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gojorgeous · 4 months

Text

"creature of myth."

pairing: vampire!gojo x fem!human!reader summary: when you receive an offer of marriage from a mysterious wealthy lord, it’s too good a deal for your family to turn down. but nothing could be so perfect... right? content: MDNI (18+ ONLY), dark content, nsfw, gets dubcon/noncon in some spots, yandere behavior from gojo, implied death/k*lling of a character (not reader or gojo), arranged marriage, victorian au, plot that ends with porn lmao, spooky dooky vibes, blood, blood sucking/eating, praise, biting, unprotected sex, creampie, virgin!reader, discussion of virginity, cherry popping, pain, pet names (princess/love), reader is highkey clueless about sex, discussion of masturbation, ideas of masturbation as “sinful”, very minor religious themes, fated “mates”, gojo is highkey insane, coercion and manipulation, like SO much neck kissing, ooc gojo??? (had to alter his character to match a victorian vampire lord LMAO). a/n: PLEASE READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS. THERE IS DARK CONTENT AHEAD. is this a gojo fic or a twilight fic?? Going back to my roots fr fr. straight down to the “SAY IT, SAY IT”. this fic is also way too long my apologies bbs. i hope you like a hefty side of plot with your porn. parts of this fic feel way too cheesy to me but sometimes i eat that up, yk?? this fic was inspired by this amazing work by @rice5x ! and, finally, thank you all for the support on my most recent fics. i'm just getting back into being active on this blog and it's been amazing reading each and every comment/reblog/ask. they genuinely fill me with so much joy. keep them coming hehe. anyway, i hope you enjoy and remember, ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED. credits: dividers by @cafekitsune. banner art by @ndsoda on twitter. wc: 11.6k (sowwy)

You remember perfectly the way your mother’s jaw dropped when Satoru Gojo proposed to you. You’d never seen the man, and you still hadn’t. He’d asked to marry you via messenger, a simple letter delivered by hand with a list of all the things he’d be willing to pay for your hand. Offers of money, land, protection, connection- anything so long as he got you. You’d thought it was a joke. Your father nearly took a shovel to the head of the poor messenger, thinking the letter was some kind of cruel prank, some sort of targeted disrespect. You’d only started to believe when you really looked- saw the Gojo crest embroidered on the man’s suit, the fine leather of his boots. If it was a prank, somebody had spent a great deal of money and effort to pull it off.

You’d asked for proof nonetheless, and you’d gotten it. Documents signed and sealed with a well-known waxen crest, gifts that could only have been purchased by a wealthy lord. The one thing you never got was the lord himself. He refused to see you, to come down from his mysterious castle on the hill. It didn’t surprise you. He rarely deemed town worthy of his presence. He had a reputation as a recluse, as a man who only ever liked to see and never be seen. What little glimpses people got of him were usually through the dark window of his carriage. Still, his appearance preceded him. White hair, light eyes… “haunting” said those who had the luck to see him. Those who went to work for the lord tended to return… changed— if they returned at all.

You accepted, of course. How could you not? You were a peasant family with no status or wealth to your name. The promises Lord Gojo had made would make your parents into aristocrats all on their own. But that left you wondering… why did he want you? You offered him no benefit. If anything, you sullied his bloodline. The question scratched at the back of your mind. It came to you while you ate breakfast, while you washed your clothes, while you weeded in the garden. Some part of you told you that you needed the answer before you ever stepped foot in that castle. You needed that answer, but you’d never get it.

Your wedding wasn’t even a wedding- just a piece of paper that had already been signed and witnessed, once again delivered by a familiar messenger. You signed at your dining room table and… that was that. You were married.

Later that night the carriages arrive. Men flood your home, all dressed in blue velvet, the Gojo crest embroidered on their chests. They seem puzzled when you tell them you’ve packed all your belongings into a measly three bags.

You say a quick goodbye to your parents, drawing them into stiff embraces. You love them, and they love you, but you can’t bear to see their faces as they send you away to a man who couldn’t even show his face for your wedding.

The carriage ride is somehow longer than you’d thought it would be- apparently, the castle’s size makes it seem deceptively close. The trip is rocky and twisty and altogether unpleasant as you steadily make your way toward the castle gates. By the time you reach them you think you’ve probably dozed in and out of consciousness at least half a dozen times.

The castle is even more intimidating up close. Spires that swirl into the clouds, sculptures that stare, doors that look more suited to being locked than opened. It’s… terrifying.

When you finally roll to a stop, you move for the door. When you swing it open you get your fair share of strange looks from your attendants and remember that you should have waited for the footman. Your face heats as you climb out anyway, unwilling to subject yourself to the further humiliation of waiting for assistance.

Your feet hit gravel and all you can do is stare- up, up, up, to where the castle’s peaks disappear into the fog. When your eye flashes to a window on the east side of the manor you think you see a swaying curtain. You tuck your arms around yourself and shiver, but it’s not from the cold.

You nearly stumble over your feet on your first step inside. The entrance hall is larger than your former house, with ceilings that stretch so high you can hardly make out the figures on the frescoes that adorn it. Silver and blue drape everywhere, the Gojo family colors. You swallow when you see a chair that is most definitely worth more than your family’s annual income.

The floors are marble and when your worn heels clack against it, you only feel reminded that you don’t belong here. That question pricks in your mind again as you pass portraits of every Gojo heir to have lived in the last three hundred years. Why me? Why me? Why me?

Your footman deposits you in your room, a place more lavish than you’ve ever seen. You have a four poster bed with a canopy of blue velvet, a window that overlooks a sprawling estate, and more square footage than you’ve ever dreamed of.

“Pull this if you need any sort of assistance, ma’am.”

You turn to see your footman referencing a silver cord at your bedside. You assume it’s one of those contraptions that rings a bell in the servants’ quarters. You try to hide your amazement- you’ve never seen one in real life before.

You clear your throat and give your most ladylike nod. “Thank you, um-” you pause, your brow furrowing. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I asked your name.”

Your footman appears stunned to silence, like he’d never expected you to care about his existence, much less his name. He recovers quickly, though, and forces a small smile. “Thomas, ma’am.”

You smile and it’s genuine. “Thank you, Thomas.”He bows and makes a beeline for the door, but you have one more question. “Oh, um, Thomas-” He freezes, turning slowly on his heel to face you.

“Yes, my lady?”

You cringe at the title. The sound of it creeps across your skin, foreign and… wrong. Why me? Why me? Why me?

You clear your throat again. “Do you know, um, well-” You shift, trying to word your question properly. “Do you know when I might see the Lord?”

There is a pause, a moment of tension and silence, and then an answer. “No, my lady.”

Thomas does not stick around for more questioning. The door clicks shut behind him and then you're left with only the sound of retreating footsteps.

You’re stunned to say the least, mouth still halfway open, more questions on the tip of your tongue. Should you seek him out? Was that proper? Would he come to you? Would he meet you for dinner, perhaps? Surely he would come to your room tonight to… consummate. Would that be the first time you lay eyes on him? When he’s over you?

You sigh. There’s nothing much to be done about it now. You find your way to the bed and sit down hesitantly. It feels like a crime to rumple such primped and polished cotton. You do it anyway- it’s going to happen sometime, right? You fall back against the mattress and don’t fail to notice how utterly comfortable it is. The silvery patterns on your canopy swirl and bend together. You’re tired. You didn’t sleep much last night, anxious for the morning… and it’s only mid-afternoon now. You had time for a nap, right? Your eyes are closing before you can convince yourself it’s a bad idea and then you’re swept away into a world of warm darkness.

You wake with a start. Your first thought is that it’s dark now. Your room is pitch black except for the stream of moonlight passing through your stupidly large window. Your mouth feels dry and your skin is cold, like you’ve just woken from a nightmare. If you have, you don’t remember it. Perhaps that’s a blessing.

You sit up, combing a finger through your hair and laughing pitifully when you realize that you left your shoes on as you slept. You hope Thomas didn’t walk in to find you in yet another unladylike position. A glance at the foot of the bed reveals he might have. Your bags have arrived- all three of them. You eye them with a combination of longing and contempt. They don't match this place. They’re worn and used- everything here is shiny and new. Still, they’re all you have, and all you have left of your life before. All you have left of home.

You stretch your arms above your head, nearly groaning at the burn in your muscles. The carriage ride did your body no favors and you suspect you’ll be sore for many days to come.

You rise, no longer content to lie in bed. You’ve had your rest and, from the state of darkness outside, you suspect your new husband might be joining you soon. The thought twists a certain tightness into your gut, but you push it aside. If that was the price you paid for all he gave your family… then you’d pay it gladly.

You start with candles, finding a box of matches at your bedside. You light every candelabra you can find. The room, the castle, seems so perpetually… black- like it soaks up every ray of light it touches. Even when you’ve finished it doesn’t feel like enough. You make a note to ask Thomas for more in the morning.

You find a meal, carefully prepared and preserved, on a table near your dresser. Judging by the fact that it’s still warm, you conclude that it can’t be much past mid-evening. You originally intend to pick at the food as you unpack, but one bite has your mouth watering. It is the most delicious thing to ever touch your lips, complete with dessert waiting on the side. You clean your plate before moving onto your bags.

You lay your clothes out on the bed. A few dresses, riding pants, undergarments, an assortment of ribbons and bows. At one time these items had been the finest things you owned- now you owned a castle.

You find an armoire that looks like a master sculptor carved its edges and grab a dress, intending to hang it. Instead, your dress hits the floor when you part the doors to find the hangers already full. Your lips part. Luxury dresses of silk and satin line the rack, fading into some that appear more casual outfits of cotton and linen. You stretch a hand out, curious and utterly… amazed. To think your new husband had gone to all the effort… Your hand brushes purple silk and-

“Do you like them?”

You screech, jumping to face the voice at your back. It takes a moment for your eyes to find him, leaning casually against one post of your bed. Your breath is stolen for a second time. Snow white hair, piercingly blue eyes, pale soft skin… you know who he is even without looking at his dress, at the air of authority he claims. He’s your husband… and he is the most devastatingly beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

He laughs, then, and it’s a warmer sound than you’d thought it would be- rich and full. A sound that seeps into your bones and settles in your soul.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, but the twinkle in his eyes makes you think that perhaps that’s a lie.

Your heart pounds and your eyes flash to the door. It’s shut. You didn’t hear it open, nor did you hear it close behind him. You also didn’t hear footsteps, didn’t hear breaths, didn’t hear him.

He follows your gaze and laughs again, though it sounds a bit… strained?

“I have a habit of being unintentionally lightfooted. I apologize.”

Your heart is still pounding but you find it in yourself to have some decorum. You snap your jaw shut and bow your head slightly in respect. “You must be Lord Gojo. Forgive me for my insolence.”

There’s a beat, and then footsteps– ones you actually hear this time. You clench your jaw when he stops before you and then nearly gasp when he takes your hand and brings it to his lips.

“Satoru, please,” he winks and you think you might stop breathing. “I am your husband after all.”

You force yourself to nod, to swallow, to act normal. But how can you in the presence of a man that looks like… that? There’s something too unreal about him, too perfect. It’s almost… unsettling.

“Of course… Satoru.”

He straightens and shows you a close-lipped smile that digs a dimple into his left cheek. You have to look away to avoid stumbling over your own feet.

“So, do you like them?” Your brows furrow- “The dresses,” he clarifies.

“O-oh.” Your features relax into an easy smile. You turn back to your armoire, running a hand along another gown. You don’t think you’ve ever touched something so… finely made. “I like them very much. I don’t know how to thank you.”

There’s a little chuckle as you turn to face him again and you have to steel yourself before you meet his eyes. He’s mesmerizing, too mesmerizing. You think you could probably lose yourself in those eyes forever…

“No need to thank me. If they don’t fit, we’ll call for the seamstress in the morning.”

You nod softly, still lost to the situation. There’s a beat of silence in which your husband does nothing but… look at you. His eyes roam freely and the hair on your arms stands under his gaze. He traces the lines of your nose and jaw and lingers on your pulse. Can he see just how fast your heart is pounding?

“Did you… get dinner?” It’s a stupid question, you know, but you don’t think you can bear another second of that look he’s giving you. “I fell asleep and found a plate. I hope I didn’t prevent a proper meal…” You trail off. Perhaps you shouldn’t have pointed out your own shortcoming?

He gives you another smile and you swear he inches just a little closer. “You did no such thing. I’m… perfectly satisfied.”

You nod, glad that he doesn’t seem upset at the very least. Your lips press together, unsure of what to do or say. You’ve never had a husband before. Wasn’t he supposed to just sort of… put you on the bed and… do it?

Your eyes flit to said bed and your husband must see because he hurries to continue.

“Well, I’ll see you in the morning then, hm?” His eyes flit to your armoire and back again. “Wear the blue dress with the lace to breakfast, yeah? Been dying to see it on you.” He chuckles like he’s just told some sort of amusing joke.

Your brows furrow. That was… not the topic you’d been expecting. “You’re not…” You feel your cheeks heat and tighten your jaw. “Not staying the night?”

His lashes lower a fraction and those eyes pierce you again. You don’t think you could move even if you wanted to, even with him prowling closer, each step eating up the space between you. He doesn’t stop until you’re nose to nose and you can feel his breath fanning over your cheeks. It’s cold somehow, chilling, and you shiver. He smirks.

“Not tonight.”

His head dips and for a moment you think he’s going to kiss you, but then he’s bypassing your mouth altogether and- his lips connect to your pulse. His mouth is cool, just like his breath, and you shiver uncontrollably under his touch.

His touch is just a fleeting moment, just a wrinkle in time, and then he’s gone. His footsteps are quiet brushes on the hardwood and the creak of the door even seems tamed in his presence.

“Goodnight,” is all he says, and then he’s gone.

You climb into your bed an hour later wondering what in the world just happened.

You do wear the blue dress to breakfast and you can only gape in the mirror when you realize that it fits perfectly. It has you second-guessing yourself. Had you sent your measurements in advance and forgotten about it? No, you’d only sent a handful of pieces of information to the Lord prior to your marriage and you remembered all of them very clearly. Everything had gone through a messenger, everything had been clear and direct– you would have remembered sending your measurements– you didn’t. So had he just… guessed?

That seemed impossible with how everything fit you like a glove, but it was the only explanation you had. The only one that made sense.

When you join Satoru for breakfast it’s in a sitting room as lavishly decorated as the rest of the castle, but perhaps organized to be a bit more… liveable. He has no plate in front of him, only a tin cup that hides the contents of whatever he’s drinking. You assume coffee or juice. Perhaps he’s just not a breakfast person.

“It fits!” he says. His hands clasp together in front of him and he smiles again, dimples and all.

You nod and fight the heat that bubbles beneath your cheeks as you take your seat. “Yes, perfectly.”

A plate is set before you and a glance up reveals it’s Thomas serving your breakfast. You smile, hoping for some acknowledgement from him, for a small piece of comfort. Instead, you get his averted gaze and quick retreat. Your brows furrow, but before you can say anything, Satoru is back to speaking.

“I hope Thomas treated you well yesterday?”

You glance up, but Satoru’s eyes aren’t on you, they’re on your footman. His smile is bright, but it’s anything but friendly. You fight a shiver.

You glance at Thomas. He’s perfectly still, perfectly straight, but you think you see a muscle clench in his jaw. You clear your throat. “Y-Yes. Thomas was very helpful.” When Satoru keeps staring the boy down you add, “-and very respectful.”

That seems to satisfy. Satoru breaks his stare and some of the tension in the air instantly eases. He shoots you another dimpled smile, this one with a little more warmth. “Perfect.”

There’s a beat and then he’s standing, draining whatever he has in his cup and then straightening his jacket. “Well, I have some work to do. I’ll see you for dinner?” He’s grinning again, like it’s so normal for a man to abandon his bride on their wedding night and then again the morning after. All you can do is nod. He chuckles. “See you then, princess.” And then he’s gone.

If this is to be your life you don't know how you will survive it. You spend the day milling about. Through the gardens, through the castle, through the stables. Thomas is never far behind, but any attempt at conversation is nipped in the bud by hit shortness. It’s like he fears coming too close. He’s never closer than a couple paces except when he has to bring you something, only to retreat again as soon as possible. The other servants barely pay you any mind apart from giving you a respectful greeting and then immediately averting their eyes. There is no work to be done, no guests to be had, no parties to plan… and no Satoru. You don’t see your husband once on tour around the grounds. You ask Thomas where his office is only for him to vaguely point out a window in the east tower. You don’t see so much as a ripple in the curtains.

Dinner comes around at the pace of a snail. When it’s finally time to get dressed a lady’s maid whose name you don’t even catch arrives to help you lace your dress. As soon as your corset is deemed tight enough she’s back out the door with a curtsy. Thomas leads you to the dining room and your eyes roam the whole way. Even after having spent the whole day exploring, there are halls and corridors that you’ve yet to step foot in.

The dining room is just as gorgeous as the rest of the place– filled with singular items that could feed entire families for years. Somehow, you think you’ve already grown accustomed to such things, since the only thing you truly care to look at is your husband. Satoru’s already seated, but he stands when you enter, looping around the table to pull a chair out for you.

You give him your most genuine smile, accepting a kiss to your knuckles in greeting before you settle. “How was your day?” you ask as he takes his seat again.

He chuckles. “Perfectly fine. And how was yours, princess?” Your nose crinkles. That’s the second time he’s called you that. Something about it feels wrong. You’re still getting used to being a lady. Princess feels even worse.

“It was… good.”

You watch a perfect white brow arch in the candlelight. “Oh? Just good?” You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker to the corner– to Thomas.

You hurry to elaborate. “Well, I just– I can’t help but feel as if there’s not much… use for me.” Servants flood in, some carrying wine, others carrying trays that hold more food than the both of you could ever possibly consume.

That brow arches impossibly higher. “Use?” His lips crack into that smile again, but it’s tight this time. Too tight. “You have no use. You only enjoy yourself. Surely Thomas has told you that.”

A plate of steaming food plops in front of you. Even its heavenly smell can’t quell the sudden dread in your gut. “Of course! Of course he did.” Your stomach twists and you decide that perhaps now is not the time to press the subject. “I’ll just… I’ll try riding tomorrow.” You hate riding, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind.

Satoru’s smile thaws into something less menacing. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy that.”

You nod eagerly. “I’m sure I will.”

You grab your fork, eager for a new subject. From what you can tell, dinner is roast chicken and vegetables, though it’s the luxury version as everything seems to be. The spices are intoxicating and the green beans are even arranged in a pretty little pattern that makes them look too good to eat. You do anyway. The first bite nearly makes you moan, but you chew slowly, delicately, trying not to let your upbringing show.

It’s not until several bites later that you realize you’re the only one eating. A quick glance reveals your husband has no platter, no chicken or green beans. He’s only… watching you. You clear your throat, dabbing at your lips with a napkin.

“You’re not… eating?”

That permanent smile grows a little wider and you can’t help but feel as if there’s something… menacing about it. “Ate before I came.”

Your brows furrow. “Oh. Were you on the road?”

You think you see something wild flash in his eyes. “No.”

The rest of dinner passes slowly, almost painfully. Satoru doesn’t eat a bite, doesn’t even look enticed. You wonder how that’s possible when it smells like a spice bomb went off in the dining room.

By the time you’ve cleared your plate you’ve discussed everything from the number of horses in the stables to kinds of crops grown on the estate. It’s comforting to know a little more about your new home, but it’s not enough.

“Is there a library?” you ask. You’re on dessert now. It’s the best chocolate cake you’ve ever had and it takes everything in you to hold back a moan each time it touches your tongue.

“Of course.” Your husband’s eyes flicker to Thomas again and you’re honestly starting to fear for the poor footman’s life. Everytime you ask a question it’s like Satoru is angry it hasn’t already been answered. “It’s yours to use as you please.”

You smile lightly. “Perfect. Thank you.”

He softens a bit at that. “Is there anything specific you wanted to read about?”

You shrug. “The estate, I suppose. I should know my home’s history, no?”

His eyes get that wild look again, that sparkle that you know speaks to nothing good. “Oh, absolutely. I have some personal favorites to recommend. I’ll leave them aside for you?”

You swallow and give him a shallow nod. “That would be perfect. Thank you.”

He chuckles. “My pleasure.”

When dessert is finally over, you stand slowly. Satoru’s not far behind you, saying he’ll walk you to your room. Your heart leaps at his words. Will he stay with you tonight?

He offers you his arm in the hall and your mouth runs dry when you feel the corded muscle beneath his jacket. By the time you reach your room, you’re thinking of tugging him in behind you. His denial to stay with you last night was not only confusing, but… off putting. Nearly offensive. Did he not like how you looked? Did he think something was wrong with you?

You muster all the courage you possess and force your lips apart. “Will you stay with me tonight?”

His eyes spark again and you hold your breath. He presses closer. This is it, you think. His lips hover over yours, eyes glimmering in the candlelight. And then he dips his head, his mouth pressing to your pulse.

“Not tonight,” he whispers– and then he’s gone.

You wake suddenly. It’s the middle of the night, you gather. The light streaming through the window is weak enough to only be that of the moon.

Your heart is pounding and your skin is slick with sweat despite the chill in your bones. A nightmare, you think. It must have been a nightmare.

As you settle back into your sheets you swear you see a ripple in the darkness. You close your eyes. If your nightmare is real, you’d rather not see it coming.

The library is huge. It’s sprawling and smells of paper and leather and everytime Thomas lights a candle you flinch at the idea that one misplaced spark could end thousands of years of knowledge.

The books Satoru left you are… perfect. Just what you were looking for. They’re all comprehensive volumes of the history of the estate, many of which reference each other. You’re stunned to see that several are written by very well-known authors of both the past and the present. You knew the Gojo family’s influence reached far, but not that far. You peruse the titles. The Gojos: A History, A History of the Gojo Crest, History of the Gojo Castle, Revisiting the Gojo Family: A Comprehensive History. Altogether you have well over a few thousand pages of information– but there’s one book that doesn’t fit with the rest. It’s relatively unassuming. A black cover with some sort of gold rune etched onto its front. When you flip to the title page it reads “Creatures of Myth and Where To Find Them”. Your brows furrow. You slide it to the side– must have gotten mixed in with the others, you think.

You ask Thomas to bring the books to your room. He does. Very respectfully. He sets them on your bedside table and then retreats like a kicked puppy with only a polite goodbye. You sigh. His behavior has only gotten stranger in the past few days. You think the servants’ coldness must have something to do with Satoru, but you can’t figure out why. Had he ordered them to stay away? Why would he?

You decide it’s a question for another day and dive into your books. You spend hours, days, reading every chapter, page, and word. The pure amount of information is dizzying. Apparently this specific estate had been in the hands of the Gojo family since the eighth century (with several razings and consequential rebuilds). You also learn that Satoru was not only the most wealthy lord on the continent, but the most wealthy man. Even wealthier than the king apparently, though that fact was kept fairly under wraps to protect the crown’s ego. The estimates of your husband’s net worth made your head spin.

Satoru joins you for breakfast and dinner every day. You never see him eat a morsel. It’s… unsettling to say the least. It’s always just that tin cup, filled with something you could never quite see. You develop a pattern of waking in the night, too, with the overwhelming sense that something is watching you. Sometimes you could swear you feel the bed shift as you jerk awake. Each time you simply close your eyes and try your best to slow your heart, convinced your mind is playing tricks on you.

Your days feel a little more productive with a book in your hands, but you’ve read them all three times over by the time a fortnight has passed. You find yourself packing them up to return to Thomas when a certain black cover catches your attention. You grab it from the pile and settle back into your seat. You’ve nothing better to do, right?

You flip back the cover, revealing a familiar title. “Creatures of Myth and Where to Find Them”. You don’t recognize the author’s name. A quick scroll through the table of contents reveals nothing particularly interesting, but you pick a random chapter on ghouls and decide to start there.

It’s fascinating. Nothing about the style is boring and the words fly by. Your silly little myth book is a page turner. By the time you notice the light has started dying you’ve read about ghosts, fairies, werewolves, and goblins– all of which have been a delightful little read. A glance at the clock reveals you have a half hour before dinner. One more chapter, you think. Your eyes skim the title. “Vampires [Vampyr]”.

You skim the first paragraphs until your eyes settle on a line that catches your eye.

“Contrary to popular belief, vampires are not always crazed blood-hungry monsters. Many live among humans quite comfortably and are able to avoid detection with a little well-placed effort.”

You purse your lips. What a… terrifying thought. You skim a little further.

“A vampire’s key characteristic is, of course, their desire and need to drink human blood as sustenance. However, a vampire can be spotted sooner if one is able to recognize their subtler traits. Vampires often have skin lacking any sort of flush. The lack of blood in their veins results in a sickly pallor, even after the most rigorous exercise. Their skin is also noticeably cold to the touch. At best, a vampire’s body will reach room temperature. Vampires can also be noted for their preternatural beauty. They will stand out as the most attractive person in any crowd. Finally, a vampire will have fangs. If one wishes to identify a vampire, one only needs a good look at their teeth”.

A chill settles over your skin. You flip ahead a few pages.

“Vampires are unable to consume typical human food. Should they attempt to, their bodies will immediately reject any and all foreign substances.”

Your stomach drops. You don’t want to think about why. You skip the rest of the paragraph.

“Vampires possess several supernatural abilities that set them apart as a human’s predator rather than their equal. Vampires are known to move unnaturally fast and are notably light footed. If a vampire does not wish to be heard, they will not be. A vampire’s strength is inhuman, well over ten times that of the average man. They also have a penchant for darkness, an ability to hide away in the shadows that cannot be explained. Oftentimes they will seem to appear from thin air.”

You skip ahead again.

“Vampires have been known to take mates. Mates usually come in the form of another vampire, but in some cases a human has been chosen. Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly. Oftentimes, vampires make these decisions with haste, with little regard for whether or not the threat was real. A vampire will do everything in their power to please their mate, but have been known to forcibly restrain their mates in situations of unrequited feelings. Above all else, vampires wish to possess their mates. Two bonded vampires will sometimes spiral into gloriously destructive fits in their endless desire to protect and possess one another. A vampire bonded to a human will show an increasingly protective nature, often isolating their mate from others.”

Your heart pounds. A bead of sweat rolls down your back. You flip the pages, desperate– desperate for a piece of information that will save you from the thoughts spilling in your mind, from the thoughts you will do anything not to believe. You reach the “Where to Find Them” subsection and nearly gasp with relief. Surely, vampires do not pose as wealthy lords of Europe?

“Vampires can be found everywhere. They do not exist in only one country or continent, but all over the world. Odds are that you have faced at least one vampire in your life, unknowingly or not. Some vampires choose to live solitary lives, surviving in the wilderness where human society will not attempt to tame their wild nature. Others choose to live among humans, some even existing in positions of very high authority.”

