that mattered. He had that kind of energy about him. 

All you could think to do was blush and smile back. Being around him was almost like some sort of high to you, the way your heart pounded and you got butterflies in your stomach.   

Finally your voice teacher popped his head out the door, clearing his throat. “Sorry, I've got a bit of a cold. We'll keep it short today.” 

Without missing a beat, Baekhyun spoke up. “If you need to take the night off I can take over her lesson.” He turned towards you, “Would you be okay with that?” 

Your eyes grew wide and your mouth opened slightly, but no words came out, so you just nodded. 

“You sure?” The teacher said, “That would be great, thank you.” 

“Of course, it's already pretty late, you should get some rest.” 

So, you were left with Baekhyun teaching your lesson for the evening. You were still dumbfounded as he led you back into the small soundproof room, and asked what you had learned in last week's lesson. 

You answered him, though it was barely above a whisper. Having him teaching you all of the sudden was not something you were mentally prepared for. 

However he still understood, and started leading you through some warm ups.

To say that you were blushing, embarrassed, mortified, or anything similar still felt like an understatement. Warm ups just aren't cute.They felt silly and sounded dumb and the idea of doing them in front of Baekhyun of all people made you want to curl up into a tiny ball and become one with the carpet on the floor. 

Of course Baekhyun quickly caught on to that. “How about we do them together? I'll start, and you just match me, ok?”  

His voice concealed your own enough to ease your mind a bit, but soon he was asking you to sing on your own, without his voice to hide behind. 

You could barely get out a sound, let alone properly sing a simple scale. It was frustrating beyond belief, you knew you were a good singer, and you were incredibly lucky to have him offer to teach you, but your shyness still got the best of you. Trying to do anything while his eyes were on you felt impossible. 

Baekhyun was starting to regret offering to do the lesson, not because he didn't want to, but because he felt he was making you uncomfortable. He loved the idea of mentoring a trainee, helping them develop their skills and getting to see them debut with his encouragement, it had even been a dream of his. Of course this was only one vocal lesson, but it was something he'd been thinking about for a while, and this seemed like a great opportunity, at least at first. But he knew he couldn't force it, and he didn't want to hold you back either.

“I'm sorry, I didn't really think this through. Should we call it a night?” He asked, and you felt your heart sink. The disappointment evident on your face must've told him that you weren't quite ready to give up yet, so he made you an offer. 

“What if I face the wall, and you close your eyes, just imagine I'm not here and you're practicing by yourself. Just so I can hear you and get a better idea for what we should work on.”

You took a deep breath. He was just another person, and he was here because he wanted to help you. 

When you nodded, he smiled, ready to give it your best shot before he turned away, facing the corner of the room. 

It actually came out sounding okay that time, so you repeated it again for good measure. 

When you opened your eyes Baekhyun was looking your way again, with a proud smile on his face.

He had you repeat it a few more times, reassuring you every time that you were doing well, and for you, just seeing him smiling and praising you was enough to keep you going. 

With you finally past your mental block, he was able to get an idea of where you were at, and both of you were surprised to see how quickly two hours went by. He still kept things simple, not wanting to overwhelm you or make you shy again, but it was going amazingly well and he found himself almost as excited about it as you, if not even more. 

With the lesson finally over, he offered to drive you back to your dorm on his way home, and you happily accepted. When he led you to his car, a silver Porsche, you let out a small laugh in disbelief. Baekhyun just smiled, making a little extra show out of opening the door for you, before circling around to get in himself. You stayed quiet, just listening to him softly sing along to the music he'd put on until it was time for him to drop you off. Part of you was still in disbelief, that you'd really spent the last few hours with him, and now, you were next to him in his car as he drove you home. When he pulled up to your dorm, he wished you a good night, and didn't move until he saw you enter the building safely. As you laid in bed that night you replayed it all in your mind, smiling like a fool at how heart fluttering it all was. For the first time, you couldn’t fall asleep because your reality was somehow even better than what you could dream up. 

One week later, when you arrived for your lesson again, you were surprised when Baekhyun and your original teacher said they wanted to discuss something with you. 

“How would you feel about having your vocal lessons with me from now on?” Baekhyun asked. 

They saw the surprise on your face, your first teacher nodding at what Baekhyun had said. 

“Wow, I mean, are you sure? It's an honor, of course, but, why..?” 

“Teaching is something I've been thinking a lot about lately and I really enjoyed our lesson last week. It's up to you, of course, but if you'd be interested then I'd love to be your new voice teacher.” 

You laughed, mostly in disbelief. It felt too good to be true. Baekhyun was someone you'd looked up to for so long, and now he was happily offering to personally help you with your singing. 

“You really mean that?” 

He was still smiling in that almost frustratingly captivating way, nodding at your question. “So should we get started?” 

Unlike the week prior you had a bit more confidence this time around, and both you and him thoroughly enjoyed the lesson. Every week that followed your voice grew even bolder, as you got more used to being around him. You got less nervous to see him, moreso happy and excited to get to sing with him, and having him as your teacher made you all the more dedicated to doing your absolute best. 

Soon you started to ask him about other things, too. First it was dancing, asking his advice for how to memorize choreographies more easily. Then, how to talk to the media, or how to pose for photo shoots. Within a few months Baekhyun was much more than just the voice teacher you saw once a week. He helped you with basically every aspect of becoming a successful idol, he became a mentor to you. 

You could never fully get used to it, to having him in your life in such a close way. Your heart would still flutter when he showed you that amazing smile of his, and you still refused to slack off on your vocals or dancing, because you wanted to impress him, but mostly because you’d get to see that very smile. He was every bit as lovely and charming as you’d always imagined he would be, and you fell hard for him, he made it impossible for you not to. With how sweet he was to you, it sometimes seemed like he might actually like you, as more than a student, but those were thoughts you pushed away, knowing realistically that a relationship with him was nothing more than a fantasy. 

It was only six months into being a trainee that you were told you would debut, and you knew that you had him to thank for it. Another few months later the day came, and it was time for you to perform with your group for the first time. 

As soon as you stepped off stage, out of the view of the cameras, you lost it. The tears weren't because you felt sad or disappointed, simply overwhelmed. You knew you'd done well, really well in fact. Your career had officially begun, and the weight of it came down on you all at once, leaving you with little to do but sit in your dressing room in disbelief.

There was a soft knock on the door, and next thing you knew Baekhyun’s head was peeking in, and you weren't sure you'd ever seen him smile that big before. 

Without as much as a second of hesitation, you ran to the door, pulling him inside. As the door shut behind him, his arms wrapped around you.

His praises almost went unheard, still too overwhelmed by everything to fully listen to what he was saying, but you could tell he was happy, that he thought you'd done really well. 

It wasn't long until his arms broke away, hands still on your shoulders as he looked at you, smiling that amazing smile of his. With him looking at you like that, telling you how well you'd done, how proud he was, how happy he was to be your mentor, your emotions ran wild. It was everything, the adrenaline, relief, euphoria, and just him. 

His eyes were still on your teary ones, admiring you, a little overwhelmed himself. Seeing you finally debut after the months he'd spent with you, singing together, dancing, doing everything he could to make sure you were ready when the day came, got him a little teary eyed, too. You'd done so well, and he felt so lucky to have gotten to be there by your side for all of it. 

“I'm so proud of you.” He said, his hands moving down from your shoulders, along your arms. His eyes held so much warmth behind them, the sweet words along with his hands on you, and the way he never took his eyes away from you, had you reeling, stomach doing flips. For a second you swore his face was getting closer to yours, and his eyes flickered down to your lips. The tension seemed so thick, it became unbearable. 

You threw your arms around him, and you kissed him.

At first he took a step back, stumbling a bit, too surprised to fully react. But before you had the chance to pull away, his hand was holding your face against his own, returning the same kind of passion you showed him.

Baekhyun, your endlessly kind, lovely, talented, handsome, funny, charming mentor, was kissing you back. With his free arm, he circled your waist and pulled you closer, flush with his chest. The hand on your face held you close so softly, asking, not demanding, for more contact, for this to not end so quickly. He gave you every chance to pull away, to stop him, but you didn't, you only melted into his affection even more. 

The knock on the door pulled you both rudely back to reality. Your lips parted, and as you stared at one another, what you'd just done started to sink in. Baekhyuns’ face fell in a way you’d never seen before, and then he was gone. He walked through the door with all the horror disgust he felt towards himself clearly evident and the knot in his stomach nearly made him sick. 

He knew he made a huge mistake. He fucked up so incredibly badly. 

You stood there stunned, a million things running through your head, and collapsed under the weight of it all. 

The stylist was confused to say the least after first witnessing Baekhyun’s swift exit and next finding you, sitting on the floor crying. Thankfully she excused herself and let you be.

Baekhyun kissed you, and then just walked out, leaving you alone and confused. The guilt nearly ate him alive. Returning your kiss crossed so many lines and he should've known better, and he did, but you caught him so off guard, in such an emotionally charged moment, it just happened. The sudden euphoria of realizing that you were kissing him overpowered any rational thought. He knew he must be insane. 

And of all days, it was the day of your debut.

He had to make this right. 

He returned to your waiting room but it was already empty. He kept walking around the building trying to find you, even running into your bandmates, but you were nowhere to be found. 

Then he tried calling you, but he was sent to voicemail after the first ring. You declined his call. Finally he texted you, although he really didn't want to have this conversation over text. He knew he needed to do a better job at apologizing than just sending a few texts 

“Can we please talk about this? I'm so sorry I just walked out, I wasn't thinking, I need to talk to you.” 

You didn't reply. 

The next day he called again, and still you didn't pick up. 

The truth was, you were too embarrassed. Seeing him again, after he'd rejected you like that, was just too mortifying to consider. You felt so stupid. Of course kissing him was an outrageously dumb thing to do. He was your mentor, of course anything romantic was off the table. But you had a crush, and the adrenaline, combined with how sweet he was to you, made you lose any sense of reason. 

Stupid little girl, kissing the man she never even had a chance with, because her emotions got the best of her. 

But then why did he kiss you back? 

That was what drove you insane. Of course you had a crush on him, it was painfully obvious from the first day you'd met him, but he'd always stayed professional, never giving you any reason to think that it was anything more than how a fan feels toward their idol, and that it ever would be. Unfortunately for you, your feelings towards him only got stronger over time. 

Baekhyun had convinced himself that it was a good thing you liked him, that with him as your mentor, you'd work that much harder. He thought it was cute, the same way he thought of other fans' attitudes towards him, during fansigns and the like. He hadn't considered that maybe he'd gotten a little too close with you, that those lines started to feel blurred. In reality, you weren't just another fan, you were far from it. You were a real friend, you knew him. 

It was easy for him to understand why you didn't want to see or talk to him after what happened. He knew he messed up, both when he kissed you back, and when he left the room. He couldn't even imagine what must've been going through your head. He hoped you weren't blaming yourself, sure you're an adult, but at ten whole years older than you, he knew he was the one responsible for making sure things stayed appropriate between you two, and he'd failed. 

To his relief, you still did amazing for the rest of the debut promotions. He watched every performance, wishing he could've been there to support you. 

Because of how busy you were you'd agreed a while ago to skip lessons for the first two weeks after debut, and as the days dragged on, Baekhyun was starting to worry that he wouldn't get to see you again for a lot longer than he'd like. He still knew he needed to apologize to you, and the longer you avoided him the guiltier he felt. 

When promotions ended and he still hadn't heard from you, he reached out to your manager, asking when you'd have time for a lesson again. 

She assured him that you'd be there next week at the same time and place as usual, and he breathed a sigh of relief. The days before the lesson dragged on for what felt like ages to him, but at least there was an end in sight. 

When the time finally came, you were mortified, almost as badly as the first day you'd met him, or during your first lesson together, maybe even worse. He greeted you just as warmly as he always did, emphasizing how well you'd done during all the performances, and how he wished he could've been there for you. He did everything he could to try and relieve some of the tension and awkwardness, but you weren't there yet. 

You were bright red, hating the unpleasant heat sweeping over you, burning your cheeks and making you uncomfortably sweaty. You couldn't talk to him, or even make eye contact, you were still too ashamed. 

“Y/n?” You saw in your peripheral how he looked at you, and your eyes started to water. “I need to apologize for what happened after the showcase, I'm so sorry, I never should've put you in that situation, or kissed you back, or just left like I did. I was being reckless and stupid, the fault is all mine, and I understand if not, but I really hope you can forgive me.” 

His heart sank when you started to cry, and although he'd told himself a million times that he wouldn't, that any physical contact with you was inappropriate, he still ended up holding you, giving you a shoulder to cry on. 

“I'm such a fucking idiot.” You eventually let out between sobs, and he detached himself from you, finally meeting your eyes. 

“Please don't say that, this is all on me. I'm the one who fucked up, not you.” 

“But I'm the one- I-”

“Because I was being inappropriate. Like I said, I shouldn't have put you in that situation, that was my mistake.”

“I'm just so embarrassed.” It came out barely above a whisper. 

“Nobody saw us, and I could never judge you for that. I know you just got caught up in the moment.” 

You did your best to smile and nod, but the tears just kept coming. His words were sweet but did little to mend the pain and shame you still felt. 

He wanted to reach out and wipe away your tears, to hold you, to comfort you as best he could, but he knew it would only worsen things. Once again, however, when you leaned into him for comfort, he let you do as you pleased, cursing himself for letting his very necessary boundaries slip away so easily. 

This was bad, he knew it was. He didn't have the strength to push you away though he really should've. If this was going to continue, he had to do better, but he was coming to terms with the fact that he just wasn't able to. 

He stayed holding you until the tears eventually slowed down, and came to a stop. Now that your face wasn't buried in his chest anymore, he shot you a soft smile. “Do you want to get to singing?” 

Finally, you let out a small laugh. “Do we have to? Can we just talk? I missed you.” 

He sighed, but nodded. He'd missed you too, but saying so didn't feel like a good idea. 

He kept the conversation light, trying to make you laugh, anything to brighten your mood, if only for a little while. When the end of the lesson came, he knew he was going to have to be the bearer of bad news. 

“Next week I promise we can actually sing again.” You told him as he led you to his car to bring you home. 

He took a few deep breaths, and you were on your way to your dorm when he finally replied. 

“I don't think it's a good idea for me to be mentoring you, or giving your lessons anymore.” 

“What?” 

He stopped at a red light, and the look of hurt and disappointment he saw when he looked over at you made his throat feel tight. 

“I'll talk to your original voice teacher, to see when he can fit you into his schedule again, now that you're getting more advanced it'll be better for you to train with him anyway.”

You felt your lip start to quiver again. “You just don't want to be around me anymore now, I get it.” You mumbled, trying to hide the shakiness in your voice. 

Baekhyun’s eyes squeezed shut for a second, “it's really not that, not at all.” 

He was pulling up to your dorm and you just wanted to get away from him now before he saw you start to cry again. “You don't have to keep lying to me, I know I'm the one who fucked everything up with that stupid kiss.” 

He parked, trying to think of how he could finally convince you that it wasn't your fault, but you were reaching for the door before he had the chance to say anything. 

“Y/n, wait, please-” 

You were already gone though, shutting the door behind you. As soon as you were outside of his car the tears came, and you tried to wipe them away as best you could as you hurried to your dorm. 

When you got to the elevator you prayed nobody would see you like this. You'd spent so much of the evening in tears, you knew you looked an absolute mess. You just wanted to get to your room where you could finally be alone and let it all out. 

“Y/n, wait!” 

You turned around, and there he was, jogging towards where you stood. Your stomach suddenly felt like it was in your throat, and then he was in front of you once again, this time taking both of your hands in his.

“I don't know what to tell you, for you to believe me, but it's not your fault, I swear. I- I don't want to stop teaching you either, really, but I can't keep being alone with you, not when I can't trust myself.” 

All you could do was stare back at him, knowing that you were a tearful mess. What he was telling you didn't make any sense in your mind. You kissed him. Not the other way around. 

“Please say something.” He was still panting a little as he said it, winded from having run after you. 

“What does that even m-mean, you can't trust yourself? I'm the one who kissed you, and I'm definitely not stupid enough to try that again, so what does it matter?” 

“I already told you, I shouldn't have put you, or us, in that situation in the first place.” 

“But that doesn't fucking matter! Who cares if we're alone, we've been alone for the last two hours and it was fine.” 

Only it really hadn't been fine, he knew that he shouldn't have been touching you at all.

You were staring back at him through tear filled eyes, and he felt absolutely terrible. He wanted to be able to comfort you, and eventually just gave in, throwing caution to the wind and wrapping his arms around you. 

He just didn't have it in him to stand and watch you cry, knowing that he was the reason. This time he felt the way you grabbed onto the back of his shirt, keeping him from moving away. 

“Please don't cry, I'm sorry, really, I just want what's best for you. We would still see each other occasionally around the company, it's not like this is goodbye forever.” 

“I- I don't want lessons with anyone else. You're the whole reason I was able to debut, you can't just leave me now. Please.” 

You were still holding onto him, and with every “please” you added, he was slipping. He hoped that you would eventually calm down, and he would be able to reason with you, to finally make you understand why he couldn't be around you so much anymore. 

He had no such luck. All you could think about was how badly you would miss him, how lost you would feel if he stopped mentoring you, the last few weeks had been bad enough already, the only thing that got you through without him was your embarrassment and how busy you'd been. You couldn't lose him, you needed him. 

Every minute that he listened to you cry because of him, he felt his rationality fade. As much as he knew he needed to distance himself, he wasn't going to do it if it hurt you that badly. 

You felt him take a deep breath, and finally, a soft “okay” fell from his lips. 

It wasn't until then that he felt your grip on him loosen, and you looked up at him. 

“What? Really?” You sniffled, face still wet. 

He nodded, running one hand through your hair, moving it from where it had started to stick to your face. 

Once again, your arms were thrown around him, but at least this time, it was because you were happy. You must've said thank you to him a million times that night, as you felt the relief wash over you. Baekhyun was all too aware of the way your chest pressed against his own. 

When he was finally free of your arms around him, you were beaming up at him, and he couldn't help but smile back. “You should get to your dorm before people start getting worried.” 

You nodded, pressing the button and hugging him one more time before the elevator arrived. 

“Bye” he waved, as you stepped inside and the doors started to shut “see you next week.” 

He knew he was in too deep, and he was a fool to give in to you, but now it was too late. He was going to have to live with his decision and try to keep things from going further, but he 

knew deep down that realistically, he didn’t have that kind of self control, not with you. 

~

Baekhyun hadn’t planned on seeing you again until the next lesson, but when your debut song entered the top ten on all the major charts just a few days later, he wanted to celebrate, and invited you to a nice dinner. That day you spent hours getting ready, putting on your favorite dress and making sure your hair and makeup were perfect. You knew that it wasn’t a date, but the way you felt leading up to him arriving could’ve fooled you. 

He picked you up and drove you to the restaurant, pulling up in the back where there was already somebody waiting to lead you to a private dining area where you’d be out of sight of the public. You hadn’t really thought about it, but you understood why it would probably be better for your dinner with him to stay between the two of you. 

It was the first time you’d been around him just to hang out, more as a friend than a student, and you thought it was magical. You were nervous at first, still having all of the past drama with him on your mind, but he was his usual wonderful self, easily leading the conversation, making you laugh until your stomach hurt, and he too felt it, how easy and right this was. You ended up at the restaurant with him for over two hours, neither of you wanting the night to end. Finally the awkward tension from the previous weeks was gone, replaced with optimism and gratitude for still having him in your life. 

When he finally dropped you off, he got out of the car to walk you inside, and you ended up alone with him, standing in front of the elevator once again. 

“Thank you for tonight,” You started, “everything still feels kind of surreal, I can’t believe this is actually my life now. And it’s all thanks to you.” 

“You always had it in you.” He said and smiled that lovely warm smile. You were about to press the button to take you upstairs, but he stopped you, looking around to make sure you were alone. “Wait- I know I tell you all the time that I’m proud of you and how far you’ve come, but I really can’t say it enough. I’m really lucky that I get to teach you. You have something special, truly.” 

You and him got stuck in a weird place, neither one talking, but not making any effort to leave either. The way he was looking at you pulled you in, and you thought you saw something flash across his face, something you hadn’t seen before. He stepped closer, close enough that you could feel his breath against your skin, and your heart rate skyrocketed, confused. He wasn’t sure what came over him, he must be insane. 

“Baekhyun?” You barely whispered, but he didn’t explain himself, instead he leaned in, and he kissed you. 

Your mind was going a million miles a minute and it made no sense to you whatsoever, but he was kissing you, softly, sweetly, like something out of one of the many day dreams you’d had about him. As quickly as it started he was pulling away again, his face tinted a deep shade of pink, smiling a bit bashfully at you, still too shocked to react. 

“Goodnight.” He whispered, and then he was walking back to his car. 

After that, things felt completely different with him. The hugs got longer, his words sweeter, and every time he dropped you off, he’d again kiss you goodnight. It wasn’t only after your weekly lessons together that he would drive you around either, you and him began to spend more and more time together, and had to get more and more cautious about not being seen. 

You would sneak out in big hoodies with a mask on to walk to where he was waiting in the parking lot, just to drive around all night with him in one of his fancy cars, talking, singing, and sometimes pulling off to the side of a quiet road where he would lean over and kiss you, though it never went any further. He knew that sneaking around with and kissing his student was bad enough, anything more, and in public, would be a whole different kind of stupid. 

Both of you started to lie a lot, to your managers, friends, anyone really who would question or even just ask about your relationship. To everyone else, he was still just your mentor, a strict student-teacher agreement and no more. The lying should’ve been your first clue as to how wrong it all was, but you were blinded by your feelings for him. Getting to be alone with him, kiss him, and talk to him about things no one else knew was too all consuming for you to even think twice about it.

How you talked to each other changed too. When you were alone with him he would call you baby, treating you less like a student, or even just a friend, and more as a lover. You should’ve been happy, thrilled, even, and you were when you were with him, but when he’d drop you off and you’d be alone in your dorm again, you’d break down.

The late nights together, the romance, the kisses, they were all wonderful in the moment, but afterwards you’d always part ways, realizing that it was all fleeting, that any relationship beyond what you already had with him was impossible, because no matter how you might feel about each other, you were still his student, and far too young to be involved with him in any deeper way. No number of kisses or secret rendezvous would make him yours, he made that clear. You would always end up alone in your dorm at the end of it all, crying, knowing it would never turn into anything more.

Seeing him during lessons was a different experience now. There would be other people around, and they didn’t think twice seeing you together, but you and Baekhyun would give each other knowing looks, or he’d wink at you, or something else to signify your little secret. You and him almost had a special secret language, joking with each other often with little more than a glance.

Even your manager didn’t know about you and him, she knew that he was mentoring you, but she’d known him for so long, she never even suspected that he might be acting inappropriately with you, he just didn’t seem like that kind of guy. 

The two of you had everyone fooled, and while it felt exciting on the surface, it also grew a new kind of shame within you, knowing that what you were doing was deeply wrong. 

What you had with him wasn’t real, and never should or could be, and it was starting to tear you apart. It took you weeks of working up the courage to do so, but finally, during a lesson, you decided you were going to confront him with all of it. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

Baekhyun shrugged. “Sure.” 

“But you have to promise you'll answer honestly!” 

“Okay! I promise.”

You took a deep breath. “What are we doing?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You know exactly what I mean. The sneaking around, the kissing, what is that about?” 

He'd been perfectly relaxed, but you could see how he tensed up as he realized what you were talking about. 

“Y/n, I don't think it's a good idea for us to talk about that right now-” 

“You said you'd answer!” 