No, no, no. This can’t be happening to you. It can’t be real. You’re dreaming, you’re having one of those nightmares again. You’re going to wake up any second.

“One tale recounts a razing of the Gojo estate in the 12th century.”

You’re panting, hyperventilating. This isn’t happening.

“Soldiers of the enemy force recounted a singular man, the son and heir of the then Lord Gojo, taking out a minimum of 800 men. He was described as having his family’s characteristic white hair as well as blue eyes. Eyewitness accounts depict the Gojo heir as covered in blood and killing savagely and with inhuman strength.”

No, no, no.

“(See next page for only existing portrait)”

Your fingers tremble but you can’t stop them. There’s no way. It’s not possible.

You flip the page and Satoru stares back at you.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

You nearly scream. Your door rattles angrily, but you’re not sure you can answer it, not with the knowledge flooding your mind. The knocking continues. You run your hand over your face and smooth down your hair. You feel frazzled, dirty, despite not having moved from your chair all day. Another knock prompts you to set your book aside and stand. You do your best to compose yourself, to put on a straight face. You fail instantly when you pull back the door not to reveal your faithful attendant, not Thomas, but Satoru.

You bite back a shriek and instead force a smile. You’re suddenly very aware of the blood pounding in you veins and of the fact that he most likely knows.

“Hello,” he says, but his voice is lower than usually, more intense.

You force a breath into your lungs. “Hello,” you answer, but it sounds more like a squeak than a greeting.

Something flashes in his eyes, something familiar, something that is no longer interesting but rather terrifying. “Are you alright? You seem a little… flushed.” The concern on his face feels anything but genuine.

“I’m fine,” you answer, but even you can tell that reply too quickly, too eagerly. You rush to cover it up. “Is it time for dinner? Where’s Thomas?”

His lip twitches and you see a muscle in his jaw flex. “Thomas has… left us.”

No. This wasn’t happening to you. There was no way this was happening to you.

“He… what?” There’s an unmistakable wobble in your voice that only causes Satoru’s face to fall further.

“It’s no matter. He’s gone. Now it’s just you and me, hm?” He chuckles and the sound rattles your bones. “In fact, I was thinking I’d cut down on the number of servants we have entirely…”

You mind races with the memory of knowledge you wish you didn’t have. “Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly.”

You nearly stumble, but lean against the doorframe just in time. Your husband had disposed of a man, all because he brought you meals and books?

“What have you been up to today, princess?” The question breaks your trance just in time for you to see your husband’s eyes flicker behind you.

You wet your lips. “Just some reading.” You plead that he doesn’t ask anything further. He does.

“About the estate?” he asks.

You nod and try to swallow the lump in your throat. “Yes.”

His smile returns and this time it’s not forced. “You got my books, then?”

You try smiling back, but you’re fairly sure it looks more like a grimace. “Yes.”

“Anything interesting?” he presses.

This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. Does he know? Does he know that you know? “Yes, of course. Lots.”

He pauses and you see the debate and then the decision in his eyes. You think it’s the first time you’ve felt true terror when he meets your gaze again. “I think we should skip dinner tonight. It seems we have so much to discuss.”

You don’t even have the wherewithal to scream when he steps into you, forcing you back until he’s shutting your door behind him. He doesn’t stop there, though. He keeps pressing, keeps pushing until your knees hit the bed and you’re falling to the mattress. He crawls right after you.

“Who knew my little wife was such a reader? All those books in such a short time… You must be simply spilling with information.”

You retreat across the mattress, squeaking when your back hits the headboard and his arms cage your waist. You’re trapped.

His hands find your hips and you’re all too aware of how cool his touch is. Even more so when he pulls you right into his lap.

“Satoru-” your voice is pitiful, breathless, and you’re ashamed to say it’s not just from the fear in your gut. He’s never been this close before, never touched you, held you like this. “Thomas-”

“Don’t speak his name.” His face pulls into the first scowl you’ve ever seen and the sight is enough to root you to the spot. Never have you seen anything more frightening. A creature so beautiful, so perfectly angelic, filled with an insurmountable rage. It’s wrong. “He’s gone. He’ll never bother you again.” He’s closer now, his breath skating over your skin. It’s cool and now you know the reason why.

You shake and tremble and you know– Thomas is dead. Your husband killed him– killed him for getting too close when all he did was stay at a distance. Satoru killed him. Killed him.

He buries himself in your neck, his voice a near whine. “Thought I could put up with it, just so you’d have someone to take care of you…” He groans. “I was so wrong, princess. Couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand the way you smelled more like him than me…”

You feel him melt against you then, relief washing over his body in a wave. “But he’s gone. And now it’s just you and me, hm? Just you and me…” He hums, like remembering that fact is all he’s ever needed.

He’s kissing your pulse again, now, and your heart is racing faster than ever. Your fingers curl into his shoulders. You should push him away, away, away. He’s a killer, of thousands no doubt. You’ve never felt at home here, never felt like you belonged. This is why. You’re not even the same species. He’s something else, something your hands were never meant to touch.

Your mind screams at you to do go, to shove and kick at him and leave this place behind. Go, go, go your gut says… but you don’t. You can’t. It’s too… good. The feeling of his cool lips against your skin, of what you’re sure is his tongue prodding at your pulse… it’s intoxicating. He is intoxicating. How could anyone blame you for wanting more of someone, something, so divine?

“Have you figured it out yet, love?” Your breath hitches and he chuckles, licking a long stripe up your neck, before he settles back at your pulse. Always your pulse. “I can feel those little gears turning. Tell me, what have they discovered?”

He knows you know. But he’s going to make you say it. You swallow and feel his grip on you tighten. “You’re…” Your breaths come faster. You can’t. Not aloud. Aloud makes it too… real.

“Yessss?” he prods. He’s licking at you again, all the way across your throat to find your other pulse-point.

“You’re not…” Something sharps nicks at your skin and you bite your lip to hold back a whimper.

“Go on, princess.” You think he’s just smelling you now, just burying his face as close to you as possible and taking you in.

You close your eyes tightly, holding back tears. “Not human,” you breathe. A piece of you breaks with the admission.

He huffs a little laugh against your skin and pulls back to look you in the eye. “That’s good,” he purrs. “But I think you can be a little more specific, no?” His lips press to your chin, then the corner of your mouth, then down to your jaw… “Tell me.”

Your lips wobble, muscles clenching tighter with each passing moment. You don’t want to say it, don’t want to speak it into existence, but you also don’t dare to disobey him.

“You’re a…” You shake and tremble. He draws a line up your neck with the tip of his nose.

“Mhm?”

You open your eyes, thinking this might be the last time you see. “Vampire.”

He chuckles and you feel his teeth press to the skin of your neck. “That’s right, princess. So smart.”

He smiles and you suddenly realize you’ve never seen his teeth before. Everytime he smiles at you it’s close-lipped and dimpled. But this… this is the smile of a predator– all white and pointy and fitted with a set of menacingly long fangs. You sob at the sight.

“Shhhhh,” he coos. He has your chin in his hand, forcing you to truly look at him, to see him for what he is. “I won’t hurt you, love.” You want to believe him so badly it burns, but his laugh washes away any fire and turns it to ice. “Not unless you want me to.” He wiggles a brow like it’s just a little joke, like he’s not an actual fucking vampire that had his fangs over your neck just moments ago.

“Satoru,” you beg. You’re not sure what you’re begging for. Release maybe? But, no, that’s not right. You don’t want him to let you go, not when you finally have him close after all this time. “Why did you pick me?”

The question slips out. You hadn’t even been thinking about it, hadn’t even noticed it scratching at the walls of your mind, but it made its way out nonetheless.

His brow creases, but not in confusion. Moreso in… thoughtfulness. “Do you think about that a lot, princess?”

You nod and you suddenly want him closer, want him to touch you everywhere, hold you like his life depends on it. You want him, no matter how horrible it might be.

He nods and hums, kissing the tip of your nose lightly. “Well…” he says. His thumb swipes over your lips when he leans in to whisper in your ear. “At first I wanted you for this.” His head dips to your neck again and you feel the familiar brush of his lips against your throat. “You smell…” he chuckles. “Like heaven. Which is a place I’ll never get to on my own, so I had to bring my own little slice home, no?” He laughs again, a little louder this time, genuinely amused. “Went into town one day and caught your scent on the street. At first I thought I must be walking past the bakery, but, lo and behold, there was no baker in sight.” He’s still kissing at your pulse, worshiping it. “Went crazy, princess. Didn’t think I was going to be able to contain myself when I found you. Thought it might be quite the scene.” He huffs a laugh and you shiver, somehow both terrified and intoxicated. “But then I saw you–” he groans and something clenches deep at your center. “And I knew I needed more than just your blood. Needed you.” He’s rocking into you now, and your breath catches when you feel something firm against your backside. “Went to you in that little room you slept in every night. Watched you. Couldn’t stay away. Knew I had to have you.” You feel him smile against your skin. “After a week I couldn’t take it anymore. Sent you that letter, married you. Made you mine.” He groans again. “Then I met you and you were so pretty, princess. Already knew it, but hearin’ you talk to me, look at me.” Teeth graze your pulse. “Needed you more than ever. Almost took you right on the fucking floor in here while you were lookin’ at those dresses.” You whine when his hips roll into you again. “Oh, but I knew I couldn’t. You’re so fragile, love. Had to wait, had to make you feel safe, yeah? Spent all this time forcing myself to stay away, ‘fraid of what I might too if I was in your presence too long. Had to control myself. Had to make you realize you could trust me.” He panting, like he’s so pent up he can hardly sit still. “Do you trust me, princess?”

Your brows scrunch. Say no, say no, say no a part of you screams. Run, run, run. You can’t. “Yes,” you breathe.

You feel him smile again, feel the pleasure of submission. “Good girl.”

You’re on your back. It happens so fast your eyes don’t even have time to gasp. You don’t see Satoru, but you feel him. Everywhere. His hands are roaming your body softly, sliding under buttons and laces and popping them off. Your dress loosens with every passing moment until Satoru reappears above you, diving straight for your neck again. “So good, princess. Let’s get you out of this dress, yeah?”

You nod wordlessly, entranced. He finds your mouth as he rids you of your clothes. His tongue presses in and you flail against him, unsure of what to do, of how to handle the intrusion. The kiss is heavy, too heavy, but Satoru can’t seem to stop. He devours you as he gives up on laces and buttons and simply shreds your dress down the back. You tremble when the cold air hits your skin, when his cool fingers dust your collarbone.

“I always forget how many damn layers they make you ladies wear,” he chuckles. His hands run beneath your shift, up across your bare thigh. You gasp at the touch. No one has even been so close to you before. You feel the threads of your corset snapping away, feel your breaths growing deeper. You tremble when he pulls your sleeve down past your shoulder and runs his mouth along the newly exposed skin.

“Satoru,” you gasp, and your hand pulls at his flowing white shirt.

He chuckles, pulling back just enough to see your face. “You wanna see me too?” You nod, lips parted and eyes glassy, and he laughs again. He lips dust over the corner of your mouth. “Alright.”

His hands shift from you to himself, working at the laces on his chest. His movements are speedy, practiced, like he’s been lacing and unlacing shirts for hundreds of years. Your throat tightens when you realize that he has.

You gasp when he reveals himself, when his shirt slides away to reveal an expanse of pale skin and carved muscle. You’ve never seen a man like this and seeing one this close up for the first time is nearly blinding. He’s art, you think- nothing less.

“Touch me, princess,” he says. You can’t. You shouldn’t. He’s too beautiful, too perfect to be beneath your insignificant hands. “Need a little help?” he asks, and there’s a lilt in his voice that makes you sure he’s grinning.

His hands find yours and bring them to his chest, running your palms over his collarbones, his pecs, down, down, down across his abs that you can feel each and every one… You whimper, watching your own fingers grope his skin. He pulls you lower, lower, lower, and you gasp when your fingertips brush the waistband of his pants. But then he’s laughing again and he’s throwing your arms over his shoulders and pulling you closer, kissing your neck like it pained him to be parted from your pulse for so long.

“Not so fast,” he says, like he wasn’t the one nearly stuffing your hands down his pants. His hands are on your corset again. You can feel it dangling onto you by a thread, literally. All he needs is a couple more pulls and you’ll be bare. By the look he gives you, you can tell he’s

thinking the same thing. “You touch me, now I touch you, yeah?” There’s a tug and a tear and then so much… cold. You’ve never realized how cold this castle is, not until you’re exposed to its elements fully. You’re naked.

Satoru sits back on his knees and just watches. His gaze is searing, burning, despite the iciness of his being. It’s too much. Your hands move to cover yourself, to maintain some modicum of your dignity-

“No.” Strong hands find your wrists and pry them apart. “Let me see you,” he says. His tongue darts out to lick his lips.

Your jaw clenches and your frame shakes, but you do as he asks, letting your hands fall limply at your sides. There’s silence for many more moments and it seems to go on so long that you can only squeeze your eyes shut under his gaze. Surely he will turn you away now, get up and leave, tell you this was a mistake, tell you that you’re–

“Beautiful,” he breathes. Your eyes snap open to find him already staring at you. “Beautiful,” he says again, and then he’s on you, lips at your pulse, hands on your skin. His touch is cool and you squeak at the chill that runs up your spine. You’re not sure it’s entirely from his temperature.

His mouth seeks yours and he devours you. You feel as if he’s sucking your soul out through your lips. “Tell me you’ve never done this before,” he begs. “Tell me I’m the first to touch you.”

You whine against his mouth, both aching for more and overwhelmed by what he’s already giving you. “Y-You’re the first,” you whisper.

His groan is deep, primal. It rattles through your chest and you whimper when his hands dig into your waist hard enough to bruise. “Yes,” he breathes, and you shiver again. “Lie back, princess.” Your eyes widen, with anticipation or fear you’re not sure. Probably both. He chuckles. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.”

You pray he means that. “Just relax, love. Here, hold my hand.” His fingers find yours, twining them together. When you swallow, his eyes follow the bob of your throat. He leans back again and your body twitches when his free hand skims the skin of your thighs. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he finds your knees and you gasp when he parts your legs, revealing you so completely to his gaze. The way he stares, like he’s committing you to memory, it’s nearly enough to make you snap your thighs shut, but a squeeze from his hand reminds you to relax, to trust.

His palm skates up your thigh and settles near your hip, his fingertips inching closer to where you can feel an embarrassing throb.

“Tell me, love. Have you ever touched yourself here?” His fingers dust low on your tummy- just low enough for you to catch his meaning, but not low enough to give you any relief. Your face heats and your teeth dig into the flesh of your cheek. You have, you have touched yourself there, but it’s the last thing you want to admit to your new husband. It’s shameful, it’s dirty, it’s- “Don’t think I’ll judge you, princess. Just wanna know.”

You gulp down a breath. You should come clean. “Y-yes,” you stutter, and the sound of your voice so weak and helpless only makes you flush further.

He chuckles and squeezes your hand again. “On the outside or the inside?”

Your eyes widen. I-inside? You’d never considered that… “J-just the outside,” you answer.

Your eyes grow even wider when his head rolls back and he moans straight up to the ceiling like your answer is heaven-sent. When he looks back to you his fangs are on full display. “Well, I think you and I are in for a little treat today, hm?”

Your brow furrows and your lips part to ask him what he means– his fingers travel those last few inches down your tummy and find your clit. You squeak and jolt so violently that he presses a hand to your hip, holding you to the mattress. “Somebody’s sensitive,” he chuckles. He holds you still for a moment and then lets your hips go free. “Try to stay still. I promise it’ll feel good.”

You nod hopelessly, but this time you’re prepared for when he touches you again. Your muscles clench at the first touch, at the foreign sensation of a touch down there that wasn’t your own. But then it’s more. It’s languid, slow circles around a spot that you’ve never been able to pinpoint so well on your own. It’s heat building in your tummy that seeps through every vein and into every pore. It’s relaxation that you’ve never known, that has you melting into the mattress despite the chill of the touch.

There’s a little huff of a laugh and then his voice. “Good girl. Feels nice, yeah?” You nod hesitantly and squeeze desperately at his hand, searching for an anchor. His head cocks to the side and you watch the smile slide across his lips. “It’s about to feel even nicer.”

By the time you realize what he’s doing it’s far too late to stop him. His mouth closes around your cunt and you yelp, trying to wiggle away from the overwhelming sensation- but he’s got his freehand on your hip again and his grip is bruising, punishing, as he holds you in place. He licks a stripe through your folds and you find yourself jolting again, uselessly so against the pressure of his palm on your hip. “Stop that, princess.” Your heart drops at the admonishment until you feel his guiding touch. “Rock into me like this.” His hand rocks your hips into his mouth and the pressure of his tongue against your clit is so delicious that you whimper. “Good girl,” he says and your heart rises right back up. “Keep doing that, now.” You don’t dare defy him. You rock like he showed you, a little jerkily at first, and then you find a rhythm that has you seeing stars. “That’s it, love,” he says, and the sound is muffled against your cunt. “Here, put your hand in my hair.” He finds your wrist and guides you forward until your fingers are tangling in those snowy locks. They’re even softer than you’d imagined. “Good girl,” he whispers and suddenly he’s taking one last long lick and lifting his head to meet your eyes. “‘M gonna put my fingers in you now, princess.” Your chin wobbles. “It might hurt a little bit, but stay still, okay?” You can’t do anything but nod.

His eyes return to your cunt and you can feel him prodding at your entrance, circling the hole as you clench in anticipation. “Relaaaaaax, love,” he says and you nod. A deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth–

You feel the exact moment he pushes into you and a whine of pain rips from your throat. Your walls clamp down like a vice, angry at the intrusion– but it’s already too late. There’s a beat of silence, of anticipation, and then he’s– laughing?

Your brows furrow when you hear it, your head lifting to a sight that locks your limbs in shock. Satoru’s hand is lifted in front of his face, his pointer finger coated in– blood, you realize. Your blood. And he’s a fucking vampire.

“Oh princess,” he coos, and the manic look in his eyes makes you tremble. “You really are perfect.”

Things seem to slow as you watch him take his blood covered finger into his mouth. You’re sure you’ve never seen an expression more blissful, more lost to sensation. His eyes roll back and his body shivers, like he’s ascending to some higher plane. Maybe he is.

When he pulls his finger from his mouth it’s completely licked clean. You hold your breath. He’s going to go for your neck now, right? He’s had a taste and now he’ll want more of it, all of it?

“Fuck,” is all he says. His mouth is back on your cunt so fast you don’t even see him move.

Your mouth falls wide. It hurts, the way he is so desperately licking at you. You feel his finger again, pressing in, in, in, only to pull back and suddenly be joined by another. The stretch tears at you. You thrash and jolt, but Satoru doesn’t bother telling you to stop this time. His arm wraps over your hips, holding you in place. He seems immune to how hard your legs squeeze at his head or your hands pull at his hair. He’s lost. You can feel him licking, lapping, and prodding at you like you’re a fucking gold mine. He’s lost to desperation, to the need for more, more, more. Every so often he lifts his chin and you see his mouth smudged with a mixture of your wetness and your blood. He laps at his lips like an animal, dragging his thumb across his chin and sliding it into his mouth to make sure he gets every last drop.

You’re not quite sure when the ravenous pain turns to a ravenous pleasure, when it turns from terrifying to downright delicious. You don’t notice your moans filling the air until Satoru joins you, groaning and whining into your cunt and telling you to keep going, to keep making those sounds. The hand you have buried in his hair doesn’t fight to push him away any longer, only to pull him into those now practiced rocks of your hips. His fingers thrust deep, curling into a spot that makes you feel so good and his mouth has found your clit again. He sucks your nerves lightly between his lips, tongue swirling in little circles. Your thighs start to shake.

“Yes. Yes. Give it to me.”

“S-Satoru–” you breathe. Warmth and tightness pool in your tummy, and you recognize it as your approaching orgasm, though you know this one will be far different than any you’ve ever managed to give yourself. Your body shakes and your breaths tremble and then– you fall over the edge, rocking your hips senselessly, losing all form of rhythm. Warmth tingles in your spine and seeps all the way down to your toes. You think you cry out, cry for your husband, cry for more, cry for less, but if you do you don’t hear it. All you hear is the pounding of your pulse, of pleasure throbbing in your veins until the world slowly seeps back in through the corners of your vision.

Satoru is grinning. A speck of your blood clings to his chin and his fangs peek out from behind his lips. The sight makes your blood run a little colder. If any part of you doubted what he was before… well, there was no doubt any longer.

There’s a shift between your legs, his hips slotting between them, and you’re suddenly snapped back to reality. From the look in his eyes, you’re not done.

Frantic hands find his pants and he undoes each button with a quickness that is almost inhuman. You wonder if he could go even faster, if he’s holding back so as not to scare you. If he is, it isn’t working very well. Fear surges in your veins right alongside anticipation.

“S-Satoru–”

“It’s alright, love.” His hand finds yours without his eyes ever looking up. His grip is just a little too firm, a little too cold. “Just stay still.”

You whimper, but you don’t think he’s paying attention to that, and soon enough, neither are you. His pants slide down just past his hips, just enough. You gasp.

You’ve never seen a man in the nude, never even dared to think about what it might look like, though it seemed you no longer had to guess. His hand wrapped around his shaft, giving one long and slow stroke that made his breath hiss through his fangs. The tip was flushed, angry, and leaking something that looked clear and sticky. You couldn’t help but notice it was a lot thicker than a finger, or even two. If his fingers had hurt…

He moves with that alarming quickness again, leaning down to hover over you, chests nearly pressed together. “Gonna take you now, princess. Gonna make you mine.” His eyes bore into yours, blue and shimmering with something wild. His hand presses into the mattress beside your head. “Stay still, now.”

It’s all the warning he gives you. You feel like you’re splitting– straight up the middle. You wail, hands flying out to claw at his back. It hurts. It hurts.

“Satoru, p-please! It’s–”

Lips catch yours– hungry, feral. The kiss is not gentle, not soothing. It shuts you up, it keeps you quiet, it keeps you still as you feel him sinking further, deeper into you. It’s too much, you try to say, but the poke of sharp teeth against your lips keeps you silent. Your hips jolt and wiggle trying desperately to escape the stretch but it’s no use. By the time he’s fully inside you, tears are streaking down your cheeks, fat and heavy. His lips break away and his eyes reappear. You shake when you see that none of the wildness has been tamed, that you’ve only just begun.

“Good girl,” he coos, and a cool finger traces a line across your jaw. “Took me so well.” You hold back a sob when his hips shift a little, testing, prodding. He must see the pinch of your eyes, the twist of your mouth, because he’s quick to comfort. “Just hold my hand, princess.” His hips rock in earnest this time and you whimper, squeezing down on his hand with all your might. You’re panting as he chuckles. “Breathe, love. Breathe. Soon you’ll be begging for more,” he laughs. It’s not long before he’s rocking into you sincerely, setting a pace that stretches you to the brink of breaking. At first it’s all you can do to grasp onto him, to bite your lips through the whimpers and hold his hand. And then it’s… more. It’s heat and warmth despite the coolness of his body on yours. It’s sensation and… pleasure. He laughs when the first moan slides past your lips, burying his face in your neck once again. You hear him at your ear, panting his hot breath across your skin.

“Feel good, princess?” You nod, letting your hips rock against his as he showed you before. It feels good– it feels right. He chuckles, but there’s nothing light about the sound. “Wanna feel even better?” Something sharp pokes at the skin of your neck, hard enough to make you squeak, to make you freeze at what you know he wants.

He pulls himself back, pressing his forehead to yours, searching your eyes with his. Something like a cruel smile dances on his mouth. “Just a taste, love. I promise it won’ hurt.” His tongue darts out and licks across your lips, his thrusts rocking just a bit faster. “You’ll feel s’ good an’ I’ll only take a little.” He laughs again and it sends a chill through your bones. “Promise.” He sounds breathless, like he’s struggling to restrain himself. The increase of his pace makes you whine and you squeeze his hand again. He buries himself back in your neck, panting. “Come on, love. Say yes. Say yes f’ me.” Your eyes glaze over. Your body justles with each new thrust. He’s desperate now, seeking a release that you don’t think is any kind you’re familiar with. “Yes, yes, yes,” he chants in your ear. You’re not sure when his words twist in your mind, when they settle on your tongue and push past your lips, but you know it feels so right when they do.

“Yes,” you whisper.

His fangs clamp around your pulse. You scream when the sting rips through you, violent and savage– but it only lasts a moment. Pain fades to… ecstasy. You feel his throat bobbing with each swallow, feel your blood seeping from your skin and onto his tongue. You’d thought it would feel slicing, draining, like the life was being sucked from you. It doesn’t. It feels wonderful. Heat spreads under your skin, emanating from your neck and down to your toes. It feels like breathing for the first time, like sugar being pumped into your veins. It feels like heaven. Your hand tangles in his hair, holding him close. You don’t want it to stop, not ever. You could die like this, have him suck every last drop of blood from your veins and thank him for it with your dying breath.

He’s moaning now, hands curling into your hips while he fucks into you relentlessly. The pace is grueling and brutal. You know it should hurt but only feels perfect. Anything less would not be enough. Anything else would leave you wanting. You feel it building, feel that familiar twinge at your core. The ecstasy flooding through your veins has it coming faster, has you teetering on the edge in moments.

“Satoru…” You hadn’t noticed how dizzy you felt until you tried to speak. You wonder why… “‘M gonna…”

He fucks you harder, something menacing and deep rumbling in his chest. The sound makes you shiver, makes you whine, makes you come.

Your body shakes and a cry rips from your throat, cunt clenching like a vice around him. Your eyes roll back, hands scraping trails down his back. Your thighs quake with the intensity, with the overwhelming senses of pleasure that erupt throughout your body. Every nerve is firing, every hair rising. It’s an unstoppable current, one that sweeps you away, helpless to its pull.

His thrusts grow sloppy and untimed. His grip on your hips tightens, holding you in place while he makes you his. His teeth break from your neck and when you look up through blurry eyes you see his head thrown back, your blood streaming down his chin in thick little globs. You feel it when he cums, feel the thick ropes of it seeping into your womb, feel the way he keeps fucking you, pushing it deeper and deeper inside. He’s moaning, chanting your name like a prayer at the heavens.

When the moment ends he slumps over you, eyes half lidded and tired. There’s a familiar grin on his lips, one that inspires both comfort and uneasiness in your gut. You can’t help but stare at him, at the blood that stains his chin and cheeks, that reddens his lips so beautifully. You want to reach out and touch him, touch his blood-soaked skin and see what it feels like, what it tastes like. What you taste like.

His eyes slide to the side, finding your pulse again. You groan. Yes, you think. Please, yes. More. You don’t think you’ll ever get enough of that. Of his teeth in your flesh, of the euphoria flooding your veins. More, more, more, your mind chants.

He chuckles lightly and shakes his head. “No, princess.” He raises a finger to trace the curve of your neck. “I took more than I should have…” His expression doesn’t tense with worry. His cheeks pull into a smile, those little dimples shining through. “But what can I say? You just taste so good.” Like he needs to emphasize his point, his tongue darts out to trace his lips, lapping up some of the remaining blood on his chin. “You taste like mine.”

You whine. More, more, more. It’s all you can think about. You lift an arm weakly. You want to pull him to your neck, to make him drink, to make him fill you with the heaven you had just moments ago.

He catches your wrist and brings it to his lips, inhaling deeply. His lips split into another grin and you see his eyes spark again with the wildness you crave.

“Not yet, princess.” he coos. “But soon.” His smile grows even wider, until those fangs are on full display, until you’re trembling again. “Forever,” he whispers.

taglist (dm me or send an ask to be added!): @lacheri, @la-undercover-latina, @keiva1000

please consider leaving a comment, sending an ask, or reblogging! interacting with authors is the best way to support them! thanks for reading ♡

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snailmail444 · 4 months

Note

ohhh, can you do hcs for what the sdv bachelors say during sex?

Bachelor Volume Headcannons

18+ 🌱 NSFW 🌱 MDNI

PART II of the double feature!!! Happy New Year lmao I hope you enjoy this filth 😈 shoutout to @hopefuloverfury who did a HOT bachelor volume headcannon list very recently that I ate UP. Check that out Here

Poll said post as you finish and I had this finished so here you are everyone. As always, MDNI, NSFW content under the cut.

Harvey-

💚 Kinda loud, tbh.

💚 I envision him as captain dad noise already, so I think during sex it carries over and he’s groaning and grunting these hot gravelly moans.

💚 Genuinely. I could go on about the sounds this man is sure to make. Because DAMN. Somebody get him into ASMR sex audios he’d make a fortune.

💚 Now that said I don’t see him as much of a dirty talker.

💚 It doesn’t come naturally to him. He’ll do a bit and try his best to appease you if you’re into it, and he’s definitely a person who could learn, but it’s never been easy for him and won’t be.

💚 Gets too in his head about if what he said was hot or if it was weird. Takes him out of it worrying that he’s taken you out of it. Which, relatable.

💚 But he does know through empirical evidence that his sex noises are hot, so he doesn’t hold back. Especially if you two are going at it rough, or you’re sucking him off, it’s obscene.

💚 Will praise you with that same sultry rasp, because that’s another thing he thinks is safely in the always-hot category.

💚 Such a good job baby, feels so good, etc. Can never go wrong.

💚 Loud to the point his voice cracks when he cums 😇

Elliott-

❤️ My hot take is that I think Elliott would say the filthiest things you’ve ever heard during sex.

❤️ HEAR ME OUT!!!

❤️ I just think that as a man who is incredibly well read he knows what’s hot. And he’s not afraid to say it, either.

❤️ Especially with some of those dime novels that are his guilty pleasure, he’s picked up a thing or two.

❤️ Of course it’s still in a very Elliott way, but he’s a dirty talk king.

❤️ He’ll be worshiping your body while he details everything he wants to do to you. How he’s going to mark you with hickies where everybody can see that you’re his, how hard he’s going to ravage you with his cock, how many times he’s going to make you cum, etc.

❤️ Matches it with equal praise and romantic lines, too. It’s all about balance, and he wants to fuck you like a beast while still reminding you that you’re precious to him.

❤️ Grunts and huffs and moans, but not a lot unless he’s right about to cum. Man’s got more important uses for his mouth!!

❤️ Kind of irrelevant, but I see him as the type to passionately fuck you against the door to his cabin or overtop his writing desk or deep into the mattress. It’s not often that the furniture isn’t creaking and knocking in time to his thrusts.

Alex-

🤎 Okay so another hot take. But I think Alex is secretly incredibly shy and romantic.

🤎 Empirical evidence includes: his heart events imply that he puts on the machismo front as a defense mechanism, and he was raised by the most lovey-dovey old people you’ve ever seen.

🤎 SO. I think he would be very sweet in the way he talks in bed.

🤎 Lots of softness and nerves, but he’s still kinda noisy.

🤎 Tries to muffle himself because he’s embarrassed about making too much noise, but he can’t help it.

🤎 He’ll be about to tell you how good you’re doing, how much he loves it, and his words will warp off into a whimper because it’s too much.

🤎 I feel very strongly that he is a whimperer. I’m sorry. It makes sense.

🤎 Especially with his insane physical endurance he ends up overstimulating himself because he can’t get enough.

🤎 Like he can go a third round, sure, but he’s overstimulated and his voice is cracking and his cheeks are bright pink with exertion.

🤎 Lowkey he’d love it though I mean let’s be real. Let’s be so real. He wants to come until he’s crying. And he will.

🤎 Please don’t come for me abt this it’s just my take.

Shane-

💙 The curse words. The curse words.

💙 Listen. This man is already somebody who swears a lot so in bed? He’s letting FLY.

💙 Fuck that’s so good, you’re so goddamn tight, holy shit that’s hot, et cetera.

💙 Not much for moans but he does grunt so like. Same difference?

💙 Like it’s not that he’s stifling himself he just grunts and groans and swears instead of moans

💙 No whimpering I’m afraid 😔

💙 But he makes UP in dirty talk good lord.

💙Since he’s not a mean person just prickly from his defenses he’s well practiced in being mean even when he’s not.

💙 So ladies gentlemen and those of us that know better, we’ve got the makings of the PERFECT mean dom

💙 Dirty little slut, you’re so fuckin’ pathetic for it, beg on your knees just for the privilege, I could Go On.

💙 Only like that if you want it of course, but like with his gravelly sex voice asking if you think you’ve earned the right to cum yet? Somebody take me AWAY.

💙 Cums with a bit of a yell.

Sam-

🩷 It’s been said before I know.

🩷 But I must also agree. Sam is the loudest in bed. Far and away.

🩷 Good LUCK getting him to shut up honestly, between his whines and whimpers and moans he’s either apologizing for his lack of control or thanking you profusely for letting him hit.

🩷 Because Sam genuinely can’t control himself when he’s fucking half his vocabulary consists of sorry. He wanted to do it slow and sweet, but fuck, you’re so hot and tight around his cock he’s pounding you instead and he’s really sorry but he just can’t help himself.

🩷 I don’t see him swearing much tbh, not unless he’s completely fuck drunk. If he’s not babbling some pseudo-polite good boy nonsense, he’s whining. Maybe the stray shit or fuck, but not to excess.

🩷 Also throws in a ton of compliments. You’re so hot, you feel so good, you sound so beautiful, and so on. I just see him as an open complimenter, and when his mental circuit board is on overload he’s unable to stop himself.

🩷 Gag this man. Do it. I dare you.

🩷 He’ll be moaning and whimpering and drooling all around the gag, his eyebrows drawn up and in, eyes pleading for you to let him moan properly.

🩷 The most pathetic man you’ve ever seen and all because he can’t whine for you. God somebody just take me away, lock me up.

Sebastian-

🖤 King of being amused by how turned on you are.

🖤 He’s chuckling, huffing, asking incredulous rhetorical questions like “yeah? Already?”

🖤 I could see him falling hard and fast, so he’s probably using his dry sense of humor to hide how fucking gone he already is.

🖤 Because emotional vulnerability isn’t his thing so it gives him some distance while still allowing him to enjoy how fucking hot and adorable everything you do is.

🖤 As far as his own sounds, though, he’s not moaning or whining a whole lot.

🖤 He does whisper a lot of swear words, and he’s HEAVY on the panting, as a consolation prize.

🖤 Dirty talk gets a little spicy with him just because he lives to tease. He’s not the heaviest dirty talker even on this list, but he can definitely turn up the heat.

🖤 Lowkey I can see him being a hand holder because he can’t help himself. He can only keep his affections at bay so much.

🖤 And I bring that up only because he’d lose his breath the moment your fingers twined with his and reward you with a soft, stuttering moan.

🖤 Definitely bites you to keep from making noise when he comes. He’d probably end up whining if he didn’t.

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unfortunate17 · 15 days

Note

i agree with you about being frustrated with how often this fandom has top/bottom discussions but its a pretty common talking point in most fandoms so YR isn’t special for that

No I totally agree with you that it’s a common topic of discussion in a lot of fandoms, but there’s a particular way we have it in this fandom that really grinds my gears.

And don’t get me wrong, I don’t care if you hc Wilmon to be vers or if you think Wille tops or Simon tops or whatever - it’s the justification and reasoning that I’m seeing behind these headcanons that I find deeply irritating and, frankly, insulting and kind of homophobic.

This is going to get long so forgive me.

1. I’ve seen so many posts talk about how the show is “brave” and “subversive” by having Wille go down on Simon or potentially bottom, but like - what the hell are we even talking about? In what world is it subversive to show a queer character having queer sex?? What are we subverting?? This show has never shown us anything with its intimate scenes other than two guys that are deeply in love and really horny for eachother and I hate that we keep bringing this shit up!!!

2. I’ve also seen people say that it was very important for us to see Wille moving to go down on Simon in the tape in S1 because it’s “more damning evidence that he’s queer” and otherwise Wille could’ve just said he was horny and desperate but he was actually imagining he was with a girl in his denial statement. But be so fucking forreal, in what world is that a thing he could argue in an official statement to the press? He’d be the laughing stock of the world.

Wilhelm isn’t more or less gay because he went down on Simon vs the other way around. He’d still be having queer sex because he’s having sex with another guy. Arguing that the framing here is for anything other than a plot device so Wille’s face wouldn’t be visible to set up the denial is actually kind of ridiculous.

As someone very smart on here said, “I’m sorry that you apparently have a tier list of sex acts ranging from “kinda straight” to “Gaylord” 😭😭 get well soon, couldn’t be me.”

Imagine for one second Simon was the one giving Wille head? Would you have criticized the show for that?? And WHY?!

3. Next: saying that Wilmon’s relationship is “equal” because you think they’re vers is…a take and a half lmao. What the fuck does being vers have to do with a relationship being equal?? Why are we assigning arbitrary hierarchies to sexual preferences??? Why are we implying that topping and bottoming are somehow not equal and you have to carefully balance both, when, ideally, it’s just whatever the fuck everyone is into???

Wille isn’t selfish for topping. Simon isn’t sacrificing anything by bottoming. They’re fucking because they’re in love and they want to 😭

TLDR: Wille doesn’t suck Simon’s dick for class liberation. Simon riding Wille isn’t a commentary on how he’s “girl-coded.” It’s just sex, leave them alone to have a good time and stop assigning agendas to queer sex.

#ask #this got long and crass and I’m NOT sorry #I stole this response from a convo I had with someone in the DMs so ty for your contributions to this post bestie you know who you are #but I could not bite my tongue for any longer #young royals

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prince-kallisto · 3 months

Text

Crowley’s curious eating habits and the significance of soup

This sounds really out there, but PLEASE here @moonlightequin1 and I out 😭😭😭 We had a very impromptu “theory” collab again, but to us it felt like less of a theory, and more of like…this is what is literally happening in canon.

Edit: Link to Ray’s Twitter thread that discusses what I did above the cut! ^_^

So I’ve been noticing that Crowley has mentioned soup or stew, especially in the manga and novel which came way after the initial in-game books. In the novel, he gives a soup pot to Yuuya, his unified exam voiceline has him trying out tomato stew, and in the manga, he says he was KIND enough to not turn Grim into stew. As if implying that if he weren’t so kind, he would’ve served Grim for dinner by now- fully capable of both cooking and eating a monster like Grim.

Crowley is very raven/crow inspired, and Ray and I think it’s more literal than just his outfit. We think these are a shared trait in Raven/Crow Fae. Because…Hm??? Crowley’s first instinct is to eat Grim- who is first believed to be a monster!! Perhaps this comes off as a joke at first, but in the second Valentine’s Day card merch, Crowley says he ate the gift that we gifted him. But…the thing is, it was an inedible object, and Crowley couldn’t even tell the difference. He even calls it DELECTABLE, but apparently it wasn’t food. He tries to save face by saying “…he was joking,” but the pause is very telling in that he did indeed eat the gift.

Ravens and Crows scavenge carrion and even literal garbage. What’s also interesting to note is that Crowley’s favorite food is “Wild Game,” which is wild animals that are hunted for consumption. As Ray put it, he likes his food fresh from the hunt. It feels very in-line with Crowley being a Raven/Crow Fae, but when you think about it…isn’t it a very odd specification? Crowley comes across (or at least tries to) as a gentleman. He even made the Culinary Crucible to encourage healthy eating habits for the students. Wild game is indeed said to be healthier, but when you consider that Crowley suggests eating a monster, and eating (and enjoying) inedible gifts, it seems like he can eat just about anything because of his own nature as a raven/crow.

But what about the soup? Considering that Crowley doesn’t really talk about food much, isn’t it interesting how nearly every time, it’s related to soup/stew despite it not being listed as his favorite food? Look at the screenshots above, and notice how he mentions soup in every single medium that Twisted Wonderland has been written in so far: The game, the manga, and the novel. Each a mention of soup.

Well, when I first mentioned this to Ray, I mentioned that Crowley’s mentions of soup reminded me of how General Lilia says that Levan summoned a pot to make soup for him and Meleanor. Because…of course I did lmao, I’m one of the resident Crowley-Levan theorists here! 🤣 But the more Ray and I discussed it (Aka freaked out lmaoo), the more we realized that this connection might be more important than we thought. You see, Levan was praised for this action, as Meleanor told him that he was “the only one he could rely on.”

And circling back to Crowley’s favorite food being Wild Game, and the implication that he genuinely thought about eating Grim who is a monster…General Lilia was in the habit of eating wild rats and lizards. And even now, Lilia’s cooking is pretty much inedible- where things get riddled with liver where it really doesn’t belong lmaoo.

When putting this all together, it all feels quite strange. Crowley can eat inedible objects and think it’s delectable, he repeatedly mentions soup/stew, his favorite food being hunted wild animals, and doesn’t seem to hesitate at eating a monster. And why not, Crowley’s was interested in tomato stew as Lilia’s favorite food is listed as tomato juice 👀

Since Ray and I love Crowley very dearly haha, we naturally go to an angsty direction with him when discussing our theories. But food is very strongly associated with memories and nostalgia. The experience of eating, especially with others, includes many of our five senses. Food can have you “relive” the emotions of a time you once experienced in the past. It’s often very symbolic of the experience.

Think of what the strawberry tart meant to Riddle, for example. Of the tart’s forbidden sweetness, of how he disobeyed his mother just wanting to be with his friends. Or even Malleus with his disliked food being “full-sized birthday cake” and his favorite being shaved ice, and how these experiences came from being alone on his birthday!

TWST uses food in their storytelling very deliberately- not only for backstory/memories but for character relationships. Think of how Cater pretended to like sweet things when in actuality he despised them and only Trey noticed it (relating to his own personality of being trendy and cool, but rather detached to the people around him), and sweet things brought back memories of how his sisters used to force him to eat sweets that he didn’t even like. OR how Kalim’s least favorite food is curry, because Jamil was once put into a coma after taste-testing Kalim’s poisoned curry. But hey, even though curry was banned in Kalim’s banquets because Kalim was so terrified from the incident, Jamil’s favorite food is curry anyway! Or Azul’s favorite food being friend chicken disliked food being “healthy foods” despite constantly eating it due to his weight insecurities. Jade and Floyd’s favorite foods relating to octopus. Trey and Vil even have stories as to why they hate MUSTARD AND MAYONNAISE respectively.

I could go on and on, but I suppose what I’m trying to say is that I refuse to say that “it’s just soup” or “it’s just wild game.” There’s a wide array of foods mentioned in the game, to the point of each character having their own unique favorite and hated food listed. There’s a story behind their preferences, to the point character relationships are established and strengthened through food.

This is not just for the students, but for the staff too. Trein’s vichyssoise establishes him as a traditional and old-fashioned (and “elegant”) man, Vargas’ raw eggs and Sam’s chicken gumbo connects them to the movies they’re twisted from (frog meat is said to have the texture and a bit of the flavor of chicken. So Sam’s favorite food being chicken gumbo is a sly way to imply the frogs from the film!)

And in the end, there is the soup, the tomatoes stew and juice, and the wild game meat. If something as specific as a full sized birthday cake means something significant to a character, why not the specification of wild game? It’s just…interesting that Crowley’s mentions of food ties back in some way with the very very few mentions that Lilia makes regarding Levan. Perhaps Crowley’s mentions of soup and wild game means more to him than first meets the eye? 🥣

Anyway it’s so over for me, local theorist crying over a bird eating soup 🧎🧎🧎🧎🧎

#warning yet another Crowley levan theory loll #twisted wonderland #twst #twst theory #dire crowley #twst dire crowley #twst Crowley #twst analysis #twst Lilia #twst Lilia vanrouge #twst levan #twst revan #kallistopost #crowley is levan theory

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dropthedemiurge · 13 days

Text

Boys Be Brave [EP.3] // Translation notes

Alright, I got prompted by @turndon100-blog @okiedokie2216 @lurkingshan and the ending of Ep.3 gave me hype boost so I'll try to write some clarification and translation for the scenes from my phone while I still remember everything xD Sorry if this is not going to be as well formatted as my other language posts tho...

Kiseob wants to prove to Jinwoo that he perfectly fits his entire "My ideal type" checklist and he lists all the things he nails. This might've been confusing to many in subs, but the thing is - 첫눈 (chot nun) in Korean can both mean "first sight" and "first snow". So Jinwoo immediately argues that Kiseob failed to achieve being perfect in all to-do points because Jinwoo hasn't fallen in love with him at first sight (as he mentions it in the beginning of the episode). But Kiseob confidently argues that no, there was no first snow this winter yet and shows the December article that says first snow is late this year and might only fall in January.

So technically Jinwoo can still fall in love with Kiseob at first snow and achieve perfect 10/10, therefore no failure yet! Poor Jinwoo can't argue with that logic... (That frustrated little jiggly stomping lmao)

This message also said that he better pay that credit back until Friday, otherwise there will be extra fee.

He said "Choi BalgEum. Look at me" (or focus on me) 🥺

눈치 없어 (nunchi opseo) is a phrase that literally means "have no sense" (it also was formed from 눈 - eyes, as I can guess), but it's used in the context of being perceptive (눈치 있어/nunchi isseo, having sense), feeling the subtext or nonverbal clues - and, well, the lack of it on the opposite, like being clueless.

So Balgeum actually means "Can't you see? Don't you understand the implications?"(of him holding Kiseob's hand) "I asked, don't you realize?" Stop following me around like a clueless fool" (he said that "having no sense" phrase 3 times in a row, who are you trying to fool here yourself, my guy lol)

Balgeum also curses twice at his piano not-friend-situationship. Here he says after asking to stop following him: "It's fucking embarrassing". Probably, the fact that he keeps showing up and asking to talk to him, but can also mean doing this while he obviously "has a boyfriend".

When they meet in evening, he also curses again "why the fuck do you keep appearing?" Balgeum is just definitely trying to hurt him as much as possible :(

This translation works but just to clarify - Kiseob says "Why do you often hide?". So he doesn't just ask why Jinwoo were still hiding under bed while he was talking to him, he was asking why Jinwoo was running away and hiding from him all the time (while he likes him).

"I hated you back then and I hate you now, that's why I run away."

And I just love the phrase 아니잖아... (anijanha) that he gets in response. Because it means "That's not true... (and you know it too)". There's literally a grammar point in Korean that lets you insist on something you know that the other person also should be aware of. So Balgeum angrily claims he ran away in the past and he runs away now because he hates Inho (I hope that's his name, forgive me if anything), and Inho counter argues that no, he doesn't hate him. And implies they both know it. That's why Balgeum resorts to less angry "Think whatever you want".

And the fact that even after this, Balgeum kept playing up his masquarade and saying he wants to vomit even thinking about that they had something, that he regrets it every day - no wonder Inho finally snaps and calls him an asshole/scum when he didn't use cursing before, unlike Balgeum, and so the i-dont-wanna-hurt-you-but-i-am-emotional "fight" begins.

But here we have a silver lining!

"- Meet me only three times... - I got it (what you want), so... (let go of me)"

알겠다 (al'getta) literally means "I know/I understand" but (going with my intuition) it's used naturally in cases that you understood the information you were given, received instructions and will follow them.

I'm not sure what Ep.4 will bring, but I won't be surprised if Balgeum and Inho actually will go to 3 dates because Balgeum sounded like he was giving in, after letting out his anger/fear/frustration/etc through wrestling with Inho. His final verdict for Inho pleading him to go on 3 dates with him is: "Let me go. I told you, I understand (your request and I will consider it most likely in a positive way)"

Here you go! These guys grow on me more and more with every episode. I am fascinated to see Jinwoo ditching his perfectly planned schedule, Kiseob finally refusing to follow where other people drag him, Inho fighting to make his love exist despite brutal rejections and punches, and Balgeum's carefully crafted defense walls breaking as he lets a glimmer of hope and love return to his life.

This show isn't deep at all, it's foolish and yet I'm starting to see layers and development and I'm intrigued where they all will go.

If you've got any other questions about this or previous episodes, let me know! (With timecodes preferrable)

#boys be brave #boys be brave comments #kbl #korean bl #dropthemeta #dropthemeta kbl #learning languages #korean language #translation notes #language details #lost in translation

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gamerwoo · 1 year

Text

Hyunjin: Age-Restricted (Part Two)

Characters: Hyunjin x female reader (ft the other skz members but minus jisung)

Genre/warnings: nanny!reader, boy next door/neighbor!hyunjin, virgin!reader, very bold and flirty!hyunjin and painfully shy!reader, fluff, some humor, mentions of poop (i mean reader’s a nanny, this is a given), it reader gets a lil turned on in some parts but nothing happens, implied that reader is tall (again, only one of the few times i mention reader’s appearance), reader has anxiety and second guesses herself a lot lmao, minors dni!!!

Word count: 6,116

Summary: You think it’s luck when the new family you nanny for is so stupid rich that they rent you a fancy new apartment just so you can live closer to them. You think it’s luck when the guy across the hall is the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen in your entire life and makes an effort to talk to you. But that’s just about where your luck runs out, because Hyunjin is more out of your league than you could ever imagine, and you’re just some hopeless virgin who never had good luck in the first place.

tag list: @hyuneyeon @ack-aashi [be added to the taglist by filling out this form!]

permanent tag list (italics are unable to tag): @minluvly @awkwardnesshabitat @woozarts @septicrebel @4kwp @thepencilkorner @shmooooo @bubblelixie @byunhoebaek @dejavernon @ahandfulofkeys @slut-for-dabi

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You marched up the stairs of the house, knowing exactly where Seojoon was hiding. This kid was so easy, it almost seemed stupid that his parents would pay you as much as they were on top of paying for your apartment. Then again, they asked you to clean up the house when you could, so that was another task that made up for how much you made.

“Jesus, how big is this house?!” Minho gasped from your phone that you were holding at face-level.

“Move your fat head, I wanna see,” Seungmin demanded before shoving the older boy’s head out of the way and poking his own head into frame.

“How can you even tell?” you asked. “I’ve just been showing my face.”

“I can see the background.”

“Hardly.”

“Yeah, because you’ve got a fat head, too,” Seungmin quipped with a wide grin like he was oh-so proud of himself.

You sharply shushed him, “I don’t need Seojoon picking that up and calling his parents fat heads when they get home.”

You walked down the hall, knowing exactly where you were going. Spending three weeks with the kid, you figured he’d at least keep you on your toes a little. A toddler would be more exciting, right? But not Seojoon – not that he was boring. But Seojoon had his patterns and he stuck to them. It made taking care of him easy, at least. And he liked you because you always seemed to know exactly what he wanted and when.

Finally, you made it to Seojoon’s room. You pushed open his door that was already left cracked, the light turned on. You held a finger to your lips, telling your friends to be quiet on the video call as a smile broke onto your face slowly. You got down on your knees by his bed and carefully wrapped your fingers around the bottom of his sheets that hung over his bed. And then you ripped them up, letting out a yell.

Seojoon, who hid underneath the bed, began squealing and giggling.

“C’mon, bud,” you told him after he’d calmed down, “let me check your butt.”

“That’s a sentence I’d be scared to hear,” Minho mumbled.

“Who’s that?” Seojoon asked.

“My friends,” you replied. “They missed me.”

“No, you’re my friend,” he corrected with a giggle.

You feigned a pout, “What, I don’t have any other friends?”

“No!” he continued to giggle at the same time your two friends deadpanned, “No.”

“Alright, enough from the peanut gallery,” you decided before ending your call with your friends. You turned your attention fully to Seojoon. “Did you go potty in your pull-ups?”

“Nope!” he grinned proudly.

You narrowed your eyes, “Are you sure?”

“Uh-huh!”

“Can I check?”

“...Noooo…”

You let out a sigh, “Yeah, that’s what I thought. C’mon, let’s change you.”

At least you were settling into habit. You were getting used to coming home to your new apartment, and becoming familiar with the people you’d occasionally pass in the lobby or on your floor – you especially liked the nice freckled boy who typically worked the front desk during the nights. The first time he’d seen you coming home from work, he stopped you.

“You’re new, aren’t you?” he asked with a deep voice that took you by surprise considering how young and…fluffy he looked. “I know pretty much everyone in the building.”

You nodded, “I’m in room 805.”

“Oh, the nanny!” he grinned, and you thought the way his face lit up was cute. “Yeah, that couple showed up to put down the first few months' rent, and they told us it was for their nanny. We kept making fun of them for how boujee they sounded. You’re kinda popular with the bellboys now.”

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh, “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. You also got a pretty nice room – some good neighbors up there.”

“That’s good to know.”

“Well, I’m Felix if you ever need anything. I usually work nights, though, so don’t need anything during the day. Jerry sucks.”

Jerry did, in fact, suck, you learned quickly. You tried to greet him the morning after meeting Felix, only to be met with a grumble as he continued to stare down at his desk.

“_____!” Felix greeted you with a warm smile when you entered the lobby. “How was work?”

You made a face, holding up the garbage bag you held in your hand that only contained one thing: your sweatshirt. His eyebrows furrowed as he cocked his head to one side like a confused puppy, not understanding why you had a garbage bag in your hand with seemingly nothing in it.

“Blowout,” you stated.

“What?” he asked.

“A one-year-old shit so much it came out of his diaper and his clothes.”