A long sigh left him, eyes squeezing shut for a second. “Okay, okay. I’m just doing what feels right. You know I like you, but you also know that we can’t just act like we’re together either.” 

“Why?” 

“You know why.” 

“Cause it’s inappropriate? We both know that this entire arrangement hasn't been appropriate since you decided to mentor me, knowing that I have a huge crush on you.” 

You wanted to finally hear it from him, wanted him to admit that he'd been just as irresponsible as you, and Baekhyun didn't say a word. It was the hard truth that he'd been trying for so long to avoid, and you threw it right in his face. 

“Ever since then it feels like you've been slowly leading me on, acting like we have something special but never letting it feel completely real, when you're the one who started all this in the first place, and let it get this far.” 

He stared at you, and he knew he couldn't keep it up anymore, couldn't keep ignoring it. He saw your hurt and frustration clear as day, and finally, he broke. 

“I'm a fucking idiot. I know I am, I'm an idiot and knew that getting so close with you was a terrible idea but I ignored all of that because I like you too much, I never intended for us to end up like this and feel like a huge asshole because I know I'm in a position where it's completely wrong of me to touch you at all because of how we met and the power dynamic but still every time I see you that's all I can think about.” 

“Do you really not understand how cruel you're being?” 

You scoffed at how genuinely confused he looked. 

“I've liked you so much for so long, you know I have, and you just waltz into my life and start talking to me and then teaching me and then offering to mentor me, when you know I can't help but fall for you. You even make it clear that you like me back, inviting me out with you and kissing me but never truly acknowledging what it means, it feels fucking awful. You keep stringing me along because you like me even though you know you can't give me what I really want. You're such a selfish asshole for that.” 

Your voice grew less and less stable and Baekhyun saw how the tears gathered in your eyes, threatening to spill over. 

He knew there was no use trying to argue with you, he'd gotten himself into this mess and he knew he was the one to blame. “What do you want me to do?” 

“I don’t know. But it can’t go on like this, it hurts too much.”

The small room fell silent and all you could do was stare at each other. You looked so defeated, the guilt nearly brought him to tears, and he did the only thing he could think to do. 

He held your face in his hands, bringing you close, letting his lips meet your own. 

Kissing him was just as electrifying as it always was, only this time, he didn't stop, didn't hold back. You got lost in the feeling, savoring the familiar taste and feel of finally getting what you craved again. This time though, it couldn't end the way it always did. Something had to change, so you pulled away.  

“You can’t just kiss me again and then keep on the same way. Please, I need more.” 

His face fell, because he knew he couldn’t give you that. “Y/n, I’m sorry, but you know why I can’t do that, why it has to be like this.” 

And he was right, of course you understood, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. It would be the end of his career if he was seen with you, and even his close friends would be raising eyebrows. He was so much older, your teacher, and your idol. What you wanted was completely impossible. “I care about you, a lot, you know I do. I also wish it wasn’t like this but we don’t have another choice.” 

“So what? You keep stringing me along, and I just have to live with it? Knowing that no matter how much we may want it, we’ll never be able to be together?” 

He sighed, and frowned at how sad you looked. “Can’t we just be grateful for what we do have?” 

You shook your head, “I want too much.” 

Despite everything you said, you and him both knew that you wouldn't be able to walk away, and neither would he. So when he took your face in his hands, whispered another “I'm sorry,” and kissed you again, you melted into him effortlessly. 

It was heated and messy, both letting out all your grief and frustration, clinging to each other almost desperately. He kissed you harder, deeper than he had before, until this time he was the one to pull away, though he didn't move far, looking at you with a look that while apologetic, was still hopeful.  

“I can't give you what you want, but if we're careful, I can take you home with me. For tonight, we can act like it’s real.” 

Before, taking you home with him had always been off the table. You were both too easily recognizable, and being seen in his building together would make it dead obvious that your relationship was more than it should be, so it didn’t even seem like an option. 

Wide eyed, you nodded, and not even a half hour into the lesson he was sneaking you carefully out of the practice room, and then the building, into his car. You texted your manager some bullshit excuse as to why you'd be gone for the night, and then you were on your way to his place, for the very first time.  

You could hear the rapid pounding of your own heart as he drove you through the night, unsure but excited. Even if it was only for one night, and he was risking far too much, you were going to hold onto whatever you could get. 

When he pulled into his building’s garage, he gave you a hat and a mask to put on, he pulled up his hood and put his own mask on, saying a short prayer before getting out of the car, and walking in with you. If anyone saw and recognized you both, he would be fucked, so he hurried, and luckily you made it to his apartment without running into anyone. 

Once inside you both let out a sigh of relief. You were alone with him, truly alone, no chance of passers by seeing you, or label mates catching onto your relationship, just you and him, all night. 

When you felt his hand on your own, pulling you closer, it robbed you of your breath. He took his mask off, and then yours, and leaned in, though his lips only barely met your own before he was looking at you once again. “I’ve wanted you so badly, and I know it’s wrong and I’m an idiot and an asshole for doing this, but I just can’t bring myself to stay away from you.” 

“So don’t. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you. I’m all yours.” 

You looked up at him, eyes sparking with all the hope and clueless naivety he should expect from you, a girl of barely twenty, who’d grown up loving him, and was powerless not to fall into his trap, whether he’d set it on purpose or not. He was a man ten years your senior, who positioned himself as an authority figure in your life, someone who should never touch you, kiss you, or anything even close. 

The guilt manifested as a lump in his throat, knowing that your feelings for him, your willingness to ignore how wrong it all was, were because of him. 

Still, he kissed you, with a kind of passion that was new to you both. Without any risk of getting caught, he let himself hold you tighter, let the kiss get more and more heated. He led you to the couch, where you ended up on his lap, his hands on your hips as his lips wandered to your neck, kissing, biting, enough to make you gasp and shiver, but not leave marks. 

For you it was otherworldly, lightheaded and dizzy with disbelief as his hands and lips stayed glued to your skin, finally living out the fantasies that played in your head when you laid alone at night, longing for him. You’d kissed boys in the past, but none of them came anywhere close to the way he made you feel. You were convinced nobody could ever make you feel the things Baekhyun could, and all he’d done was kiss you. He wasn’t some boy, he was a man, he knew what he was doing, and you wanted more. Every last little piece of him. 

The restraint was gone. He wanted you just as badly, and that was all he could focus on. When you pushed your hips further into him, he groaned at the friction, easily getting carried away. You felt, looked, sounded, tasted, even smelled divine to him. He’d been hard for a good while already, and this time when you rolled your hips and he felt you against him, he let out a satisfied groan. 

That only encouraged you further and you kept moving, lips moving heatedly against his, as you started to get yourself off against him, his hands on your ass guiding you. 

“I want more.” You breathed out when he pulled back for air. “Where’s your bedroom?” 

Baekhyun didn’t answer, rather he stood, your legs still wrapped around him as he carried you away, until gently laying you down on his mattress. 

With you he became a gentle, caring lover. Maybe it was your age, or the fact that he’d been your mentor, but the way he touched you was like you were something precious. Like if he wasn’t careful, you would break. Even as he positioned himself between your thighs, he was cautious, never moving too quickly, watching for any hesitation on your end. 

But there was none, your desire for him was all-consuming in a way that was hard to understand, even in the moment. Without him pressed against you, you felt like you might actually die. 

“I’m not made of glass, Baek. You don’t have to be so careful.” 

“I know, I just… I want to treat you the way you deserve to be treated. I want this to be special.” 

When his lips met yours for the nth time that day, you started to tug on his clothes, until his shirt was being pulled over his head and he got to work undressing you as well. One by one he took off your blouse, followed by the skirt you were wearing, next unhooking your bra, until all that was left on your body was a pair of lacy underwear. Still desperate for his affection, you kept your lips glued to his all you could, the added feel of his warm skin against your own stealing any rationality from your mind. All you could think of was him, you wanted him in a way you didn’t even know was possible. 

He froze above you when your hand reached down, trying to get the button of his jeans undone. 

Even the few seconds when his touch left you completely as he finished undressing himself felt torturous. A breath got stuck in your throat when you felt his hands at your hips, slowly pulling the last piece of clothing from your body before reclaiming his place between your thighs. 

As your eyes met his and he started to move closer, you realized that there was something he needed to know. 

“Wait- I should probably tell you, I’ve never done this before.”

You watched as the color drained from Baekhyun’s face, eyes wide. He hadn’t even considered that you might be a virgin, you were old enough to have some experience, but it shouldn’t have been that much of a surprise to him either. Those five words hit him like a punch in the gut. 

He rolled off of you, hands running through his hair, eyes squeezed shut. “God, this is so fucked up.” 

You sat up, taking one of his hands and he looked at you with uncertainty. “It’s not a big deal, but I’m sorry if that was a bit of a shock.” 

He gave you a sympathetic, but worried look. “It is a big deal though, at least to me. This would be irresponsible enough if it wasn’t your first time, I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t want to be responsible for how you’ll feel afterwards.” 

His words made your heart sink and a lump form in your throat. “What? No, please, Baekhyun, trust me, there isn’t anyone in the entire world that I would rather do this with than you, here and now. Please. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything this badly.” 

“You have to realize how tough of a spot you’re putting me in.” 

“I don’t care. I just want you, I’ve never been so sure of anything in my entire life. Please.” 

You moved closer to him, linking your hands behind the back of his neck, taking him with you as you fell back onto the mattress. He looked down at you, still unsure. 

“Please.” 

He shushed you with another kiss, but had his own conditions if he was really going to be your first. “You have to tell me immediately if you feel uncomfortable at all, or if it hurts, and you can stop me at any point if you don’t want it anymore.” 

You could see in his eyes the concern and uncertainty he was feeling, but you had gotten this far, and you knew what you wanted, and you wanted it bad. You nodded, and he was between your legs once again, the anticipation rising. 

Baekhyun didn’t miss the way you gasped at the first touch of his length against your inner thigh. He wanted to make sure you were ready, that it didn’t hurt too badly, so he started with one finger inside you, slowly working it in and out, before adding a second. The wetness and your whimpers told him you were more than ready, easily taking his digits, and finally, he moved to replace them with his length.  

You felt him position himself at your entrance, and you were certain you’d never felt that kind anticipation before, leaving you a shaking, panting mess underneath him. 

You felt his hand softly against your cheek, and your eyes opened to meet his. “Y/n, baby. You’re sure you want this?” 

You nodded without even a second of hesitation. “Yes, god, please.” 

The softness of his kiss was a stark contrast to the intrusion of him pushing inside, the pain making your eyes squeeze shut and a whine pass your lips. 

He stopped moving when he saw your reaction, giving you time to adjust to the new sensation. “Am I hurting you?” 

It did hurt, but your desire overpowered any sign of discomfort. “Please don’t stop.” 

With his forehead pressed to yours he kept going, until his hips were flush with yours. He felt your discomfort in how tense you were, staying still to let the pain subside. 

“Baekhyun, please.” 

You might’ve not minded the pain, too concerned with the intense need for more, but he wasn’t going to move until he knew you were okay. 

“I know it hurts baby, you have to relax, can you do that for me?” 

You whined in response but realized that he was right, you were extremely un-relaxed, and as you made a conscious effort to let go of all the tension in your body, the pain faded away. 

He felt it, and saw how you melted into the mattress, and took it as his cue to start moving. 

The first thrust had your back arching, moaning his name and he just kept going, setting a slow rhythm. You clung to him, moaning unabashedly, losing yourself to the new and incredible feeling of him inside you. Nothing could’ve prepared you for it, this was so much better than anything you’d been able to come up with in your own fantasies. Just the weight and warmth of him on top of you overwhelmed you, combined with the feeling of him pushing in, pulling out almost completely each time, before sinking back into you, it was like your own personal heaven. He was your own personal heaven. 

It only got better as he kept moving, that familiar warm feeling building in the pit of your stomach. You’d had orgasms before, but what you could do with your own hands didn’t even compare to what he was doing to you. It was a wholly different, and far more intense sensation. 

His lips collided with yours in a messy, lustful haze, praises passing his lips in between breaths.  “You feel so good baby, so perfect, so beautiful.”

Those words heightened everything even more, his low voice sending chills running down your spine. 

“Baek, please.” 

You didn’t even know what you were begging for anymore, you were just imploring him for more, everything and anything he could give you, you wanted it. The feeling of him rolling his hips into you again and again clearing your mind, your pleasure and desire all consuming. 

However he could see it in your eyes, how you needed more, and picked up the pace. The way he pushed himself into you, now faster, and with more force, had the tightness in your belly growing more intense by the second. 

The build up was more intense than you ever knew possible, losing control as he continued his ministrations, until all at once, you fell. 

The orgasm raged through you, leaving every nerve ablaze, as you shook and gasped at the overwhelming wave of pleasure. 

Above you, Baekhyun was losing control too, still pushing inside deeply, teetering on the edge, but your fucked out expression combined with the way you clenched around him had him reaching his high soon after you, shuddering with a moan as he let go. 

For a minute you both stayed just like that, panting, gasping, letting the climax slowly fade, until there was nothing left but a tangled web of sweaty limbs. 

When he pulled out and rolled off of you, the loss of his warmth made you whine. You barely even noticed when he got up, soon returning with a wet towel, and cleaning you up. 

He settled in next to you, and you smiled when his arm wrapped around you, pulling you into him. 

Luckily the exhaustion did well to lull you to sleep, any painful thoughts being pushed to the morning, but you wouldn’t be able to escape them forever. 

He woke you up with a kiss on the cheek, and at first it all felt so nice, so tender and intimate, in bed together with him as the sun began to poke through the curtains. Slowly he got up, and you followed, feeling the dull ache between your thighs as you stood. 

Seeing the way you grimaced at the soreness, he was quickly at your side. “Shit, sorry.” He muttered. 

You just let out a small laugh. “It’s okay, it was worth it, at least. Definitely worth it.” 

He smiled, pulling his clothes on as you gathered your own, before doing the same. “Let’s get you home, before it gets busy and people could see us leaving here together."

There it was, the rude call back to reality. That your night with him was over, that now you would have to hide again, to sneak around, and constantly be reminded that he wasn’t really yours, and never would be. 

Stupid, foolish girl. 

You managed to make it back home without being spotted, and even his kiss goodbye couldn’t keep the sadness from taking you over. He noticed it too, how you seemed to shut down after making it to his car. 

Back in your room, you let it all out, letting the tears seep into your pillow. Once again, he’d turned you into a complete mess, the pain and frustration leaving you broken.

Nobody could ever again give you what he could, could make you feel what he could. It was him, the man you’d looked up to and admired for so many years, and now after having slept with him, it was clearer than ever. 

That was the nature of your relationship with him. You were powerless to him, and no matter how much it would ruin you, you'd let him do it, over and over again.

For him, you would ruin yourself, a million little times.

[dimepdf]

★  𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐄 '𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃. + 𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐘𝐀𝐌 𝐒𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐘

masterlist. / taglist. / any request? synopsis. when you initially asked Neteyam, the eldest Sully son who also happened to be smitten for you, for more assistance with your Na'vi knowledge, he was happy to help with a more hands-on approach.

─── ☆ notes. saw the new avatar and the way i had to pause and react and take in every detail cause it felt so short,, i cant wait for the 3rd movie to come out while im pushing fucking 40 or something with kids. | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

─── ☆ length. 2.8k (21 min read) .

─── ☆ genre and warnings. +18 nsfw under the cut. minors dni | mutual pining | friends to lovers | fem reader | pwp | porn with feelings | not movie canon | size kink | height difference | stretch marks | body worship | fluffy | confessions | monster fucking(?) | handjobs | fingering | grinding | manhandling | oral sex(f) | cute aftercare | not beta'd | title inspired by this song.

"You can't, Tuk!" Only grumbling at his two most annoying younger siblings who had been following closely behind him, Neteyam dismissed the two in the typical older sibling tone of irritation. 

Both of them were curious, like cats, to find out where he was going when he broke his patrolling routine and made the error of asking both their father and mothers for permission to spend the rest of the day helping you at the labs with your studies that you had been struggling with.

No matter how much he tried to pull both parents aside, at least one sibling had managed to eavesdrop, and then his plans of keeping it on the down low had fallen through like a domino effect. 

This was why Tuk was bouncing on her heels, trailing after her two bickering brothers, Neteyam and Lo'ak. "No fair!" She tantrums, adding to the chattering back and forth, "I want to see y/n too, how come you're the only one that gets to go?" 

With your parents being loyal scientists passionate for a change, standing alongside Jake Sully were a group of good hearted human beings that were allowed to stay on Pandora to live alongside the Na'vi colony. 

Given that you were the second less rogue lab baby, it was the story that set the stage for your loving and extremely intelligent life. 

Maybe it was the fact that you still had your two loving parents, ending up more bubbled and growing up to be more of a homebody constantly wrapped up in some sort of new experiment scattering around the lab despite working with people twice your age. 

Everyone had grown to feel like one big nerdy family within the lab walls. 

Neteyam tightly inhaled with his hand wrapped tight around the leather hand grip from the holster for his Ikran. He was starting to grow thinner and thinner with the patience of telling the little girl every excuse under the sun other than flat out saying that he just wished to spend time with you alone. 

Lo'ak, of course, had been no help in calming Tuk down; his motormouth only added fuel to the flame as he continued to pester him alongside her. 

"He doesn't want us to come so he can finally make a move on his girlfriend." The youngest boy teased. Lo'ak flinched away from his brother's attempt at kicking him in the shoulder with a knowing chuckle, the comment only made Tuk whine more in disgust.

Muttering an insult as he mounted his ride, Neteyam ignored the tightness in his stomach at just the mere mention of your name beside his hinting towards a romantic relationship; it was an odd pretty relationship you had with the eldest son.

“I won't be fawning, I'm just going because she asked me for help with her research.” Neteyam gave his siblings one more stern glare.

“And she's not my girlfriend.” 

Lo’ak doubled in laughter, fuel only added as Neteyam showed more signs of annoyance. “Research? For what, exploring each other's bodies?” Neteyam had only rolled his eyes at the lewd question, taking off just in time for Tuk to ask what the joke had meant. 

Neteyam had been to the labs a handful of times, whether it was to hang out with Spider, accompany Kiri to see her mother, or just keep a close eye on Lo'ak to make sure he would stay out of trouble.

But he felt like this visit was just different from all the others—more intimate, greeting the few familiar faces as you guided him by hand through the lab rooms. Ducking through doorways and crouching through cramped human sized halls to your quarters that had been cleared out for a separate space all to yourself. 

It had been an old rec room redesigned and rearranged to your liking to hold all your personal belongings and decor. What was notable to Neteyam was the lack of boring control panels, odd techy devices, and bland white furniture all over the rest of the lab. 

The usual white and blue alien sleeping pod had been swapped out for a netted hammock similar to the one he would use at home, making your room appear completely disconnected from the rest of the sterile and overly organized aesthetic. 

A long desk piled high with books and paperwork was located across from your resting place next to the hatch entrance door, taking up its own space next to the large window overlooking the forest below the cliff. Your desk served as a clear confirmation to Neteyam that you were as intelligent as you appeared.

To enter Neteyam had to duck down enough to fit under the sliding door frame. As he did so, he peered around your messy bedroom with big curious eyes, soaking up as much information as he could about the space you loved to lock yourself up in all day rather than with him. "Okay, so this is what I've got done so far."

He followed the slight gesture of your hand, following towards the splattered spread of canvas against the once white wall now covered in layers of small paintings and scribbled wordings, but there was once a portrait that had caught his eye the most, a towering blue warrior posed with a bow. 

You had painted him on your wall.

Neteyam exhales as his long fingers run against the textured wall, his ears folding back, expressing his hidden bashful feelings as he comes face to face for the first time with a beautiful mural of himself.

"Ah, don't touch it," The gentle grasp of his elbow draws his attention back to you, "it's still drying, dummy."  

Your entire hand could only manage to wrap around two of his large fingers as you used the bottom hem of your shirt to wipe away the smudged paint on his fingertips, the view allowing Neteyam to look down at you while swallowing at the peak of your midriff.

In a good way, your body was very different from his. In contrast to his towering frame, you were much shorter with skin a warm shade of brown rather than the light sky blue he was used to seeing around.

It was more enticing to Neteyam, you weren't like anyone else he was used to, not even similar to Spider. You were a woman for one, he couldn't help but find himself entranced by you just so soft and plush looking, especially as you stood before him collecting your art supplies from around your bedroom.

He liked the way you always seemed to exude confidence with every step you took. How whenever you were concentrating on a task, your expression would soften, biting at the skin at your lip enough to draw his attention to the shape of your lips.

“Okay, so sit for a moment.”

He does as you say and sits with his legs crossed in front of you while kneeling on the ground. He had managed to have a height difference that reached your collarbone even while he was seated while you stood in front of him. Neteyam felt a bit insecure under your studied, silent gaze, watching your eyes move down his body with an uncomfortable exhale.

It didn't help his anxieties much that you were a more hands on learner, blinking as your hand reached out to caress his face.

A shiver ran up his spine at the gentle brush of your fingers against his cheek. "Your marks are so distinctive, pretty," you complement breathlessly with the trace of your pointing finger against his temple.

His ears twitched, and before he could react, his tail wrapped itself snugly around the middle of your thigh and drew you closer to him.

He murmurs timidly, "Yeah, they're kind of just all over," Before his hands could rest flat on his lap, he gestures while briefly puffing out his chest.

His eyes were looking anywhere but yours, as he was almost close to purring under your gentle touch. He just couldn't trust how his body would react to anything else. It was a mental war, trying not to make it seem as if he was completely gawking at your body.

The lift of your shirt exposed that same part of your stomach that his eyes could only see but his hands longed so desperately to trace. Neteyam’s fingers twitched, making a fist before hesitating in his grasp on your hips, his palm engulfing your sides.

The sight of his thumbs not being able to touch caused him to let out a shaky breath.

You nearly fell over when he suddenly wrapped his strong hands around you. The only thing you noticed was the curious look in his large, yellow eyes that were raking up from your waist as you used his shoulder to help you ground yourself. "Can I see it?" he asks.

You took a moment to process what he was trying to ask before your other hand could instantly cover the pudge of your stomach. "Hm, sure." You finally nod, lifting your shirt just enough to reach the midsection of your torso. 

You had your marks in the form of a scar, a healed claw mark that stretched just below your rib, and a memory of the first time Neteyam nearly saved your life from a rogue Thanator that had wandered too far from its territory. 

His face winced as he tried to push back the dreaded feeling he still would get in his chest thinking back on that horrible day. His fingers stroke against the rough skin, gentle enough as if he were afraid that he would crush you between his fingers by accident.

"I'm sorry," he mutters shamefully. "I let it leave a mark on you." He felt as if he had taken an arrow to the chest, the clench that he felt nicking in his ribs with every flooded memory of having betrayed your parents and his trust by being unable to truly ensure your safety in his hands.

"I told you to stop apologizing. You saved my life, Neteyam." You reassure him, yet he would fail to feel the same way, his fingers continuing down the scar tissue low enough to reach the waistband of your pants. 

Neteyam’s fingers brush more towards your sides, his interest lingering at the hints of stretch marks on the skin of your hips. 

"And what about these?" Foreign were the marks embedded against your hips and the dance of his fingers as they dragged down the jagged lines under them, hidden under the waist of your pants. 

It was a daring request, meeting eyes with a soft gaze that had a flaming heat feel as if it were flowing through his veins. 

Peering down at him with a dark look that made the tug of his tail more inviting, you closed the distance, falling against him with enough reaction time to straddle his waist. “Aren't I the one supposed to be the one studying you?” you whisper 

“I don't mind, go ahead.” Your back arches as you encircle his shoulder with your arms and tuck yourself closer as Neteyam watches how you react. 