His eyes widened as he let out a gasp, “What?”

“But I didn’t wear a shirt under my hoodie, so I had to text his mom and ask to borrow something from her closet,” you continued, annoyance in your tone. You weren’t necessarily mad at Hajoon – he was literally one, it wasn’t his fault – just at the situation. “Unfortunately, she only buys like, Gucci and shit, so.”

“That’s a bad thing?” he questioned.

“I cannot explain to you the anxiety I feel wearing her expensive clothing, like I could ruin it at any minute and get fired.”

He chuckled, “Well, lucky for you, we have in-house dry cleaning. Send it down when you get changed and I’ll have Jeongin get on it.”

“Thanks, Lix,” you sighed as you made your way to the elevator, praying that you would be the only one in it all the way up to the eighth floor.

“Okay,” you whisper to yourself before taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out.

Gucci shirt was being dry cleaned, you were out of your leggings that may or may not have also gotten poop on them – but what were you going to do, ask to borrow Mrs. Park’s pants, too? – and your makeup was taken off for the night. Now you just had to figure out what to do with your sweatshirt. Should you try to salvage it or should you throw it out?

Well, you’d already lost one sweatshirt to a blowout before, and you really didn’t want to lose another. Plus, this one was one of your cozier ones, so if you could wash the poop out, then you’d prefer that route than just tossing it. So you took your trash bag that you’d left by the door, and you opened the door to go to the laundry room.

Except there was something – or rather, someone – in front of your door with their fist up, ready to knock.

“Oh!” you both said in surprise at the same time.

“Sorry, _____” Hyunjin’s startled expression melted into a smile. His eyes drifted down to the white bag that you held in your fist, and his nose crinkled for a moment. “Taking out trash? Not a lot.”

“Uhhhhhh, yeah,” you decided to say, figuring trying to explain you were going to throw your poopy sweatshirt in the wash was not only going to make you seem disgusting, but was also not something that sounded great. How did you explain to someone that you got human feces on your clothes?

Especially when you had a crush on them and wanted them to like you back.

Hyunjin stayed true to his word about being your friend. While you were too shy and intimidated to say anything to him at first, he always went out of his way to at least say hi when he saw you passing him by in the hall, or wish you a good day when he saw you leaving the lobby, or hold the door if he saw you going for the elevator he was in. And so you slowly started saying hi to him first, but that was really where your ‘friendship’ – if that – ended. So him knocking on your door was something that hadn’t happened since you moved in.

But at least you were getting more comfortable around him. Progress was progress, you supposed -- or at least, that’s what Chan always told you.

“So, what’s up?” you asked him.

“So, um…” he began slowly, eyebrows furrowing together but looking like he wanted to laugh at himself, “this might be a weird request, but like… Okay, you’ve colored your hair before, right?”

“Like, did it myself or just in general?”

“Yourself.”

“A couple times,” you shrugged. “It wasn’t good because I can’t see the back of my head, but, yeah.”

“No, that’s fine!” he said quickly as if he thought you’d change your mind. “I was just wondering if you’d maybe help me with bleaching my hair…?”

You had to reply quickly or he’d think you were weird, so you didn’t have the time to sit there and wonder why he would ask you and not literally anyone else. He had to have friends he could ask. Hell, you’d sooner call up Chan and have him drive his ass to your apartment to kill a spider than walk across the hall and whine to Hyunjin.

But also, who were you to question a perfectly good opportunity to not only be around Hyunjin and talk to him, but actually physically interact with him. Running your fingers through his hair? Yes please.

You shrugged and offered up a smile, trying to seem like you weren’t bubbling with nerves, “Yeah, sure!”

“Cool, we can do it at my place if you want,” he offered, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb to his door he’d left slightly ajar. “I don’t want bleach getting on any of your stuff.”

Could Hyunjin hear your heart slamming against your chest? He was inviting you into his apartment? The last time you were alone with a boy that you had a crush on was when you still lived at home and went to your sister’s house for a cookout and you and one of her friends had to sit in the living room together because both of you were waiting for the bathroom. And you didn’t say a word to him, you just pretended to be on your phone the whole time. S to say you were nervous now was an understatement.

“Yeah, let me just…” you trailed off, realizing you didn’t actually know what to do with the sweatshirt, so you just kind of tossed it by the door before stepping out into the hall with Hyunjin.

“Smooth,” he chuckled before he led you across the hall to his apartment.

You figured his place would be almost exactly like yours, but you quickly realized it was so much nicer. Everything was a perfect stark white that was a beautiful contrast to the jet black accents, which was similar to your apartment. However, his had an upstairs, the loft of which hung over part of the kitchen/living area. He had large art pieces hanging on the walls, making it seem like some rich big shot lived there — which he may have been for all you knew.

“C’mon, we can use the bathroom upstairs,” he told you, leading you around the corner to the staircase.

“You have an upstairs bathroom…?” you asked quietly, mostly to yourself as you followed him up the steps.

“The apartments on the left side are a little more…more,” he explained, turning his head to talk to you over his shoulder.

“Oh…” was all you replied with.

Reaching the top of the stairs, he completely turned to you, continuing to walk backwards toward the destination, “I don’t really need this much space since it’s just me, but I have a lot of stuff, y’know? Plus, I felt like I had more freedom to decorate this like I wanted. I wanted it to feel more like…me, I guess.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” you shrugged. “I like my apartment, but it does seem kind of plain right now. I couldn’t take a lot of my stuff when I moved out of my mom’s because I had three other roommates in an apartment made for only three people, so when I moved here, I couldn’t really decorate a ton.”

He frowned slightly, “Why not go get your stuff from your mom’s?”

“I’d rather not,” you stated, making a slightly sour face.

Hyunjin chuckled with a nod, “Yeah, I feel that.”

Then he turned back around just in time to push open a door ahead of him at the end of the hall.

Inside, the scent hit you and smelled intoxicating and expensive. It was warm and spicy but still smelled clean and fresh with a hint of vanilla. There was a large bed with silk black bedding, even more artwork, a t-shirt or two laying on the carpeted floor, and two large mirrors — a standing one opposite the bed, and one on the ceiling hanging above it. There was a dresser on either side of the room as well, that faced the bed. You assumed it was Hyunjin’s room. But you didn’t get to look around much because he walked by the end of the bed to another door on the same wall and opened that one.

Through this door was a large bathroom that had a separate bathtub from the shower. It was a large clawfoot tub, with a spacious shower taking up the entire back of the bathroom, blocked off by frosted glass. His counter where the sink was took up most of the length of the wall, with the mirror being equally as big.

“Your bathroom is massive,” you commented, hearing your own voice echo back to you.

He chuckled, “Yeah, I guess so. If you ever wanna come over to use it, just let me know.”

You definitely saw him toss you a wink over his shoulder, but for some reason, you chalked it up to some kind of twitch. Some of the dads you’d met had a weird habit of winking a couple times when they spoke to you, so maybe he was the same. Maybe it was just a…man thing. But still, you weren’t sure how to respond, even if it wasn’t intended as suggestive as your brain made it out to be, feeling your cheeks heat up a bit. You wanted to say something while he opened the plastic bag that sat on the counter, beginning to read the directions of how to mix the bleach, but everything you came up with was either boring, stupid, or just had absolutely nothing to do with anything.

“Do you know how to do this?” he asked, eyebrows furrowed as he looked over the large, unfolded piece of paper.

“Is it a 1:1 ratio or 1:2?” you asked, looking in his direction instead of pretending to continue to admire the bathroom.

“Uhhh…” he trailed off, seemingly unsure. Then he passed the paper to you. “I’ve never done this, I’ve always had it done.”

You took the paper and scanned it over. Ratio, processing time, yada-yada. Then you looked back over at Hyunjin, your eyes flickering to the counter and then back at him, “Do you have gloves?”

“Yup.”

Then your eyes drifted down toward his shirt, taking note of the grey Off White brand t-shirt he was wearing, eyebrows pulling together as you narrowed your eyes, looking back up at his face, “What about a shirt you don’t care about?”

Hyunjin looked down at his shirt, holding out the hem and taking a moment to look it over before looking back up at you, “What’s wrong with this?”

You opened your mouth, wanting to ask him if he was crazy. You wanted to ask him how goddamn rich he was that he’d bleach a shirt that was over $300. But instead you closed your mouth, not wanting to upset him when this was the first time you were hanging out with him.

“Nothing,” you told him. “How did you wanna do this…?”

He shrugged, “You can reach.”

“It’s still more convenient if you’re sitting and I can see your entire head.”

“I can kneel,” he said almost happily.

And before you could tell him how uncomfortable that would get, Hyunjin got down on both knees in front of you, resting on the plush bath mat that rested in front of the counter. He looked up at you, blinking with a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips, and wide, innocent eyes.

But you wondered if he knew how badly your face heated up and how your heart thumped in your chest because he was on his knees and so close to your literal crotch that it made you want to pass out. Because as you felt yourself internally panicking, you were pretty sure Hyunjin’s smile was growing, reaching his eyes until they turned into crescent moons.

“Th-that’ll be like, really uncomfortable,” you told him, trying to keep your casual composure even though you wanted to explode. Your eyes were looking anywhere but down at him, because you just simply couldn’t hold eye contact with that man. But thankfully, it gave you an idea since your eyes were wandering and landed on the clawfoot tub. “You can sit in front of the tub on the floor, and I’ll sit on the edge.”

“Yeah, that’s probably a better idea,” he agreed with a smile that seemed…strange. It was like he already thought of it and was waiting for you to say something.

‘You’re going insane,’ you told yourself. ‘Fucking relax, idiot.’

Hyunjin stood and walked over to the tub, while you began mixing the bleach. He sat down on the edge, and you could feel his stare piercing your back – or maybe you were imagining it, you weren’t sure. Maybe it was just wishful thinking.

Yup, definitely wishful thinking. Because when you turned back around, he was typing on his phone, dark hair hiding his face like a curtain.

But you also might’ve seen him look down at his phone at the right second.

Or you were gaslighting yourself into thinking you saw that because you wanted him to be staring.

‘Can you stop and get on with this already? He’s gonna think you’re crazy.’

“Ready?” you asked him to get his attention.

His head snapped up as he smiled, “Yup!”

You sat down on the edge of the tub, and Hyunjin sat down in front of your legs, back toward you. He immediately settled back against your knees, but this still wasn’t as convenient as you would’ve liked.

“Um,” you shifted your legs apart, “could you move back a little?”

“‘Course,” he replied, wiggling until he had moved back and was now sitting against the tub instead.

You prayed he couldn’t hear how hard your heart was beating in your chest at the way he intimately sat. Hell, you were praying that you didn’t like, smell funny or something. Of course, your brain always came up with the dumbest things to be self-conscious about, so you tried to push those thoughts to the back of your head and tried to focus on bleaching Hyunjin’s hair.

First, you combed through his hair with your fingers, wanting to get most of the possible tangles out. You heard Hyunjin hum softly, and your movements stuttered as you tried to not lose your shit. You felt tingling between your legs just at a fucking noise this dude made, and you were internally scolding yourself while also trying to get yourself to just fucking relax.

‘It’s just a hum. It wasn’t anything like, erotic. Chill, bitch.’

“This might be cold,” you warned as you got ready to put the bleach on his head.

All he did was hum in reply, but this hum was different, you told yourself. But it was true. This one was way more casual, and the other sounded relaxed and content, like maybe he liked the feeling of you playing with his hair…

‘Oh my god, stop it.’

You applied bleach to his dark hair for about a moment in silence, trying to steady your breathing and simply focus on just not melting the hair off of his head – though, maybe he’d look good bald…or like an egg.

“What kind of music do you listen to?” he wondered suddenly, and you could see over his shoulder that he was scrolling through Spotify on his phone. “I can play some music.”

“You pick,” you told him, eyes going back to your hands. “I’ll listen to anything.”

He sighed, and had he been facing you, you would’ve seen him roll his brown eyes, “Oh come on, every girl says that but they really won’t. There’s definitely things you don’t like.”

“Okay, um… Not a big classical fan, and I could never get on board with heavy metal.”

“Country?”

“Grew up with it, so I like the old stuff – except that one song. Fuck, it’s called uh… It’s by that Luke Bryan guy.”

“Ah, I know the one.”

“But don’t play it,” you told him before, for some god-forsaken reason, deciding to admit, “I will throw it back.”

Hyunjin let out a loud laugh, leaning forward away from you to turn around and look at you, “Seriously?”

You nodded, laughing along with him, “It’s just one of those songs. One of my old roommates used to get me drunk and then play it really loud in the kitchen. We got a lot of noise complaints.”

“Sounds worth it,” he was still chuckling as he went back to his original position. “So no Country Girl, got it. How do we feel about a throwback playlist?”

You shrugged, going back to work on his hair, “Sounds good.”

It didn’t take you too terribly long to coat his entire head in bleach. Then you put a cap on it and told him to sit for no more than 30 minutes.

“I’ll probably need some help toning it,” he said as he washed out the bowl and brush you used for bleach. “You mind sticking around?”

You shrugged, “I’ve got no plans tonight.”

He turned to look at you, placing the bowl and brush on the counter and flashing you a smile, “Well, now you do. Wanna start a movie or something?”

“What kind of movie?”

“You can pick whatever your heart desires.”

So you picked the movie. It was one you’d already seen already, and you were sure there were no scenes in it that would make anything awkward. But the problem was the sitting situation. You didn’t want to sit all the way on the other end of his couch because that seemed kind of rude. But you didn’t want to sit too close and be creepy. So you eventually just plopped down very un-gracefully about an arms length away from him, grabbing a throw pillow to hug tightly to your midsection before leaning back into the couch.

Thankfully, you were able to get absorbed into the movie mostly. It took a few minutes, but your mind eventually shut off and stopped worrying, and your thoughts were focused on the movie. It was a nice rest of not being hyper aware of only Hyunjin.

Well, until he shifted. He moved to cross one leg over the other, and threw his right arm across the back of the couch, his hand landing by your head.

Back to being hyper aware of only Hyunjin.

You tried not to make it too obvious that you were trying to steal a glance at him, but when you did finally turn your head ever so slightly to look at him, he was facing toward the TV, eyes focused – as far as you could tell, anyway. Maybe he was bored, you didn’t know.

Suddenly, Hyunjin turned his head ever so slightly to the right, side-eyeing you without changing his expression. You quickly averted your gaze, finding the TV in a split second, praying and hoping he didn’t notice you staring.

But what you didn’t notice was him silently smiling to himself and looking back at the TV.

You wondered if Hyunjin knew how to do anything. He asked you to bleach his hair, which was fine. But then he asked you to rinse the bleach out for him in the sink. Maybe he didn’t want to go lock himself in the bathroom to shower, leaving you alone in his apartment. But still, why couldn’t he just rinse it out himself in the sink?

Still, you did it. You weren’t complaining, you were just fighting the nerves and anxiety and butterflies.

Then you had to help him tone his hair, and again, rinse it. Then he asked you to grab his conditioner, so you conditioned Hyunjin’s bleached-blonde hair. You were pretty sure creepy men on TV shows when you were younger used to fantasize about being able to wash and condition pretty girls’ hair, so hey, you were living somebody’s dream. That was a win.

Hyunjin’s neck was still bent over the sink as he towel-dried his hair, scrunching it to get the water before messing it up with the towel.

“I hope you think it looks okay,” you let out a small, nervous laugh.

“Eh, it’ll look fine,” he said as he moved the towel to toss his head backwards, moving his hair from his eyes. “Can’t look worse than it has before.”

“What was the worst?” you wondered, still watching him from his right side as you both stood at the bathroom counter.

He continued to scrunch the ends of his hair, trying to get all of the water droplets that were falling, looking in the mirror at himself and his hair rather than at you, “I tried to go bright red and missed a big patch of roots at the back of my head.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you paused, trying to make sense of his story, “...But I thought you’d never dyed your hair before.”

That was when he finally looked at you, a smile on his lips that you’d give to your slow friend who finally got the joke and you wanted to pat them on the shoulder and make them feel like they weren’t stupid.

“I lied,” he admitted.

And that was when your heart dropped, but in a way you didn’t really expect. Because your mind immediately went to, ‘he’s a murderer!’

He must’ve seen the way your eyes widened – you really needed to learn how to control your facial expressions – and the way you eyed him, because he let out a laugh that sounded like your new favorite sound in the world. It just sounded so…happy and amused. Like, happier than you’d heard him sound before – not that you’ve really heard him actually laugh much.

“No, it’s nothing bad,” he explained. “I just– How else am I supposed to get a pretty girl to come to my apartment and play with my hair?”

You wanted to combust – maybe you were going to. Your face was rapidly heating up, and you weren’t really sure what your expression was doing but you were biting back a smile unsuccessfully, deciding to simply hide your face in both hands. You could hear Hyunjin laughing the same way he had just a moment ago, and then you felt warmth on your shoulders, his hands placed on them as he dipped his head to try and see some part of your burning face.

“Aw, don’t be so shy, _____!” he teased “I told you I think you’re pretty so now you’re going to hide from me? That’s not fair!”

You whined into your hands, the noise coming out muffled but still making Hyunjin continue that beautiful laugh as he smoothed your hair back that had fallen in front of your hands that still covered your face.

“You’re...really...bold…” you said very un-boldly into your hands.

“Only because I’m pretty sure I know where you stand with me,” he chuckled.

Another loud whine that only made Hyunjin wrap his arms around you, holding you to him. God, you wanted to die then and there. Did he not realize this was making your butterflies worse?

“How?!”

He shrugged, “I’ve gotten pretty good at reading people over the years.”

“‘Over the years’? You’re talking like you’re some old man; you’re like, my age!”

You felt him move slightly away from you, keeping one arm around your waist while the one that rubbed your back moved away. You felt him trying to get between your arms and your chin to put his hand there, trying to guide your head up.

“Will you look at me already?” he asked in a murmur, his playful tone now so soft and almost gravely. It was a contrast, that was for sure, and it made you feel…a lot.

What made you feel even more was how he looked at you. His brown eyes bore into yours, faces inches apart. You could almost feel his breath fanning against your lips as you stared back and tried to control yourself internally. But you knew what was coming, and you knew what would happen after that.

As much as you wanted Hyunjin to kiss you like you were pretty sure he was going to, you knew what always happened. You knew it would be a lot – not just for you, but probably him – and that it would be very, very embarrassing. You also knew that it would probably effectively scare Hyunjin away, which you didn’t want.

But you also couldn’t find it in yourself to say no. You’d never been good at doing that, always wanting to be a people pleaser. You were never one to stick up for yourself or much of anything, really. So when Hyunjin leaned in ever so slightly, eyes flicking to your lips and then back to your eyes, you just tried to tell yourself to relax and absolutely not panic. But with the anxiety warming the pit of your stomach, and the way your hands trembled against his shoulders, you already knew that it was going to be a rough start, anyway.

Buzz.

A soft vibration against your thigh made you jump, but it didn’t seem to phase Hyunjin at all. He continued to hold your chin gently in his hand, keeping your gaze locked.

Buzz.

Someone was definitely calling you.

Hyunjin broke into a smirk, “You might want to get that.”

He dropped his hand and went back to drying his hair like nothing had happened, leaving you frozen for a second as you stared at the space Hyunjin used to be in front of you. You tried to get your heart to calm down and the feeling in your stomach to subside. But you also probably looked like a moron still just standing there, so you finally slid a hand into the pocket of your biker shorts to retrieve your phone.

Chan.

“Hey,” you answered the phone in a breath.

“Hey, I– Are you okay?” he asked. “You sound stressed.”

You glanced at Hyunjin, but he either couldn’t actually hear your friend on the phone, or he wasn’t showing that he could.

“I-I’m okay,” you replied, though you were not. You still felt nervous and shaky, like you’d just gotten off of a rollercoaster. “What’s up?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to play some Smash with me,” he said cheerily. “It’s been a while since I’ve gotten to really talk to you and I miss you.”

“Um, y-yeah, we can play. Just let me finish something real quick and I’ll call you back.”

“Awesome, I’ll see you in a bit!”

You hung up and put your phone back in your pocket.

“Roommates?” he guessed.

He definitely could hear.

“Yea–” you paused, thinking of something suddenly. “How did you know I’m not with someone? That could’ve been my boyfriend for all you know.”

He playfully rolled his eyes before turning to face you, “Well, if my girlfriend stared at some guy the entire time they were watching a movie, I’d be pretty pissed.”

Well, that effectively shut you up. All you could do was stand there and look at him, then down at the ground, then at the open bathroom door.

You looked back at Hyunjin and announced very bluntly but still quietly, “I have to go.”

“I figured,” he chuckled with a nod. “I’ll walk you out.”

So he did. He walked you all the way to the front door of your apartment, waiting for you to unlock the door. And then you turned back to face him, only to see him leaning against your doorframe with a casual smirk on his face that made that frenzy begin inside you again.

You wanted him to kiss you so bad, but you didn’t want to deal with the consequences or the aftermath.

“So will you actually reach out to me this time?” he asked, quirking a brow.

‘Well now that I know you think I’m pretty, maybe I will.’

“Maybe I will,” you smirked right back at him.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he winked before backing up. “Have fun with your friend.”

“Goodnight, Hyunjin.”

“Goodnight, _____.”

You closed the door and let yourself settle on cloud 9 for a moment. The hot neighbor thought you were pretty and openly hit on you. You might just have a shot despite what you thought.

‘But,’ you reminded yourself, ‘just because he thinks you’re pretty doesn’t mean he wants anything more than sex.’

Which was the harsh reality of ‘dating’ as an adult. Sex was nothing to a lot of people. Sex was something you did just once with someone or even on the first date with someone you were interested in being with. And it wasn’t that sex really meant much to you, it was just…you weren’t comfortable with it yet. And you were scared of having to explain that to Hyunjin because what if that was all he wanted? What if he thought you were a baby for still being a virgin? What if this, what if that?

Your phone vibrating in your pocket pulled you from your panic.

Christopher 🦘🧡: Reminder that we’re playing together

Christopher 🦘🧡: I assume you’re still easily forgetful lol

You were. Some things just unfortunately never change, and your memory was one of two things that you were feeling hopeless about changing anytime soon.

“You seriously bleached your hair?” Changbin sighed. “Why?”

Hyunjin shrugged, holding his phone at an angle so his friend could see him on their video call. He was honestly wishing he didn’t even answer Changbin’s call since he clearly was judging his choices, but he needed to tell someone about how he was feeling, and Changbin was basically his only friend, “I needed an excuse to have _____ hang out with me, and she seems too shy to go for me outright asking her to watch a movie randomly or something.”

“Is that the girl who moved in across the hall?” Changbin asked before shaking his head and closing his eyes. “Seriously dude, what’s gotten into you? You hardly know this girl and you’re bleaching your hair just to talk to her.”

Hyunjin’s cheeks were beginning to turn pink as he narrowed his eyes at his phone, “Alright, hear me out, okay?”

“‘She’s different, I can sense it’, I know. You’ve said it like, 15 times since you’ve met her.”

“Well it’s true! And you know I’ve never been wrong about my reads on people.”

Even though he knew the younger man was right, Changbin still sighed again, rolling his eyes, “Just because she hardly speaks to you doesn’t mean she’s ‘different’.”

“Well she clearly doesn’t know who I am, and she’s also just so… I don’t know, she’s not really like what I’m used to. She keeps to herself, she’s not bold or outright – I like it. So sue me for trying to pursue this.”

What, was he just supposed to ignore the cute, shy girl across the hall when he could try to, at the very least, make another friend that wasn’t the bellhops who worked nights?

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t go after her if you want to, I’m just saying it seems like a lot to fry your hair over a girl you’ve hardly spoken to the last month.”

“Well, jokes on you, because I made a move,” Hyunjin sang, sticking his tongue out at his friend, “and she liked it. So we’ll be talking a lot more…I hope…”

Changbin chuckled, “I am happy for you, man. Let me know how things go.”

“You’re always the first to know.”

#k-labels #hyunjin #stray kids #stray kids smut #hyunjin smut #stray kids au #stray kids imagine #stray kids scenario #stray kids fic #stray kids series #stray kids x reader #hyunjin au #hyunjin imagine #hyunjin scenario #hyunjin fic #hyunjin x reader

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bestworstcase · 1 year

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brief preliminary list of things i am going to be unhinged about for the indefinite future:

MYSTERY KINDRED LINK. WHO. WHO?!

"and when it turns out to be just another run-of-the-mill patrol..." HBHKSDFHG god. the fact that mysterious important top secret missions regularly turned out to be non-issues... salem was IGNORING HIM LMAO

implied time-skip but i think not a very long one; we have amity plonked onto a carrier ship and what's left of the atlesian air fleet, plus a handful of ships from other kingdoms, but no grimm. salem isn't here yet. tyrian and mercury probably are. loose estimate, probably a couple weeks? qrow et al being in solitas still at the end of v8 makes the quick turnaround logistically plausible

salem routed the fleet lmfao

"one brother [light] believed they had disrupted the balance, while the other [dark] refused to condemn their creations for their mistakes" hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

in the ever after's terms, dark's purpose is destruction for the sake of new life—i was dead to rights on him being a god of cyclical change—and the conflict with his brother began with dark defending the lives of their creations. light decided that they [the brothers] made a mistake and wanted to "fix" that mistake by getting rid of it, dark said no.

dark is unambiguously the good guy here.

the annihilation of humanity was essentially dark recanting his original stance and accepting his brother's position that their creations are "mistakes" that must be eradicated

except he didn't (or couldn't) eradicate salem, humanity rose again, and light is still on the "eradicate the mistake" train with dark nowhere to be found. either 1. dark completed his ascension by coming to understand his brother's perspective and became something new [the relics?], or 2. dark regretted this after the fact and directly had a hand in bringing humanity back, or 3. if he left salem alive on purpose the whole thing was a gambit to repeat the ever after's solution to their conflict, leaving remnant behind because remnant could not bear their experiments any longer.

dark + humanity vs light endgame real

unless dark ascended and light did not, in which case the ultimatum is probably coming from a place of grief—light doing the very thing he condemned salem for.

the immediate narrative rebuke for turning their backs on the cat:

in juxtaposition with ruby's overt sympathy and concern for neo, and the blacksmith's sympathy for both neo and the cat, and the implication that the cat can now ascend [note the hawker's statue too—neo's jabbers couldn't permadeath people]... juicy

raven and summer stayed in touch. raven was summer's confidante; she doesn't just know what happened to summer, she knew well in advance what summer had planned and was herself integral to that plan. and in the ten+ years since this night she hasn't said a word about it to anyone.

raven trusted her

raven was probably closer to summer than to her own brother

whatever raven learned, whatever horrors she brought back, she told summer. and summer believed her. and they kept it to themselves, and made this plan.

"if i do this right, there's nothing to worry about. trust me." you sound just like your mother (derogatory). oh raven absolutely got a team salem recruitment pitch from summer after this.

and she's keeping that secret too

this is how they're looping raven back into the story btw

ruby knows that raven knows but she doesn't know exactly what raven knows so she's going to need to find raven to ask

raven: summer is a better mom than i could ever be

also raven: [continually dragged kicking and screaming back into the story by inescapable motherhood]

"you're really leaving them?" "you're one to talk" oh that's JUICY

even taking into account raven's heels, summer is fucking tiny

#rwby v9 spoilers

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tenpintsofsundrop · 11 months

Text

Dreaming Of You

Gar Logan x Fem!Mute!Powered!Reader

Part One: The Psychic and The Tiger

Summary:

You and Gar have been best friends for a long time. Nothing could disrupt the harmony of such a perfect friendship.

Nothing except maybe... your usually predictable powers going haywire and somehow showing you all of his heated daydreams about you. But he couldn't possibly have romantic feelings for you. He couldn't possibly want anything more than your close platonic friendship and the occasional steamy fantasy. Right?

Gar Logan x Fem!Mute!Powered!Reader. Best Friends to Lovers. Smut and (Slight) Angst. Set during Season 2.

Word Count: 13,100

Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link | Series Masterlist

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List of detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: some emotional angst (on the basis of mutual angst but they’re both deep in denial), accidental invasion of someone’s privacy (by accidentally reading their mind), some light canon violence (practice sparring/practice fighting), the reader character is disabled - the reader character is 100% mute, the reader character suffered with tumors that were partially cured by Doctor Caulder’s serum, the reader character suffers from migraines and seizures due to remaining brain tumors, the reader character has the ability to read minds, the reader character uses ASL because she is mute, mentions of the reader character having insomnia/difficulty sleeping, mentions of Rachel having a one-sided crush on Gar, the reader is described to exercise a lot and be physically fit but I don’t allot that to a certain body type (I am not excluding her from being fat when I write this), in a lot of passages - the reader is implied to be fat actually, mentions of the reader masturbating, a wholesome family game night that doesn’t really belong in a smut fic lmao, somewhat graphic descriptions of vomit (from illness) (it only occurs in one short section of the fic), passing mentions of disordered eating - but not due to poor body image or mental illness more in the form of restrictions on ‘junk food’ and not eating properly at meal times, dream sequences involving sex - hair-pulling, groping, biting, making out, (implied) shower sex, dirty talk, praise kink, penis in vagina sex (unprotected), mind fucking (but not in the way that you think - sharing sex with someone while having a sexual connection). All of the smut/sex in this chapter is of the day dream variety, but it is still described in graphic/detailed ways. I believe that is everything.

A/N: The first repost on this new blog! I am so excited about it. If you have any comments or questions about the fic, please let me know, and if you have read it before, I hope you enjoy this new version, and if you're reading it for the first time, I hope that it's a really excellent experience for you.

...

Mind reading is most definitely not what people think it is.

It’s not at all how movies portray it to be. And it’s definitely not how you imagine it to be when you think about having the ability to access someone’s private thoughts.

To this day, you still remembered when Gar showed you the British television show Misfits, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the way the character’s mind reading power was portrayed.

To most of Hollywood, it’s as if a person’s thoughts were a simple string of words laid out in their head, a simple script being read in their voice. As if you can accidentally overhear someone thinking about a certain topic, like one overhears a conversation.

In reality, it was vastly different for you.

There was no easy way to explain it, to describe the way it felt to enter the complex vastness of the human mind, but you often tried to put it into words. For one, you were thankful that it took you concentration and intent to use your powers. You never accidentally overheard someone’s thoughts the way a person can hear voices or loud music, or a television in the next room. It kept you from a lot of awkward situations. And most importantly to you, it kept you from barreling into a person’s most private space - the sacred stronghold of their mind - unless it was deemed completely necessary.

From what you had realized, it required you making eye contact with the person in order for you to enter someone’s mind.

“Ah yes. The eyes are the window to the soul, after all.” Doctor Caulder had remarked when he had discovered this about your powers.

Ironic. Thematic, actually, considering that his serum had cured you of a physical blindness. One caused by a brain tumor that any doctor was too afraid to operate on in order to remove. Doctor Caulder liked to credit himself and his serum with giving you the gift of ‘a greater sight’, one that allowed you to peer deep inside others. A gift that he said allowed you to help people.

To you, though, more often than not, it just felt like invading people’s privacy. And that was something you definitely didn’t enjoy - whether it was ‘helping’ people or not.

Something you had learned during the minimal amount of time you had used your powers: people can be divided into two types of thinkers. That you found out very quickly.

The first type are people whose thoughts come in the form of rich, visual landscapes. People who show off their thoughts almost purely with visuals, imagining things that might happen, remembering things that already have in vivid detail. Those people are typically the easiest to navigate, in your experience - but their memories can be the most painful and vivid if you go too deep.

The second type are people whose thoughts come more in the form of narration - a voice inside their head speaking about their intentions or the information pumping through their mind.

Although, unlike what most people would think, that voice is not usually their own.

Most times it is the voice of a mentor or parent, someone who guided and built their thoughts from childhood, someone whose voice sounds firm and thoughtful in their mind. Or sometimes it could even be the voice of a TV character or a radio host, because listening to that piece of media so often caused that voice to clone in their mind and become stuck there accidentally.

Entering the mind of someone like this can be tricky - their thoughts are difficult to navigate, because they are hard to grasp and become tangible.

Occasionally you come across someone with a more unique mental landscape, someone in emotional turmoil or someone who simply never had a linear train of thought to begin with. Entering the mind of someone like this is more like a thousand screaming voices and flashing lights, all at once. Incredibly difficult to decipher, a sensory overload to take in.

But those are only surface level thoughts. Your powers gave you the ability to dive deep into the cave of someone’s mind, to explore the winding halls of their memories, their subconscious. To feel their emotions, to help them work through their traumas, their pain. If they allowed you to delve that deep. Only if they invited you in.

More often than not, you simply preferred to stay the hell out of other people’s minds. To simply give them the privacy they were owed.

Which is why when it happened - when your powers started slipping out of your control on that stupid fucking day - you hated it more than you could be proud of it. Even if the information you discovered cemented a dream into reality that you’d been having since the day you met Garfield Logan.

It had been a Saturday morning like any other.

Well, one as routine as to be expected when living the Titans lifestyle.

Moving into the Tower was actually nice to attempt to put down roots considering what you had been through over the past year or so. When you originally uprooted your life in Covington, Ohio to follow Gar, you certainly hadn’t expected the wild path he would lead you on. A path that would lead to you getting kidnapped by a doomsday cult and tortured, being lured to a house in the middle of nowhere and mentally tortured some more. All in all leaving that house with absolutely no sense of direction in your life, mentally scarred and broken.

But you never blamed Gar for getting you into trouble. In fact, you were glad to be there to support him through everything that had happened.

Gar was your best friend, your person, and you would have followed him anywhere.

So naturally when he moved into the newly reopened Titans Tower, so did you. Dick didn’t fully understand the extent of your abilities, because in order to show people, you had to violate their privacy, and it wasn’t always something you were keen on doing. He simply trusted Gar at his word that you were more than capable of becoming a Titan.

That blind faith Dick had put in you, backed by Gar’s word, that heavily motivated you to train hard in all other areas to ensure that Dick knew Gar could be trusted. To pull through on that promise and show your worth.

That’s why you were up so early that morning. You liked to get a head start on things. You liked to be up before everyone else to prove that you were working hard on your training, working hard on studying the things that Dick wanted you to know.

At least, those were the excuses you had prepared if anyone asked. Or the things you told yourself to escape the reality of it - to say that you were using your time wisely these days.

Truthfully, you were never very good with sleeping.

Between your chronic headaches, pain that left intense aches down your neck and spine, and the awful nausea that it plagued you with, and the strange dreams that your powers seemed to be paired with, you didn’t often get much sleep.

You were still figuring out how your incredibly strange dreams coincided with your ability to breach other people’s private thoughts. But you guessed that it was simply part of that whole ‘greater sight’ thing. Especially considering that those dreams seemed to depict the future in some way.

You often found your sleep disrupted by these dreams - visions of death or violence or even strange faces you had never seen before. And more often than not, you decided to pursue more productive activities than tossing and turning in your sheets until your alarm rang.

Strangely enough, one of the very first dreams you’d had after being injected with the serum had been a strange setting where you were garbed in a giant, poofy white wedding dress, getting married to a large green tiger who wore a black bowtie among his bright green fur. At the time, you had genuinely convinced yourself that it was just a strange fever dream caused by the serum. Up until you’d met Gar, and something in the pit of your stomach told you that he was the green tiger in question.

But you had never told anyone about that dream, and probably never would.

It’s something that was very far from your mind as you enjoyed breakfast early that morning.

Dick usually let everyone ‘sleep in’ on Saturdays - as much as Jason complained that sleeping until eight was not a luxury, he and the others usually still took advantage of it. But you were up long before sunrise on that day.

You were sitting at the kitchen island, absentmindedly snacking on some dry cereal with your journal open in front of you. You were sketching a picture of something you had seen in one of your dreams. A girl with waves of silver hair and eyepatch that you didn’t recognize, but had a gut feeling was important somehow. You glanced up at the sound of footsteps coming into the room, and found yourself surprised but happy to see that it was Gar.

He was clearly still half asleep, his eyes barely open. He wore plaid pajama pants and a green pullover hoodie, hair still adorably messy and uncombed. He looked so utterly soft and cuddly, something that made those undeniable butterflies stir in the pit of your stomach.

When you looked over at the clock attached to the stove, it was barely five-thirty in the morning. The sun was just kissing the sky orange to your right, casting a warm orange glow across the entire room through the many tall windows. You were almost shocked that anything other than Dick’s fist hammering on Gar’s door had gotten him out of bed this early.

“Morning.” He grunted at you as he tiredly stumbled toward the fridge. He opened it with haste and grabbed the carton of orange juice.

Of course. He wanted a snack.

He uncapped it and gulped it with enthusiasm, not bothering to get a glass or even close the refrigerator door. The sharp light of the halogen bulbs and the cool air pouring from the appliance almost hurt you, your overly sensitive eyes and skin picking up on the sensations more potently in the soft morning light of the room.

Gar turned around, the carton still poised to his lips. He took large swigs that made his Adam’s apple bob in his throat, and he kicked the fridge door shut behind him as he finally put the carton down on the counter, exhaling a large, nasty burp. He looked at you with a sleepy smile, almost making you mad with how cute he could be after doing something like that.

You were about to comment on the disgusting nature of his habits when something strange happened - something that had never happened to you before.

You locked eyes with him, and with absolutely no intention or purpose on your part, you were struck with a flood of his thoughts. A vision, a vivid painting brought to life by his imagination.

It was a distinct, full picture of the two of you.

He had you pressed against the kitchen island, his hands commanding and warm on your hips, like they belonged there. His body was firm against yours, tightly pressed against you as if trying to spite the clothes you wore - and his lips were on yours in a demanding kiss. It was entirely passionate, downright hungry. He left gentle nips on your bottom lip as you ran your hands through his sleep mussed hair, your gentle tug on it forcing a moan from his throat, his tongue pressing into-

A gentle gasp coiled in the back of your throat as you were shocked back to reality, finally able to force yourself out of his mind.

You had no idea how the accidental violation had even occurred in the first place, but to stay there and indulge in it would only be continuing to do him a great injustice. When you dared to let your eyes flicker back to his face, he was staring at you with a strange look - his brow slightly furrowed, worry dancing across his mouth. Clearly he wanted to ask you what was wrong. You hadn’t greeted him or said ‘good morning’ in any sort of fashion yet, and now you were just sitting there, frozen on your stool, every inch of your body tight as ice at what you had just seen.

“Did you want some?” He asked, picking up the orange juice carton and holding it out to you.

It was adorably ignorant of him - to think the strange look that had struck your face was over some dispute about orange juice. That you were annoyed because he wasn’t sharing well enough. You simply shook your head in the negative and began gathering your things as quickly as possible, trapping your pencil between the pages of your notebook as you scrambled to get out of his sight.

You needed time to think.

You had no idea what the hell had just happened, but you sure wanted to avoid him until you could figure it out. Until you could get it under control. You raised your hand and signed something about showering to him. But your movements were quick and sloppy and you didn’t look at him for confirmation that he understood before you barreled out of the room. You were too eager to hide in your bedroom until you were absolutely forced to see him again.

…

It’s not like you hadn’t thought about it before.

You had thought about it a lot, actually.

But he had been far too good a friend for you to ever risk losing that friendship over your stupid lust - over some stupid schoolgirl crush that you were sure would go away. And the whole uprooting your life and having a demon from another dimension invade your mind and show you the darkest parts of yourself thing definitely made you put your crush for Gar on the back burner.

It’s not like you were blind to how entirely perfect Gar was. He was handsome, he was cute - so entirely adorable in his boyish looks and his sweet smile. So cute and excitable, with the way he could be bashful, yet confident at the same time when spurting out random facts about video games or going on and on about seemingly any subject that excited him. And you quickly realized that he had more than boyish charms the first time you had seen him shirtless - accidentally caught him changing when living together at Caulder House - and you saw his gorgeous physique on display.

You had been smitten with Gar since the very first moment you had met him, actually.

Back then your crush was something that should have been glaringly obvious to him. You could barely maintain eye contact with him within the first few days of knowing him, you were always so flustered around him. That, on top of the playful teasing of your housemates, wondering when the two of you were finally going to admit that unspoken thing you had going on.

But when the two of you left Caulder House and set out to explore the world - it had remained unspoken.

If Gar had known about your crush on him, it had never affected the way he treated you. Your friendship grew so strong so quickly, and you never wanted to lose that. You never wanted to lose him. So you settled for platonic couch cuddles and late night multiplayer and him letting you sleep in his bed whenever you got a bad migraine.

And then Rachel came along. And you saw the way he looked at her, the way she looked at him. And even though you thought you had probably lost any chance of ever being with him the way you had dreamed of - you still packed your bag and squeezed into the back of Dick’s Porsche with him when he begged for you to come.

Naturally, you were spinning at the revelation that apparently, he had thought of you the same way you thought of him. You almost wanted to convince yourself that it had been a mistake. That it had just been a fantasy you had cooked up inside your own mind. It’s not like you didn’t have many, many fantasies about Gar running around in there.

But no. You knew distinctly what it felt like to use your powers. Being inside the private cave of someone else’s mind - even touching the surface of its depths is a unique experience. And doing it by mistake feels no different than doing it on purpose.

You had no clue what had caused your powers to go off by mistake, but you definitely knew the feeling of using them.

Those were most definitely Gar’s thoughts that had invaded your mind. Gar’s thoughts about kissing you, handling you with such intense passion. Your skin startled to crawl with a unique heat as you remembered the vision so vividly. You heaved a great sigh as you flung yourself backward onto your bed. You gazed over at the clock. It was almost time for training. You wouldn’t be able to hide from Gar for much longer.

…

You were just glad that training that day consisted of blindfolded sparring.

Dick seemed very surprised when you volunteered to go first after he introduced the unorthodox exercise. But to you, it was a simple logic that had you eagerly chopping at the bit to get a piece of cloth covering your eyes. If you were blindfolded, there was no chance of you catching Gar’s eye. Or anyone’s for that matter.

You had no idea if your powers were simply spinning out of control, or if it was an unintentional emotional reaction triggered by Gar’s presence. You weren’t quite sure which was worse. If it was a case of your powers going rogue, growing stronger somehow, then perhaps you’d have to start wearing a blindfold all the time.

If it was specifically something with Gar, then… maybe that was worse. It probably signaled something deeper with you. Your feelings for him clawing at your unconscious, begging to be spilled to the open air. Which you really weren’t eager to let happen anytime soon.

You were almost relieved when Dick paired you off with Jason, saying that your skill set ‘complimented’ his. He explained that he wanted the two of you to try the blindfolding exercise together while he quizzed Gar and Rachel on logic puzzles in the other room. At least Gar would be required to be away from you for a while, and you’d have a very slim chance of catching Jason’s eyes. You didn’t want to know what kind of things he was thinking, what secrets he had. Definitely not.

As the two of you sparred, you were entirely unfocused, your thoughts swimming.

Jason caught you off guard, and easily swept you off your feet completely as he struck you hard in the ankle with the wooden practice sword he was wielding. You grunted gently as you hit the floor, and rolled over on your back, defeated. You reluctantly removed the blindfold as you caught your breath, and saw him standing above you, offering you a hand to help you up. As you blinked against the sharp light meeting your eyes, you accidentally caught his gaze, making direct, certain eye contact with him.

Nothing out of the ordinary happened. You breathed a small sigh of relief.

“You okay, Fancy Hands?” He asked, leaning down so his helping hand was closer to you.

It was a nickname he had affectionately given you the first time he’d seen you use ASL when you had met - back at the safe house in Chicago. Back when Jason had used Dick’s tracker to find him and you all met the surprise second Robin for the first time.

At the time, you had been surprised to find out that Jason actually knew quite a few signs because one of the kids he’d been in foster care with had been deaf. You had explained to him that your hearing was perfectly fine - your mutism was because of a surgery during your childhood that had removed a tumor from your throat and had left your vocal cords damaged. It was something that had occurred long before your life had become about powers, a green tiger, and one too many Robins to count.

In the present, you were simply thankful that your powers didn’t seem to act up with him.

In response to his question, you nodded, taking his hand.

He helped you to your feet quickly, and you found your own practice sword where it had fallen. You then replaced your blindfold once again. Though it was slightly troubling to know that this sudden shift in your powers only seemed to be triggered by Gar - that knowledge did help you focus a bit more on the lesson.

As you focused, you blocked two of Jason’s hits with your sword and landed a swift, sharp hit somewhere on him.

“Ow!” He whined. “Take it easy, Fancy Hands, this is only supposed to be practice.”

You giggled, smiling to yourself.

…

It had been a few days since then.

And you had been strategically avoiding Gar.

At least, avoiding him as much as you could without arousing major suspicion. It was a pretty large living space, and with only four other people in it, it was next to impossible to come up with excuses to avoid him entirely. He was your best friend, after all. If you just quit spending time with him entirely, that would cause him to ask way too many questions. And you definitely couldn’t give him the answers to any of those questions.

You had made a hard agreement shortly after you had met him - you promised that you would never use your powers on him without his explicit permission unless it was some kind of emergency. A life or death situation. You both easily agree that his brain was his brain, and like every other person on the planet, it was his private sanctuary. He was entitled to that privacy. He deserved that much. Everyone did. That’s why you always tried to avoid using your powers at all costs.

You didn’t want to explain to him that you had accidentally broken your promise - that you had seen some of his most private thoughts. On top of that, it was like a giant tease toward your feelings for him. Feelings you shouldn’t even have for your best friend.

So in the meantime, while you were trying to figure out how to reign in your powers and stop from having another freak accident like the one in the kitchen, you stuck to what you considered ‘safe’ activities with Gar. Things the two of you could do together that would absolutely minimize eye contact between the two of you.

Things like: studying Dick’s allotted mandatory reading material, where your eyes would be safely glued to the pages of a book. Playing video games with him, where your eyes would have to be on the screen. And you always made sure you sat next to him at the dinner table, where your eyes would be parallel to his, or stayed safely on your dinner plate.

You had been doing just fine until another accident happened.

Of course, it happened because of factors you hadn’t taken into account.

You had been up late in the training room, something you did often. Because of your hesitance to use your powers, you liked to exercise often to be in peak physical condition in case fighting was ever necessary on your behalf.

On top of that, you and Jason had somewhat of a silent rivalry going. You had kicked his ass quite a few times during training sessions, and though he would never say it, he liked how you kept him on his toes. So now you were always trying to quietly outdo the other. Something you were caught up in thinking about as you floated down the hallway toward the bathroom on light feet, your toiletry bag in hand, hoping Jason hadn’t beaten you to the shower.

What you were not at all expecting, was to collide heavily with a half-naked, still wet from the shower Gar. With neither of you paying attention to where you were going, you smacked into each other at a fair speed, him waltzing out of the bathroom and straight into you. Your toiletry bag went flying, and with the zipper undone, your products scattered out across the floor.

“Shit, oh my god, I’m sorry.” Gar quickly apologized, being the entirely sweet person that he was.

You both leaned down in unison and began picking up the mess of bottles and other products. You forced yourself to keep your eyes steadily on the floor, not daring to look toward his face, no matter how much you missed his sweet smile and those big brown eyes looking back at you. You couldn’t risk it, not if you would make that unintentional invasion of his privacy once again.

Gar’s chest twinged with sour notes as you avoided his gaze. Usually, you were always so pleased to be around him. He thought that he had done something wrong. Something grander that he had somehow failed to perceive.

“I guess I better watch where I’m going, huh?” He chuckled, trying to make conversation with you.

Truthfully, he just wanted a reaction out of you - he needed to see your smile like wilting plants needed rain. He worried that he wasn’t going to get it anytime soon.

You kept your eyes glued to the floor, making it an exercise in self-discipline.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see his dripping wet leg and the edge of the fluffy, white towel he was wearing. You knew he was shirtless and it was far too tempting to look.

When your hand went for the bottle of conditioner at the same time as his - you accidentally brushed over each other. You felt a unique heat creeping up your spine. Like magnets, like a plant growing toward the sun - like any natural reaction that self discipline can’t be stopped - your eyes flickered up and met with his.

And once again, you became trapped in the depths of his dangerous gaze.

You were sucked into his mind before you could stop it. In a millisecond, all of your senses became consumed by another vision of his imagining.

You were surprised to find that it was a scene of you, alone.

It was a way you had never viewed yourself before; getting the chance to see yourself through someone else’s eyes, even if it was only imaginary, was quite a strange sensation.

The scene was an outside perspective of yourself showering, as if someone was staring at you through the clear glass door. You had to admit that it was positively erotic. The way the bubbles cascaded down your skin, the way your hands rubbed your flesh as you washed yourself. The dream you stopped the smooth lathering partway to grab and grope at your thighs and breasts, moaning lightly under your breath as you did so.

You had never thought you could be so… dreamy.

You didn’t remain alone in the shower for long, though.

As if out of nowhere, Gar appeared behind you, his naked body almost eclipsed by yours, save for his delightful broad shoulders and his head as it poked out around yours. You had never seen a more appealing sight in your life. His gorgeous face with wet hair stuck to his forehead, the grin that came across his cheeks as he looked at you. His arms came to wrap around your waist as he gently brushed a loofa across your stomach. He began kissing along your shoulder, licking his tongue across your neck and boldly moaning at the taste of your skin-

You forcefully pulled yourself from the vision. As you rocketed back to reality, it was like having ice water thrown down your back.

The surrounding warmth of the imaginary shower was gone, and you were once again in the cool night air of the hallway. You gazed across Gar’s face, taking in the wide-eyed, clueless expression he wore. He almost looked worried for you, wondering why you had spaced out like that. He had absolutely no idea of what you had just seen.

You snatched the bottle of conditioner out from underneath his palm and shoved it into your bag. Miraculously, you stood up on shaking legs, turning around and going to escape back to your room.

“Didn’t you wanna use the shower?” Gar called after you quietly.

Right. Your shower.

You whipped back around, nodding at him in passing - but you kept your eyes locked on the floor as you sped by him. You practically ran into the bathroom before he could make any comments about your strange behavior.

You shut and locked the bathroom door behind you, sealing yourself in the smothering heat and steam that he had left behind. When you glanced over at the mirror and saw that he had been drawing funny faces in the condensation - something that was so terribly Gar it almost hurt - you felt even worse about violating his privacy. Even if it was an accident.

You tried to let the guilt go as you scrubbed away at your body. You told yourself that it wasn’t your fault.

Eventually, you found yourself only reminded of his steamy fantasy as the bubbles ran across your skin. You had never felt sexier, never felt more attractive in your entire life than you did in his eyes, in his imagining of you completely naked.

The biggest reason that it boosted your confidence? His mental image of you was so strangely honest.

In his dream, you weren’t cartoonish or overdone by his lust. Even though he had never seen you naked before, your breasts weren’t ballooned out or perkier than they should have been. There wasn’t a great amount of fat trimmed from your body, as if he desired you to be thinner than you were. It was so gratefully you - but it was a hot, sexy, fantastic version of you. A version that he apparently wanted to have shower sex with.

The very thought had you pulling down the extendable shower head and holding it between your legs, getting off to the way Gar thought of you. It was perfect - until Jason’s banging on the bathroom door, complaining that you had been taking too long, interrupted you.

…

Gar’s hands were all over you.

It left you absolutely breathless, giving you no room to escape the pleasure he was delivering. He had turned you into a quivering, moaning mess. His mouth was between your legs, on your neck, on your breasts. His perfect lips were hot on your own, trying to trap the indescribable sounds you were making for him. You were completely pliant to him, to his needs, a melted puddle of want under his ever giving hands.

“God, you’re so fucking perfect.” He moaned into your ear, finally lining his cock up to your throbbing entrance, finally ready to give you what you needed most. “I can’t wait to watch you cum on my cock.”

His dirty words only fueled the every growing desire that was mounting inside you. You keened out pathetically as he finally pushed inside you. His cock ignited you with a sharp electricity, filling you up so perfectly.

You were shocked out of your strangely wonderful dream by a pounding on your bedroom door - Dick coming to wake you up for training.

“Morning jog in twenty minutes.” He called out through your door, making you groan into your pillow.

There wouldn’t even be enough time to relieve the hard painful throbbing between your legs before you had to get out of bed.

As much as you loved the man who had so graciously taken you in and now acted as such an amazing mentor to you - you really hated Dick Grasyon sometimes.

…

Gar had been plaguing your dreams since you had discovered the kind of thoughts he had been having about you. Of course, he had been the subject of plenty of your daydreams - but this was so much stronger. He had invaded your subconscious and made a home for himself there.

More intense than any fantasy you had ever cooked up yourself, every single time you closed your eyes - he was there. You could feel his lips on your skin, could feel his hands on you. It had become more difficult than usual to sleep, and when you did, you woke up with a light sheen of sweat covering you, your pussy soaked and throbbing, absolutely needy for him.

You knew it would be wrong. It would absolutely be wrong if you acted on your feelings for Gar now, well-informed that he was attracted to you too. That he might want the same things as you. It was so undoubtedly wrong to take information you had discovered with your powers and use it for personal gain like this.

But, on the other hand, you knew the only reason he was plaguing your mind so much - you had some hope that he felt the same way. That he returned your big, scary feelings.