His hands had taken the place of his previous grasp on your thighs, his tail wrapped possessively around your midsection. “Ohe think ohe'm keye’ung love.”

The beating in his chest was dangerous, but so was the way you looked at him before your lips could meet.

Neteyam didn't consider himself to be much of a romantic, the closest he had come to experiencing true love was through the example of the close bond his parents shared.

But as he kissed you, suddenly it all just made sense.

When you pulled away, exhaling hard, all he could do was chase after your mouth. The proportions were only a bit off—not too much that either of you had any objections against—as he swallowed each moan and whine that would pull from your throat.

Neither Neteyam nor you have ever kissed anyone before, maybe it was the way it felt so right to just let each other's instincts take over, grasping and tugging each other tightly as if there were any possible way you could get any closer.

Pure lust was what had taken over as Neteyam felt you shiver under his fingertips, the tangle of your hand in his braids had sent a new, inexperienced spark through his body.

Neteyam hissed at the odd feeling that struck him like a wave. "Oh, sorry," you mutter with a lick of your lips, your arms still laced around him.

He hadn't understood what you were apologizing for at first until he had followed your pointed stare to his crotch. 

The feeling that had waved through him was now all too clear as you both glanced shyly at his bulging situation—that you had the guts to reach out and fondle before he could even process how to breathe once more. 

With a sigh of breath, Neteyam practically whines at the contact, too caught up with the pit forming in his lower stomach to feel the embarrassment he would have felt at the pitch of the noises that parted from his lips. 

You readjust yourself in his hold, wincing slightly at the death grip he had on your thighs. The small space you created was enough for you to fully get a better grasp on his length, disregarding the cloth that held his privacy and rubbing your thumb over the dark blue tip of his dick, smearing the precum that he oozed.

Neteyam doesn't know whether he wants to watch or squeeze his eyes shut, his expression pained, yet his body felt everything but. 

His breath was shaky, and his limbs were tensing with each fisted stroke. 

All he could do was tremble and moan as you jerked him off. "Ah, hold on, p–please." As he sagged forward and whimpered, Neteyam attempted to catch his breath.

His sudden deadweight forced you to fall backward onto your back, where you then caught yourself lying beneath him. You followed suit to the small moment of mercy, mostly for your own sake at the dull tiredness in your wrist.

Now that the position had not helped much to ease whatever was building up inside, Neteyam sighed at the newfound feeling of rutting himself against the soft skin of your leg that his dick was pressed against.

Wanting more of the skinship, Neteyam’s hands wandered to whatever they could grab, hearing you giggle slightly from the ticklish sensation. 

It was the guide of your hand wrapping around his wrist, guiding his hand lower past the waistband of your pants. He felt drunk watching the way your expression shifted at just the mere feeling of his long fingers finding just the spot where you needed him most. 

It was an otherworldly sensation that Neteyam was experiencing, feeling you tight around his fingers and pistoning in and out of you at a careful, almost unbearably slow pace with each thrust.

Even as you finished with your tense muscles clenching around him and a broken moan that made him shiver, a noise of encouragement would make him never want to stop praising you.

Once Neteyam got a look at his slick covered fingers, it was like a lightbulb had switched on.

Before you could even process the end of your orgasm, Neteyam had crawled down closer to your legs, leaning down desperately and tugging off your pants. Both of you still found the atmosphere light and comfortable enough to humor each other's eagerness. 

Your laughter faded into small gasps at the strength with which Neteyam had elevated you enough to bury his face into your pussy sitting crouched on his knees as if you weighed absolutely nothing.

The same tongue he used to shyly babble to you with is now showing its true talent as his fingers probe you open the twitch of your hips shift against his mouth, directing him straight to his tongue sucking at your clit. 

It doesn't take much strength for him to hold you in place, your entire lower half is lifted in his grasp, knees bent and held up against his shoulders, and you use your elbows to perch yourself up as your muscles clench from the pleasure of your orgasm.

Neteyam, who hadn't had much of a grasp on the ecstasy of climaxing, continued to suck and finger until you trembled all over and were begging out his name for mercy. 

He was practically boneless, and tears threatened to roll down your cheeks as he finally allowed you to collapse into a heap of putty mess flat on the floor.

You push out your arms lazily, beckoning Neteyam into your embrace as you tug him down to lay on his chest with each other's legs tangled together, panting the same breath. 

It was a comfortable moment of silence, listening to the matched rhythm of each other's heartbeat.

[yamayuandadu]

Tamamizu Monogatari, a unique love story

This article, unlike most of my recent longer pieces, was not planned in advance. I learned about the subject very recently, and instantly realized I absolutely have to introduce it to more people, the previously posted schedule be damned. The Tale of Tamamizu (玉水物語, Tamamizu Monogatari) is a story about a fox turning into a human, but a rather unconventional one, filled with an unusual degree of sympathy for the eponymous protagonist and focused on a rather unique relationship. In addition to summarizing it in detail and explaining the possible inspirations behind it, I will also try to explain why the tale found a new life on social media as a, broadly speaking, lgbt narrative, and why I think there is a compelling case to be made for such an interpretation. Unless stated otherwise, all images used through the article are taken from the Kyoto University Rare Materials Digital Archive, on whose website you can view scans of the original Tamamizu Monogatari.

The Tale of Tamamizu, also known as The Contest of Autumn Leaves (Momiji Awase) is an example of otogi-zōshi, illustrated prose narrative. The story was presumably originally composed in the Muromachi period (1335-1573), and it survives in multiple copies dated either to the early Edo period or to the end of the Japanese “middle ages” directly preceding it. The identity of the author (or authors) is unknown. Despite its apparent popularity in the past, it seems no major studies of the tale of Tamamizu have ever been conducted. A streamlined translation (or rather an extensive summary) was published online by Kyoto University Library in 2001 and can be accessed here. In 2018, a full translation, as well as a brief introduction, were prepared for the anthology Monsters, Animals, and Other Worlds. A Collection of Short Medieval Japanese Tales. Still, it doesn't seem either sparked all that much interest in Tamamizu, despite the story’s obvious modern appeal. Since the tale of Tamamizu is not well known, I will start with a detailed summary. I am consistently using female pronouns for Tamamizu after she transforms, as does the older translation. The other English translation switches between female and male pronouns. I will explain in the final paragraph of the article why I made the decision to follow the former. The Tale of Tamamizu The story of Tamamizu does not start with the eponymous character, but rather with a certain mr. Takayanagi from Toba. He is troubled, as while he is already 30, he has no children. He decides the only choice is to pray to gods and buddhas. This actually does work, and his wife becomes pregnant, and after the expected period gives birth to a daughter. She doesn’t get a name at any point in the story. The girl’s birth is followed by a timeskip. As we learn, she was distinguished by twenty five features associated with beauty. This is apparently a reference to the belief that a buddha possessed thirty two specific physical traits; the number might have been altered to twenty five because of a popular group of twenty five bodhisattvas associated with Amida. By the time she reached the age of fifteen or so, she also developed great skill in composing poetry in both Japanese and Chinese. Her parents at some point decided that it would be ideal to send her to serve in the emperor’s court in the future. The girl spends most of the time in awe of the blooming of flowers, the wind and other similar phenomena, as one would expect from a literary character of similar status. She maintains her own flower garden, and spends much of her time there.

On one of the days when she visited it alongside her friend Tsukisae, the daughter of her nurse, she caught the attention of a fox. The fox is, at this point in time, not yet Tamamizu. He wishes he could introduce himself to the girl. He considers the standard method - transforming into a nobleman - but he realizes this would likely sadden the girl’s parents, and would tarnish her reputation. He falls into despair. It does not exactly help that his attempts at visiting the garden again end up poorly - on the way there, he gets pelted with stones and then, after trying again, shot with an arrow. Still, he continued to hope to meet with the girl. An opportunity finally arose through a lucky coincidence. Another family living in the same area had multiple sons, but no daughters, much to the parents chagrin. They loudly lamented that they wished they had at least one girl among the children. The fox overheard that and realized it might be an opportunity. He transformed himself into a teenage girl (curiously, the story specifically puts her at the exact same age as the unnamed second protagonist), and enters their house. She explains that she is an orphan, and while passing by she overheard the family’s woes. She offers to become their daughter. The couple instantly agrees.

The fox spends some time living with her adoptive family, though she gets sad easily and keeps bursting into tears. After some time, they offer that they will find her a husband in due time, but she reacts to that poorly, and eventually suggests she would prefer to become the servant of a noble lady. Her adoptive mother agrees this isn’t a bad idea, and reveals that her younger sister is a lady-in-waiting of the daughter of a local noble, mr. Takayanagi. She suggests the fox could become her attendant too. She is overjoyed at this prospect, and is soon sent to Takayanagi’s mansion to meet with his daughter. The girl receives her new attendant warmly, and gives her a nickname, Tamamizu-no-mae (Tamamizu for short). They get along really well, and Tamamizu gets to partake in her various activities, serves her food and drinks, and even sleeps in the same bed (Tsukisae does too, though). While Tamamizu does remarkably well as a human, some of her fox habits remain. Most notably, she is really afraid of dogs. Her lady sympathizes with her plight, and actually bans dogs from her household. This is a much welcome change from Tamamizu’s point of view, though apparently some other members of the staff start to view her as a coward because of this, and simultaneously resent her closeness with the girl. The bond between Tamamizu and the girl reaches a new level when on a moonlight night they spontaneously compose a poem together. It deals with longing. We are told it was followed up by multiple other poems, which are not quoted in the story. Eventually the girl gets tired and heads to her room. However, Tamamizu remains outside gazing at the moon and eventually starts crying, unsure what fate awaits her. Tsukisae, who was inside all along, actually becomes concerned about Tamamizu, and says she feels sorry for her, correctly identifying the cause of her sorrow as love for an unidentified party. She shares her thoughts with their lady (in the form of a poem, of course). The latter summons Tamamizu inside, and soon all three go to bed together. Tamamizu is still overwhelmed by her feelings and can’t fall asleep, though. Tamamizu continues to serve the girl for the next three years. She also remains in touch with her adoptive mother, who sends her letters and new clothes every now and then. One day, many visitors arrived in the house for a friendly competition. The winner will be the person with the most beautiful collection of autumn leaves. Tamamizu decides she must find some for her mistress to give her an advantage. To accomplish that, at night for the first time in years she turns back into a fox, and leaves to visit her siblings. Not the adoptive ones, though. As it turns out, she has two fox brothers, one younger and one older. She actually hasn’t visited them in so long they assumed she died and held funerary services for her in the meanwhile. They are overjoyed to learn that is not the case, and after learning about her current life agree to help her with finding unique leaves. She tells them to leave them on the veranda of her mistress’ mansion, and reassures them it’s safe for foxes to be there thanks to the earlier decision to not allow dogs on the premises. After the visit Tamamizu returns home in her human form. Tsukisae and her mistress ask her where she has been, and she jokes about meeting with a “dubious fellow” (which, to be fair, is not even a lie, given the typical folkloric portrayal of foxes). This in turn leads to more jokes, revolving around Tamamizu no longer thinking about her mistress. She feels distressed by this suggestion.

Tamamizu’s brothers in the meanwhile succeed in their search for thrilling leaves. One of them found a branch with five-colored leaves decorated with the Lotus Sutra (as you probably know, one of the main religious texts in the Mahayana Buddhist tradition). Tamamizu is overjoyed, and instantly brings them to her mistress. The girl received plenty of leaves from other people in the meanwhile, but all of them pale in comparison. She is so happy about the gift that she requests Tamamizu to also write poems meant to accompany the presentation of the collection. She protests that she is unsuitable, but eventually accepts this honor and gets down to work. The parents of the girl came along to watch her write, and both of them concluded she is exceptionally skilled. She ends up providing five poems, one for each color of leaves gathered. They are subsequently combined by these the girl wrote herself.

Obviously, the main characters’ joint entry wins the competition. This grants the girl such fame that the emperor declares she should come to his court. Since her father is not affluent enough to pay for traveling there, he bestows additional estates upon him to make that possible. Even Tamamizu gets her own estate, Kakuta in Settsu Province. However, she decides it will be for the best to give it to her adoptive parents. Shortly after that, Tamamizu’s adoptive mother falls sick. She leaves her mistress to attend to her, but it did not help much and her condition kept worsening. Therefore, her stay had to be extended over and over again. This predicament worries her mistress, who sends her a letter to let her know that it is boring and gloomy without her around, and implores her to return as soon as her mother’s condition improves. Tsukisae is similarly concerned. Both of them voice their concerns through poems, which at this point should not be surprising for the reader.

Tamamizu of course appreciates these displays of sympathy, but she cannot return, so in response she only reassures both of them that she will meet with them again as soon as possible.  Shortly after that, the mother’s condition worsened yet again. The entire family laments through the entire day, but eventually everyone manages to fall asleep - save for Tamamizu. In the middle of the night Tamamizu notices that an old, hairless fox entered the house. She quickly realizes that he was her paternal uncle (a fox uncle, that is. Not a relative of her adoptive parents). The illness was his doing, as she quickly realizes. Tamamizu requests him to leave her adoptive mother alone. However, the old fox says he cannot do that, as the illness is his act of revenge against her family, since her father killed his child. He concluded it is only right to make his daughter sick so that she dies too.

Tamamizu admits that this makes sense in theory, but she points out that acting upon desire for revenge will only bring bad karma, and bad karma from previous lives is why both of them were born as foxes in the first place. She offers the old fox a crash course in Buddhist ethics, and warns him that accumulating even more bad karma might lead to someone eventually killing him too, and to yet more rebirths in one of the three realms which are best to avoid (animals, hungry spirits, hell).

The old fox notes following buddhas is for humans, not for those born in other realms of rebirth (he’s not entirely wrong, humans are generally held to be in the optimal condition to seek enlightenment; animals must follow instinct and thus end up accumulating bad karma, devas are to preoccupied with celestial bliss), but eventually he relents and agrees that it would be wrong to kill the woman because of the actions of her father. He concludes that it would not even make him feel better, since his child would remain dead. He tells Tamamizu that evidently he was able to meet her because of good karma acquired in a past life, asks her to pray for his deceased child, and leaves, announcing he shall become a monk reciting nenbutsu from now on. Tamamizu did what he asked for, and even performed a funerary service for her late cousin. With the problem solved, her adoptive mother returned to good health. She was therefore free to meet with her mistress again. She was elevated to the rank of chujo no kimi, the foremost among servants. However, despite her mistress’ best efforts to make her feel appreciated, she was suffering from persistent bouts of melancholy. She wished she could confess her love and consummate the relationship, but she concluded that since she kept her identity secret for so long, it would be no longer possible to reveal it without losing the acceptance of the girl. She decides she must disappear. However, before that she prepares a long poem explaining her predicament.

She placed it in a box, and gave it to her mistress, explaining that it should only be opened if something happens to her. She then broke down in tears.

Tamamizu’s mistress does not fully understand what is happening, and asks if she perhaps is worried about their planned relocation to the imperial court. However, Tamamizu denies that and guarantees she will accompany her on the journey there. Her mistress starts crying too, and says she has hoped they will always be together. Shortly after, the day of the journey came. Tamamizu’s mistress and mr. Takayanagi, now recognized as a lord, were certain that she went with them, but as soon as they reached their destination it turned out she was nowhere to be found. Days upon days of grieving followed. Eventually, the girl realized that she had no choice but to open the box. From the poem contained within, she learned everything about Tamamizu, from the day they first met all the way up to the disappearance. It explained how she hoped to protect her mistress through her current life and beyond, but had to give up after realizing it was all in vain. In the final words of the poem, she firmly refers to her with the name she was given by the girl - Tamamizu.

The poem moves her deeply, but the story does not have a happy ending - we never learn what happened to Tamamizu afterwards.

Tamamizu’s forerunners

It is agreed that much like the considerably more famous Tamamo no Mae, Tamamizu in part depends on earlier Chinese literature about foxes. Not exactly on the same sort of stories, though - she is not exactly a malevolent seductress, to put it lightly. The key to finding her forerunners is the scene in the beginning when the still nameless fox considers transforming into a male suitor at first, before settling on the form of a female attendant, and the erudition she displays through the story. An argument can be made that this is conscious engagement with a very specific type of older fox story, largely forgotten today. In Tang China, fox stories enjoyed considerable popularity. You may remember that I mentioned this in passing a few months ago in another fox-themed article. One of the genres popular at the time was focused on fox suitors. There are many stories like that, but they largely follow a similar plot: a male fox falls in love with a human girl, takes the form of a dashing literatus and requests marriage. The girl’s family rejects the proposal, as despite charm and erudition the fox is ultimately an outsider with no family, and doesn’t depend on the well established institution of matchmaking. Afterwards, he typically tries to win the girl over with some sort of trick, and fails in the process, thus meeting his demise when his real identity is inevitably exposed.

In some cases, twists are introduced and the fox is effectively exploited by the family: for example, in the story about a certain mr. Hu (a common surname which is a homonym for the word for fox) and the granddaughter of the official Li Yuangong, the Li family agrees for the girl to be taught by the fox, and even asks him for advice on various matters, just to kill him once he outlived his usefulness.

Zhou Wenju's painting A Literary Garden (文苑图, Wenyuantu), showing a group of discouring Tang literati (wikimedia commons)

Many literati came from humble backgrounds, and only attained high positions thanks to success in the imperial examinations. However, their advances were often frowned upon by nobles, who saw them as upstarts. Therefore, faking a more notable origin was widespread to secure a better position in the high strata of society. All of this is reflected in the stories of the fox suitors. Xiaofei Kang, who wrote my favorite monograph about Chinese fox beliefs, notes that the stories might have effectively been a way to cope with everyday anxieties. In other words, perhaps the fox self insert fails so that the real person sharing his precarious status can succeed.

Another aspect of the Tale of Tamamizu which offers a clue about its origins is the focus on Buddhism, and its role in the lives of non-humans in particular. Tamamizu evidently attains a considerable familiarity with Buddhist doctrine, to the point the old fox basically seems to perceive her as thinking more like a human than a fox. Evidently, she doesn’t think being an animal should prevent one from seeking good karma. This seems to reflect a medieval Buddhist phenomenon. Roughly from the Insei period (1086-1185) up to the eighteenth century, and especially between the twelfth and fourteenth centuries, the dominant esoteric schools of Buddhism propagated the doctrine of hongaku (本覺), “original enlightenment”. This idea originates in an earlier Buddhis text, Awakening of Faith in the Mahāyāna. According to proponents of this idea all living beings, even plants, possessed an innate “Buddha nature”, as did natural features like mountains. They were innately capable of attaining enlightenment, or innately enlightened outright. Religion influences art, so it has been argued that the spread of new stories about animals behaving like people in the Muromachi period had a distinctly Buddhist dimension.

The modern reception of Tamamizu

Despite the fascinating themes of the story of Tamamizu, it only found a greater degree of modern recognition in 2019, outside of academic circles at that. I'm surprised it took so long, since when you think about it, the sensibilities of the author indeed seem surprisingly modern. The narrator even reassures us Tamamizu’s human form is the same age as the object of her affection, anticipating what sorts of shipping discourse could arise 700 years later. Anyway, in 2019 a fragment of the story was the subject of one of the classical Japanese literature questions from the National Center Test for University Admissions, a standardized university entrance exam held across Japan each January from 1990 to 2020. This obviously exposed an enormous number of people to it, not just exam-takers. Following this event, a Tamamizu fad seemingly swept social media and pixiv (curiously, there’s a single piece of art there which predates the phenomenon by six years; op actually updated the description in 2019 to say they are happy more people learned about the story). There’s even a Tamamizu Monogatari tag on Dynasty Scans as a result. It’s worth pointing out the wikipedia entry of the story was written in 2019 as well. Most curiously apparently a research project focused on Tamamizu, Kahoko Iguru’s Border transgression between species and gender as observed in “Tamamizu Monogatari”,  received a grant in the same year too (source; more info here). It doesn’t seem the results have been published yet. I will keep you updated if that changes, obviously. I am actually surprised I didn’t notice the Tamamizu phenomenon back then, even though 2019 Antonia was distinctly more terminally online than 2023 Antonia is. It’s worth noting that Tamamizu’s fame didn’t fade away. The online following the story gained was referenced in an Asahi Shimbun article a year later. A quick survey of social media will show you there are people still talking about Tamamizu today. People who aren’t me, that is. What made Tamamizu so unexpectedly popular - arguably more than the story has been in the past few centuries - in recent years? Most of the linked sources relatively neutrally state that people perceive it as a “unique love story”. Social media posts are often considerably more direct: for many people, the appeal lies in the realization the Tale of Tamamizu is probably the closest to a lesbian love story in the entire corpus of medieval Japanese literature. I won’t deny this is in no small part its appeal for me too. Note this is not an universal sentiment by any means, though. It is difficult to tell if this was the intent of the medieval author(s), of course. It is obviously impossible to deny that women attracted to women existed in medieval Japan, as is the case in every society since the dawn of history. However, they left little, if any, trace in textual sources. As pointed out by Bernard Faure, in Japan in the past as in many other historical societies “sexuality without men is properly unthinkable” and therefore received no coverage. While there is plenty of Japanese Buddhist literature dealing with male homosexuality (trust me though, you do not want to read it; I’ve included a brief explanation why in the bibliography), there is basically nothing when it comes to women. The only possible exception is what some authors argue might be a medieval depiction of a lesbian couple in Tengu Zōshi, a work I plan to discuss in more detail next month, but note that this would be only an example of condemnation, since this work is a religious polemic dealing with vices of the clergy. 

The supposed lesbian couple from Tengu Zōshi; image from Haruko Wakayabashi's The Seven Tengu Scrolls: Evil and the Rhetoric of Legitimacy in Medieval Japanese Buddhism; reproduced here for educational purposes only.

This sort of absence of evidence is a recurring pattern through history - you might recall my own attempts to find out what Bronze Age Mesopotamian sources have to say on this matter. Before the Meiji period, when the term dōseiai (同性愛) was coined as a calque of Charles Gilbert Chaddok’s freshly invented label “homosexual”, there wasn’t even a distinct Japanese term which could be applied to lesbian relationships. Once again, this does not indicate this phenomenon did not exist - but it does indicate that due to extreme levels of sexism in the perception of both sexuality and relationships it was difficult to even imagine for the average author. Faure suggests the prevailing attitude was presumably similar as in continental Buddhism, in which lesbian love “was at best perceived as a poor imitation of heterosexual relations—or a preparation for them—and as such condemned” at least in monastic rules. To put it bluntly, only penetrative sex was regarded as real.

And yet, in spite of this, I do not think it is wrong to wonder if perhaps what seems like subtext to a modern reader is actually intentional. This is obviously a reach, but given that relationships between women - not even romantic ones - were historically not a major concern of most authors, I would argue it is not impossible that a work which revolves virtually entirely around the relationships between female characters was written by a woman. Perhaps a woman romantically interested in other women, even. Even more boldly, I’d ponder if perhaps the ambiguous gender of the fox before transformation was meant to make the romance palatable to general audiences. Note that while foxes transforming is a mainstay of both Japanese and Chinese literature, the change of gender is actually quite uncommon in such stories, making this single reference all the more unusual. Granted, gender change is hardly a major focus in the story of Tamamizu. The only real indication the fox is male is the decision to take a male human form at first, but beyond that, things get muddy to the point the matter of gender in the story evidently warranted an actual study, as I pointed out earlier. As you’ve noticed, this matter was approached in different ways by translators too. I personally think the most important factor is the fact Tamamizu refers to herself with this name in the final poem. This name is intimately tied to the distinctly female identity she took. Whoever she was in the beginning, by the end of the story she is clearly Tamamizu. If one felt particularly bold a case perhaps even be made that Tamamizu can be read as a trans woman based on this, perhaps. I think simply disregarding the brief reference to a male form is valid too, though. Even if these arguments were to be refuted fully, I would argue that there is a further reason why at the very least reinterpreting the story as dealing with a gay relationship is not against the spirit of the original work. As I outlined, the tale of Tamamizu seems to draw inspiration from a very specific genre of fox stories, in which foxes are essentially a metaphor for people seeking relationships which were frowned upon. Obviously, the fact that Tamamizu is not a human by default makes any relationship she would be involved in somewhat unusual and frowned upon, but that does not assign a different metaphorical meaning to her struggle. Is Tamamizu even really fully a fox and not a human at all by the time she writes the confession of her love, though? The old fox seems to basically dispute if she still thinks like an animal. We also know that she maintained her human form for so long her biological relatives assumed she had passed away. She also found acceptance of virtually every single human character in the story - save for herself, that is. It’s also not like it’s hard to reinterpret her struggle specifically with the inability to consummate the relationship through the lens of the medieval Buddhist views of female sexuality, rather than through the lens of the general view that relationships between human and transformed foxes were doomed to failure. To paraphrase Cynthia Eller’s evergreen quote about futile search for nonexistent matriarchal prehistory in ancient texts, I do not think an invented wlw past can give anyone a future, but at the same time I do not think it means we should conclude that nobody ever had similar experiences in the past, or that we can relate with works even in ways their authors did not intend. For this reason, I would ultimately argue in favor of embracing the Tale of Tamamizu as a narrative which can be read as a lesbian love story.

Bibliography

Bernard Faure, The Red Thread. Buddhist Approaches to Sexuality (please note: read this book very cautiously since multiple content warnings apply. Faure is a remarkably progressive author, so it’s not about his personal attitude or anything. The problem is that it is not possible to deny much of the Japanese Buddhist discourse about homosexuality had little to do with modern notion of gay relationships, and essentially amounts to explaining when exploitation of children is a pious act)

Rania Huntington, Alien Kind. Foxes and Late Imperial Chinese Narrative (some sort of explicit content warning applies here too, though mostly because some of the discussed works are trashy Qing period erotica. More funny than anything.)

Xiaofei Kang, The Cult of the Fox: Power, Gender, and Popular Religion in Late Imperial and Modern China

Keller Kimbrough and Haruo Shirane (eds.), Monsters, Animals, and Other Worlds. A Collection of Short Medieval Japanese Tales

Jacqueline Stone, Medieval Tendai hongaku thought and the new Kamakura Buddhism: A reconsideration

[vettelinyourarea]

blessed - toto wolff

genre: fluff

word count: 584 (my shortest fict LOL)

inspired by blessed by daniel caesar

warning: cursed words, age gap, english is not my first language

i’m gonna be honest i’m in my sebastian vettel feels right now and i’m thinking about starting to write for him HAHA

anyways, i hope you enjoy this short one! requests are open

--------------------

Everywhere that I go, everywhere that I be

If you were not surrounding me with your energy

I don’t wanna be there, I don’t wanna be anywhere

Anyplace that I can’t feel you, I just wanna be near you

“I miss you so much,” the voice on the other end of the line said. You are lying in your bed, calling the man you have been dating for 3 years now. You knew how difficult it would be to date someone like Toto Wolff, the Austrian Billionaire who managed to capture your heart. You have never thought that you will be dating a man like him. Having the chance to meet him for the first time when he became the guest lecturer in one of your classes for your master’s degree, turns into something unexpected yet so beautiful.

“I know, I miss you too, Toto. I wish you are here.”

And yes, I’m a mess but I’m blessed

To be stuck with you

“I hate him so fucking much, I hope he choked on his fucking ice cream.”

It wasn’t a rare occasion for you to vent about your hatred towards your boss to Toto. And each time, Toto would always listen to your nonsense, trying his best to understand you and to comfort you.

People said dating someone way older than you could be very hard, and really, you wouldn’t deny it. But you are very lucky the only man you got to date is Toto Wolff. A man who always seems so scary but truly, behind closed doors, he is the softest, most caring man you knew. You are also grateful to have someone so mature like him, hence why you would vent out your thoughts to the man beside you every single day. And Toto will always listen to you gratefully.

I know sometimes I do wrong

But hear the words of this song

When I go, I don’t stay gone for long

Don’t know what’s going on

You knew you are being selfish right now. Running away from your argument with Toto is not the best decision you’ve ever made, but still, you did it anyway. You knew that Toto is tired from all the traveling and work, but you need his attention. He is your boyfriend after all. It’s already hard being away from him for so many days during the racing season, but it’s even harder to be with him while not getting any of his attention. You knew you are being childish and stupidly selfish, but you still can’t help it.

But it’s also a well-known fact for everyone around you that both of you can’t be mad at each other for even more than 3 hours. So, here you are, standing right in front of the man who has been trying to talk to you for the past 30 minutes since you arrived back home.

“I’m sorry Toto.” You finally said with a low voice, not daring to look at him directly.

“I know, I’m sorry too for ignoring you, darling. Now, hug me, please?”

And I’m coming back home to you

I’m coming back home

Although there are a lot of arguments and fights between you and Toto, you are still each other's safest place. You are each other's home.

You and Toto knew that after every difficult day in the office, after every difficult day on the race track, you will be getting home. You will be waiting for each other to come home.

[eomayas]

new thing (pt. 6) • pcy

pairing: chanyeol x f!reader, age gap, established relationship

synopsis: your break with chanyeol lasts longer than expected and you try to make something work.

genre: heavy angst, smut 18+ MINORS DNI!!! bit of fluff

warnings: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI!!! lots of angst and unspoken feelings, swearing, pwp (kinda) p in v, mentions of alcohol and drinking and being drunk

a/n: bruh yall inspired me to writeeee so here you go! i love reading all of your messages omg they’re so funny and sweet! i hope you like this 🩷 thanks for all of the support

a ‘little while’ turns into 2 weeks. the school year begins within those 14 days, and you throw yourself into your courses, occupying your time with 1 credit classes so you don’t have time to think about anything other than graduating and your education. when you do have a moment to yourself and to think, you force yourself to think of everything but chanyeol. it’s hard, since nearly everything reminds you of him. you’ve thought about texting him but resisted, chickening out at the last second.

it’s a friday night and you have no set plans. seulgi is going out with her boyfriend, so you have the house to yourself and a movie queued up on your laptop. ideally, you’d have someone to spend this quiet friday night in with, but alas. you’ve been single before; you’ll survive a movie night alone.

looking through your cabinets, you sigh at the lack of snack options, and things you want to eat. it’s been awhile since you’ve been shopping, having gotten used to being around somebody who constantly cooked for you, or took you out to eat. it’s the little things about not being with chanyeol that you feel like you took for granted. in this case, it’s grocery shopping.

grabbing your keys and purse, you throw on a sweatshirt before heading out of your apartment and down to your car. you hop in and make the short drive down to the corner store.

a quick glance around the parking lot would’ve told you to stay in your car, but it slips your mind as you’re here for a snack run, not expecting to be here long.

you beeline for the chip aisle, grabbing a bag of chips for yourself and another bag for seulgi. you stay there for a second, scanning a few other options before feeling satisfied and going to the coolers. there, you grab an iced tea and a water before getting ready to close the door, but a voice makes you freeze and stiffen, the door stuck mid-swing in your palm.

“bro, stop fucking around,” you know that voice better than you know your own. you’ve dreamt about it constantly, wishing for it to call on you, to say sweet things to you, like it used to. but now, it’s not yours to even want in that way.

slamming the cooler door, you quickly spin on your heel, racing down the aisle, not paying attention to where you’re going, but knowing that you need to get out. but you slam into a hard body, nearly knocking you backwards. “holy shit!” the man says, quickly turning around and reaching out an arm to steady you. “are you okay?” he asks.

footsteps round the corner, curses flowing from the mouth that belongs to the one you want more than anything, more than these snacks in your arms. “what the fuck did you do now? sorry for my cousin, he’s an id-“ his voice cuts off when he gets closer, stopping a few feet behind jongin. you raise your head, your eyes zeroing in on chanyeol.

“it was my fault,” you mean to say it to jongin, to apologize for not paying attention, but you can’t rip your eyes away from chanyeol. but now you’re apologizing to, technically the wrong person, but they both deserve two different types of apologies. “i wasn’t thinking.” you say, wondering if he can read between the lines and take it as an apology for the end of your relationship.

“he’s an idiot,” chanyeol says, making jongin scoff. there’s that glimmer in his eyes, the one that doesn’t fail to make you smile every time, but now you hold it back. you almost forget jongins there, until he mutters that he’s going to leave you and chanyeol alone.

there’s an awkward silence before chanyeol takes a single step closer to you. “hey,” he says, offering you a small smile. your heart hammers wildly in your chest, feeling like it’s going to crack through your bones and beat right out of your chest. “how’ve you been?” he asks, his voice softer than usual.

“fine. and you?” it’s like making small talk with somebody in an elevator; it’s terrible. you want to scream and run out of here, but you’re rooted to the floor and don’t trust your legs. you wonder if he can see your trembling hands, or if the snacks in them are doing enough to obscure their shaking.

“i’m good!” he says, and he sounds like he means it. it breaks your heart again, because there’s been countless nights where you’ve lain awake with thoughts of him running through your mind. you’re not even to being ‘good’, barely surpassing being ‘fine’.

you mumble a ‘that’s good’, and he says he’s going to go find jongin. “it was nice seeing you, y/n,” and you could call to your knees in tears, because it’s the first time he’s said your name in 14 days and you miss how it sounds coming from him.

“you too,” you squeak. he glances down at your arms full of snacks and gives you a small smile. you’re about to return it until you glance down at his hands, and feel your blood run cold.

chanyeol follows your line of sight to his hands and tries to indiscreetly hide the box of condoms, but you’ve already seen them. he can feel his neck heating up and feels the need to explain himself, that no, he has no intentions of using them soon, but the words don’t find him. your throat burns and your eyes sting, but you manage to not any tears fall, or let your voice give way to what’s happening inside of you when you say, “i’m gonna go,” and speed walk away on shaky legs.

luckily for you, there’s nobody in line at the check. you throw your stuff down on the counter and glance over your shoulder to make sure you don’t see either chanyeol or jongin. you pay as quickly as you got in line, thank the cashier and grab your bag of stuff.

chanyeol and jongin are walking towards the checkout as you’re taking your stuff, and you practically sprint out with how fast you walk and the strides you take.

outside, your eyes come in direct contact with his black corvette and you scream internally, wondering how you missed it when it’s right there, practically in front of the doors and not too far from you own car.

you feel like some sick joke is being played on you, and you throw your stuff into the backseat before speeding out of the parking lot and down the road. you drive half a mile before your eyes start to well up with tears, and drive another 500 kilometers before turning on a random street and pulling over to bawl into your hands.

you allow yourself to let go, to let nasty, ugly sobs from feo within your chest escape. you shake against the steering wheel, wishing you never went out for food you have no appetite for anymore, so that you could avoid seeing him. by the looks of it, he’s truly no longer yours because the two of you rarely, if ever, used condoms. there’s somebody else who’s going to get to experience him in ways that you long for.

when you get back to your apartment, you forego your movie plans and instead text some friends and ask if they’re busy. they tell you they are, that they’re going out (like most people you know), and ask if you want to come. you don’t hesitate to say ‘yes’, and start getting ready. chanyeol isn’t going to ruin your night, and you’re not going to sit here and mope and be single.

nearly two hours later, you’re ready and your friends wait for you downstairs. you wear the littlest black dress you own, one that barely covers your ass and is backless. it’s cowl neck is low, showing a good amount of cleavage, and your heels are high. you don’t intend to go home with somebody, but you plan to get attention in whatever way it comes.

shortly after you get to the club, drinks are practically thrown your way. decent enough men buy you drinks, and in return get a bit of your conversation before you always dismiss yourself to your friends. every time a man comes up to you, you make a mental list of every way he is not chanyeol, comparing everything down to their finger nails. of course, no man is going to compare to him, at least for now, so you drink until you start to forget what he looks like with your eyes closed.

you do cut yourself off, though, not wanting to vomit all over everything and everybody in this club. you take a seat in your section and go on your phone, checking your instagram to see all the photos and videos you’ve been tagged in tonight. you repost all of them to you stories, smiling as you type out silly captions for all of them.

one of your friends comes over to you, drunk and slurring as she tells you to come dance. you abandon your phone and get into the circle with your friends, dancing sensually with whatever the DJ decides to play.

by the time you call it quits for the night, you’ve sobered up enough to make it safely into your apartment. you stumble down the hallway to your bedroom as quietly as you can walking in heels on wood floors, and fall onto your bed. you lie there for a moment before you remember to wake yourself up and at least take your shoes off so you can go to bed.

plugging your phone into the charger, you look at your screen and see you have an instagram dm from chanyeol. your stomach flips as you unlock your phone and click on the notification, biting your bottom lip.

he’s replied to a video on your story, one of you dancing. but you’re not dancing alone, you’re dancing on a man, his hands holding onto your hips and lower back as you throw your ass on him. you don’t remember doing this, and the man doesn’t look familiar but it definitely happened.

real_pcy: so this is what we’re doing now?

11:53pm

you: we’re not together.

1:31am

real_pcy: lmao alright.

1:35am

you wake up hours later with a raging headache, a terrible taste in your mouth, and the feeling that you did something bad. you pat the bed next to you to make sure there’s nobody there, and sigh in relief when it’s empty and just pillows.

you can barely remember anything that happened after you got in the uber to the club and before you got into your bed. you remember bits and pieces, but they’re muddled and incomplete.

a frown takes over your features as you try to remember, but nothing solid comes to mind. you glance over at your digital clock that reads 12:12pm, and sigh, sitting up and groaning when your head feels like somebody is stomping on it.

grabbing your phone, you gasp and let it slip out of your grasp. it’s a bad idea to scramble out of bed to get it, but you do anyway and pick it up from the floor. you frantically open it and go to your messages, expecting to see chanyeols name at the top, but you don’t. you frown again as you try to remember where you messaged him, or if you made it up.

an instagram notification pings on your phone like a lightbulb going off in your brain, and you bite the inside of your cheek as you check your dms. again, his account isn’t at the top, and your frown turns into a scowl. “what the fuck?” you mutter. you go to the search tab and type in his username. it pops up, but when you click on it, it says ‘follow’, rather than ‘following’ like it should.

your brain rolls around in your skull as you realize what’s happened, what he’s done. even during your little break, you guys remained mutuals on social media. of course, you never messaged each other, but no blocking transpired. clearly, he made the first move and removed you from his account entirely, making you an outsider.

you decide to do one better, and block him completely. you block him everywhere else, but hesitaste on his number. that’s different, feels more personal. you still want him to have access to you and vice versa, assuming he didn’t block you first.

backing out of his contact, you leave his number untouched and sigh. if you thought it was over before, it truly is now.

fourteen days turns into twenty-six, but you’re not counting. it’s been school, school, school, for you, and if you’re not on campus then you’re most likely asleep, unless it’s the weekend. you find things to occupy your two days off, like doing things with seulgi when she’s not with her boyfriend, or taking yourself out. you’ve been getting your hair done lately, wanting to change something in your control.

you drain the last of your coffee and rinse out the mug in the sink. an unfolded bag of laundry waits to be put away, on the couch, and you saunter over to it and pick it up and take it to your room.

you dump the bag onto your bed and start separating your clothes into piles. you get into a zone until you pick up a tshirt that is far too big and not yours, and purse your lips. you toss it into its own pile and search for the rest of the clothes in the pile that belong to him, which is a lot more than you care to admit.

folding everything neatly, you snap a picture and open your messages with him. your stomach roils at the thought of texting him, your last messages being nearly a month ago, from the night you ruined everything.

you chew on your bottom lip for a while before saying ‘fuck it’ and sending him the picture of his folded clothes and a message.

yn: hey these are yours. can i drop them off later?

chanyeol: yep. i can give you your things too. does 4 work?

yn: yes

chanyeol: see you later

you blow out a breath. you didn’t think he would respond so quickly and be so complying. had it been the other way around, you would’ve hoped he’d ship you your stuff in the mail so you didn’t have to deal with him. but now you have 6 hours to stress about seeing him since that fateful day at the drug store.

and those six hours roll around quickly, so quickly that you’ve changed your outfit twice, unsure of what you should look like when you see him. you decide on jeans and black cropped tshirt, and some sneakers. you figure it’s a regular enough outfit, and stuff his clothes into a tote bag before leaving your room.

“i’ll be back,” you say to seulgi, who sits on the couch, painting her nails. she looks up and waves, her eyes traveling to the full bag in your hands. “dropping off some stuff to chanyeol.” you clarify.

she raises an eyebrow. “you’re dropping off stuff?” she questions. you nod and her eyebrow manages to go up higher. “you sure that’s all?” she says, almost like she can see right through you, and the fact that you put on a matching set underneath your clothes—just in case.

“and i’m picking up my stuff,” you manage, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“do you plan to go inside?” she asks, and you hate this interrogation, but she’s seen you mope for nearly a month over him. you shrug and she sighs, going back to her nails. “just be… careful. i’ll call if i get worried, you know.”

you smile a small smile at her words. “i know. bye,” you leave after that and head down to you car. you take a deep breath before you put the key in the ignition, feeling many things at once. your stomach flips wildly and your hands are clammy at the mere thought of going to his house to see him.

you drive too fast for somebody who is supposedly just going to drop off items to their ex. you really shouldn’t be this… energized at seeing him, since you two didn’t exactly end on good terms. you told him to get out the first time and the second time you solidified that you’re both single. sometimes you wish you could bite your tongue more.

his neighborhood comes into view quickly, and when you hook the left onto his street your heart leaps into your throat. you drive slow down to his house and parallel park you car on the curb in front of his mailbox. this is one of the few times you’ve been here alone to see him, your toyota looking out of place in a neighborhood where the average car owned is a mercedes.

getting out, you grabs the bag of clothes and hold it tightly in your hands, taking ginger steps up his driveway to his door. you suck in a breath when you knock three times, and clutch the bag to your midsection.

the door swings open and you feel your knees buckle when you see chanyeol. mild shock passes on his face like he forgot you were coming over, and then he checks his watch. “hey, sorry i lost track of time,” he says, awkwardly standing in the door way. he looks at you, eyes quickly giving you a once over before they land on the bag in your hands. “shit, let me grab your stuff. do you want to come in?” he asks, already moving out of the way before you have the chance to respond.

your feet take you into his house before your brain can process what’s really happening. “i’ll be right back,” he says, jogging up his stairs while you stay in place in the corridor. you peek your head out to look in the living room to note any major changes and see one. you feel like there may be something different about his kitchen, but he’s already bounding back down the stairs when you think about looking. “here you go.” he says, extending the clothes to you.

you pull open the tote bag and try to grab his clothes, but the bag isn’t wide enough so they fall back in, most of them unfolding. chanyeol takes the bag from you and holds it open so you can grab them easily. it’s not even been 5 minutes, and you’re already embarrassing yourself.

“sorry,” you cringe when you hand him his unfolded clothes before you put your own in the bag.

chanyeol gives you a small, reassuring smile that makes your pulse skyrocket and you avert your eyes. “it’s fine,” he says but it only makes you flush more. “how are you? how’s school?” he asks.

“uh, fine and fine. i’m taking bullshit classes for the credit, so,” you say, shrugging. “you?”

chanyeol shrugs too, a small smile still on his face. “same old stuff; i’m helping kai produce some songs, getting sehun in the studio more now,” he says. you nod awkwardly look around, not really knowing what to say. chanyeol leans against the wall and slots his clothes underneath his armpit and presses it to his side so they don’t fall. “you seeing anybody?” he asks suddenly, making your eyes snap up to him, narrowing immediately.

“is that really any of your business?” you question, defense all in your voice. chanyeol shrugs, as it to say ‘i’m just asking’. “we’re not together.”

“obviously not,” he laughs, but he doesn’t find it funny. it actually makes him mildly sick to be reminded of it, for it to be said out loud by you of all people, because he had every intention of coming back to you until you seemingly called it quits for good. “but i saw that video.” chanyeol adds, his tone more serious.

“and i saw you buying condoms,” you counter, crossing your arms over your chest.

“okay, but you’ve never danced with me like that,” he says, a hint of jealousy in his voice that you are definitely not imagining. you scoff at his words and shake your head.

“we’ve never gone out together, and the one time we happened to be out at the same time, we’d just met and then fucked in your car.”

chanyeol gives you a look that makes your face fall, one that makes you want to ball your hands into fists. he rubs underneath his lip and glances down at his feet. “what?” you ask, daring him to say what’s on his mind.

“nothing,” he says, brushing you off. you stare at him for a moment, waiting for him to look at you but he doesn’t.

“i’m not like that,” you say, frowning.

“i know,” he lifts his eyes to you and your draw your bottom lip in. it’s gets silent again, and you wonder if this is a good moment for you to make your escape, but you don’t really want to.

“are you seeing anybody?”

“no,” his response sounds honest, but you don’t completely believe it because of what you saw.

“i saw you buying condoms, chanyeol,” you say, pressing your lips together. he rolls his eyes and runs a hand through his hair.

“yeah, because i plan to practice safe sex in the future, y/n—whether that’s with you, or with somebody else,” your cheeks flush at his words and a knot forms in your stomach. you don’t know whether to be semi flattered, or gutted knowing that there will be others after you, like there were before you.

“well, we’re not having sex,” you declare, and chanyeol shrugs.

“that’s fine.”

it’s fine, but somehow you end up face-down-ass-up on his bed, his palm pressing on your tailbone to give you a deeper arch as he pounds into you. with every thrust into you, a desperate mewl leaves your mouth.

chanyeol has a right grip on your hips to keep you in place every time you try to run away from him. he yanks you back and tells you to stay with him, to take it because he knows you can, and you’re not used to me anymore? you only cry out his name in response, tears prickling in your eyes.

“fuck,” he spits when his shirt keeps getting in the way of seeing where you to connect, whenever he pushes into to you. his momentum barely falters as he puts the hem in between his teeth to keep the material out of the way. both of you aren’t even fully undressed, that’s how rushed it was; you’re still in your top and thong, the tiny material being pushed aside so he can enter you, and him his tshirt. it’s the first time—other than the night you met—that neither of you are fully bare, and you can’t tell if that’s a sign that he doesn’t deem you worthy of getting undressed, or if it’s a sign that you’re about to start over.

it’s also one of the few times he’s started with doggy first. chanyeol alwyas liked to look at you; always liked you on top of him or under him, but he liked to see your face the most. you don’t know if it’s a slight that he has you turned away from him, or if he just wanted to watch your ass move.

“ch-chanyeol—fuck!” tears stream down your cheeks and you grip the sheets tightly, trying to pull your body away from him but he yanks you back in place. you cry out his name and hate how desperate you sound, like you’ve never been fucked a day in your life. you bury your face into a pillow, but he rips that away from you too.

“wan’ hear you,” he mumbles, continuing to slam into you. you can only curse and clench around him in response, the knot in your stomach getting tighter and tighter as he goes on with his mission to touch your spleen (at least that’s what it feels like).