But that was the thing, wasn’t it?

You couldn’t know for certain if he felt exactly the same way that you did.

Yes, you had seen him imagining kissing you, imagining doing sexual things with you. You knew that he thought of you in an erotic way. But that only meant he wanted to fuck you.

It certainly didn’t mean that he wanted to be seriously romantic with you or that he wanted a serious relationship. He also could have sexual fantasies about Jason swimming around in his head - ones that you hadn’t seen.

Nothing about what you had seen said he was in love with you. So if you told him about your feelings for him unprompted, not only would you make yourself look like an idiot, but you would eventually have to tell him about the things you had accidentally seen. He would never forgive you for violating his privacy, and you would be heartbroken.

Sometimes you really wished you could just be normal.

…

“Well, this is fucking stupid.” Jason griped, throwing himself down onto the couch with a heavy sigh.

“Yeah, we all know that, Jason.” Rachel quickly agreed. “But if Dick comes back and doesn’t see us having Happy Bonding Board Game Fun Times, then he’ll make us run laps or balance plates on our heads again.”

She proposed an easy argument in favor of shutting up and co-operating as she unpacked the many pieces of the board game that Dick had gotten you guys - Trivial Pursuit. Something ‘fun and educational’, he had explained.

You laughed under your breath at Rachel’s comment.

Dick wanted the four of you to spend more time ‘bonding as a team’. He had explained that one of the reasons the Old Titans worked so well together out in the field was because they did casual, friendly activities together as well as training together. He wanted this new team to be as strong as the old one.

You thought maybe this sporadic encouragement of bonding had been brought on by how you had been acting. With your dreams growing more intense each night, you had been increasingly turning down Gar’s invitations to play video games together, or study together. You had even started making up excuses to take dinner into your room or skipping dinner altogether in favor of eating bowls of cereal when no one else was around. And you knew Dick had noticed.

But you also knew that you weren’t the only one to blame.

The whole ‘team bonding’ thing could have easily been prompted by Jason’s increased agitation with the living situation, his eagerness to leave you all behind and get back to Gotham. And the fact that Rachel, like you, now rarely came out of her room.

This always left Gar in a strange situation where he was desperate for friendship but everyone pulled away from him, everyone wanted to isolate themselves but him. You felt increasingly guilty about it. You felt so bad for abandoning your best friend. But every time you looked at him, even without making that dangerous eye contact, heat began to rise in your face as flashes of his fantasies or your wicked dreams began popping into your mind.

But now you were all being forced to spend time together. You couldn’t avoid it so easily. You knew there was no excuse you could cook up to get out of it. And like Rachel had said, you didn’t want yourself and the others to be plagued with some dumb punishment like running laps if you could just be playing a board game instead.

All four of you were sitting around the small coffee table in the living room area of the open concept space, the fire pit sending warm waves over you as the dark sky went on boundlessly through the tall windows. The lamp above your heads and the city lights cast a warm glow over everything, creating a beautifully pleasant atmosphere that made it easy to ignore your problems.

Dick was gone out on some ‘errands’, and made you all promise to play the game and spend some time together while he was gone.

“I like board games.” Gar smiled, picking up one of the pieces and inspecting it. “Of course, I do prefer multiplayer online. But some old fashioned tabletop is good to throw in there every once and a while.”

You smiled at Gar’s comment. He was so wonderfully nerdy. Undeniably one of the reasons you had developed feelings for him in the first place.

You were seated beside him on the plush rug, crossed legged, your knee just barely brushing against his. It felt strangely normal to be like this, pretending like nothing odd had happened between you in the weeks past. You were enjoying the feeling, indulging in actually getting to hang out with your best friend without worrying about romantic feelings or any of the other bullshit.

“Could you not be a total dork for like… five seconds?” Rachel quipped, raising an eyebrow at Gar.

Gar threw the game piece at her, and it bounced off her chest before it disappeared somewhere on the floor, making her look for it. You laughed.

“Ugh, this is so fucking stupid.” Jason groaned into a small throw pillow from the couch that he had pulled into his face. “I don’t want to play this dumb fucking game.”

‘Are you afraid you’ll lose?’ You signed.

Seeing as Rachel didn’t know that much ASL, and Jason wasn’t even looking at you, his face still covered by the pillow in his little tantrum, Gar interpreted for you.

“Are you afraid you’re gonna lose?” He announced to the room in a tone ripe with sass.

Rachel smiled at the challenge, looking over her shoulder to see how Jason would react.

“What? No.” Jason snapped, sitting up and tossing the pillow behind him. “It’s just a stupid game. I’m sure there are far better things I could be spending my time doing.”

‘Then play.’ You signed, making steady eye contact with Jason, challenging him.

“Then why don’t you just play?” Gar spoke, adding a few more words. Not that you minded. You thought it was generous and sweet that he had rushed to learn ASL in the first few months of knowing you just so he could communicate better with you. It was one of the things that had made you fall for him so hard, so fast.

Jason’s face was struck with the realization that you were the one challenging him, not Gar. His eyes flickered between the three of you, and then he settled into a seat on the carpet beside Rachel.

“Okay fine, how do you even play this stupid game?” He grumbled quietly, snatching the instructions from Rachel.

‘Why don’t we make things interesting?’ You said, knowing you could aggravate Jason’s competitive side even more.

And in the back of your mind, you were thinking about the fact that if you were too focused on winning the game, you wouldn’t be too focused on Gar. You wouldn’t be thinking about the fact that he had shifted closer to you, and his thigh was pressing more into yours, spreading a deadly heat across your skin under your clothes.

“What, like a bet?” Gar responded to your words rather than translating them to everyone else, and you rolled your eyes at him.

‘Yes, a bet.’ You quickly clarified.

“Are you challengin’ me, Fancy Hands?” Jason posed. “You wanna lose even more disastrously to The One and Only Robin?” He added on, his words dripping with that usual air of cockiness.

‘Second Robin.’ You reminded him.

Jason knew enough sign language to know these symbols. Especially the one you had specifically taught him for the bird with the same name as his caped alias. So even though Gar failed to translate these words for fear of starting a genuine fight, Jason responded to your feisty words.

“The One and Only Robin, now that Dickhead Grayson is retired.” He proudly corrected you.

‘Whatever.’ You shrugged it off. ‘We’ll see if any Robin can win the board game he calls so stupid.’

“Yeah, yeah.” Jason chided. “What kind of bet did you have in mind?”

‘Loser does all the dishes for two weeks.’ You explained.

“Loser does all the dishes for two weeks.” Gar explained it to him.

“Loser between the three of you.” Rachel corrected with a smirk.

“Loser between the two of them. I’m just the messenger.” Gar quickly told her.

“The winner gets the last Twinkie from my stash.” Jason added, upping the ante of the bet.

Gar and Rachel’s eyes practically began glowing (especially considering what their powers made them capable of) at the mere mention of junk food.

Dick had pretty much banned any food that was considered unhealthy. He said it wasn’t good for training. ‘Why put garbage in the tank? It doesn’t make the engine run properly’ he always nagged.

The few times you and Rachel had been ‘caught’ coming back from a 7/11 with a bag full of goodies, he had made you read the labels out loud to ‘justify what you were putting inside your bodies’, and blah, blah, blah. So you liked eating sugar? Big deal.

Eventually all his nagging just made you guys give up, or eat your doses of junk food outside the house (during the rare times he actually let you guys out). But of course, it just made Jason more determined to sneak things in. And of course, with his delinquent mindset, he had come up with a perfect system that involved wearing an overly large coat and keeping food in a false bottom drawer he had created in his room. He had started making you guys do him favors in exchange for snacks, but a lot of the time, it was worth it.

“Ante up!” Rachel ordered. “Twinkie on the table!” She smacked her palm flat on the table, glaring Jason down until he rose from his seat to go retrieve the desired item.

…

You were enjoying game night far more than you thought you would.

Everyone was, actually. Rousing laughter and chatter filled the room as you all took your turns, argued over the rules, and raced to see who would win. Your mind was distracted far from any sexual thoughts of Gar. You weren’t focused on the things you had accidentally seen when mistakenly crossing the threshold of his mind, or the heated dreams it had caused you to have. For the first time in weeks, a great worry had been lifted from your shoulders.

Which was probably why it happened. You were probably a fool to think you were safe - to think this new power you had discovered couldn’t act up just because you were sitting around with your friends, innocently playing a board game.

Gar turned to you, picking up one of the trivia cards to ask you your question as your turn came around.

“Alright, science.” He announced. “How many bones are in the human body? Is it A: 206, B: 104, C: 198, or D: 236?”

When he had finished reading it, his eyes flickered up from the card in his hand and met with yours. You were damned by fate as you were once again drawn into the depths of a hot, wicked fantasy of his creation.

It was another third-person perspective of him and yourself, a portrait of perfect intimacy.

In the wicked fantasy, he had you pinned against a wall, both of you completely naked - his sweet, bare flesh pinning your heated body against the surface. His breath mingled with yours as pressed kisses into your mouth, clearly torn between claiming your lips over and over again or the simple act of breathing. He wasn’t sure which was more precious - the taste of your mouth under his or the bits of air he needed to survive.

He had one of your legs hitched up around his hip, your knee up around his back, giving the perfect view as he shoved his cock inside of you. He was so large - hot and heavy, splitting you open with his monster cock without hesitation as your needy cunt dripped around him. He let out a grunt as the wet slide of your pussy enveloped him, loving the most tender touch of your warmth on his aching cock.

The fat around your hip bloomed through his fingers as he held you steady, hammering his hips against yours. It created a wet smacking sound that sent electricity shooting through you, the fantasy so palpable that you could almost feel the thickness of his cock tearing you open - you could almost feel the heft of those mighty nine inches dragging against your deadly hot inner walls.

You admired the glisten of sweat on his rippling back muscles, the hot grunts that poured from his swollen lips. You loved the sight of your nails digging into his skin as you gripped his shoulders, desperate to hold on.

“You’re so good for me.” He murmured against your panting lips, his voice deep, absolutely thick with sex. “I love this pussy so fucking much.”

“Y/N?”

This time it took Gar’s voice echoing in your ears in the real world to pull you out of the vivid daydream.

“You okay?” The pure sweetness of his tone, the quiet caring had you quaking almost as much as the heft of his daydream cock.

Your pussy throbbed hard between your thighs and your face was burning hot. You could feel the beginnings of sweat glistening on your forehead, and you hoped that your physical reaction to what you had seen wasn’t too obvious in the dull lighting of the room. Perhaps you could blame it on sitting too close to the fireplace.

You dared to let your eyes have a once-over of Gar’s face, hoping not to be pulled back into the stupor once again. He was looking at you with that familiar wide-eyed, positively clueless expression. He was sitting there thinking about fucking you up against a wall and he had absolutely no clue that you knew.

“Don’t think too hard about it,” Rachel scoffed. “It’s a pretty softball question.”

Fuck, right. You were supposed to be playing trivia.

You had genuinely no idea what the question had been, and wouldn’t dare ask Gar to repeat it for fear of giving yourself away, so you simply picked an answer out of the blue.

‘C.’ You gestured the sign for the single letter, hoping it was correct if it was supposed to be such a ‘softball’ of a question.

“Wrong.” Gar sighed, placing the card in the used pile.

“I thought it was 207?” Jason wondered out loud, sounding genuinely confused. “Oh wait, that’s the joke answer.”

“Ew.” Rachel cringed. “Don’t be gross.”

“Hey,” Gar placed a gentle hand on your forearm where it was resting on the table, capturing your attention. “Are you okay? You really zoned out for a minute there.”

Oh god. He was being so sweet and caring. You almost hated it, because you knew you couldn’t tell him what you had truly seen. You couldn’t explain what was truly wrong with you.

‘I’m fine.’ You assured him, pulling your hand naturally out of his warm grasp to communicate. You hoped he wouldn’t notice that you were pulling away from him to avoid the heat of his touch and refusing to look at his face.

“I’m sure she’s fine, Gar.” Rachel smiled.

You nodded.

“Some people’s brains just get fried when they’re asked to be smart on the spot.” She added on - this being sass that was clearly directed at Jason. It made you laugh.

It then moved on to someone else’s turn, and you were glad the focus had shifted away from you.

…

Just like everything you had touched lately, game night turned into a disaster.

Jason realized he wasn’t going to win after he lost one too many pop culture questions. Ones based on movies and shows that he hadn’t even seen. And he claimed it ‘wasn’t even fair’ because he was being questioned based on material that he had no knowledge of.

When Gar and Rachel told him that was just how the game worked, he proceeded to pull the ‘I was poor growing up, of course I didn’t watch those movies cause I didn’t have a TV’ card. When that got him no sympathy, he flipped the table. A screaming match broke out between the three of them, and everyone stormed off to their separate corners, leaving you to clean up the pieces. Quite literally.

You managed to find and pick up all the game pieces in the shaggy area rug, and you put them back inside the game box. You figured they might be useful in the future in case everyone made up and did want to play the game again sometime. One of the last things left on the carpet was the crushed Twinkie, which had been smashed by the weight of the coffee table when Jason flipped it over.

It was still nicely inside its plastic packaging, but it had become a crumbled mixture of cake pieces and artificial frosting, rather than the golden log it once was. You shoved it in your pocket - it was definitely something Gar would still enjoy. Though your relationship with him was strange and strained lately, you would still give it to him.

You put everything back in the living area exactly as it had been, not wanting to tip off Dick to what had happened. He already had enough reasons to be on Jason’s case, you didn’t want to give him one more. Even though Jason was a bit of a parasite, you thought it was basic decency to have his back.

Just as you were finished tidying, Dick returned through the elevator, heaving several bags of groceries in both his arms.

“How was game night?” He smiled at you as you came over to take a few of the bags from him.

You smiled back, giving him an exaggerated thumbs up with your free hand.

You knew he had picked up some basic signs in the time of knowing you, but he was nowhere near as fluent as Gar, or even Jason. So you stuck to simple ASL with him, or gave him exaggerated facial expressions. Or just wrote things down on paper or texted like you did with most other people.

“Good.” His voice held an edge of relief to it. “The four of you should be spending more time together. It’s good for team morale.”

You felt slightly guilty for lying to him, but you didn’t want to get the others in trouble for something that really wasn’t their fault. He couldn’t force you guys to enjoy spending time together if it wasn’t going to come naturally.

You put away the groceries in relative silence. Once you had finished folding the reusable bags and putting them away, you were going to escape to your room when Dick caught your attention once again.

“Um, one more thing.” He said, stopping you in your tracks, making you turn around to face him. You looked at him with curious eyes, and he continued speaking. “It’s probably none of my business, but… is there something going on between you and Gar? You guys used to be like… best friends, and now you hardly ever spend time with him.”

You felt a dizziness overtake you - that hard drop of your blood pressure from feeling so caught.

It was like the days when you had first met Gar, when your feelings for him were so bold and unrestrained. And anytime someone mentioned his name around you, you practically melted into a puddle.

In response to Dick, you simply shrugged. You knew that you looked entirely guilty as your eyes darted around the room - to the counter, the floor, the dull embers in the fire pit - anywhere but at him.

“Listen, I know this life can be pretty isolating. Especially when you have unique powers. Which is not something I know personally. But I have seen you struggle with it - with using your powers, holding back that unique ability you have when you should be using it and living up to your potential. And I’ve seen Gar help you through it in ways that no one else could.”

Dick’s words, coming from such a steady and authoritative voice did shock you. You were surprised that he considered your powers to be a ‘unique potential’ - rather than the dangerous, privacy invasion tool that you always saw it as. You were even more surprised to hear that he had observed the ways Gar had helped you when you struggled with the decision to hold back or not, the moral confliction of it all.

“It’s good to have someone like that. Someone you can rely on. Someone who knows what it’s like. You just… you shouldn’t push him away. You probably need him now more than ever.”

His words were solid concrete in the otherwise quiet room, weighing down your already heavy heart.

Even though he had no idea why you had been pushing Gar away, strangely… he was right. You finally looked up to find your mentor’s cold steel gaze staring you down.

‘Thank you.’ You mouthed the words along with the sign, just in case he didn’t know what it meant.

He nodded at you, silently releasing you from the conversation. You mindlessly put your hands into the pockets of your sweater as you walked away, and you felt the gentle crinkle of the Twinkie’s wrapper. You decided that you should go visit Gar before you went to bed.

When you approached his bedroom door, you were surprised to see that it was open. You peered inside, peeking your head around the corner, and you found Gar sprawled out on his bed. His laptop was on his stomach as he stared at the white-blue glow with a bored expression on his face. He was likely studying. Trying this best to.

You knocked on the open door to make your presence known. He jumped slightly as you broke his concentration, but he quickly recovered from being startled. He sat up fully and put his laptop to the side, the screen still open and casting a glow into the dimly lit room. You didn’t wait for an invitation to come in, and his gaze was drawn to you as you walked into the room, not bothering to shut the door behind you.

“Y/N. Hey,” He smiled at you, pleasantly surprised that you had come to see him. “Fancy seeing you here.”

A small twinge of guilt flared in your stomach.

You felt bad for avoiding him for reasons that weren’t truly his fault. You felt bad for putting a strain on your friendship with him because you couldn’t control your stupid powers. You felt bad that you couldn’t just tell him the truth.

And a huge part of you felt even worse that you couldn’t control your own lust simply because you knew that he felt somewhat lustful toward you.

As your eyes glanced at his wide thighs spread out on the bed, even covered by his jeans, your pussy ached. You couldn’t stop thinking about the way those thighs had worked as he thrust his cock in and out of you when he had you pinned to the wall in that fantasy. You hated how your mind was so hyper-focused on something that wasn’t even real. Maybe it was just hotter and more wicked because you knew it was a fantasy of his creation. It drove you more insane because it was something he apparently wanted just as badly as you did.

Even if you could never tell him you wanted it as badly as he did because of the way you had found out.

‘I thought you might want this.’ You signed to him.

Past the hazy fog of your lust clouded thoughts, you remembered why you had come to see Gar in the first place. You took the smashed, pathetic Twinkie out of your pocket and presented it to him with a small grin.

“Oh thanks!” He was eager to take it from you, ripping open the packaging and taking a bite of the crumbling cake.

“Yeah, definitely still good.” He assured you with his mouthful, giving you a cheeky smile and a thumbs up.

You were happy that you had finally done something right. You gave him a small thumbs up in return and went to leave again. But he was quick, abandoning his snack on the bed and jumping up to interrupt your path before you could escape.

“Y/N, wait. I was hoping we could talk.” He said quietly, his voice full of a strained hope. “I miss you.”

Even as he pleaded for your attention, your eyes were stuck at your feet. Rather than daring to look up at him, you stared hard at the space where his green socked toes stood in front of yours. You had no clue what exactly was triggering these ‘episodes’ with your powers, but you knew it had something to do with him. You couldn’t risk it, not again.

You loved how almost all of his clothes were green - a choice he often made because he said it was easier to match his hair the way it now naturally grew from his head. The color would forever remind you of him whenever it came up in life. He had taken everything green in your life and possessed it as his own so that it made you smile whenever you saw it. So that anything green would make you mourn for him long after he had left your life in one way or another. You hated it and loved it at the same time.

“If I did something wrong, please just tell me. I wanna fix it.” His voice flexed under the weight of his pain.

It was intensely difficult for you to listen to.

It sliced through you like a knife.

Your selfish acts, your uncontrollable, stupid powers and the way you ran from the consequences had somehow convinced him that he had done something wrong.

Tears pricked your eyes.

You racked your gaze carefully up his body, and your eyes landed on a piece of vanilla cake crumb that had gotten stuck to his chin from the Twinkie. Just the look of it, something that was so foolish and unserious and so Gar in this very serious moment made you crack a smile. Instinctually, you reached over and brushed it away with your thumb.

He sighed out a half-breath that could be perceived as a laugh when he realized what you were smiling at. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously at the thought of his own clumsiness.

‘You have done nothing wrong.’ You assured him, keeping your eyes locked on the wall behind his ear. ‘You never do anything wrong. You’re so good.’

“Then what is it?” He pressed. “Will you please just look at me?”

He used a gentle hand on your chin to force your eyes towards his, and before you could stop it, you were caught up in it again. You were once again sucked into the complicated swell of his beautiful mind.

But this time it was distinctly different. This time it wasn’t some heated fantasy, wasn’t some painted imagining.

This was a memory of something that had already happened. It was most definitely a memory you knew well. Although this time it was like you were watching it from the outside - or rather, you were watching it from Gar’s perspective.

It was a vision of you knelt on the bathroom floor, puking into a toilet. The sounds of your own sickness easily made you cringe. Gar didn’t flinch or feel any disgust though.

You could feel his emotions like the grooves of a record, carved into the memory and being replayed. All he felt was a great wave of sadness for you. Instinctually, not really knowing what else to do, he reached out and placed a comforting hand on your back as your muscles lurched with another wave of gags, forced by your body’s ill-made systems.

It was a specific night that you remembered well.

You had only been in Doctor Caulder’s care for a few weeks at the time, but it had become evident that even though the serum had cured your blindness, your intense migraines and even the occasional seizures caused by your brain tumor still persisted.

You had crawled to the bathroom with the intention of dealing with your ailments in privacy. But Gar’s room was right next to yours, and he had heard you groaning in pain, had heard you throwing up and gasping for breath because of the pure force of the vomit.

So he did the only thing he could think to do. He got a glass of water for you to rinse your mouth when you were done, and then he simply sat with you, trying to bring you some comfort in your time of need. He felt hollow and useless as you heaved into the toilet, nothing left in your stomach to give up but bright green stomach bile, your body forcing every last bit of it out as the migraine raged on.

When the heaving stopped, he pulled you into his lap. He was ready with a warm, damp cloth to put on your forehead, and a towel to wipe your mouth. You relaxed into his calming touch. He bloomed with pride at being able to hold you in his arms, being able to keep you safe, even if he couldn’t heal you from what ailed you.

‘You can leave.’ You signed to him.

At the time, he understood it well, even with just a few weeks of studying under his belt.

A small wave of offense went through him. He didn’t want to leave you. Why would he leave you in such a weak state? He wanted to help you. That’s why he’d gotten out of bed in the first place.

“I’m not gonna leave.” He told you. “I won’t leave you. Ever.”

At the time you had been far too sick to really take in the weight of his words. But now, lingering in the memory, you could feel the determination sitting deep in his chest. The affection for you as it swelled inside him, the way he held you just a bit closer.

You were shocked back to the cold concrete of reality when he gripped your arm in the present, pulling you out of the sweetness of the memory by force. He spoke something that was muffled and full in your ears as you struggled to pull yourself out of the thickness of his clouded mind. The expression on your face must have told him you hadn’t heard him, because he repeated himself.

“Will you please just tell me what’s wrong?” He demanded, his voice sharp with worry.

‘Nothing’s wrong.’ You lied, shaking yourself from his grip. ‘I have to go study.’

You ran from the room before he could confront you any further.

Your mind was positively drowning with thoughts about Gar. Did he feel the same way about you? Had he felt the same way about you since the two of you had met?

Your mind was so clouded that you slammed into your closed bedroom door before you could remember to actually turn the doorknob and open it. It left you cursing internally as you rubbed the sore spot blooming in the middle of your forehead.

This crush was going to ruin you.

…

Unfortunately, you couldn’t easily avoid Gar forever.

The next day, when Dick was giving out assignments, he paired up you and Gar for sparring practice right before he pulled aside Jason and Rachel for a quiz on the assigned reading material. You tried to wave him down, wanting to protest about having Gar as a partner - but of course, he didn’t read ASL. And he didn’t give you any room to protest as he spouted off about what kind of drills the two of you should be practicing and told you that he would come by in two hours to ‘check-in’ on your progress.

You wanted to scream. Sometimes, not having a voice truly, utterly sucked.

You thought perhaps it was Dick’s way of forcing you to make good on the advice he had given you the night before - forcing you to spend time with Gar so that you would stop pushing him away. But it was so damn inconvenient when you still didn’t know what was causing your powers to act up.

As you walked to the training room, you told yourself again and again that you could bear two hours alone with Gar. Especially because one of the drills that Dick wanted you to practice was blindfolded sparring. That was an easy way not to have your powers flare-up against your will. You told yourself that you needed to get back to normal. You couldn’t have Gar thinking that you hated him - thinking that he was the reason for your strange behavior when he was truly the best, kindest person in your life.

Well, technically he was the reason for your strange behavior. But not at all in the way he blamed himself for. And you wouldn’t have him thinking that he had fucked up your friendship somehow or pissed you off unintentionally for some reason he couldn’t even name.

You and Gar exchanged a few words - you agreed that you would wear the blindfold and try to defend against his attacks, and he joked that he would ‘go easy’ on you. It felt delightfully normal between the two of you for a few minutes.

He gave you one of his perfectly dorky smiles and you felt butterflies in your stomach. Beyond his wildly attractive body, beyond that sexual heat - you remembered why you had fallen for him in the first place. Those boyish charms, that gentle nature that made him so irresistible as a friend and so easy to yearn for as a lover.

When you put the blindfold on, it felt like a comforting shield against his wild daydreams, trying to buck free from his mind. You both picked up the wooden swords, and when he asked if you were ready, you nodded.

Unfortunately, you were not exactly on your game.

Usually, you were quite a skilled fighter. You could keep up with the likes of Jason Todd, who trained night and day just to prove how skilled he was. Your powers gave you slightly honed senses, giving you the ability to hear more acutely, giving you the advantage in a situation like this.

But that was part of the problem. You were picking up on Gar’s breathing, the heavy panting coming from his lips as he swung the practice sword and started to work up a sweat. Your concentration was clouded by the small grunts he made as he worked his muscles, and the careful, skilled movement of his footfalls as he charged at you.

He easily landed a few blows - gentle, purposefully light swats - on your arms and torso, and he distinctly noticed you not making any real effort to dodge or fight back. Your mind was too busy churning with the mental image of him sweaty from the effort, imagining those same grunts as he fucked you.

This crush was going to ruin you.

Gar stopped his movements, and you relaxed your body, pausing any half-efforts you were making to fight him off.

“Are you okay?” He asked. “Do you have a migraine or something? Do you need to go lay down?”

Of course. He was concerned for your well-being. It was something that only made him sweeter, and only made you twinge with guilt at what had been going through your mind.

‘Fine.’ You responded, performing the sign with one hand, still clutching the practice sword with the other. ‘Keep going.’

You heard Gar sigh - clearly somewhat hesitant.

But then he swung his sword down again, and when you heard it whipping through the air, you made a distinct effort to block it this time. You raised yours up, blocking the blow. He let out a quiet chuckle, pleased now that you were better focused this time around.

You really tried harder.