“g-gonna c-cum,” you hiccup, whining out his name when he snakes an arm around your front and starts flicking on your clit. the stimulation makes you clench your eyes shut and tense around him, gasping before crying out his name as you gush all over him.

you expect him to stop, but he fucks you through it, never stopping his ministrations on your clit. “please, yeol!” you beg, feeling your legs start to shake as another wave of deep pleasure comes over you.

“you can do it, baby,” he grunts, running a hand up your back before gently pressing down on your spine. the pet name makes you whine dramatically and release once again, white liquid running down your thighs.

he finally pulls out when you beg him again, feeling too hot and overstimulated. you crumple onto the bed and roll onto your back, trying to regain your breath. you hear chanyeol shift next to you and then he taps you on the knee. “you alright?” he asks.

“give me a minute,” you croak, licking your dry lips. your body feels like you’re running a fever, and you sit up to pull off your top before flopping back down.

chanyeol gives you a literal minute before tapping you again. “are you gonna be okay?”

“yes, i’m just so fucking hot right now,” you say, blowing air into your face.

“you wanna take a break?” he asks and you crack an eye open to look at him. his shirt is off and his dick is still hard in the condom. you take his comment as a challenge, being that he’s never asked if you’ve needed a break before. maybe he thinks you can’t handle it and have gone soft on him, but you’ll show him otherwise.

“no. come here,” you say with authority. he obliged and crawls on top of you. you pull him down to your mouth and make out with him, hooking a leg over his back. chanyeol kisses down your jaw and to your neck before kissing down through the valley of your breasts. he pulls back and looks down at you, pulling at your bra strap and letting it snap back against you.

“you’re matching,” he comments, glancing down at your underwear. busted.

“so?” you say, reaching for him.

“you said we weren’t having sex,” chanyeol points out, making you let out an exasperated sigh paired with an eye roll. “you wore a thong.”

“i always wear thongs.”

“and we always fuck.”

you roll your eyes again and sit up to take your bra off, tossing it close to his head on purpose. “just shut up and fuck me,” you say, pushing down your underwear. chanyeol pulls it down the rest of the way for you and wastes no more time positioning himself in between your legs.

“y/n,” he groans when he pushes in, tossing his head back. you mouth falls open and you let out s few breathless pants. “shit.” he grunts, looking down at you with furrowed eyebrows. you can only stare up at him with wide eyes, clenching right around him like he didn’t just fuck you so hard you felt like you needed an ice bath to recover.

chanyeol pulls in and out of you slowly, trying to hold back from coming too soon. you can see it in his face, the concentration, and it clicks for you. he can’t handle looking at you while he fucks you because he’ll finish too fast. your sex in the past was never quick, but the effort of restraint he’s putting in is something you haven’t seen.

“y-yeol,” you moan, putting a hand on the back of his neck and pulling him down for a kiss. but he just presses against your lips, his breath fanning your mouth. “faster.” you mumble, tangling a hand in his hair.

he whimpers and pushes himself up on his arms and speeds up just enough to keep himself under control, but you still want more. “more,” you urge, wanting to watch him fall apart because of you, even if you don’t get off before or with him.

“baby,” he groans, squeezing his eyes shut as he gives you what you ask for. your cry out his name and part your legs wider for him. you lift one onto his shoulder and hook it around the nape of his neck to pull him closer to you, a grunt leaving his lips. “y-y/n, im c-close,” he whimpers, holding onto your thigh that rests near his head.

“yeolie, you feel so good,” you manage, grabbing a handful of the sheets. his hips stutter and he lets out a groan before he cums, his muscles flexing.

you almost smile as he falls apart on top of you, especially knowing that it took looking at you to get there faster.

chanyeol pulls out of you and drops down onto the bed next to you. his chest heaves up and down rapidly and you push hair back from his forehead. “you didn’t come,” he mumbles, reaching out and putting a hand on your stomach.

“no,” you admit. ever the gentleman, he gets up and discards the condom before settling his face in between your legs to return the favor.

after what feels like an eternity, you two decide to give it a rest. “shower?” he asks you, sitting up on the bed. you nod, your inner thighs sticky from all of your shenanigans.

you follow chanyeol to the bathroom on shaky legs and latch yourself onto him once you’re under the water. your arms wrap around his middle and you rest your head against his chest, sighing into him. chanyeol places a kiss on your forehead and you nearly whimper, missing the domesticity of it all.

you two wash up and then he gives you some of his clothes to wear. you smile to yourself at him knowing that you weren’t going to leave so soon. he tells you he’s going to order takeout, since he doesn’t feel like cooking, and passes you his phone to choose what you want to eat.

it’s easy to fall into that old rhythm like no time has passed, and like you didn’t let this whole thing crumble right before you.

while you wait for the food, you ride him on the couch, and then after you eat he fucks you lazily on the counter. your body feels beat up and tired in the best way, and the familiar limp you start to walk with feels good again.

you wake up to the smell of food, your limbs sore as you stretch. the bed is empty next to you, and it takes you a moment to realize that this isn’t your bed or your house. the realization makes you bite your lip, and you slip out of his bed and make your way downstairs.

“good morning,” he greets when you walk into the kitchen, a smile on his face. you return it and he pulls you into him, placing a kiss on your lips that leaves you feeling dizzy and slightly confused, but you don’t say anything. instead, you accept the plate of food he hands you and go sit down at the table.

chanyeol sits down beside you and pulls your legs across his lap, and your fork stills in midair. it’s all overwhelmingly familiar, and you still have yet to discuss where your relationship stands after last night. it wasn’t just sex for you—it never is with chanyeol—and you don’t know if he feels the same way.

you let him talk through breakfast, your mind swimming with thoughts that wonder what this all means. you don’t know if he was just testing you out again, but you don’t think he’d allow you to sleep over, and then cook you breakfast in the morning. you feel lightheaded, like you just got flipped upside down one too many times.

“you alright? what’s on your mind?” his voice takes you out of your head where you feel yourself drowning. he raises his eyebrows at you and you wave your hands in the air vaguely.

“just… thinking,” you try.

“about?”

you let out a breath and scratch the back of your head, pulling your gaze away from him. “um, us,” you say. chanyeol sits back in his seat and clears his throat. “i dont… what does this mean for us? what are we?” you ask helplessy, finally looking at him. chanyeol opens his mouth but closes it almost as quickly.

“i dont know,” he answers. you slump in your chair because you have no idea either.

“well, what do you want?”

you can see the gears turning in his brain and him weighing each response. the tension builds in the room as you stare at him, waiting for his answer to see if it’ll align with yours. “well… i dont really know if i want a relationship right now,” your stomach drops and you blink once, twice. “i like what we did last night, though.” and without actually saying it, he wants you two to be friends with benefits. he wants you, but not all of the extra baggage.

“okay,” you say, discreetly wiping your face and swiping away the tears pooling in your eyes.

“yeah?” he asks, and you nod even though it’s far from what you want. you just want him, and you’ll take what you can get.

you hold back tears as he fucks you on his bed again, but not because it feels so good and like too much at the same time, but because he’s stomping on your heart and doesn’t even realize it. your heart can’t handle a FWBs situation with him since you’re already way into deep with him.

it becomes too much as you think about it, your mind not in the present moment of him thrusting into you. the tears start to fall, one by one, until you’re full on sobbing and covering your face. “w-what’s wrong? am i hurting you?”

“yes!” you cry, and he immediately gets off of you. you roll away from him and curl yourself into a ball, feeling disgusted with yourself that you were willing to let him use you in such a way, dangling your heart on a string in front of you.

“y/n, talk to me,” chanyeol says, putting a hand on your shoulder. you shrug him off like you did during your initial break up, and he feels like he’s getting deja vu again. “please, y/n. talk to me, tell me what’s wrong.” his voice is full of concern because he knows there’s something else that’s really upsetting you.

“i cant do it,” you know you’ll probably lose him for good, but you’re willing to take that risk if you can’t have him the way that you want. you want him next to you in the mornings and calling you in the middle of his day. you don’t want to be a late night though, a booty call, to him. “i just can’t do it.”

chanyeol knows that you’re talking about your little agreement. he knew you’d end up backing out at some point, because he himself can’t even take it that seriously. he knows he’ll just wind up with feelings for you again since they never left.

“that’s okay,” he says, and he means it. your heart is heavy as you sit up and look over at him. chanyeols heart breaks to pieces when he looks into your eyes, feeling guilty for what he’s done. if only he could just confess and be honest about his feelings this time.

your goodbye is quiet and awful, and you feel like digging a hole and putting yourself in it the entire time. you leave feeling empty and hollow, and like you just got ran over by an eighteen wheeler. but hey, at least it wasn’t your fault this time.

[em-dash-press]

Why Originality in Writing Isn't Always Possible

I was writing for years before I encountered a problem with writing as a whole—that most ideas have already been published.

When someone first told me that though, they said it like, "You'll never think of something that hasn't already been written."

The phrasing makes it sound like all story ideas are a waste of your time. I began spiraling. I researched every short story I'd ever written. I looked up books similar or identical to other books I loved.

Turns out, that person was right.

Sort of.

New Ideas Are Old News

Think about how long humanity has existed. Think about the many experiences that generations have shared—love, loss, happiness, adventure, self-growth, your coming-of-age years.

Story ideas inspired by whatever you go through in life have likely already been lived or thought of, given the trillions of people who have walked this planet and interacted with each other.

BUT

Originality Doesn't Only Come From Ideas

This is what I wish someone had told me back when I was spiraling.

I'll say it again for those in the back—

Originality Doesn't Only Come From Ideas

It also comes from your voice and your perspective!

Voice can feel tricky to grasp when you're starting out as a writer. Everyone can throw a few words on a page. How do you know what your voice sounds like and if readers will respond well to it?

Imagine two friends going on a trip. They do everything together. They sit on the beach, they eat lunch at a restaurant, and watch a movie before heading home. Then they each journal about their day in notebooks.

Those entries would look nothing alike! One friend might relax on the beach and feel so at peace that they take a nap, while another gets sunburned easily and hides under their umbrella with a scowl. Both ultimately enjoyed their day for different reasons. The beach lover got time by the ocean and the other friend who liked the beach much less fell in love with a new dish at the restaurant because they're a foodie.

You'll also frame your stories differently than any other writer. Like accents change the way every person speaks out loud, writers structure sentences and describe things/events/emotions very differently.

These may seem like insignificant details that set stories apart, but they make all the difference.

Think about Homer’s Odyssey. Circe is a minor character in the long tale and basically gets about a minute of the reader's time before Odysseus moves on to the next phase of his journey home. In Madeline Miller's Circe, the goddess becomes the main character and the ultimate portrayal of fear, rage, hurt and healing that are universally experienced but are especially true to the female experience.

Both stories follow the same timeline, so readers don't pick them up to necessarily get surprised by something Brand New to Literature™. Instead, they read direct retellings to learn from the characters in new ways, live momentarily through someone else's eyes, and bond over another aspect of the human experience.

Circe is an incredible work of art. Your idea—whether it's a direct retelling, indirect retelling, or full of literary devices from previous works—can be incredible too.

How Do You Know Which Ideas Are Worth Writing?

If a story idea doesn't immediately make you jump for your computer or a pen/paper, is it worth writing? My best advice is to sit with it.

Some of my best work has come from stories that got to marinate. I put them in the back of my mind and thought about the characters or themes or plot when something sparked another idea. By the time I started typing, the story was more vivid than when I first though of it.

But also, I have probably twenty failed ideas for every story I've written.

Give yourself time to get to know your ideas. If they're worth your time, they'll sit with you too.

[dreamdragoness]

I saw @jessie-blogs-posts recent release of their Corpse Puppet Au and I can't stop crying! It actually inspired me to make this. I legit cried as I made this. I salute you, @jessie-blogs-posts for making a video that hit me right in the feels. Bravo!

Wally looked on as Howdy and Stacy embraced, happy to see each other again. The Corpse Puppet knew he was making the right choice. He loved Stacy. He did. He will never forget the short time they've spent together when they thought they were married. From the moment where the misunderstanding happened, their first kiss, all the way to where she was willing to give up her life to be with him officially.

But he couldn't do that to her nor to her true groom. Stacy was still young and full of life. He had lost his dreams. He couldn't deny her fulfilling her own for his own selfishness. He cursed his younger self, wishing he had waited until Stacy came of age. Perhaps he would've convinced his father to allow the marriage to happen. If only he wasn't so young and foolish to fall into Julie's trap.

But now, he felt it: peace.

As he turned away, Wally walked over to Frank and whispered to him. "Please officiate their wedding, Frank. After all the trouble I had caused, I want to make things right by them." Frank's eyes widened as he realized what was going on. He smiled approvingly and patted Wally's shoulder.

"Of course, Wally. I may be dead, but I can still officiate a wedding or two."

Wally smiled as he nodded sadly. "And...the paintings I have in the attic. I don't know where I'm going, but please give them to her. As my wedding gift?"

Frank's eyes widened upon hearing this. But he nodded in understanding.

As Wally turned to face the entrance to the church, he heard Stacy call out to him. "Wait! I made a promise."

Hearing her, Wally smiled albeit sadly. Even after he told her that she wasn't his, Stacy was willing to keep her vows. He turned around and spoke to his childhood friend fondly.

"You've kept your promise. You've set me free."

Stacy's eyes widened as Wally removed the ring that caused all of this and placed it in her hand. He then gently closed her hand, making sure she didn't lose it again. Wally then looked back at her. Her hair was loose and a mess. The dress Sally, Poppy, and the other seamstresses had worked so hard on was in tatters. Only the veil, the pearl necklace, and the bouquet that were thrown aside during the fight remained intact.

Poor Stacy looked like she had been through a war. The sight hurt him. She was a bride. She shouldn't look like this on her wedding day. It was all his fault. But now, he can at least fix something.

"Now I can do the same for you."

As Wally released her hand, Stacy realized what he meant. She was free to marry Howdy. But...it also meant goodbye to her dearest friend and the other man she loved once more. Maybe for good. As the corpse groom walked towards the entrance, she looked at her true fiance.

Howdy could see it. She was happy that they were free to be together. And now that Julie was dead and Stacy's "marriage" was null and void, it was possible. But he could also see the hurt in her eyes. A longing to say goodbye. He then looked at the corpse that almost took the woman he loved. He truly didn't seem like a bad person. He just...mixed up. Howdy looked at Stacy and motioned for her to go to him. Seeing this, Stacy smiled at Howdy in gratitude before rushing over to Wally.

"Wait a minute, Lion!"

Hearing his old nickname, Wally turned around and found himself in a tight hug with Stacy. It caught him by surprise at first, but soon he embraced her back. A proper goodbye this time. But then he felt something small and wet make contact with his shoulder. His eyes widened as he asked Stacy a question.

"Are...are you crying, Cherry Tomato?"

The redhead, hearing her nickname, tightened her grip as tears flowed non-stop from her eyes. She managed to speak, but in a whisper so that only Wally could hear.

"I...I know you have to go. But...it still hurts. I have feelings for Howdy, yes. But I love you, too, Wally. That's why it was easier for me to agree to end my life when I heard he was to marry someone else. You're my best friend. My childhood playmate. And even though it wasn't official, you were my husband. You have shown me so much both in our youth and in the Land of the Dead. I...I can't help but fear that..." She sniffed, trying to control her sorrow.

"...that I'll never...ever...see you again."

Hearing her words, Wally began to cry. He knew it was time. He was ready. But to leave the woman who truly loved him behind and in this state? It was already hard enough. Why did saying goodbye have to be so hard? Amidst his tears, he smiled as he pulled away to look at her tear-stained face. He cupped her cheek, wiping away a tear before kissing her on her cheek.

"I know it's hard. But remember what Barnaby said? 'We all end up the remains of the day.' I'm certain we'll see each other again. But...but live your life to the fullest first. Never fear what's ahead. There is so much for you to experience. Things I could never experience because of my foolishness." He then sniffled as he whispered in her ear once more. "Live your life, Stacy. We may have not been officially married, but I was happy when you became my wife. Even so, know that I will always love you."

Stacy bit her lip as Wally pulled away from her. He was right. She had a lot of life to live. She wanted to explore her passions and live her dreams. Change things so her children will not suffer like she, Howdy, and Wally did. And he was right. They will see each other again. It was just...going to take a long time.

She watched as Wally smiled at her once last time before looking to Howdy. The caterpillar raised an eyebrow but smiled as Wally made a request of him.

"Please take care of her for me."

Howdy nodded as he approached his bride-to-be. He stopped a few steps, allowing the final goodbyes to take place. Wally, thankful, nodded to Howdy before looking back at Stacy. There were tears in his eyes, but his love for her still showed like stars as his body vanished into hundreds of blue butterflies.

Stacy cried more as she saw her friend, her "first husband" evaporate beautifully. She knew he was going to be alright. She just wished she could stop the tears. Suddenly, one of the butterflies turned away from the flock and landed on her cheek, a teardrop soaking its head. Stacy couldn't help but smile. She knew this was Wally saying goodbye one more time. A butterfly kiss to tell her that he loved her and always will.

As the butterfly took off to rejoin its flock, Howdy approached her, wrapping her in a comforting embrace. Stacy smiled at him despite the tears. She knew she was going to have to explain everything. The only thing she'd keep secret was that she had given Wally her first kiss. That was a cherished memory she'll take to her grave.

The couple watched on in each other's embrace.

One day, they'll see the Corpse Puppet again.

-----------------------------

I kid you not! I legit cried as I was creating the whole thing! From the drawing to the story, tears were non-stop. I had gone through an entire box of tissues already! ToT

Au belongs to: @sketchquill (Get your tissues ready.)

[itsgrimeytime]

Magnolia in May (Part Two) || Rick Grimes (TWD) x Greene!f!reader Regency AU

Part 1...

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration (in honor of Speak Now Taylor's Version): Enchanted by Taylor Swift

Summary: Your town was small, not the smallest you knew, but anyone of high fortune was the gossip of the week. Predictably, Richard Grimes was a thing of whispers -rumors of a search for marriage among the grassy hills. You weren't one to buy into town gossip, but something about him... just seemed a little too intriguing.

TWS: rumors.

[[ A/N: Also, am I so inspired by this concept that I wrote a second part in a day? Maybe so... 👀👀👀 Anyway, thanks for reading!!! ]]

You realized pretty quickly that you hadn't gotten the man's name, only his daughter's first. It was a bit frustrating, and even more so as your Headmistress continued to ramble on about timeliness and arriving on time.

You knew the lesson, it had been drilled into your head since you'd been late to school once at age six. It only grated on your ears now.

There was a thought there to tell her it was because of a man -she'd be so delighted, her whole rant would be long forgotten. But another part of yourself wished to hold it back -to keep this man and his darling daughter in your brain for no one else to see.

It was a rather selfish thought, but having never seen the two before you assumed they were travelers -they'd be gone soon enough. And without his name, it would be rather difficult to describe to a Headmistress all about social standing. He could be a farmhand for all you knew, an overdressed farmhand, sure, but one no less.

"Y/N," Headmistress pursed her lips -a grainy sort of disgust in her face, "-are you even listening?"

"Yes ma'am," you cleared your throat, moving to cut into your pancake, "-sorry, I was a little distracted, what have you asked?"

Elisa frowned, set deep into her face and you wondered how she'd been so smiley before with how heavily ingrained it looked, "I asked, young lady, what distracted you on your trip? It's not normal for you to take such time! So what happened?"

You paused, quickly eating a bite to buy some time -unsure if you wished to speak the truth. The more you thought about it, you found it rather stupid -the man was surely gone and it wasn't anything to concern them. You were a lady of age, and speaking to a man hardly was anything to talk to your parents about.

"Mrs. Sweets had some new dresses in the window," you lied -carefully dabbing your face with the napkin (you had noticed the new dresses but it had hardly taken any time at all), "-I wanted to look at them closely, and lost track of time, I suppose, I truly apologize."

"Hmm," the Headmistress pursed his lips -seeming to evaluate your words, "-lesson learned, I presume?"

"Very," you replied -simply, wishing for the conversation to navigate elsewhere.

And just as it seemed to (Maggie saying something that the Headmistress just had to dispute), there was a heavy knock on the door.

The room fell abruptly silent, the only noticeable noises being the slight clink of silverware and the creaks of the old chairs. Your father was the first to stand, making his way to the door with a confidence you'd wished you inherited.

The man who stood there was short, a cap situated on his head and a determination in his eyes, "This the Greene residence?"

Your father answered, a little uncertain -blocking the man's eyes from farther into the house, "Yes, I'm Dr. Hershel Greene, is this about work?"

"No sir," he responded -respectful and quite direct before extending a hand forward, a thick piece of paper exchanged between them, "-your family has been invited to the Ball, come next Tuesday. Mr. Grimes personally requested your presence."

Headmistress couldn't hold back a gasp, as Father took the paper -skimming over it with a heavy sort of look, "Personally?"

"Yes, sir. He insisted I bring it to the residence directly."

You thought back to the man, and his insistence on buying you more -just for the lack of one. Poking around the fruit on your plate, you frowned. He was probably married after all, he did have a child -someone as charming as he was most certainly bound to a wife.

Before you could dive further into your sudden despair, your father joined back at the table -slow and sure steps. Opening his mouth to say something, he didn't get very far before the Headmistress snatched the invite out of his hands.

Her lips pressed into a thin line as she skimmed over the words, she seemed to digest it (like it could be a fake).

You furrowed your brows, as she seemed to stall.

"I'll be looking forward to your presence signed Mr. Grimes," the Headmistress read out loud -a grin large and wide, "-he wrote us a note! He must be in search of a wife!"

"Miss Elisa," Father tried to calm her, now sitting back in his spot at the table.

"I'm only thinking optimistically, Hershel," she responded -tone much more controlled but still quite touched in tone, "-wouldn't it be wonderful for the girls to have suitors?"

"I'd rather not discuss speculation," your father leveled with her -eyes set in a certainty that not even the Headmistress could refuse.

And that was where the talk of the invite ended.

Your father was rather stubborn in his restrictions, and starting any sort of rumors about a man he respected was far below his limit. It wasn't even mentioned until that Saturday afternoon at the seamstress.

"Beth, dear," Headmistress hummed -rapting her knuckles on the small room she'd been dressing in, "-how does the blue one fit?"

It was a beautiful blue dress that matched her eyes with pillowing sleeves -layers of fabric heavy on the skirt. The cotton seemed soft to the touch, and you thought it a very good match to your sister -she'd suited it well from what you assumed. Beth hadn't shown the dress to you yet.

"It needs to be tightened," she echoed with a huff -frustrated, "-I can't reach-"

"Alright, alright," your Headmistress responded, her tone calming and direct -as she navigated into the room to help.

With that, you sighed deeply. Rather unamused by the extensive shopping you found yourself currently in, you enjoyed getting new dresses, really. It was just a long process, and for whatever reason, the Headmistress had always focused on you last.

It was rather stuffy in the store, dresses hung up in any corner they could. They were beautiful, truly stunning works of fabric and ribbon -you'd trailed your fingers along some of the layers with keen interest. It was always rather fascinating to study how the dresses were made, each individual stitch had its own purpose and you enjoyed the complexity of it.

Maggie grabbed your attention, motioning to a rather fluffy pink dress -detailed by too many rather large ribbons. She pulled it up to her side, posing like she was prim and proper -a grin biting on her face, "What do you think?"

You smiled, always amused by her antics, "We might need to-"

Your eyes caught on the window framing behind her, and there was someone so familiar there. You'd only seen a glimpse, but it had struck you so intricately, your eyes peered the area looking for whoever you recognized-

And then, you saw him.

He was still rather overdressed, darker button-up detailed by a lovely light blue ascot tied around his neck -it looked satin. Actually, he looked much fancier with a peacoat of a rather deep blue splayed across his shoulders, and hair still a little tussled from the day -brown curls resting still rather perfectly. He seemed content on a bench, Judith not present -as he looked on in front of him, absorbed by something quite heavily. You stilled, he was still here?

With a quick thought, you realized just how close the shop had been to the markets -it was a short walk, and you'd done it often. You had a wonderful view, well... right where he was seated. It was treacherous thought flooding your mind that he might be waiting for you.

"Y/N?" Maggie waved her hands in front of your face, starting to match your eyes towards where yours lay on the window, "What are you looking a-"

She stiffened. You hadn't been quick enough to divert her attention, as her eyes skimmed over the figure without much report. Maggie was a very upfront woman, after all.

"Who-"

"We might need to look elsewhere!" you finished your thought, rather loud and squeaky, as you quickly turned to a few other mannequins, "-what about this one, Maggie? I think the color is exquisite, really-"

"Y/N-" she spoke at full volume before you caught her eyes and made a shush motion -head tilting toward the dressing room.

"Everything alright, girls?" your Headmistress asked, most likely from your tone only a few seconds ago. You'd been thoroughly embarrassed it had even left your lips -so loud and not very graceful.

Maggie, a simple master at her craft, replied -without a flinch, "Yes, ma'am. Y/N just slipped on a skirt."

"Right, yes," you spoke, trying to contain the rather squeaky tone your voice had taken on, "-there are some quite long ones."

Headmistress must've accepted this answer, as she no longer responded -assumedly preoccupied with the dress mechanics, you briefly wondered how it had become so complicated. Before the more pressing matter made itself known.

Maggie was a hair away from jumping up and down right there in the seamstress shop, eager to be in on the loop. She'd gotten that trait from Ms. Elisa, you assumed.

Her voice was much quieter now, "Do you know him?"

"Oh, no-" you answered a little too fast, judging by the mischievous glint in her eyes only gleaming brighter, "-I just think he's rather handsome, that's all."

As if on cue, the man looked in the direction of the window of the shop. You don't know why, maybe the old man on the corner had grabbed his attention or the little boy who was currently chasing a butterfly down the street. It didn't matter, because his eyes neatly settled on you.

As if you were the only one on the street. Your cheeks turned a fantastic crimson at the mere thought-

And then, they shifted -flickering to your side. Where Maggie stood, grinning brightly and waving to the man. You were going to kill her.

With a little questioning look smoothing across his face, he raised his hand and waved back. His right hand, you noticed. (There was no ring.) You bit down the little flutter your stomach had done, bashfully raising your hand to wave as well.

The smile that stretched across his face was incredibly telling.

Maggie grinned even wider, not turning to face you, "You know him, how do you know him?"

"Well-"

Before you could say anything else, the man seemed to falter for a minute -turning to his side and grabbing something you couldn't quite see. He then lifted it, seeming to try and show it to you. It seemed to be a delicately woven basket one with much better craftsmanship than your own. You hadn't known what to expect in it, except-

Oh, he was waiting for you. He had the berries.

Your sister couldn't hold the pose, now fully turning to face you-hands gently taking your arms, "He's got a present."

"It's not quite a present, really-" you started.

Maggie didn't wait, eyes darting to the room where your other sister and Headmistress stayed stationed. Before she seemed to decide something -a familiar determination sparked in her eyes.

"Go," she whispered.

You opened your mouth, "What about-"

"I've got it," she reassured, a sort of warm affection bubbling up her voice, "-I'll lock them in there if I have to."

You rolled your eyes, knowing better than to argue with your sister, "I'll be quick, I promise."

Maggie rolled her eyes and pushed you to the door -scampering off to find whatever distraction she intended on using. God, you truly loved her.

As soon as you exited the shop, the man raised to his feet -almost on instinct. You frantically looked across the street, keeping an eye on oncoming carriages -before hastily making your way to the bench where he now stood.

He was laughing by the time you got there, the sound sent a familiar buzz up your spine, "In a hurry?"

"A bit," you answered -brushing a bit of dirt off your dress at the commotion, "-let's say I'm on borrowed time."

"I could've come to you," he said, so genuinely that you found you had to remember your point of being here. He apparently had a way of making you forget what you were doing.

"You couldn't," you responded, before scrambling to explain, "-wait, that sounded a bit rude. My apologies, it's just my Headmistress would lose it if she saw me so much as speaking to a man. She wants to marry us off, and any living breathing specimen is of enough quality to her."

"I'd hope I was better than a specimen," he smiled, a lilt in his voice that sounded quite close to teasing, "-do you refer to lots of men as specimens, Ms. Greene?"

"Just you," you quipped and he broke out into a sort of laughter -head thrown back, pure joy. You were quite proud of yourself for that one, holding your head slightly higher at the boost -smiling at his contagious one.

"Right, well," he added, clearing his throat to try and regain his composure, "-I'll keep note of 'at. Oh, and before I forget, here's the berries I owe ya."

And then, the basket (which surely was worth more than everything you currently wore) was extended to you. You could already see that it was filled with an assortment of berries, not just the single blueberry Judith had actually eaten.

"Oh, I couldn't, really-"

"I insist," he repeated, familiarly, and you found you couldn't quite fight the man in front of you.

"At least take the basket back, sir," you urged, a bit mesmerized by the handwoven pieces, "-I can't imagine what it's worth."

"Think of it as a gift."

"No," you reiterated, "-this must've cost a fortune. I can't-"

"Ms. Greene," he straightened, blue eyes glazing over your face in a way that almost worsened the crimson stain on your cheeks -something of fond, "-it's a gift, an' I'd be rather honored if ya accepted it."

You sighed, a bit defeated, "Alright, thank you, sir. I have no way of repaying you though-"

"How about a-" he began, fidgetting slightly with his coat -as if he was nervous. Why would he be nervous?

"Y/N," Maggie hissed across the courtyard, a sort of nerves in her eyes -you knew she'd already been cutting it close.

"I'm so sorry," you spoke, trying to genuinely portray it in your voice, "-really. If I see you again, please do approach me. Maybe we can have a complete conversation?"

He smiled, noting before you could leave, "Will do, Ms. Greene, enjoy the fruits. I got quite a wide selection, didn't know what you'd prefer."

"I'm sure they're lovely."

And then, without much of a notice, you rushed back into the seamstress shop -only chancing a look back when you came back inside. When you did, he stood in the same place -eyes intently focused on you, and gently waving his hand.

You laughed, timidly waving back.

Maggie was staring at you as you turned around, the gleam from earlier only sparkling even brighter.

You started, trying to stop the train before it even started, "Maggie-"

"You're telling me everything."

Then, the door creaked open -Beth (still in the dress she came in) as her eyes settled on the basket you held carefully in front of your skirt, and your Headmistress rumbling something about corsets.

"Girls, I think-" she started, before faltering, her own eyes settling on the rather extensive stash of fruit you'd gathered, "Where did you get that?"

The Headmistress was already making her way to you, brushing her fingers over the woven material -much like she had handled the invitation. So delicate as if it was the finest piece of china.

"Just someone repaying a debt," you answered, vaguely.

Ms. Elisa furrowed her brows, glancing at you with a deep, questioning gaze but you refused to break, "An expensive debt, I assume? That craftsmanship could probably pay for three new dresses from scratch, dear."

The Headmistress continued her path to the dresses, calling out to Beth to join her -leaving you stunned in your own path.

"Everything," Maggie reiterated, her tone doused in much of the amazement you'd felt.

"Everything," you agreed.

[enddaysengine]

Yamaraj (Psychopomp, Paths Beyond)

Paizo loves to draw on real-world myth and religion to flesh out the Age of Lost Omens and these psychopomps are no exception. Yamaraj is one of the names of the Hindu God of Death, who also shows up in many, many other Asian religions and mythologies. While Yamarajes are largely created whole-cloth for Pathfinder as best as I can tell, they share their role as the afterlife's supreme judges with their namesake. 

When dealing with psychopomps in general, and yamarajes specifically, it’s critical to remember that, while they have hierarchies, these are not devils. The bureaucracy of the Boneyard is considerably more laissez-faire than that of Hell. Psychopomps follow their hierarchy because if they don’t someone further up, the chain of command might bury them under so much busy work they’d wish they could die. A psychopomp may all be the spirit of the law one day, then the letter of the law of the next, simply because it is convenient. If it gets them the results they believed to be correct, they may not have any qualms about breaking the law entirely.  

All this means the yamarajes get a high degree of latitude to deal with problems as they see fit. They are the penultimate step on the org chart, second only to the Ushers and the gods themselves. They are smart, cunning, corvid-dragons of death who heal from lightning and have the scarab swarms from The Mummy ‘99 as their breath attack. You try telling them they’re doing their job wrong. It can be tough to find inspiration for outsiders acting this way, but luckily one series does exist. Daily Bestiary recommended Garth Nix’s Keys to the Kingdom to me a while back and while it’s not a perfect fit for psychopomps (he suggested it re: rilmani), the denizens of the House are a good starting point for getting in the mindset of neutral outsiders.  

Rajit the Wayward stubbornly insists that he is not, although the nickname has stuck amongst mortals and his erstwhile colleagues. The yamaraj hasn’t set foot in the Boneyard for nearly 3000 years, proclaiming to anyone who will listen that she has merely taken a short sabbatical and will return to his courtroom soon enough. Even his fellow immortals are skeptical, but Pharasma has made no move to censure him, so the other Yamarajes put up with his truancy. Meanwhile, Rajit serves as one of the few points of stability within the First World realm of Nighthold, dispensing legal advice to those in need. Rajit is just as curious about the fey as they are about the psychopomp, which helps him endure both their shenanigans and treachery. He is one of the easier psychopomps for mortals to approach — if they can make it through the remnants of Count Ranalc’s kingdom.  

Like any body of water in the Universe, the River of Souls has its own weather. Shah Jamshid rules over the largest of these storms, riding it up and down the River as he incinerates soul thieves with lightning bolts. The yamaraj's storm doesn't usually disturb the departed, but every few years he must recruit adventurous to track down souls who get blown stray. While irritating, Jamshid justifies these minor interruptions to the River's flow as the price for ensuring daemons and powerful undead don't do worse damage. 

Lucius Census-Taker has always been fascinated by swarms. He revels in his breath attack and spends his downtime as an amateur entomologist. Not that he has much downtime - Lucius has taken it upon himself to process the souls slain in the final battles with the closure of the Worldwound. His fascination with all things swarm extends to the dead demon lord Deskari. Lucius is an invaluable resource for parties seeking information on the fallen demigod, but between the bureaucracy of the Boneyard and his dangerous sojourns into the Outer Rifts, he is hard to track down.

[wild-west-wind]

sorry if this is an odd question, but how did you become a park ranger? and did you "always" know you wanted to be a park ranger? (as in, did you decide this long ago and went to the right schools for it, or did it just sorta happen because of your educations?)

it seems like such a fascinating job, i feel like i would enjoy it but alas ive never been really good at the subjects required for it, but that doesnt stop me from daydreaming and looking at your posts about your job with like... is there a word for when youre kinda jealous of someone but in a kind and inspiring way? like "wow wish that were me!" but in a sweet way? haha im sorry, english isnt my first language and i just woke up and decided to send this

i hope you have a good day!!

Not an odd question at all!

So, as for how I became a park ranger, I live blogged the process in real time when I was first applying. In short, get two years of college (ideally a degree), learn how to write a good federal resume (it's different), apply for 100 jobs (easy once you get going), and get one job offer. The first seasonal job is the hardest, then the first permanent job. Lateral moves are really easy once you have your foot in the door. The government doesn't want to take risks on hires, but once someone else has vetted you, you can go anywhere.

And I absolutely did not always want to be a park ranger! It's like the ideal job I dreamed of at age 5, but I didn't go to school with this in mind, I wasn't dreaming about it at night. I needed a job, and this seemed like a good fit, so I went for it! It's probably a 60/40 split at my park, people who fell into this versus people who went and got one of those "Parks Management" sort of degrees that are totally useless outside this career path (and tbh really not necessary IN this career path).

And you should totally apply. The NPS manages A LOT of sites focusing on a lot of topics, and even in sites that are irrelevant to what you actually study, you'd still be bringing good skills in. Among our permanent staff I work with directly every day, we have a Parks Management degree, a music degree, geology/environmental science, biology, spanish, economics, and film arts something or other. Our summer staff has even more diverse educational backgrounds. If you're willing to put in the work, and you give a shit about where you are, you'd be a good park ranger.

As someone who lives vicariously through a lot of people, I'm happy to know some pictures and stories I'm posting here are giving you good day dream material!

[open-hearth-rpg]

Hearts of Wulin Now at Age of Ravens

Hearts of Wulin, a PbtA game of wuxia romance and melodrama is now at Age of Ravens Games. Written by Joyce Ch*ng and Lowell Francis (me). This game and its expansion, Hearts of Wulin Worlds, offers a range of playstyles by focusing on the powerful heroes trapped by a web of obligations and personal desires. 

It’s pretty awesome IMHO. It draws on the literature of writers like Jin Yong and Gu Long, in particular adaptations of those stories in dozens and dozens of TV series (Laughing in the Wind, The Proud Twins). It also works to include things like more recent web novels and their adaptations, with rules for xianxia and the fantastic. The core book includes ideas for various genres, narrating fight scenes, building entanglements, and handling historical/courtly games. 

Hearts of Wulin: Worlds includes several settings: 

Shadow of Joseon, set during the Korean Joseon Dynasty. (Yeonsoo Julian Kim)

1905: San Francisco, presents a Chinatown just emerging from the shadow of the Chinese Exclusion Act. (Banana Chan)

Cour de l'Eppee transports Hearts of Wulin to swashbuckling France. (Cat Evans)

Academy of the Blade offers a dueling academy inspired by Revolutionary Girl Utena. (Alison Tam)

Fight Me IRL is a unique take on cyberpunk. (James Mendez Hodes) 

Silk & Steam gives you a wondrous silkpunk setting. (Kienna Shaw)

It also includes two major rules add-ons:

The Villain, a new playbook. Not all wulin "Heroes" are heroes with a capital H. Some start in a darker place... 

Numberless Secrets, a new set of rules for telling mystery/investigation stories in Hearts of Wulin. 

These can be found on Drivethrurpg– both are part of the ongoing GMs Day sale happening right now. 

Personally I’m really excited about the future for Hearts of Wulin. Though I never learned the print run, I do know that the last of the physical copies recently sold out at Indie Press Revolution. I have a short list of things I’m hoping to accomplish. 

Get it up on itch.io. I know some folks prefer to get their ttrpg pdfs via that site. 

Figure out how to get Print-on-Demand versions up on Drivethru. I’ve been told this is a challenging process to get right, so I’m hoping to talk to some folks who have done it before. 

Publish the Names & Entanglements deck. This was a self-print add-on for Hearts of Wulin. It's a useful resource for character creation and I’m hoping to have physical copy available for sale. 

I’ve always said folks should feel free to hack and rework Hearts of Wulin as they wish. But I’d like to get a clear Creative Commons license out there for everyone and encourage folks to play around with the system.

Eventually I might do a 1.5 version bringing some of the HoW: Worlds material over into the main book, as well as a couple of rules updates.

I want to publish a collection of Numberless Secrets mysteries along with guidance for running detective wuxia games. I love the series Ancient Detective and this is the best way I get to play out those kinds of stories. 

Get an online keeper which has easy to use set ups for all of the expansion worlds. We have a solid one– newly automated thanks to Agatha– but it doesn’t have all the expansions. 

Some folks have done from amazing things with HoW so far (inspired by media like Scott Pilgrim, Cobra Kai, Star Wars and beyond). It would be great if I could assemble a collection of new hacks and settings, maybe with some additional play options.

Finalize the one translation agreement I’ve been offered. 

I want to thank everyone who has read and/or played Hearts of Wulin. It remains a game I love to run and it would be amazing to have more people try it out.

[sickeningly-sweet-letters]

Can a request a yandere writer x reader ?

of course! time for this writer to shine! eheh also hey! it goes with my url lol

also sorry you caught me while im experimenting with how i stylize my posts-

🌻 yandere writer x gn reader!

- a writer who’s been struggling to find motivation to write for ages! its not their fault that they cant find any inspiration! but really, they should try to find something or someone to cheer them on..

- thats where you come in, you caught them in the middle of writing a draft and you immediately caught their eye.. it was something about how you complimented their short story and how you wished them good luck.. seems like this is where your writer started their spiral into their obsession with you

- they finally found a reason to write, they finally found a muse.. thats you! they’ll write tens of love letters in a day, all dedicated to their savior! they would have given up without you! isn’t it nice to see all these dedicated letters for you? aren’t you so touched?

- their work was starting to be recognized but you always seemed to be their number one fan and they appreciated it so much! you had no idea that they were yours as well! ah.. isn’t this so romantic? you have a secret admirer who is the person you love! ..you do love then, right? haha- of course you do! they just know it! what a silly question!

- they were so delusional that they were surprised when you seemed so paranoid while venting to them about some “stalker” or whatever.. didn’t you like their writing? why were you so upset? you had so many poems and stories dedicated to you! did you not know it was them?!

- what to do.. what to do.. maybe they should come clean? they asked to meet you in private so they could finally confess! this seemed just out of one of their romance scenes! their heart was beating so fast.. isn’t yours beating just as much? they almost squealed like a super-fan when you showed up, and they handed you a very similar looking letter to all the ones they’d sent you before..

- even then, they couldn’t understand why you suddenly seemed to afraid of them.. what? why were you so scared? they were confessing to you in your favorite place to hang out and with yet another letter! isn’t this super romantic? why did you have that look on your face?! wait- don’t run away! come back!

- …you left… how could you?! nonono- this must be a misunderstanding! they snapped out of their shocked trance and tried to figure out what to do.. they decided to go back home.. and once again, they vented all their feelings onto paper, almost completely filling another journal. another journal filled with their deepest, darkest thoughts

- once their head was finally clear.. they wanted to see you.. they needed to explain that they weren’t creepy! this was.. this was true love, my dear! so of course, they went to your house for a personal visit. they knocked.. and knocked.. and yet again.. each time they grew more and more desperate. don’t ignore them! they just want to talk! please.. they can’t possibly bear to live without you anymore! please come out!

- they seemingly gave up… for that day. they’d come back tomorrow.. and the tomorrow after that, then the next tomorrow.. everyday until you finally open the door..

you were theirs and they were yours. you always were there for them, so its only natural they return the favor! so open the door, please? they still have so much love to give you!

[victoria-daydreams]

The Hare and The Tower

Chapter One: Of Butterflies & Sketches

AN: I am very happy to see that I am not the only one crushing on the schemer that is Otto Hightower. Thank you to everyone who liked and reblogged this story! I swear to god this app hated me while writing this chapter because it was constantly crashing on me. Also, I finally decided on House Clarick’s sigil, it’s a hare, hence the title. I am attempting a semi-slow burn pray for me.

Trigger warnings: age gap

Word Count: 1.5k

Taglist: @riviaborns​ @newandykes

Summary: Jesmyn discovers that personal happiness often comes with a cost.

Chapter Two: Heart’s Desire

113 AC, Westeros

Within three short months, Lord Hightower had requested the pleasure of Jesmyn’s company one day a week at sunset for a stroll, unless his responsibilities as Hand called him elsewhere. At first, Jesmyn had been nervous, uncertain, even. That was until, weeks turned into a month, and then into three. Surprisingly, Jesmyn found herself and Lord Hightower had grown to become close companions. Their long walks around the palace gardens had been a welcome escape from the unpredictable world they lived in.

Jesmyn took pleasure in spending time with Lord Hightower, more than she thought she possible. Before, she only exchanged pleasantries with him due to being friends with his daughter, Alicent. Other than those interactions, she rarely paid him any attention. Now, she held a genuine affection for Lord Hightower, a man full of wisdom and complexity all wrapped in one. With every day that passed, Jesmyn found herself hanging on his every word. It was a little surprising to her that she had as much of an interest in him as she did. For it was quite obvious how big of an age difference there was between them. Still, she could not deny the feelings that stirred in heart because of the older man.

Dusk had soon become Jesmyn’s favorite part of the day. It was during this time, she could speak her mind freely without disapproving looks and patronizing tones when it came to serious matters that plagued the realm. On some issues, Lord Hightower would disagree with a few of her progressive views, his mind still firmly holding onto more traditional ideas. However, he still respected her intellectual mind. They could talk with each other till the sun retreated below the horizon and the stars began to sparkle dimly in the sky.

On one particular evening, Jesmyn and Lord Hightower walked side by side through the maze of the palace gardens before he challenged her to a friendly game of cyvasse under the arbor.

“Lady Jesmyn, do you paint portraits?” Lord Hightower asked, moving a piece on the cyvasse board.

“Not often my lord,” Jesmyn answered, contemplating her next move. “I’ve always found myself gravitating to landscapes,” she explained, moving her own cyvasse's piece as sensible as she believed to be. “Did you have someone in mind, Lord Hightower?” she wondered, looking up from the board.

“You,”

Jesmyn’s breath hitched as her eyes widened, surely she was dreaming. Heat seared underneath her face, and suddenly Jesmyn felt unbelievably warm in the lightweight material of her dress. She was glad that Lord Hightower couldn't see just how flustered he had made her. Bashfully, she tucked her chin into her neck, avoiding his stare.

“Please, don’t be cruel Lord Hightower,” Jesmyn said, shaking her head. “I do not wish for you to be subjected to viewing my shoddy work of an attempted self portrait. It would ruin your opinion of me,” she jested, belting out a breathy laugh.

“Stop that,” he demanded softly, which made Jesmyn lift her eyes to meet his. There was a tenderness in his tone which was new to her. “I have without a doubt, your splendor will be equally reflected on canvas,” he added, gazing intently at her and rekindling the warmth in her cheeks.