You found yourself blocking his blows, using your own swift footwork, and even then - your unconscious distraction was apparent.

Usually you were better with your tactile awareness, but as the edge of the mats came under your foot, you didn’t notice. And Gar, ever concerned for your safety, used his non-sword hand to reach out and grab your arm. He quickly yanked you back from the edge in case you tripped and fell. He wouldn’t want you to hit your head on the concrete floor, even if it wouldn’t be a terribly grievous injury.

But he was pumping with energy from the mock fight, and when he pulled you in, he used far more force than he had intended to. It wasn’t a simple correction of your footing like he intended. He accidentally sent your distracted legs tripping over each other and sent you barreling right into him. With the momentum, you knocked him completely off his legs. You ended up falling right on top of Gar as he landed splayed out on the mats, on his back.

Gar broke into a gentle laughter, finding the entire thing to be quite amusing.

His hands naturally found your hips and warmth spread out from there, something that quickly overwhelmed your senses. You dropped your practice sword with a numb hand as you became entirely heated by the feeling of his rock hard body beneath yours. Upon instinct, you reached up, and pulled the blindfold up to rest on your forehead - which turned out to be a terrible mistake.

In that moment, you came face to face with Gar’s stunning, big brown eyes and you were once again sucked into one of his heated fantasies against your will.

Unlike the others, this wasn’t a picture you were viewing. It wasn’t something in his mind that you were only seeing from the third perspective.

No - you were in this.

Somehow, he had drawn you so deeply into his fantasy this time that you were in it, participating in it, truly feeling it.

In the daydream, you were sitting on top of him, easily paralleling your current reality.

But in this dreamy version, he was completely naked, and you felt the delightfully throbbing hum of his cock deep inside of you. Because it was just a dream, it wasn’t nearly as distinct as the real thing would have been. But the feeling quickly spread heat through your entire body. Especially when paired with the visuals his imagination had conjured up for you.

The feeling of his hands on your hips in the real world easily turned into a searing burn that you were sure you could feel on your bare skin. You looked down at him below you, as though you were really straddling his naked body, proudly riding his impressively large cock. His taut muscles rippled under sweaty skin - his abs flexing with the effort, his biceps bulging as he held onto you.

All of it so enticingly topped off by the sight of his face, his forehead glistening with sweat, stray green hairs stuck to it. The expression he held was almost beautifully pathetic as he struggled with such overwhelming pleasure - his lip snagged between his teeth, his brow heavily creased. Quiet, desperate whimpers escaping from his throat as he guided you to grind on his thickness.

You let out a sharp moan of your own, desperately aching for breath, and that chugging in your throat was the thing that sucked out of the deep fog of this fantasy.

When you looked into Gar’s eyes once more, you saw the look of dawning on his face. It was mingled with confusion, but you knew that this time, he had felt it too. He had felt you on a deeper level, and he knew, even if he couldn’t nearly explain it - the two of you had shared that experience on a deeper level.

And what’s more - out here in the real world, not in some sense of fantasy, you could feel his hardness throbbing against your leg. And it felt just as large and impressive as it was in all those dreams. You knew that your cunt was likely boiling hot against him, giving you away. And though the temptation to lean down and ensnare his mouth was so intense, the temptation to beg him to fuck you right then and there - something inside of you kept chanting:

‘Don’t ruin your friendship. He’s your best friend. Don’t fuck it up.’

And somehow, miraculously, fighting against all of your overpowering lust - you listened to that voice. You rushed to get off of him, scrambling off the floor to a standing position on shaking legs. You tried your best to ignore the entirely painful throbbing between your legs as your pussy screamed out for him, for his touch.

Naturally, Gar thought that he had freaked you out. He thought that the reason you had jumped away from him so fast was because he had a raging hard-on and you were intensely disgusted by it. In his mind, he couldn’t easily see it being the exact opposite reason.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” He rushed to apologize. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. My body - my body just - reacted-”

Gar also rose to his feet, awkwardly tugging at the crotch of his loose workout pants to try and disguise it. You made the mistake of glancing at the tent and visually confirmed that it was just as large as he made it out to be in all of his fantasies (and yours).

‘It’s fine.’ You sighed to him.

You were once again making steady eye contact with the floor - trying not to get drawn back into his mind. But it only made Gar feel more awkward, more like he had wronged you.

Gar’s throat immediately numbed when you turned and left to charge out of the room. You were intensely surprised when you felt his hand on your arm once more - that firm, commanding touch pulling you back once again.

Wrestling with the embarrassment inside of him was a storm of anger.

The fact that even now, you were so unwilling to talk to him about any of the problems in your friendship. You just kept brushing him off. It caused a very uncharacteristic flare of annoyed rage inside of him that he just couldn’t swallow down. So with the hand that he wasn’t using to hide his boner, he kept that grip on your arm. He forced you to stay, forcing you to turn back and face him.

Him asserting himself like that, the show of force over you - oddly enough, it only added to the arousal boiling inside of you. A small whimper escaped from your lips, and you resisted the urge to smack a hand over your mouth in some attempt to hide it. You knew that Gar had definitely heard it when his face shifted from that tense anger to a look of sheer guilt. He thought that the grip on your arm had somehow hurt you.

“I’m sorry.” He repeated himself, quickly dropping the grip on your arm. He was glad when you stayed of your own volition this time. “But, can you just talk to me? Please?”

You hated to ignore his pleas, your own guilt curling in your stomach.

After a moment with no response from you, more anger splashed up inside of him.

“I hate this.”

He said quietly, his voice almost breaking under the weight of his pain.

“I hate how we aren’t close anymore. We don’t talk, we don’t spend time together anymore. I feel like I barely even know you…”

He quickly gained momentum in his ranting, his words picking up from a dull whisper. You crossed your arms, keeping your eyes on the floor. You knew that you were the perfect target for all of his upset - so you simply took it.

“This place is changing everyone!” He barked, motioning around wildly to the walls. “I’m living with my best friends and I’ve never felt so damn alone!”

As his words echoed in the open space, he looked at you with intensely sad eyes, obviously waiting for you to say something - waiting for an apology.

But any explanation you could give would mean admitting that your powers had gone haywire. It would mean telling him that you had been invading his privacy without permission. It was bound to screw up your friendship and leave him feeling just as alone. You clasped your fists tight, staying entirely still while he waited for an answer.

“Fine then.” He said quietly, absolutely defeated.

He was the one to charge away this time, harshly smacking his shoulder against yours in anger. He kicked down a rack of weapons on his way out.

You hear him let out a harsh, exasperated ‘fuck!’ when he got halfway down the hall.

At that point, you couldn’t help the tears that escaped as the pain surged through your chest.

Maybe you had fucked up the friendship in an entirely different way.

...

Keep Reading Here: Part Two - Our Past, Our Present, Our Future

Final note: yes, I used to be @/pinkchubbiebunnie. That is still my username on AO3, and this is my new blog. This is one of my old fics, so please don't accuse me of stealing it if you see this. I have added some new scenes and elements to it (hence, why I have split it up into two parts) so if you recognize me by this fic and if you've read it before, I hope you enjoy re-reading it in its newly improved form. Feel free to follow me if you’re interested in my fanfiction and thoughtful discussions of the media that I enjoy.

#sundrop writes #gar logan #garfield logan #gar logan x reader #garfield logan x reader #titans #dc titans #dc titans x reader #titans x reader #dc fanfiction #dc titans fanfiction #titans fanfiction

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imperhine · 5 months

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aether x ghoul/ghoulette reader

- you finally get some time with your boyfriend <3

- no warnings for this one, only aeth cuddling. swiss/sodo implied though LMAO. it's a wip supposed to be followed by smut but i don't think i am finishing anytime soon 👍

«────── « 𖤐 » ──────»

You lean against his door, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. You know your Aether has been busy rehearsing for weeks, but he finally has a break for the next few days. You've already got a list of things to help him unwind, and that includes making banana splits with ridiculous amounts of sweets in them.

There's chatter in the hallways and you can tell who's talking about what. The ghouls see you, nodding to acknowledge you while continuing the conversation.

"I don't know why this keeps happening to me!" Sodo says his hands raising up in defeat. Two of his fingers have bandages on them. "Ghouls are meant to be more resistant, yet I'm defeated by a string of metal. Damned bloody fingers."

"Be more careful. I don't wanna have to patch you have everytime." Aether sighs out, turning to look at him.

"Maybe you should stop beating your guitar like it owes you money, then." Swiss says in a voice dripping with sarcasm, one to obviously rile the fire ghoul up. "Find something else to release those frustrations on."

Sodo promptly flips him off with a bandaged finger, a bit of blood soaking through. Swiss sticks his tongue out at him. Aether and Rain laugh along as they pass by their dormitories, you can hear Mountain whistle a tune behind them. The ghouls slowly scatter to their rooms but not all of them go alone. You see Sodo drag Swiss by the arm to his room, and you mentally prepare yourself to overhear unholy noises.

Aether's purple eyes almost light up once he sees you. His tail moves excitedly behind him, a gesture you find endearing. He reminds you of a puppy sometimes, with how exciteable he can be. He quickly moves to hold your waist, pressing a gentle kiss on your lips. "Hey, babe. Thought you had more work to attend to?" He inquires, although you don't think he'll mind at all with all the times he snuck you out.

"Got it done early," you say, smiling more, fangs poking out. "Apparently the chance to spend more time with you makes for great motivation."

He hums happily at that, whisking the two of you into his room. Aether plops down on his bed, taking you down with him. After a few seconds of laying his face flat against the mattress, he comes to pull you closer. He tilts his head a little when you look at him. "Can we cuddle?" He asks you in a soft voice, one that always awakens the butterflies in your stomach.

"Of course." You reply, moving over. He takes you in his arms, letting you lay on his chest. Aether takes a deep breath as he takes in the feeling of your body against his. Aether loved holding you close like this, with barely any space in between you.

Yet somehow, you couldn't stay still. Not when it's been so long since you've had the chance to be alone. You hear his heartbeat behind you and you turn your head back. You press a kiss to his nose, and then to his lips.

He flutters his eyes open, a smile tugging at his lips. "Couldn't help but steal a kiss?" Aether shakes his head but brings his lips to yours as well. "You taste sweet as always." He mutters as his eyes close, arm moving to hold your waist. His breathing slows down as you two settle in, the only movement being his hand caressing your sides.

It's the best nap either of you have had in a while. And you wake up smelling like him, a cozy mix of dark chocolate and sandalwood. You take the time to admire his features in the soft afternoon light. Being careful as to not wake him up, you hold his hand and squeeze it gently. Each touch and each part of him had always felt like home.

#nameless ghouls x reader #the band ghost x reader #ghost band x reader #aether ghoul x reader #rh.aether #rhine.writes #im eepy

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meraki-yao · 1 month

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RWRB Thoughts: The Deadline Contender Panel

Quick list of very direct, subjective, random and spontaneous thoughts I had while listening/watching the panel:

I absolutely understand that Taylor probably doesn't remember every detail of the movie off the top of his head, especially with nerves, but Sweetheart really didn't describe the played DNC scene correctly😅

That being said Taylor calling Henry Alex's boyfriend made me SO FUCKING HAPPY???? I was squealing and kicking my legs because of all the feels. On top of that, intentional or not, Taylor takes a breath so it goes "wanted to bring his... boyfriend!" and there's this subtle emphasis on the word, I am screaming

I do question why this scene though? I don't know much about this whole process, but just an educated guess, if we're trying to get an emmy nom via this panel, shouldn't we be showing a scene that's more representative of the movie's core? Like, say the New Year's scene, or Kensington Palace, or the Lake scene. If we have to include the comedy aspect, then show the freaking Red Room. I love this scene of course, but if the purpose is to nominate ourselves and show ourselves then I feel like another scene should have been picked

Why can't people freaking pronounce Nick's surname correctly? It's phonic! Ga - Lit- Zine

"Orange Guy was still president" I snorted

I heard there's stupid discourse over this minor, harmless thing, but because people are stupid, here to clarify "especially Taylor since he's here" is CLEARLY A JOKE BETWEEN FRIENDS and if you didn't pick that up then that's kind of sad :P

I'm wondering if there's still recordings of the zoom auditions/chem read. I can also imagine zoom chem read being much harder. Honestly I think zoom auditions only work with monologues.

He did the chem read in his sister's apartment lmao

THEIR CHEM READ WAS KENXINGTON????!!! WHAT THE FUCK???!!! THE MOMENT THAT MADE MATTHEW GO "there's the one" WAS THIS FREAKING SCENE??? This also implies they had to say "I love you" upon the first time meeting each other oh my god I wanna see that so bad

Also I cannot freaking imagine this intense of a scene via zoom, God I really want to see it (don't think we'll ever get it but still)

Someone ask Matthew or Nick what the other scene in the chem read is

The notebook, pride and prejudice and 10 things i hate about you mention made me happy :D

The speech thing... Kinda feel like should be a Matthew question? It's cool to hear that Taylor referenced President Obama but this is still ultimately him being Alex? Plus Taylor's a great public speaker to begin with

Did he dabble in political science? Did he ever mention that? I know he did Spanish and Community but political science?

I think the only really bad gay movie in recent years was Bros and that has a myriad of issues internally and externally, but I think it's just this one?

Why is TikTok the metric? Might write something longer in the future when I have time but the thing is with this

Speaking of Taylor and queer roles, I think I saw somewhere that Noah Torres was bi?

I talked to @pippin-katz about this but dear God, I have heard the question "What is your favourite scene" being asked to the boys at least three times now, and they always answer the cake scene. Why don't they ever expand on the question, especially since Taylor affed the Kensington scene this time, and why don't they ever ask other questions or ask about specifics? Between me and my friends, we came up with at least 40 questions that could be asked to the boys and haven't been asked yet.

Nick how the fuck did cream stay in/ behind your ear for two days and Taylor how did you spot it

I'm honestly getting really tired of the sequel question, it's always phrased the same way, and of course, the answer is gonna be the same. Even if they knew, they contractually can't tell us, the first announcement of a sequel will have to come from a bigger source like Amazon themselves.

I understand being nervous but this interviewer felt too timid and unsure of herself

Overall still very enjoyable, always more than happy to hear Taylor speak about his baby that we all love, but the question are so freaking repetitive. I said it clearer in my discussion with Pippin so here's a screenshot of that part

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #rwrb movie #taylor zakhar perez #nicholas galitzine #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #henry hanover stuart fox #firstprince #my rwrb list #rwrb rambles #deadline contenders

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sailoryooons · 2 years

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Suga's How-To Guide | Interlude One | myg (m)

☾ Pairing: Camboy!Yoongi x f. reader

☾ Summary: Min Yoongi has been a cam boy for a few years now. The work is easy, the money is good, and he has loyal viewers. When he approaches you and asks if you want to be his muse for a ‘how-to’ series, your view on the infamous Yoongi changes.

☾ Word Count: 9,165

☾ Genre: Friends to lovers, pwp

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

☾ Warnings: Explicit language, light mentions of insecurity from reader, explicit sexual content including unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, oral (m. and f. receiving), ass play (small disclaimer: there's no verbal convo / visible discussion about practicing safe rimming - as with any sexual act there's a risk factor so pls don't take this as end all be all), fingering (asssss), nipple play, a lot of spit and cum and bodily fluids idk fam they fucking, recreational drinking (neither party drunk before sex), use of a color system, slut / sex worker shaming (lightly / implied)

☾ Published: October 7, 2022

☾ A/N: This was supposed to be a drabble series but it has turned into a little more. Like I have said - this does not specifically have a plot but there will be a pinch of problem solving etc in the next chapter. Reminder: this series doesn't have a goal and I'm updating it whenever I feel like it. There aren't scheduled updates for it, they just sort of happen when I'm vibing with it. Anyway, this feels like it took me 500 years to write but my god I haven't really written a chapter of something in almost a month, though I've done some oneshots. It feels really good to finally have a finished product of something, so thank you for being patient with me. Also I actually edited a chapter LOOK AT ME GO. But if you see errors well I'm not perfect lmao

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

The door to Seokjin’s apartment opens as you lean on the counter of the kitchen, drinking wine as a group of your friends pick at an exquisite charcuterie board. Taehyung swings his legs back and forth where he sits on the counter in a heated debate with Namjoon over books while Hoseok and Seokjin both move around one another in the kitchen, preparing dinner.

“Will you go see if that’s Yoongi?” Seokjin asks you over his shoulder. “He’s supposed to be bringing a bunch of wine, he might need help carrying it.”

Pushing yourself off the counter, you nod. “I didn’t know Yoongi was coming.”

“Yoongi always comes,” is Seokjin’s answer, though you’re pretty sure that your best friend didn’t explicitly name Yoongi in the list of people he invited over for dinner.

Monthly dinner at Seokjin’s two-story home has always been a thing. As you wander through the door toward the entryway near the living room, you try to think if Yoongi has ever missed one of the monthly dinner parties.

You’ve never noticed before.

Of course, before there wasn’t a reason for you to notice. Before, you weren’t secretly hooking up with a long-time friend on camera for his viewers. Before, you were confident where you stood with Yoongi: a good, albeit a little distant friend that you’d never really consider doing much one-on-one with, but comfortable enough to pair up in crowds.

Now as you see him hanging a rain-slicked jacket, shaking droplets of water out of his damp, ink-black hair, you have no idea what to do. Before was easy. Now is a little bit confusing, especially because you haven’t really spoken much from his little how to give a blowjob segment.

Yoongi looks the same as he always does: t-shirt stretching across a broad slope of shoulders, dark hair curling beneath his ears and resting against milky skin, his onyx eyes fixated on you where you stare at him. All forms of greeting vanish from your brain in a snap.

“Hi,” he offers, eyes dragging up and down your frame. That one look makes your fingers tighten on your wine glass with almost enough pressure to crack it. “Can I bother you for some assistance?”

Yoongi nudges two cardboard box crates full of wine with the toe of his boot. “That’s what Jin sent me for. Holy shit, where do you get all the wine?”

“Friend of a friend owns a winery and they let me pick out two bottles every month. I’m not much of a wine person but they’re great gifts and even better for dinner parties.”

Walking to where he stands in the doorway, you bend at the knee to grab one of the crates by the handle. It’s a hefty weight as you lift it, grunting slightly. “I don’t think we needed a dozen bottles of wine tonight.”

“They’re not just for Jin.” Yoongi smirks as you turn away, stomach flipping. “I brought some for you.”

“Me?” He hums in agreement as you both head toward the kitchen. “For what?”

“Helping me, obviously.”

“Oh. I see.”

“And you said you liked red sparkling wine. I happen to have a few.”

Noise from the kitchen drowns out any response you can think of. With your bottom lip tucked between your teeth, you haul the crate up onto the counter, careful not to knock over the glass of wine next to Chaeyoung’s hand. Yoongi sets his next to you and surprises you by not moving away.

Yoongi starts pulling bottles out and assigning them to friends around the room. Taehyung takes his with greedy hands, eyes flashing as he reads the label and settles back against the counter.

When Yoongi doesn’t touch the second crate, Taehyung notices, pouting. “What about those?”

“Not for you,” Yoongi grunts, focused on pulling the cork from one of the red bottles he’s selected. Hair presses against his neck and temples where it’s still damp. Suddenly, you have the urge to reach out and brush the strands from his skin, but you don’t. “I’m sorry, was a vintage French wine not enough for you?”

Taehyung cradles the bottle to his chest and you have the answer.

Conversation settles around you. Yoongi takes your now-empty glass of wine as he asks Seokjin questions about work, filling the glass with a fizzy red. You watch him curiously. He doesn’t look at you as sets your glass down, corking the bottle.

The wine is sweet and bubbly against your tongue, with a hint of depth and a little bit of cherry. You immediately like it, wrapping both hands around the glass and nursing it like a cup of tea as you exist between the multiple conversations in the room.

In all, your group dinners usually waver between ten and eleven people. Currently, you’re eight strong with conversations ping-ponging across the room and glasses being slid across the countertop in a fashion that would rival Manhattan’s subway systems.

When you had arrived earlier to help Seokjin set up for the gathering, you’d come with shaky hands, breath held, and winced every time he began to ask you something. But Seokjin never asked you the question, which led you to believe your best friend doesn’t know you’ve been hooking up with Yoongi for his cams.

Taehyung’s arrival had been another test. The younger had been your close friend for about as long as Seokjin, and is the only member of your group who has hooked up with Yoongi both on and off camera. There’s no love lost there – they were friends during and remained friends after, completely uninterested in the other romantically.

Thankfully, Taehyung never asked you about Yoongi. He was all smiles with an already-opened wine bottle, purple-stained teeth, and a little smudge of wine on the corner of his mouth.

It is a well-known fact that if anyone is going to be a walking callout and accountability police for your group of friends, it’s Taehyung. And yet he doesn’t even look suspicious when Yoongi leans over the counter to reach for a folded piece of prosciutto, placing his hand delicately on the back of your shoulder for balance.

Yoongi’s touch is only there for a moment and yet you come alive underneath your shirt. Your heart races as you take a few gulps of wine in an attempt to steady your nerves. The room feels hotter and you shift back and forth on your feet, heat creeping into every part of you.

If he notices, Yoongi says nothing. He pops the piece of meat between rose-red lips and frowns at something Namjoon is saying.

Studying his side profile is devastating. Even from a side view, he is exquisite, the soft slope of his nose the perfect compliment to round cheeks, a plush mouth and cat eyes.

Yoongi catches you staring. You clear your throat and look upward at the light fixtures, sipping your glass of sparkling wine to look busy. He leans his elbow on the counter, facing you completely and you know you’ve caught his attention.

Shit.

A direct conversation outside of whatever you’ve been doing with Yoongi on your weekends is exactly what you want to avoid. You’re unsure how to talk to him, unsure if you’re friends or if he’s doing what you guys are doing with other people – he is well within his right to do so and you know that.

But lately, thoughts of Yoongi have been haunting your every waking thought. The way his rough hands brushed over your supple thighs and gripped them tight when he went down on you, or the greedy way he liked to suck your tongue into his mouth just after you’ve come on his tongue or the way he gets breathy just from kissing the expanse of your neck.

The list of things you think about with Min Yoongi is never-ending and they don’t go away. On more than one occasion when your phone has gone off, your heart leaped at the thought that maybe it was him wanting to do another feature. But since the blowjob, you hadn’t really heard from him.

That’s okay. You’re friends, but you aren’t the chatty kind of friends. At least, you weren’t before. Now you have no idea what you are, and the thought of having to navigate it right there in the kitchen, surrounded by other friends makes you put your glass of wine down and excuse yourself to the bathroom.

Heart hammering, you follow the steps to Seokjin’s guest bathroom blindly. The way isn’t hard to find – you’ve walked this place a million times.

With the door shut behind you, your nerves unwind a fraction. Turning a faucet, you splash some cool water on your neck. It smells like eucalyptus and mint thanks to the plugged-in scent that doubles as a nightlight. You’ve never been happier to have helped Seokjin pick them out, closing your eyes and letting the smell help you relax.

Getting so worked up over Yoongi feels ridiculous. The rush of the water past your shaking fingers relaxes you and the nervousness you felt at Yoongi’s easy touch peters out.

Being around Yoongi and doubting yourself is hard. You don’t know how to stop thinking about the one thing that has been haunting you more and more, especially when he’s in the same room as you.

You want more.

It feels like a poison, increasing in severity as you acknowledge that your interest in Yoongi has shifted from sexual curiosity to… something else. Something that makes your breath catch when he murmurs baby against sweaty, sticky skin. Something that makes you shake when he puts the weight of his hips on yours as he swallows you whole, consuming you until there’s nothing left but want.

Want want want want.

You always want him and you have no idea what to do with it.

A knock on the door startles you. You stare at the door, hands dripping over the sink filling and draining with water.

“You okay?” your stomach flips when the voice you suspected comes through the door, low and soft.

“Yeah.”

“You sick?”

“No.”

Too shaken to lie, you turn off the faucet and wipe your hands on a towel before opening the door. Yoongi is standing in the dim hallway, eyes shadowed by the lack of light. He smells like his cologne and a hint of mint.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you offer quickly. His brows pull together and you flick the light off in the bathroom to signal you’re done. “Strong wine.”

“You’ve been weird since I got here. Do you want me to leave?” Yoongi doesn’t move. Surprise fills you as you look up at him. “I apologize if I made you uncomfortable or if friendship isn’t something you’re interested in anymore.”

“No!” You wince at how loud your voice is.

Thinking better of it, you flick the light of the bathroom back on and pull him inside. His hand is warm and rough in yours and you immediately don’t want to let go after he closes the door with his other hand, but you do.

“No,” you murmur and pause. Yoongi is close, the shared space is smaller now that he’s filling it with you. He leans against the tiled wall, crossing his arms over his chest. His biceps strain against his shirt sleeves and you fight off a shudder. “I just… I’m sorry, you make me a little nervous.”

He hums. “You’ve been in a relationship for a while, is it safe to assume you haven’t really hooked up with a friend casually?” You nod. He offers a soft smile. It’s not as cocky and self-assured as his smirks are. “You can just be yourself. I really like you that way.”

Your eyes flit up to him. “It’s hard.”

“Why? Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No! No. It’s…” You blow out air, looking up at the ceiling to take the pressure off of you. His gaze is intense. Yoongi still looks unperturbed. It feels like everything comes easily to him. “I just like spending time with you and it’s a little confusing where we stand.”

Realization settles on Yoongi’s features when you peak at him. He takes a moment, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth to contemplate your words. Fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, you decide you’ve said the wrong thing and you’re about to leave when Yoongi says, “Come home with me after dinner.”

“What?”

He smiles. “Come home with me after dinner.”

“I…”

“You don’t have to. But I’d like you to. Off camera.”

Your heart flutters and you stare at him, mouth open slightly. “Off?” You clarify. “Off camera?”

“Just us.”

“Really?”

His laugh is deep, brushing against parts of you that make your toes curl. He reaches for you, fingers gripping the bottom of your shirt and giving you a sharp yank. A gasp escapes you as you crash into his chest, hands pressed against the firmness of him as he looks down the slope of his nose at you, lips twitching.

Yoongi is beautiful, but up close you can’t focus on anything else but the way his eyes glitter, or the way the wine stains his lips the perfect shade of red or the way he has the barest hint of freckles across his cheekbones.

The way he looks at you says thousands of things and you don’t know what any of them are, but you want to. You want again.

“Yeah.” His words are barely audible. “Really.”

Without warning, Yoongi closes the space between you, pressing your lips together in a soft kiss. Before you can enjoy the sweet taste of wine and the warmth of him against you, his mouth is gone, leaving you flustered and hungry for more.

Yoongi laughs. “Don’t pout. Later. Come on, I was supposed to see if you’re sick. Dinner is ready.”