Her mouth curved upwards, a gracious smile on her face, “Then, it shall be done Lord Hightower,” she agreed, with a nod. “Your kind words inspire me with confidence,” Jesmyn informed.

~~~x~~~

A week later

“My mother will have my head once she gets a whiff of me,” Jesmyn complained, tugging off her gloves.

Riding Syrax with Rhaenyra was an exhilarating experience for Jesmyn, however she couldn’t be happier to have her feet solidly back on the ground of the dragon pit.

“What for?” Rhaenyra asked, mirroring her movements. “You did tell her what we were doing, right?” she remarked, with an amused huff.

“I told my mother that the Princess invited me to go riding with her,” Jesmyn replied, shoving her gloves into the belt of her tunic “I didn’t specify what manner of creature it would be,” she explained, a half smirk on her lips.

“Being crafty are you?” Rhaenyra teased, as they entered inside the Red Keep.

The two of them strode through the winding and large corridors of the castle, both of their coats flowing behind him. Servants left and right lowered themselves close to the floor and bending their heads to Rhaenyra as she passed them in the wide hall. Acknowledging the servants with an appreciative smile, the two girls continued on their way to Jesmyn’s quarters, the sun gleaming through the pillars of the castle every step of the way. Just as Jesmyn went to turn down the hall where her quarters were, Rhaenyra gently grabbed her arm and stopped her.

“Jesmyn, before you go,” Rhaenyra began hesitantly. “There’s something I wish to discuss with you,” she said, her cheery attitude inexplicably gone.

Jesmyn’s brows furrowed at the change of demeanor from her friend, “Of course Rhaenyra,” she answered readily.

Without resistance, Jesmyn let herself be escorted to the balconies. Rhaenyra dropped down onto the bench against the wall in an unladylike fashion, resting her head against the wall. While Jesmyn opted to stand, leaning on the balcony railing.

“What troubles your mind Princess?” Jesmyn questioned.

“Is it true what they say?” Rhaenyra asked bluntly.

“Is what true?” Jesmyn repeated, feeling a frown form again.

“There have been whispers about you and Lord Hightower,” she stated, her stare unflinching. “It seems you both have been enjoying each other’s company as of late,” she said, with an undercurrent of disgust.

Jesmyn's eyes darted to the row of arches open to the of inner courtyard which overlooked it. The bustle of the castle below was abuzz as the occupants went about their day on the warm sunny afternoon.

“Princess Rhaenyra, I didn’t take you as a gossiper,” Jesmyn said evasively.

“Except, it’s not just frivolous court gossip, is it? Not if Lady Redwyne has anything to say about it,” she commented, and Jesmyn could envision her rolling her eyes.

Slowly, Jesmyn looked back at Rhaenyra, “It is true,” she admitted. “We have walks in the garden and we converse with each other, but it’s harmless,” she said unconvincingly.

“Harmless?” Rhaenyra repeated, a bitter laugh leaving her. “The King’s Hand is anything but harmless!” she snapped, her glare intensifying.

“I know you have your reservations about Lord Hightower, but he’s a brilliant man Rhaenyra,” Jesmyn assured, turning away from her to look down into the courtyard, her head leaning against the arch. “He is wise, clever, and…” she trailed off dreamily, her eyes zeroing in on the Small Council walking through courtyard and speaking amongst themselves.

Immediately, Jesmyn recognized Lord Hightower’s figure engaged in conversation with Lord Strong. The conversation between the two men was abruptly short when another member of the council pulled the Master of Laws away to discuss another matter. Lord Hightower’s eyes happened to flit upwards to the balconies where she was standing.

Jesmyn felt her heart stutter as brown eyes met deep blue ones, his face shifted in a blink from fierce concentration to vaguely relaxed. Lord Hightower gazed at her, not smiling, however his eyes softened as they held her stare. He gave her a slight nod in acknowledgement and a warm smile adorned her face.

“And what?” Rhaenyra asked impatiently, startling Jesmyn from her reverie.

She glanced off to the side, finding it was increasingly harder to divide her attention from Lord Hightower to Rhaenyra.

Jesmyn reared around, “And, he takes an honest interest into my hobbies and my thoughts. He respects me,” she finished, placing her hand against her chest.

“Harmless, you said?” Rhaenyra repeated sardonically. “I think you’re more fond of him than you realize,” Rhaenyra said, with a small scoff.

“Would it be that bad if I were, Rhaenyra?” Jesmyn asked curiously, tilting her head. “Soon, I will be eight and ten,” she reminded. “My father has been a patient man, but he made abundantly it clear to me. He will have me married off come next spring,” she stated, moving away from the balcony.

“And so you chose him?”

“I didn’t choose him, it was happenstance,”

“Does she know?” Rhaenyra questioned, and Jesmyn knew exactly who the ‘she’ in question was.

“I am not sure,” Jesmyn replied honestly. “I have to assume she has, if you’re hearing whispers then surely she has too,” Jesmyn reasoned, interlocking her hands behind her back. “Although, she hasn’t confronted me about it. Then again, she was never one for confrontation. The worst that could happen would be her forbidding me to see her father, she is The Queen after all,” she joked, making Rhaenyra’s scowl deeper. “My apologies, I shouldn’t have been so flippant. It’s understandably still a sore subject for you,” Jesmyn said quickly.

Rhaenyra rose from the bench, gripping her riding gloves tightly.

“Best head to your bath, Lady Jesmyn,” she suggested. “I wouldn’t want the smell of dragon to spoil your walk with The Hand,” she remarked coldly, brushing past her.

“Rhaenyra, don’t be like this,” Jesmyn pleaded softly.

The Princess came to a stop and turned on her heel.

“Lord Hightower is courting you, I do not know why you deny it to my face,”

“What would it accomplish, Rhaenyra!” Jesmyn said exasperatedly. “Your disdain for him is evident,” she commented. “You are my friend,” she stated, taking a hold of the younger girl’s hands. “And I need you to understand, if Lord Hightower pursues his courtship with me, it would change everything for me, for my family,” Jesmyn explained. “House Clarick would finally have standing in this court—”

Rhaenyra snatched her hands from Jesmyn’s, a mixture of betrayal and disgust painted on her face.

“Of course, that’s all you care about,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s what everyone cares about in this damned court,” she accused, backing away from her.

“No, Rhaenyra that’s not what I meant!” Jesmyn said, reaching out for her.

It was too late though, Rhaenyra had already took off running.

[ghostfanwriter]

☀️🌭 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐞 🌭☀️

← Previous part

☀️ Pairing: Dave York x Fem!Reader (for now)

🌭 Synopsys: There was a change of plans and it turned out the barbecue had to be hosted in your family's backyard. It would be pretty crowded, and the perfect chance to get Dave where he always said he wanted to be... your bedroom.

☀️ Features: 🔞 Teasing, she calls him daddy (just a few times, I swear), smut, oral sex (m receiving), spiting (not in her mouth this time), teasing and masturbation (f receiving), cumplay.

🌭 Word Count: 6k

☀️ About this: This has been cooking for a while, and because of that some parts of it inspires other fics I wrote! So if you find similarities with other (especially The Dress, a Joel Miller fic) that's why

🌭 Author's note: Carol's coming... (But Dave's not going anywhere). ALSO! I highly recommend reading the previous parts to catch all the little details.

You're gonna try your best to make his day as hard as possible.

The necklaces he gave you are the final touch on your look. The cherry rests on top of the 'D', and they both shine on your chest.

No one else will, but you and Dave will know exactly what they mean. You're his, and it's just a matter of time until he claims that.

You get in front of the mirror and send him a photo. Full body, showing him your whole outfit. "Did you like it?" You send along.

He is at work, in his own office, sending and responding emails. The type of task that makes him miss having to dodge bullets.

He smiles seeing your name on his notification, frowning when he sees the picture, leaning back on his chair and adjusting his pants. He looks at it for a while, and not even a minute later, he calls you.

"Guess it's hard for you to not look too pretty, right, baby?" He says, and you giggle listening to him, you love looking like something he wants to look at.

"Did you like it?" You ask again.

"Fuck, got me hard just looking at the damn picture, angel." He says, and you laugh. "Don't you have anything else to wear?" His voice a bit breathy.

You whine in disappointment. "No, I loved it."

He grunts, touching himself through his pants, his bulge aching just from imagining you with that dress all day long.

"That's the problem, baby. I loved it too. Don't know how I'm gonna make it through the day with you like this, pumpkin." He says, and you smile at the name. "I need you to get changed."

Your dress is short.

Short, flowy, and it has a nice but discreet cleavage. The top part hugs your waist just right, and the bottom hugs and enhances all the right curves. It somehow manages to be sexy and girly at the same time.

It will drive him crazy.

But that was exactly your plan. Make his lighthearted neighborhood barbecue a bit more fun.

"Okay, Mr. York. I'll change into something a bit less fun, then." You say she he sighs.

"Uhh, thank you, peach. I'm sure you'll look pretty in anything. And you can wear this pretty dress only for me one day." He says and you smile, giving yourself another look on the mirror and sitting on your bed.

"You gotta stop promising me these things." You tell him with a smile before hanging up.

You try to ignore when Dave arrives at the barbecue with his family. The girls run to play with the other kids, and Carol goes to talk to a few other moms she knows.

Dave goes to a group of men, all close to his age – the husband's of the women Carol was chatting with. They're all laughing and drinking.

"Hey, Dave! You lucky fucking asshole! Wish my kids were failing school." One of the men says, catching Dave off guard.

He follows the men's eyes, his eyebrows furrowing as soon as he finds you, bending down to hug his daughters and greeting Carol.

Your necklaces shining on your chest, your hair falling effortlessly over your shoulders, and the fucking dress he told you not to wear clinging to your body in a perfect way, while still somehow being summer-neighborhood-barbecue friendly.

He smiles when you look at him.

"Hi, Mr. York!" You shout, a warm and inviting smile across your face as you wave. He's still wearing his formal work clothes; a light blue, long sleeved shirt and black dress pants. It's quite hard to not notice him, to ignore him.

He looks so good you have to control yourself to not look him up and down.

He waves back, a silly smile making its way to his own face, and he sighs when another one of the dads taps his shoulder.

"The devil works hard, my friend." The man says, pausing to drink his beer. "But we gotta work even fucking harder to resist it." He says, and you smile at them, even though you can't hear what they're saying.

By the way they're looking at you... There's only so much they could be talking about.

Dave laughs, speaking before he can stop himself. "The problem is the devil looks like a fucking angel sometimes."

The man laughs. "Wouldn't wanna be you, man. Would go fucking crazy seeing that everyday."

He knows.

He goes.

But hopefully you will help him and make today as easy as possible.

The day goes by relatively smoothly. You're too busy playing with the kids, talking to some old ladies, or ditching a few guys that flirt with you to have time to remember Dave's around.

Or at least that's what he was counting on.

He knew you two would have a talk because of your dress; because you did something he actively told you not to — which, to his dismay, was one of your favorite things to do.

And he knew he was right. He couldn't just take you to his bedroom and fuck your mouth or spank your ass, making you count enough slaps until numbers and his name became the only words you could remember.

But — God — does he fucking want to. Everytime a man would talk about you or look at you for too long, everytime a boy would approach you, everytime you looked at him...

He knew his limit was nearing. He was getting jealous, greedy even. He didn't want to see your smile, always so pretty and honest, directed at anyone else but him. Your laugh caused by anyone else's jokes.

He avoided especially imagining you making the pretty sounds you made for him on the phone the night before for someone else.

With you, he found out he was even more selfish than he already knew. He wanted you whole, and he wanted you all to himself.

He knew he couldn't. But he wanted to run towards you and bend you over a table, fuck you right there, in front of everyone, so no one dares to even think about you again. So everyone knows you're his.

So you stop teasing him like you do, so you know you're his, and so he gets his life back. So he can think of anything other than what it'd be like to be inside you, hearing you moan his name while feeling your warm and soft skin underneath his body. Your nails digging on his skin, your hair tangled around his fingers, your eyes rolling back, your pussy clenching and gushing around him—

He shakes the feelings away when his dress pants start feeling too tight, feeling grateful the dress wasn't as short as it seemed on the picture, and you've kept your distance, letting him just watch you.

His favorite thing to do, his favorite thing to watch.

You felt like your day was over.

You got Dave's attention — he's spent the whole day watching you — and you had a good time. So you looked for your parents to tell them you were going to your bedroom.

Maybe send Dave a picture or two, who knows?

But you decide to stick by for a little longer when you find him talking to your dad. They're sitting across from each other, Dave's legs are spread and he looks a lot more laid back than you're used to, even still wearing his formal clothes.

It's a vision too good to waste. An opportunity too good to pass. You can't help yourself.

Quite frankly you don't want to stop yourself as you walk towards them, Dave's eyes fixating on you when he sees you coming over.

"Hi daddyy!" You say with a sweet voice, looking into Dave's eyes, almost singing as you bend over to hug your dad's neck and chest from behind, wrapping your arms around his neck, your hands hanging in front of his chest.

"Hey, honey pie. You alright?" Your dad responds as Dave shifts on his seat.

You kiss his cheek. "Great, just checking on you." You say. "Hey Mr. York. Did you know my dad already?" You ask Dave, and he gulps before answering, removing his eyes from your lifted ass and finding your eyes again.

"No, not really. Just found out he's your dad, actually." He says laughing nervously.

"Oh, you're the Mr. York?" Your dad asks, his eyes widening after he finishes his beer, and Dave nods. "Dave York then, huh? Is she doing a good job?" He asks, bending over to shake Dave's hand, pulling you along.

"Oh, don't even get me started fucking started. She's doing more than you'd like to know." Dave thinks to himself and laughs.

"Yeah, amazing job, actually. The girls love her and they're doing way better at school." He says with a wide smile.

He was genuinely happy for his daughters' improvement, and even happier that you were the reason behind it.

"It's my pleasure, Mr. York. The girls are super sweet and smart. They just needed a little push." You say honestly, and his chest tightens a bit.

Did you have to be so good with his kids?

You notice your dad's empty beer bottle, taking it from his hand. "Do you want another one?" You ask.

"Oh, I'd love another one, baby, thanks." He says, looking back up at you with a wide smile.

"Can I get you one too, Mr. York?" You ask, and Dave picks his empty bottle from the grass.

"Yeah, sure, pum— Thank you." He says with a smile, cursing himself for almost letting a 'pumpkin' escape his lips.

A pretty girl giving him attention and bringing him more cold beer. Dave asks himself what are the chances he died at work and somehow made his way to heaven. But no, he's no fool to believe he would make it there.

And you honestly don't mind how old the idea sounds; to look pretty and serve your man.

Sure, you wouldn't do it to anyone else. But you like to do it to Dave.

You just wish you could do it every day.

You open two bottles and take a sip of one of them, looking into Dave's eyes as you do, and he smiles at you.

You bring them the bottles, handing Dave the one you drank from, and he drinks from it, looking into your eyes. You smile and hug your dad's neck from behind again, leaning over him and staring at Dave.

"Daddy, I'm a bit tired, think I'm gonna go upstairs, to my room." You say, looking at Dave and kissing your dad's cheek. "Maybe I'll come back before the party's over, just don't tell anyone I'm upstairs, please? Just tell them I left for a bit. Don't wanna be bothered." You say, and Dave gulps. He knows you're not just gonna get some rest.

"Alright, baby." You dad says, stroking your hair from behind and kissing your forehead.

"See you, Mr. York." You say, leaving, and he raises his beer, nodding to you. You walk away, and he follows you with his eyes, wishing he could go with you.

So close but so fucking out of reach.

The price he pays for his sins.

You text him on your way to your bedroom, a devilish smile on your face.

'Find yourself a bathroom, Mr. York. Wanna show you something.' You send him.

He's still talking to your dad when his phone buzzes. He grunts when he sees it's you already.

"Sorry, work. Gotta respond" He tells your dad, texting you before he can stop himself.

'Why don't you be a big girl and tell me where your bedroom is? Gonna be easier for both of us, peach.' He sends, the few beers he's drank enough to blur his best judgement.

You laugh when you see his text.

Dave York in your bedroom, doing God knows what while your parents, his family — his wife —, and the whole neighborhood are downstairs... Sinful and heavenly scenario.

'Last door on the hallway upstairs. If anyone finds you going up or down, just say the bathroom downstairs was occupied, and someone told you there was another one upstairs. There actually is one, so no one's gonna think anything of it.' You send him, your stomach making you feel sick, anticipation washing over you as you sit on your bed and wait for your doorknob to move.

"Do you mind? I have to get this or they'll never leave me alone." He tells your dad, who nods and lets him go.

A few seconds later you hear heavy footsteps coming towards your bedroom, and you can feel every contraction of your heart as it beats fast inside your chest.

You feel like you're gonna vomit, a wave of all the feelings you feel around him crashing against you; the bad ones because you're so close to his family, and the good ones because... Well, he's him.

He opens the door slowly and smiles when he sees you sitting on your bed, your eyes wide and your chest moving deeply.

He locks the door and takes a second to look around your bedroom, still partially decorated from when you were in high school. The walls painted in soft colors, your bed sheets pink, yellow and white. Everything he knew your room would be like.

"Hi, peach." He says, approaching you, standing right in front of you.

"Hi, Mr. York." You respond, your voice barely making it's way out of your lips.

"How was your day, baby? Did you have fun?" His hand comes to your chin, lifting it so you'd look up at him.

"Uhum. Did you see it?" You ask, your voice slightly shaky as you lift both your necklaces with your thumb, showing them to him.

"Oh, I saw it, that's why I didn't punch any of the boys flirting with you." He whispers. "Because I know you know that you're mine."

"You were watching me?" You ask, smiling, putting on an innocent face. You know he's been.

You were counting on it.

"Couldn't look away all day, baby. So pretty like this." He praises, caressing your cheek and pulling your hair behind your ear.

"All for you." You say, and he smiles.

"All for me?" He asks, sounding honored.

"Knew you'd like it." You say with a wide and proud smile.

"Oh, but that's exactly the problem, pumpkin." He starts, his tone shifting from sweet to dark when he says: "I liked it way too much, just like I told you I would." His hand pulling on the hair on the back of your head, forcing your head back.

"Mr. York..." You moan.

"Tell me what you want, angel. What are you trying to get from all this? Huh? 'Cause I'm getting tired of only seeing this pretty body in pictures." He says softly, almost whispering as his right hand keeps holding your head back, and his left hand gently massages your right breast.

The —huge— volume on his pants, right in front of your face, is making it hard for you to think, and you just stare at it, licking your lips, ignoring his questions.

"Tsk, get up here, baby. This cock's making you dumb and you haven't even touched it yet." He says, pulling you up by your hair, your bodies touching.

You love how rough he is. It makes your knees weak. It makes you want to behave, to be good for him, and do what he says.

Whatever he says.

But also to not give him what he wants, so he keeps treating like this. Just so he calls you names, so he slams you into a wall again, so he pulls on your hair or squeezes your throat until you're lightheaded.

You can't help the pathetic whine that you let out.

"C'mon, words. I know you're such a smart girl. Tell me what you want." He says, rubbing his nose on your cheeks, his hands on the nape of your neck and squeezing your hips, pressing your body onto his.

You close your eyes, your nose touching his face while your hands pull on his hair and tug on his shirt, gathering the courage to just open your mouth and let your thoughts out.

"I... I want you to cum inside me." You say, and he pulls away just enough to look at you. "I want you to do it and then I want to go back downstairs and talk to people with you leaking from me... I want you, Mr. York." You manage to let out. Feeling your cheeks on fire as the words leave your lips.

You don't understand how he can pull such honesty out of you like this.

But you love it.

He chuckles softly, a twisted smile on his lips.

"Jesus, doll." He whispers, shaking his head in disbelief. "So fucking bad. Can't do it, no. Can't cum inside you. Not yet. But I know of something that may do it for you." He says, gently pulling your hair behind your ears. "Get on your knees." He says sternly.

But you just stare at him, too nervous to move. Too in awe of the situation to react. Still a bit numbed by your own words, your own thoughts.

He knows he doesn't have a lot of time, though. Take too long and people are gonna ask where he's gone. And he doesn't know when he's gonna have this chance again.

He slaps your face, just his fingers hitting your cheek. Not hard enough to hurt or offend you, just to burn and get your attention.

And to make you smile.

"You wanted this, peach? Attention? You wore this fucking dress for me to do this, didn't you? Then your plan worked, you got what you fucking wanted. Now stop being a fucking brat and do what I say." He says sternly, his voice low and angry.

You can feel yourself leaking from the way he talks to you, your heart beating so hard you're certain he can hear it.

"Sorry, daddy." You say, your voice small and aroused. You try to get down to your knees, but he holds you up by your throat, slapping your face again, a proper slap this time.

"Told you to not fucking call me that." He snarls at you, his dick twitching inside his pants.

"And this will only teach me to do it even more, Dave." You say with a smile, pushing yourself onto the hand on your throat, a dark and small smile appearing on his lips as he squeezes it even harder. "And you said I couldn't call you that because you couldn't fuck my mouth... But we're here now, so I guess it's—"

You gasp when he squeezes harder, feeling lightheaded from the lack of oxygen.

"I'm just trying to find out if this mouth is as good at sucking my cock as it is at talking back to me." He says, pushing you down to your knees, between himself and your bed, your feet going underneath the bed.

You unbuckle his pants desperately. Now that your mind is back inside your body, you want to do this before he changes his mind.

You pull his pants down and take a deep breath when you see his cock, the air refusing to leave your lungs.

Big, girthy, trimmed but not shaved, veins showing through his light skin. His pink and swollen tip, engulfed by his foreskin, already leaking with his precum.

He's so heavy he doesn't stand fully erect, hanging with his own weight. You frown at the sight, not catching the moan that leaves your mouth, and he smiles.

"As good in person?" He asks, his hands gently pulling your hair back, taking a fistful of it to force you to look up at him.

"Even better, Mr. York." You say, looking into his eyes as you grab him, feeling just how heavy he is. "And so heavy, too." You say, licking his tip, right where it's leaking, earning a deep sigh from him.

"C'mon, baby. Treat it real nice, it's all for you." He says, his voice low and aroused.

"Because of me?" You ask with a devious smile.

"You know it is." He says, his smile warmer than you expected, like he's proud of you for being so nasty. Maybe even nastier than him.

Focused solely on his cock, you lick long and heavy lines from his base towards his tip, wetting your tongue before each time. Then you open your mouth, letting drool fall from your tongue to his tip, covering it in each time faster kitten licks. His hips buck forward, making you laugh.

"Too big to fit into your mouth, baby? Huh? Never had a grown man's cock in your mouth? That's why you're teasing me like this?" He asks impatiently, and you look up at him.

"I'm sorry, daddy." You say, making him frown, his tip leaking on your hand.

He sighs when you take his tip inside your mouth, sucking softly around it, enjoying his soft feeling and his salty taste on your tongue. You take him in deeper, just enough for his tip to reach the middle of your mouth, and you hollow your cheeks, rolling your tongue around him while you suck him tightly, moving your lips and stroking him slowly, feeling his skin move along with your hand.

He pulls on your hair, sighing a "Fucking shit, baby." An amused smile across his face as he caress your hair, right where he was pulling at before. "Just gonna need a bit more if we want this to be fast." He says and you get it.

He needs to get back down, and you don't want anyone knocking on your door and interrupting the two of you.

You let go of him with a wet 'bop', smiling at his expression. You stroke him slowly around his tip as you lick a line from it all the way down to his base, and instead of coming back to his tip, you go even lower.

You lick around one of his balls, taking it in your mouth and sucking on it, rolling your tongue over it, almost munching it. Earning sighs and grunts from him.

"It's been a while since they got any attention, baby." He pants, his whole face contorted in a frown, his lips hanging slightly open and his chest raising and falling slowly and heavily.

"Such a waste, Mr York." You say, letting your mind wander around with the idea of living with him, being with him, being his. Pleasing him, helping him feel better after another stressful day at work. "I'd give them so much attention if they were mine." You moan.

"Fuck — Don't do this to me, baby." He begs in a whisper.

Because he's doing the same, and just thinking about seeing you everyday, having you do this to him everyday, makes him wanna cum right then. Just from imagining having you by his side. Just from imagining having you.

You go back to his tip, rolling your tongue around it and sucking on it harder. When you try to take it deeper, you realize your mouth's a bit too dry.

And you could just wet it more... but Dave's right above you.

"Can you help me? My mouth's not wet enough to swallow you." You say, and he pulses on your hand.

"What do you want me to do, peach?" He asks, caressing your hair, and you just smile at him. "Use your words, baby." He insists.

"Can you spit on it for me?" You ask, your voice sweet and low.

"Jesus." He pants, furrowing his brows before moving his jaw from side to side.

"Thank you." You say, licking your lips and taking him in as far as you can.

He spits on his length, right before your lips, and you go deeper, using his saliva as lube, never looking away from his face. When his tip hits the back of your throat he grunts, one of his hands pulling on your hair and the other holding the nape of your neck so you don't move.

"There you go, baby. Taking my cock so well." He pants, his eyes closed and his head turned towards the ceiling as his hands caress you.

You run your hands up his stomach and his chest, feeling how strong he is, how warm his skin feels, using him as leverage to go even deeper. You take him in until his tip slides down your throat, stopping only to swallow around his length, your throat squeezing him, making him smile.

"Shit —grunts— knew you'd be good at this, baby. Think you're ready for me?" He asks and you open your watery eyes, finding his. You nod, your cheeks moving up in a smile. "Good. Tap me twice and I'll stop, alright? As much as I would love to hear it, I don't need anyone hearing you gag on my cock." He says, and you moan in response, gripping on his thighs to support yourself.

Then he thrusts out of your throat, going back in and repeating a few times before going harder, pulling almost all the way before going back in, progressively intensifying his movements, eventually properly fucking your mouth.

"This mouth was —grunts— made for this, baby. Fucking — grunts — made for me." He pants, his pace violent and needy, all the desire he cultivated these past few weeks taking control over him, making him almost forget it's your mouth around this cock and not your pussy.

You tap his thigh twice and he immediately lets go of you, pulling out and taking a short step back. He stares down at you, pulling your hair away from your sweaty forehead.

"Too much for you, doll? It didn't felt like it." He teases. Your throat was open and inviting, no sign of gaging or rejection from it.

"Just need to breath a little." You say, out of breath, firmly stroking him. He bends down and kisses your forehead.

"You're doing great, baby. Just a little more." He says, taking a step further, looking for your mouth. You open it with a small and breathy ah, and he pushes in until his tip goes down your throat. You grab his pants to steady yourself.

He starts gently, slowly applying force and speed to his thrusts, until he's fucking you again.

You moan, enjoying how firmly he's holding the sides of your head, how he's using your mouth, how overpowering and strong he is. How it's hard to keep yourself steady with the force of his thrusts, how nasty and wet the whole things sounds, your drool dripping down your chin.

You can't help but remember that first night, him standing in front of you, pulling your chin up and pouring scotch from his mouth into yours.

You whimper and tap him again, and he grunts frustrated, stopping instantly.

You love how he doesn't hesitate in stopping, even when he clearly doesn't want to. It makes you trust him; want to do anything he wants.

"You okay?" He pants. His tip, pink and painfully hard, dripping with himself and your drool. A string of saliva and precum still connecting him to your mouth.

"Just don't wanna make a mess on my dress." You say, pulling it down your shoulders, lowering it until your waist.

He grunts, frowning and cupping your breasts, giving them a firm squeeze. Then pushes your shoulders back, laying your back on the bed, keeping your knees on the floor while holding firmly below your armpits.

He sucks on your nipple, closing his eyes as he twirls his tongue around it, making you moan.

"Hmm, so soft, baby." He whispers looking into your eyes, getting up and rubbing his tip on your nipple, letting a small groan out.

You smile nervously at him, afraid of what he's gonna do. How much rougher he's gonna get with the new angle.

Not that you're planning on stopping him...

He takes a step closer to you, grabbing himself close to his base and guiding his tip to your mouth, his cock wobbling slightly with it's own weight.

"Open. Tongue out." He instructs, and you don't think twice before obeying. "You're a good girl when you want to, aren't you, babygirl?" He asks with an amused smile while carefully pulling your hair back, making you smile back at him.

The tenderness of his words and touch a stark contrast to the situation you're in.

He slaps his tip on your tongue a few times, his weight sinking your tongue on your teeth, the wet sound making you moan.

He stops, his tip hovering above your tongue.

"Lick it." He says, his voice low and stern.

You moan and support yourself on your elbows to reach him, rolling your tongue around his tip. He laughs at the effort you're making to reach him and lowers himself, letting you lie back in the bed, and you suck him into your mouth, moaning at his taste.

He pushes in and you massage his balls while he thrusts in and out of your throat, gently at first, then more roughly. The new angle allowing him to fuck your mouth like it is your pussy.

"Good, baby. Play with them for daddy, c'mon." He pants. "Gonna make me fucking cum like this."

You moan as he keeps going.

Feral, rough, desperate and needy even.

Al those texts, all those photos, all those calls and dirty promises fogging his mind, making him wanna savour this experience, finally having you.

After all he doesn't know when the next time's gonna be.

One thrust goes particularly hard and you gag around him, squeezing his cock. Instead of pulling out, though, he pushes even further. Supporting his elbows on the mattress besides your head, he almost lies on top of you, holding himself deep inside your throat, sinking your head on the mattress.

He grunts loudly, and you dig your nails on the back of his thighs. You don't get mad at him, though. Somehow you like it, you like how selfish he's being, how he doesn't even care to ask if you're okay.

You like to think he's had a tough day at work, he's stressed and worked up, and you are the one helping him through it, you are the one making him feel better.

"Fuck — grunts — gonna cum, baby. Do you want it in your mouth, huh? Wanna go downstairs and talk to people with a filthy mouth?" He asks and you nod, looking up at him, making him grunt with the vibrations when you do your best to say a desperate 'yes' with his cock buried inside your throat, as tears start to roll down your cheeks and you tug tighter on his thigh.

He gets up and pulls out, keeping just his tip inside your mouth, and you eagerly suck on it, rolling your tongue around it, stroking him deep and fast, twisting your fists, desperate for his release.

To finally have what he's been promising you this whole time.

"Fuck— Are you gonna spit, baby?" He asks and you frown, shaking your head. Of course you won't. "Good." He smiles. "Then don't swallow yet, I wanna see it."

He grunts and throbs in your hand before you feel the first rope covering your tongue. You moan and look into his eyes, rolling your tongue around his tip and massaging his balls. He tightens his grip on your hair.

"Shit — grunts — like that." He says quietly.

You keep working with all you've got, one hand on his balls, the other stroking him tight and steady, your lips tightly wrapped around his tip and your tongue twirling around it, gathering his cum.

His hushed grunts and moans and his hand pulling on your hair only encouraging you to keep going.

When he's finished he pulls his hips back, trying to pull out of your mouth, but you don't let him go, moving along and sucking him harder.

"Greedy fucking mouth." He laughs, caressing your hair and looking — you could swear almost adoringly — at you. "Fuck, baby." He pants when you loosen your grip around his tip. "Let me see it." He says, pulling your head back, and you open your mouth, rolling his cum on your tongue, playing with it. "Swallow." He says with a frown and you do, opening your mouth to show it to him. He smiles, his eyes alternating between your eyes and your mouth. "Good girl." He praises, and your feel your clit twitch.

He takes a step back and pulls you up, laying you on your bed, one hand besides your head and the other cupping your pussy, his face mere inches away from yours.

"You've made a mess on your underwear, poor baby." He mocks you, digging his finger on the wet spot in your panties. "Is this what you wanted to show me, pumpkin? How wet you get after not listening to me? After being such a brat?" He asks, pressing the fabric against your leaking core.

"Please, Mr. York." You beg, rolling your hips and pressing yourself against his hand.

"Oh, you think you deserve it, baby?" He asks, raising his brows and you nod, your brows furrowing when he takes his hand underneath your panties, making you whimper as his fingers go up and down your folds. He grunts and looks down when he feels just how wet you really are. "But what did I tell you about this dress? Huh?" He asks, and you tug on the shirt covering his arms.

"You — hmm — you told me to not wear — ah — it." You say, your words intertwined with moans as his movements become more intentional, teasing your entrance and circling your clit.

"And what did you do, pumpkin?" His voice breathy.

"I wore it." You admit, smiling widely, proud of your antics.

"And you still think you deserve to cum after it all?" He asks and you nod, furrowing your eyebrows, not able to look away from his eyes. "Why's that, pumpkin?" He goes faster.

Oh, fuck him.

"Because I need to." You say, your voice small and high as you feel your core burn with need.

"Well I had to finish work today with a painful hard on because of that photo you've sent me. And it was not the first time that's happened." He says, and you whimper. You know you're fucked. "So I think the least you can do to pay me back is ache for me until bedtime." He says with a smile. "What do you think, baby?"

"Hmm... Dave." You moan, frustrated, tightening your grip on his shirt, your orgasm starting to form.

"Nice talking to you, baby." He says with a smile, giving your lips a peck. Then he lies down on top of you, letting all of his weight go and kissing you, groaning when he tastes himself on your mouth. "Stinky." He says when he pulls away, removing his fingers from under your panties — making again a pathetic whine come out of your mouth — and pressing them against your lips, making you suck them, tasting yourself.

He pulls away and starts fixing your dress, pulling it back up. "Can't wait to talk to Carol." You say, and his eyes darken. He stops his movements and lifts you up abruptly, making you hold onto him.

"Gotta wash this filthy mouth of yours." He says, finishing your dress before looking around, pointing at a different door than the one he walked in by. "Is that a bathroom?"

"Uhum." You respond and he hurriedly pushes you towards it, his hand on your waist. You walk in and he lets go of you. "You're really gonna do it?" You laugh.

"Don't trust you." He says, quickly opening your cabinet and taking your toothbrush out. "Not that I think Carol remembers what I smell like... But I know you'd love to find out." He adds, putting toothpaste on it and running it under the water quickly.

"You know me so well." You say sweetly, wrapping your arms around his waist. He allows you, pulling your hair away from your face.

"Open." And you do, letting him brush the top and then bottom of your teeth. "Smile." And you do, scrunching your eyes as he brushes the front of your teeth. "Tongue." And you poke your tongue out. He brushes it, testing to see how far he could go, stoping when you furrow your brows, not wanting you to gag — again, anyways.

You feel almost gross when you realize he's so good at brushing someone else's teeth because he probably washes his daughters'. But thinking of him taking care of them makes you tighten your embrace.

Then he washes your toothbrush, putting it back in it's place and going behind you, touching his hips to yours. He pulls all your hair back and holds it in his left fist. He kisses below your ear and leans forward, pushing you on top of the sink so he can turn the faucet on, cupping his right hand underneath it and looking at your reflection on the mirror.

"Go on." And you bend lower, taking some water from his hand in your mouth, swishing it around, spitting it out on the sink as he dries his hand, his other hand still holding your hair. "Let me check." He says, pulling gently on your hair to turn your head and cupping your right cheek, kissing you, rolling his tongue around yours. "Better." He smiles.

"Thank you." You say and he lets go of your hair, turning your head back and fixing your hair back over your shoulders, kissing the top of your head before walking out of the bathroom.

"Thank you, baby. You did amazing." He says, already back in your bedroom.

"Gonna go downstairs." You say, following him as he walks towards your full body mirror. "Although I can't decide if you've gotten me so tired I'm starving or you've fed me enough I'm full... What do you think?" You ask, stopping behind him and fixing his collar while he looks at himself in the mirror, fixing his pants, his face flushed and his lips red.

"You're disgusting." He says, staring at your reflection.

"And you love it." You smile at him. His own smile a testimony to just how much he loves it.

He turns around and kisses you again, a deep and needy kiss, like he's trying to take something out of you. Like he's trying to cling to this moment for as long as he can, to memorize what it feels like to be with you.

"So... Mr. York? Did I live up to the hype?" You ask when he pulls away, knowing he'll be confused by it.

"Did you what?" He asks, his whole face scrunching at your question, making you laugh.

"Was I as good as you thought? Was I worth all the wait?" You ask again, fixing his hair when he squeezes your waist.

"You're always so much better than I think pumpkin." He says, kissing you again, pulling on your hair, maneuvering your face to deepen the kiss.

You really are. He didn't even want to hire a tutor at first, but he knew you weren't going anywhere as soon as he landed eyes on you.

He grinds his hips on you and you moan, making him pull away abruptly. "Can't start this all over again, can we?" He asks with a smile, an — almost adorable — blush on his cheeks.

"Uh-huh. You need to go back." You say, biting his lower lip before letting him go, walking him to the door.

You open it, making sure no one's around before pushing him out. He goes into the bathroom on the dance hallway and you lock yourself back in your bedroom.

You throw yourself on your bed, staring at the fan that's hanging right in the middle of your ceiling.

You just had Dave exactly where you wanted him. And thinking about it makes you feel... Guilty.

Guilty and silly.

Guilty for choking on the dick of a married man.

Silly for believing he could maybe feel something for you.

Who guarantees he doesn't do the very same thing to every woman in his office, every woman he meets in his business trips?

You feel the same gut-wrenching things you felt the night before, having his "perfect husband" façade crumble before your eyes.

Him doing this to you made you feel special and nasty in ways you craved right after the first time you saw him, but imagining him doing this to other women...

It makes you feel bad for Carol. Makes you feel like telling her to go out and find herself a lover too.

Because if he can do it... So can she.

And if making a sexually frustrated husband cum felt so good... Maybe helping the wife wouldn't hurt.

It's staring to darken when you walk back downstairs.

"Hi, baby. You're feeling better?" Your mom asks when you stop by the table Carol and her are starting to clean to see if you can find some leftovers.

"Hey, mom." You greet her with a smile, grabbing a hotdog and a bun. "I am, yeah. Better." You say, your voice more destroyed than you expected.

"Oh, are you okay, sweetie? What happened to your voice?" Carol asks, concerned. She didn't know you weren't feeling well.

'Your husband's cock — literally and figuratively — fucked it, Ms. York.' You think to yourself as you assemble a monstrosity of a hotdog.

"Oh, I fell asleep. Was feeling a bit sick, so I went to my room and ended up sleeping. Now it's like this." You lie.

"Oh, darling." She says. "If you need to, please stay home tomorrow, I can help the girls study just fine." She rushes to say, and you laugh with the way she's talking to you the same way your mom does.

"No, it's fine. I'm gonna feel better by tomorrow, thank you, though." You say.

"Well, just call me in case you don't, it's fine." She reassures you.

"Thank you." You say before taking a bite of your hotdog. "Hm, let me help you." You say with you mouth full, taking half of the dishes she was gonna carry inside.

"Thank you, honey." She says, and you two walk inside. "Oh, that looks delicious!" She says when you take another bite of your hotdog. You offer her some, and she laughs it off.

You've never thought about Carol, you realize. She's always there, but for you it was always just Dave. With his big hands, wide shoulders, deep voice and overall overwhelming presence.

But now that you're thinking about her you notice her silky hair, her warm smile, her motherly personality, the way she's always been nothing but nice to you, the girls, Dave.

You think about what Dave said, that she probably doesn't remember what he tastes or smells like, and you wonder if he does. When was the last time he tried to do something for her? To make her feel like a woman, and not just a mother?

You're letting your mind wander, and you fear Dave's reading your thoughts when you look out the window.

Judging by his face...

I genuinely love this series so much, ugh. I love Dave and I really love the idea of having Carol entering the mix, but how easy is it gonna be to convince her? To not make her feel betrayed when she finds out about you two?

ily, thank you so much for all the support y'all give me 🩷

Also, if you liked this I think you'd really love this and this 🩷

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[asherlockstudy]

Hey! I am fascinated by your randl theories and i find your analyses quite creative and inspiring to read. But do you really think them having a romantic/sexual relationship is all that plausible? i have a hard time believing that if that were the case, assuming that they wanted to keep it secret until very recently, they would put themselves through the psychological, mythomaniac ordeal of talking so much about their personal lives on ear biscuits, (1)

Hello! Thank you for your kind words 🩷 You make many valid points and ask me to discuss a lot of things but I will try my best. Obviously I am discussing my personal understanding of the situation here - it doesn't mean that it's certainly the case. But I believe it. And if someone gets mad at me, well, sorry (not really)? I believe it. No point in pretending.

Regarding the first two parts of your ask; Do I think them really having a relationship is plausible? Yes. Completely. More rather than not. I see your points and what confuses you about the way this means they handle the situation and basically torture themselves in the process by creating a chaotic mayhem of lies, deception, pretense and steps back and forth. Here’s the thing - although there is a big plan, their approach is not all that well conceived and realised as you would expect. Rhett and Link do not seem to be totally on the same page regarding how they ideally wished to deal with this, which creates miscommunication between them and consequently inconsistency in what we receive from them as viewers. Still, I wouldn't question their homophrosyne one bit when it comes to the mythos they have built around themselves. Don't forget that they hid for ages their religious and Campus Crusade past and only talked about it 4 years ago for the first time. Before that, only those few following them since their NC days knew about it. They have also started coming clean about other stuff in the meantime like their origin story and how close they truly were during some elementary and middle school years. Those of course pale in comparison to what is at stake now, however it gives you an understanding of the slow process with which they try in sync to reveal the truth - most of it, eventually. But it also makes evident that all those years prior to this, they were very skilled at saying vulnerable stuff without ever disclosing the most sensitive parts. This is not all that hard for them because they typically hide from the viewers the stuff they also hide from their close people. All that they say in Ear Biscuits about their lives are not lies, they just withhold large chunks of truth. Did anyone ever even suspect Lily was going to undergo a very risky surgery before Link revealed it much later after its success? No. Link likes to be an open book but both he and Rhett are good at controlling and regulating what the other says, when they sense some derailment coming. And even Link can shut it when he really wants. Most of the time, if he lets something slip is because he does not care if it slips. Or perhaps he secretly kinda wants it to slip. On the other hand, even though Rhett has much more restrain, he also has the most genuine accidents because in his case most of them are real accidents.

What is their current relationship and how it evolved, how it works with other people?

(Under the cut in hopes we will avoid any potential stroke out there)

IMO they are currently in a full blown relationship which is known only to certain people and a few others have figured it out on their own. I will give you a timeline I believe to be probable. My reasoning is in short based on watching non-stop since 2016;

As they go to California and start GMM, they get closer again (they had grown a little more distant for their standards during early years of marriage and working, they have said this) and spend a lot of time everyday together and in close proximity, all while they start questioning religion more seriously as they flee the shadow of their close people's influence in NC. They are very stunted and uncomfortable and have knee jerk reactions everytime there's a moment between them but the tension is there and is palpable. After the newsical kiss in late 2013, Link finally decides to abandon religion fully and pursue Rhett by pretending he needs something casual because he's curious. In truth he always wanted something serious from the get-go but he pretends because he knows Rhett is into sex so much and by the tension between them he calculates Rhett will have trouble refusing. Rhett falls for it (it's just more sex to help a confused friend, right? Win - win - peak clowning by Rhett there) and they attempt to start a "friends with benefits" situationship. It doesn't work out all that well sexually in the beginning (awkwardness, inhibitions, maybe solidified ideas of what it means to be a dominant male and what to be submissive that they have trouble getting rid of and how this will inform their general dynamics etc), however that new situation despite all its issues rejuvenates and warms them up to each other, you can see it in all the buzzing cuteness of 2014-2015. By late 2015, they have gotten the hang of this and they also reach some mutual understanding that this is more serious than they thought, however it should remain a secret arrangement.

After they get more and more sexually compatible (Rhett learns to be more attentive and Link less vanilla), they figure out how to maintain their relationship in secret and they also make some drastic yet positive changes in their appearance (mostly Link), they then enter their sex crazed phase, which is around 2016-2018 for Rhett and 2017-2019 for Link, and is evident even in GMM. However, in the middle of this period, Rhett gets scared that they are spiralling out of control and puts a halt to their affair for the "greater good", meaning their families and their career. Although he doesn't want this, Link agrees to it and tries harder to stay away from Rhett because he also suffers from a lot of guilt while Rhett has more trouble succeeding in this despite being the one who came up with this decision. They come up with a series of very weird rules in order to stay away from each other but they often fail all the same. At some point in 2018 - early 2019, Rhett stops trying and returns fully to his affair with Link and perhaps also makes a transformative arrangement in his marriage (maybe opening it up). This on-and-off secretive guilt ridden situation going for years however (which also affects their friendship) wears Link out. Link at times tries to push Rhett sexually to his limits, because he knows this is the key to make him obsessed with him and at other times comes clean about his feelings and warns Rhett that if this keeps going like this, he will have to end all of it for good once and for all. Kinda a carrot and stick approach. Initially, Rhett tried to ignore Link's complaints and warnings, neither did he open up about how he felt despite Link’s pleas but instead preferred to unload his burden in creative projects (i.e TLCOBC and the October sketches way in the beginning). At some point he gets the wake up call, he finally talks to Link and they agree to begin the process of coming out and being properly together. Rhett does not truly want this but he's afraid of losing Link and also destroying their careers for good. The plan about a very gradual coming out is Rhett's idea - he agrees to it for Link’s sake but he asks to be the one in control to try to minimize the consequences and Link complies to this so that he won’t lose him. They release TLCOBC in late 2019, they return to the hometown for a series of videos, they release the Lost Years and the first spiritual deconstructions in early 2020. They buy the Creative House at the same time. Covid stops them right in their tracks, right at the moment they were getting enthusiastic momentum. Link withdraws to his family, full of guilt, to help Christy who is very affected by the pandemic, while Rhett realises all the more that he needs Link and climbs the walls in his absence.

In 2021 they set their plan in motion and release Hazel as the first of a series of videos that would eventually lead where we know and that were inspired by the October sketches and Buddy System, but this time they were supposed to have darker undertones just like their truth does and like TLCOBC. Hazel (which is a great project materielized strangely in tik tok shorts) flops big time and breaks their heart, especially Rhett's. They lose faith in the plan while they also start the GME project, which attempts to train viewers into seeing them in questionable situations. In 2022, there is maybe a backpedalling and second thoughts (mostly from Rhett) and they are at a loss of what to do next. Link's patience has grown very thin which causes strain between them sometimes. Link doubts Rhett’s earnestness to this day and he also doubts Rhett can give up on his wife or women in general. By late 2022, they decide to keep going with the videos, even if they don't get the reception they hope for. In 2023 they resume their effort which indeed doesn't have the results they hoped for but this time they push through. By late 2023, they decide making one video every once in a while does not help the viewers pick up on the clues and decide to wait and make a full project like a series that will connect all the dots (and I assume "be the final step") and for which they know they will be losing rather than gaining money. By things they have said, I believe they have set a deadline of coming out by late 2024 right after the series or right at the beginning of 2025. In the meantime, they plan the live GMM tour for the summer and I think there is some intention there as well. We'll see.

What do wives / families know? That's the toughest part. I now think Jessie knows more than Christy because I doubt Christy would take this so stoically. But perhaps they have reached an agreement with their wives to go on exactly like nothing happens especially in front of the relatives and friends until the last moment. Or they truly don’t know. The kids probably don't know much, maybe Lily does. The parents might have taken a hint, especially Link's, but Rhett's are also naturally suspicious and maybe have picked up on it as well. Or he talked to them. Some friends and coworkers know as they have to be in it for the plan. But who knows and who doesn’t is really the most perplexing part in this whole ordeal.

Why do they try to come out with cryptic messages? Their plan was to start really cryptic and progressively become bolder and bolder as they would get encouraging cues by the viewers, except they are not getting such cues at all. This causes them frustration towards us which they have openly expressed. The reason they have chosen the slowest, most torturous approach in the history of coming outs is because they are very aware of all that is at stake. Their families, their careers, their fortunes, the wellbeing of the about 100 employees working in Mythical. They can't just show up one day and be like "Sike! We've been a couple for ages haha". They will get canceled and demonized, they will be crucified by Christians and by fans thinking highly of them as role models and good family men and loving husbands. And some will simply turn their backs on them because they will feel so betrayed. It's going to be a considerable scandal in youtube and American celebrity circles, you know, even with the slow approach. Imagine if they did it abruptly. The shock and uproar. They try to condition the viewers to accept it, to expect it as much as possible. And another reason is that, to put it simply, they are very scared. They still have knee-jerk reactions, these are engraved into their subconscious. It feels safer to them to think they make baby steps towards their goal. Rhett especially is very afraid (he might get rejected and disowned by his family) but even Link hesitates too. And some part of it is the celebrity exhibitionism you said. I think Rhett and Link are consumed by their own love story, they think it makes for a great dramatic story, Rhett searches higher meaning in it. I believe they earnestly think highly of it and to be honest it is not at all a conventional love story, is it? I don’t blame them for this, if this is the case. But I believe the ultimate reason is fear and postponing the dreadful day.