Dinner is easier after your conversation with Yoongi. Between Seokjin and Yoongi, you’re more involved in the conversation than you were earlier. As the chatter dies down after dinner and everyone enjoys their wine, you feel Yoongi’s arm press against your back as he rests it against the back of your chair.

The room is warm as you lean back, sliding your eyes to look at Yoongi. He’s not looking at you, completely wrapped up in a conversation with Chaeyoung. His arm is looped casually, skin against the back of your shirt warm through the fabric. Heat creeps up your neck into your face and you bite down a smile as you turn back to Seokjin.

If Seokjin notices anything, he doesn’t say it. Taehyung, however, definitely notices.

Taehyung’s sharp gaze is laser-focused on you, capturing your attention beyond Seokjin. His eyes meet yours and flicker to Yoongi’s hand where it rests against you before coming back up to meet your eyes. Your mouth feels dry for a split second before Taehyung grins and wags his eyebrows at you. He throws a wink your way before turning away.

A quiet, slow breath of relief escapes you. Taehyung knows something is different but doesn’t care. That is at least one less hurdle to overcome, though you know he’ll needle you about it later.

That is if he doesn’t do any digging around on Yoongi’s cam profile.

When dinner is over and there are buzzed, soft goodbyes happening at the door, you find yourself next to Yoongi who claps Seokjin on the shoulder, informing him that Yoongi will drive you home. You’re not drunk, but you hold the giant carton of wine Yoongi has dedicated to you while you kiss Seokjin on the cheek and say your goodbyes.

Taehyung presses a kiss to your cheek, slips toward your ear, and murmurs, “You’ll have to fill me in.”

You bite your lip but nod, feeling nervous as you shuffle out of the apartment with Yoongi at your back.

It’s cooler outside, the air a relief against too-warm skin. Yoongi takes the carton from you, heaving it far easier than you were as he walks down the stairs easily. Rain-scented air greets you in the parking lot, the pavement still damp. You jump around puddles, navigating to his nondescript, black car.

Yoongi opens the door with a cheeky grin. “For you.”

“Thanks,” you answer, rolling your eyes. His grin spreads when he shuts the door and rounds the vehicle to place your wine in the back and slip into the front seat.

Inside the car is meticulously clean and smells faintly of cologne and leather. Music plays softly in the background, almost imperceptible over the hum of the engine and the buzz of the tires on the highway as he drives toward his apartment.

The city is made up of stars spilled on a black canvas, winking in the night as he drives with one hand firmly on the wheel. The other slips to your thigh, giving you a squeeze. The gesture tugs at your heart and your fingers shake with a touch of excitement as you look over at him.

“How was your week?” he asks, slipping into a simple conversation.

This feels easy. You tentatively let your hand rest on top of his against your thigh. When his thumb brushes over your jeans you feel hot. You know there are goosebumps under the material, popping up every time his thumb strokes back and forth.

Though it feels wrong to compare Yoongi to your ex-boyfriend, you can’t help it. You don’t remember the last time you felt an intimate hold on your thigh or hand while driving. You don’t remember fielding questions about your favorite movie – Spirited Away – and why.

Yoongi and your ex are very different. Maybe he was different at the beginning – it was college and it’s hard to remember. Yoongi was always different though, a comforting and quiet presence in plenty of your memories.

Now Yoongi presses against your mind like glass, leaving fingerprints everywhere he touches. You don’t mind, especially when he grips your hand tight after helping you out of the car, leading you up to his apartment.

Linked hands swinging in the cool night, bottles of wine clinking softly and the squeeze of Yoongi’s fingers around yours before he lets your hand go to open his door is something you could get used to.

The thought is terrifying. There is no routine here. Nothing familiar except the smell of his candles long put out, and the dark softness of a familiar apartment. But you’ve never been here when there is no camera set up in his room. You’ve never been here without the bright halo of a ring light.

Yoongi turns on a lamp, leaving most of his home in mood lighting. He gestures to a bottle of wine and you nod, sliding onto a stool at his island countertop. He moves around his apartment silently, feet scuffing on the title as he slides a bottle out from your gifted crate to pop the cork. You grin as he pours you a modest glass.

It’s different from the wine you tried before – it’s on the drier side, but there are still notes of chocolate and heady fruit. The bubbles tickle your tongue as Yoongi pours himself a glass, coming around the counter toward you.

Genuine surprise sparks through you when Yoongi doesn’t take the seat next to you. Rather, he walks behind you wrapping an arm around your waist as he hugs you to his chest, slotting his chin against your shoulder while he sets his hand and wineglass on the counter next to yours.

Heart hammering, you turn your head to the side slightly to look at him. You can only see an up-close visual of the side of his face, but he’s stunning nonetheless. He has to be able to feel the way your heart slams against your ribcage as he squeezes you slightly, lips turned upward. His heartbeat is a steady rhythm against you, his breathing deep and soothing.

“Hi,” he says softly.

“Hi.”

“Missed having you around.”

“You could have called.”

He shrugs a bit and lifts his wine. You watch as he struggles to sip correctly with his chin on your shoulder, making you giggle a bit. He places the wine back on the counter. “I wasn’t sure if you would want me to without the invitation of helping me out.”

“Really?”

“I mean – we’re friends but we’ve never hung out one-on-one until you started helping me. I didn’t want to push a limit by asking you to come over if that wasn’t what you wanted.”

It’s true – it was the exact same fear you’ve harbored all week. Hearing Yoongi repeat back your own anxiety melts you, the remaining stress leaving as you press your weight back into him, pivoting slightly in your seat so that you’re angled a bit better.

Long lashes blink above starry eyes. His cheeks are a touch pink – cotton candy against tan skin. Berry lips smirk at you, so close you can smell the sweet wine on his breath. You imagine his mouth tastes like dark cherries and a hint of chocolate.

“What do you want?” Yoongi’s words are breathy against your warmed skin. “Just curious. You don’t have to answer. You don’t even have to know. But I get the sense that you want something.”

“I don’t know,” you admit, eyes zeroing in on his. You could fall into those depths and keep falling forever. “I just- I just know that I want. It’s a feeling I can’t get rid of. I don’t know what to do with all of this want.”

“Give it to me,” Yoongi answers. “Give all of it to me.”

Before you can formulate a response, his lips are on yours. He turns you to face him fully, slotting himself between your thighs as his hands grip the sides of your neck. He pulls you in and you feel that want bloom again. He tastes just as you expected, sweet like wine. His kiss is hungry, matching the desire that has been gnawing at you for weeks.

Yoongi licks into your mouth, tongue ravenous as he tastes you. He pulls away for a moment, teeth pulling at your bottom lip as he catches a short breath before melding his mouth to yours again.

His hair is silk between your fingers, slipping easily as you pull him closer and closer and closer. Want pools low in your belly and you squirm in the seat. One of his hands moves toward the base of your throat, fitting his fingers perfectly on either side to give a gentle squeeze.

Both of you part slightly, exchanging breath as you pant, lips an inch apart and glossy. You open your eyes to look at him. His pupils are a little blown, looking at you like he wants to devour him. You would willingly crack yourself open for him and let him have his way with you, the craving for him overriding every anxiety and instinct you have.

“Color?” he asks, breathless. You feel lightheaded, your fingers wrapped firmly in his hair to keep you from floating away. His grip on you is firm but you want more. “I need to know.”

“Green,” you whisper. You tug his hair gently. “Please.”

It’s the only word you can think of. It’s the only word you need.

Yoongi understands. He asks nothing else of you as he reclaims your lips, nose brushing against yours as your tongue tastes the softness of his lips.

Kissing Yoongi always takes you somewhere else. You no longer feel like you’re in his kitchen, pulling and clawing at one another against the marble countertop. You feel like you’re in a place in-between, tangible and yet not quite there.

Floating forward, you let Yoongi pull you from the seat. His hands are on your waist, waltzing you toward his room. You know the steps. There’s no need to open your eyes, navigating the dark space as you slide your hands under the hem of his shirt, desperate to feel the heat of his skin.

Yoongi’s stomach is soft, muscles jumping under your touch. He breaks the kiss, dragging spit-slicked lips across your jaw. He catches your skin between his teeth in soft nibbles, a soft sting followed by a soothing tongue.

Running your hands under his shirt, you flatten your palms. He feels warm and thrumming, full of life. You tilt your head backward, letting him suck and bite and moan into the soft flesh of your throat.

Everything is spinning. You feel unbalanced as he clutches you by the waist. You bow into him, Yoongi pressing you further and further as his teeth trace the bottom of your neck.

It feels like the bubbles from your sparkling wine are trapped in your veins. Yoongi’s hands slide to your ass, kneading you over your jeans. He pulls you in tighter, presses every part of you against him. It feels hungry and desperate, drawing a gasp from your mouth as you crush yourself against him.

A pat on your ass is your only warning as Yoongi bends slightly at the knee. You jump as he hoists you and turns, sitting on the bed with you in his lap. Your hands fly to his shoulders as he gives you the higher ground, your face hovering above his as he casts his head back to look at you, pupils blinking at you like twin moons.

For a moment, you don’t initiate kissing again. With one hand on his shoulder, you use the other to trace the veins in his neck, feeling his pulse throb under your fingers for a brief moment as you drag them upward.

Yoongi is a work of art. He lets you map the canvas of his face with the tips of your fingers. Soft, round cheeks. A strong brow bone. Gentle, rounded nose. Plush, pouted lips. You trace the faint freckles, almost invisible in the darkness of his room. You’re so close you could count his lashes as they flutter closed, a hum escaping him as your fingers brush his bottom lip.

“You’re so beautiful,” you murmur. The accidental admission makes your touch freeze, eyes flying to his to see if there is any rejection there.

Yoongi doesn’t open his eyes when he says, “Why’d you stop? Feels nice. Your touch always feels good.”

Lips twitching into a smile, you continue, finger following the curve of his jaw. Your eyes keep flickering to his mouth, though, and soon you’re diving in for more, pressing your lips to his as you give a tentative rock of your hips, grinding into him.

Yoongi’s reaction is immediate. He hums in delight, the hands resting on your ass giving a generous squeeze. He lets you play with him – fingers teasing the hair at the back of his neck, your mouth exploring the areas you’ve already traced with your fingers, your hips rocking slowly at whatever pace you desire.

Arousal pools in your stomach, low and sinking. You break briefly when he pulls your shirt over your head, a glossy line of spit connecting your mouths for just a second, broken by the shirt.

Every brush of his hands on your skin brings fire. You’ve never known touch like this, never thought you could want something so much. You want everything from him, you want to scream, you want to collapse into him on the bed.

Yoongi’s mouth is ravenous, sucking the swells of your breasts as he pulls your bra off of you. you lean backward, chest pushed toward his mouth, head cast back and eyes closed. Yoongi knows what you want, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking hard. A moan escapes, his tongue flicking back and forth over your pert bud while his other hand comes up to squeeze your other tit generously.

Every flick of his tongue, pluck of his teeth and his moans vibrating from his lips to your chest sends you spinning. It’s an effort to cling to his shoulders, keeping you sitting in his lap instead of tumbling backward. You feel like if you let go, you wouldn’t even fall – you’d just float upward toward the ceiling, toward heaven.

The world tilts. Yoongi lays backward, careful to keep you balanced against his hips. You gasp, equilibrium thrown and feeling like you’ve crashed into another dimension. You sit up for a moment, dizzy and looking down at Yoongi while you straddle his waist. His hair fans around him, lips swollen and dark from kissing. His chest rises and falls rapidly, eyes half-lidded but pupils blown.

With possessive hands you pull at his shirt, making a sound somewhere between a huff and a whine. He chuckles, his traditional sideways smirk taking over his expression as he leans up, helping you remove his shirt.

In your dreams, you remember what Yoongi’s skin feels like. It pales in comparison to the warmth of him now, firm chest under your adventuring fingertips, his heart jumping as you lean down to teeth at his collarbone.

Under you, Yoongi is a vision. Little curses escape his lips, almost like he can’t stop them. He rolls his hips into yours, seeking friction, drawing out moans from your lips, breath drifting across his skin.

Yoongi is flushed all over and his patience for your seeking mouth is at an end. He rolls the two of you, making you squeal as your back hits the mattress and his weight sinks on top of you. It’s heavy and the air is hot between you, his lips brushing your earlobe as he nips you.

“Color?” his voice is deeper.

“Green.”

For a moment he doesn’t answer. Instead, he sucks gently on your ear, breathing low and soft as he exhales. “Turn over,” he instructs gently. “Jeans off, perfect ass in the air.”

Pulling away from you, Yoongi gives you space to pull at the button on your jeans. He joins your shuffling, tearing at his own jeans. In moments you’re both kicking the material from your ankles, giggling as you lose balance and he catches you by the elbows, placing a kiss on your nose.

“Cute,” you hum.

He grins. “Ass up,” he reminds you.

With an eye roll, you do as he says despite the excitement shooting through you. You’re on your knees shuffling to your elbows when he slaps your ass with a loud crack, making you gasp more from surprise than pain. His hand is quick to rub over the stinging flesh, pressure in his fingers firm as he massages dimpled skin.

“Sorry,” he snickers. “I couldn’t help myself, I should have asked.”

“I liked it.”

He hums and smacks your ass again, much lighter, though. “Noted.” His hand drifts toward the apex of your thighs, thumb pressing firmly over your clothed hole. The pressure is a surprise, making you moan out loud, forehead dropping to his sheets.

“Fucking wet.”

Yoongi is right. You’re soaked, the thin material of your cotton underwear clinging to your folds. The pressure of his thumb gently drifting up and down your pussy is enough to make your eyes roll back, breathing becoming shuddered as he absently plays with you.

His thumb leaves you and your eyes flutter open, already missing the pressure. He distracts you when his hands drift to the elastic waistband and asks, “Color?”

“Green.”

“Mmm. Good.”

Yoongi all but rips the underwear to your knees. He leans forward and bites the apple of your ass lightly, making you laugh as he waits for you to lift one knee at a time to slide the material off.

“Really?”

“Uh-huh,” he asks, pulling his teeth away. The air cools your skin where you can feel his spit. “I said I like your ass.”

“So you try to eat it?”

He pauses long enough that you frown, turning to look over your shoulder at him.

It’s a vulnerable position, your knees spread apart with your aching pussy on display for him. You squirm slightly, seeing him look at you with an expression between inquisitive and hungry. “Has anyone?”

“Has anyone what?”

You shiver in the cold room, unable to sit still as the cool air hits you between the legs. Your eyes flutter lightly and you desperately want him to close the distance between any part of him and your heat.

“Eaten your ass?” That makes you open your eyes. You shake your head no and he grins, shuffling close to you. His hands go back to your round cheeks, rubbing his palms over chilled skin to warm them again. “Can I? We don’t have to. I definitely want to eat this pussy.” A hand sips between your legs, fingers deftly brushing up your wet slit. “Wanna play with your ass too.”

“Are you…” the words drift off as you lick your lips.

No one has done that before. It isn’t that you’re afraid of someone’s mouth being there or afraid you won’t like it. It’s just different and no one has offered it before and it never occurred to you to ask.

But it’s Yoongi asking now, and your curiosity is piqued.

Yoongi must sense your nervousness. He squeezes you. “We don’t have to, forget I-“

“I want to,” you cut him off. You chew your bottom lip. “I think. I don’t know what it feels like.”

He smiles. “I like it. We can always stop if you’re not enjoying it. If it’s not good, tell me.” His pointer finger presses to your clit, making you sigh as pleasure shoots down your spine at the pressure. “First, this.”

Yoongi vanishes from your vision. You feel the bed dip where he leans, his hands skating from your ass to your thighs, rubbing up and down. Your eyes close and you sink your face into his bed as he places chaste kisses on the back of your thighs.

Fear of imperfection does not exist here. None of your previous concerns cross your mind with Yoongi – not anymore. Especially when he digs his fingers into the meat of your thighs and strokes his tongue slowly up your slit.

“Fuuuuuuck,” you whine, unable to help yourself as pleasure shivers through you. It feels different from this angle as Yoongi slowly laps at your cunt with his tongue, mouth giving your pussy a gentle suck. “Yoongi- nnn.”

His hum vibrates through you as he leans in to gently pull at your clit with his lips. “My favorite fucking pussy.”

Even if you could respond, you don’t. Yoongi shoves his face in your cunt, tongue licking slowly and greedily. You can feel yourself dripping, fingers knotting in his sheets as he mouths at you.

The feeling that twists in your stomach is so tight that you feel like you sink further and further into his mattress, turning boneless. Yoongi uses his fingers to spread you wide open for him, alternating between fucking his tongue thoroughly into your clenching hole and giving broad, slow stripes up your entire pussy.

If there is one thing you can tell Yoongi enjoys, it’s eating you out. He doesn’t hide his enjoyment, his mouth messy and loud as he sucks at you. His hands do all the work holding you up as he continues to push his face into you.

Unyielding hands skim up to your cheeks. Yoongi spreads you a bit, pressing you into the bed further with the weight of his grip. With another long lick from clit to hole, Yoongi licks past your dripping entrance to tentatively flick at your perineum.

The feeling is different, making you hold your breath. His tongue continues with a few tentative licks and one of his hands leaves your ass, drifting to your clit. Your legs tremble as he applies gentle pressure, circling your clit with his fingers as he flicks his tongue against that new spot again.

It feels… nice.

A sigh leaves you as Yoongi drags his tongue upward, pressing it flat against your tight hole. You sigh as he curiously flicks over the unfamiliar spot. Each new pass of his tongue makes you shiver. You feel a little high, your cotton-candy-mind fuzzy and drifting.

Everything nerve feels like an exposed wire, sparking and jumping as Yoongi presses the flat of his tongue against your rim. The pressure feels good, something you didn’t expect. You relax further into the mattress, melted and mindless.

Noises fall out of your mouth. You're unable to stop them, lips parted and breathing sharply. Sometimes your breaths form his name, a curse, or something in between. The orgasm building in your stomach is white hot, your insides squeezing tightly as you begin to dig your fists into the bed, trying to release the tension.

“Color?” Yoongi asks. You mumble something incoherent, eyes rolling backward under closed lids. He presses a finger harder to your clit. “Color, baby. Try to tell me.”

“Green.”

You think it comes out something like grnn or gren – it's hard to tell with your words muffled in his dark sheets and the heavy feeling of your tongue in your mouth.

“All fucked out?” his words are deep as he kisses your ass cheek. “Feels good?”

“Mhmm.”

“You gonna be able to take my cock?”

You nod desperately. You want to feel the weighted slide of Yoong inside you, want to feel the pleasure as he sinks in. But you haven’t even cum from his efforts with his mouth yet and you feel dangerously close to passing out from delight.

But you want him. So you search for some clarity and come to, clearing your throat and getting up to your elbow as you gently push your ass backward him. “Yes,” you say. “Please.”

“Mmm.” Yoongi dips his head down and gives a quick prod with his tongue. You drop your forehead to the bed, panting heavily and arms shaking. He pulls away briefly before spitting, making your muscles spasm as you gasp. “Cute little hole.”

You hear the grin in his voice. “Fuck - Yoongi.”

Carefully, Yoongi’s fingers go back to your clit, circling faster. Your stomach lurches. Warmth spreads over your skin. You squeeze your eyes shut, shoving your ass backward to meet his hungry mouth. It feels like you’re going to explode, your pleasure so tightly wound that you know you’ll snap at any second.

Everything clenches all at once. You gasp and hold your breath. Your orgasm rushes out of you, pussy pulsing against Yoongi’s mouth as he hungrily sucks and licks at you. You can feel his hands rubbing up and down your thighs, the press of his mouth firm and unrelenting as you tremble against the sheets.

Catching your breath is hard. Yoongi pulls away from you as your legs give out on the bed. His palms are steady, kneading the flesh of your ass as he lets you claw your way back to the world of the living. Everything feels thick and heavy in your head as you roll over, breathless.

Yoongi kisses your knees and thighs, hands never pulling away from you. You look at him and you twitch through another shiver. The air is cold against your body but you feel over-warmed by your orgasm and the heat of his gaze as he stares at you.

Surging forward, you reach for the hem of his boxers, hardened cock straining under the dark fabric. Yoongi watches with lips curved upward as you sit up and shuffle to him, hands hanging loosely at his side. You feel the burn of his gaze as you brush your fingers up his shaft, feeling him through the material of his briefs.

Yoongi hisses, making you glance up at him as you use a finger to delicately trace the outline of his straining cock. His eyes are closed, head tilted toward the ceiling in prayer. You grin, gripping him firmly through the fabric, the curve of him heavy and warm in your hand.

“Mm don’t tease,” he mumbles. “I didn’t tease you.”

“This is fun, though.” You dip your hands under the elastic waistband and grip Yoongi’s cock firmly. His hips twitch and he opens and closes his fists, his breath coming out shaky. “You’re pretty.”

Carefully, Yoongi helps you take his briefs off before letting you mouth at him. He hums in response but otherwise remains to kneeling with his eyes closed, letting you do what you want.

Watching Yoongi’s minute expressions and body language as you pull him out in full is fascinating. His lips and brows twitch when you take his cock in your palm, stroking to the tip to gather the precum there. You work your hand up and down firmly, lubricating his cock with gentle twists.

Little sounds escape Yoongi’s mouth, making your grin spread. Everything he does pulls you in. His hips thrust lightly into your hand, his mouth is parted, neck shining with a light layer of sweat. It’s addicting, the way he loses himself at your touch, completely at ease and safe in your hands.

Surging forward, you take the crown of his dick into your mouth, swirling your tongue around. He curses loudly, a hand shooting to your head. His fingers are firm against your scalp, not pushing but clinging to you desperately as you low the spit in your mouth to dribble down the sides of his cock.

The salty taste on your tongue spurs you further, sliding down a little further each time you bob your head. It’s slick and messy but you don’t care, using a combination of your tongue and hollowed cheeks to slurp at Yoongi generously. You hum around him as you pull away from him with an audible pop, a string of spit chasing you.

Yoongi, though appreciative, has had enough. He surges toward you, pulling you gently by the hair to lay you back as he crawls on top of you, lips going to your neck and jaw. He presses himself between your hips. Your thighs spread wider to accommodate him, hips sticky with sweat and leaking arousal where your skin presses flush together.

For a few seconds, Yoongi’s mouth leaves you to reach for a drawer. You don’t know what spurs you still is movement, hand wrapping around his forearm firmly. He glances down to see you, your eyes round and hopeful.

“No condom?” he asks, arching a brow.

“We exchanged test results,” you murmur. It’s true – you had done that before hooking up with him in the first place. “And I’m on birth control. I mean – we don’t – sorry. I realize that’s not-“

He interrupts your thoughts with a soft kiss. “I want whatever you want.”

“I just…” his breath is hot against your face, his nose brushing against yours. “I realize that you may have other partners, I didn’t mean to assume and-“

“I don’t.” You stare at him, heart beating wildly. “It’s just been you since we started. I’d tell you if I was sleeping with more than just you.”

“Oh.”

You feel his smile more than you see it, his lips pressing against your cheek. “So you want me to fuck you raw, huh?”

You laugh at the way he says it, shoving at him slightly. He doesn’t budge, nipping your chin. “Just wanna feel you.”

“Fuck. Okay.” His hands scrape up your sides, cupping your tits as he licks and sucks the flesh around them. “How do you want it, hmmm?”

Instead of answering him, you roll, pressing your ass toward him. Yoongi kisses up your back, hands coming to either side of you as he cages you in with his chest.

“Mmm.”

Yoongi gets to his knees as you shift to all fours, looking over your shoulder at him as he shuffles behind you. His chest is pink and red, splotchy with warmth, and flushed from effort. He strokes his proud cock a few times, your eyes zeroing in on the motion. His tip is flushed scarlet from your teasing and slick with spit and precum.

His other hand comes to dip between your legs, teasing your clenching hole lightly. You whine and shimmy your hips, pressing toward him. He tsks at you but grins before pulling you open a little more. He has your knees spread far apart as he grips the base of his heavy cock to prod your entrance.

“Fuck.” You go down to your forearms, ass higher than your head. He makes a sound between a laugh and a moan as he slips his cockhead further, running it up and down your pussy to gather your slick. You’re a dripping mess and you don’t care. “Yoongi.”

“Yeah?” He asks as he slides his cock past your entrance again. You clench around noting, frustration building. “Want it, hmmm?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck, you’ll get it.”

Even though he warns you, Yoongi catches you off guard as he glides his cock forward, making it a point to slide in this time. Your breath gets stuck in your lungs as you breathe in sharply, the pressure of him sliding in on one thrust sending you spinning.

Yoongi’s cock is thick, filling every part of you as he sinks to the hilt. You feel his hips pressed against you, still for a moment as your pussy flutters around him. Your hands twist in the sheets, trying to ground you as you breathe through pleasure with the barest hint of pain.

“You okay?” his voice is deep and rumbling, pulling you back to reality.

You nodded your head, forehead pressed to the bed. “Feels so fucking full.”

Yoongi let’s out a breathy sound as he pulls back, the slide of him glorious against your walls before he thrusts in again. He glides without resistance, each slow pull sparking in the softness of you. Moans drip from your tongue.

Every roll of Yoongi’s hips is measured, setting a deep, gentle-stroked pace. It feels so good, like the tip of his cock is in the deepest parts of you.

When you start to thrust your ass back to meet him, Yoongi grunts, picking up the pace in earnest, fucking into you with force. You feel the weight he puts behind it, his cock brushing your spot each time and fuck you swear his cock is hitting the depth of your stomach, so deep you’re delirious.

“Oh god,” you gasp, trying to get a single, steady breath in. It’s hard, breathing past the electricity humming along each vein and the pleasure curling its fingers in your stomach. “Fuck – holy shit – fuck.”

“Pussy feels so fucking good,” Yoongi growls. He’s fucking you harder now, the slap of his hips against your ass audible. “You’re so wet, just fucking drooling on my cock.”

“Deep,” you manage to moan out, the only word that rolls around your rapidly emptying mind.

Yoongi changes the angle, hiking a foot up so that he’s almost lunging over you. His fingers claw into your hips, pulling you backward to spear you on his cock over and over and over. It feels so goddamn good that you should have known you would be a goner for him.

And then he introduces a thumb pressed firmly to your ass, the pressure on the nerves there enough to make you fall forward. Your breath gets caught in his sheets as Yoongi’s thumb circles your tight rim, not slipping in but playing with it enough to send your eyes back in your head.

You’re unsure if you’re even participating as you skyrocket toward another orgasm. You can’t say anything, can’t think anything – you’re helpless and whining as you suddenly go taught like a bowstring, pussy clenching around his cock as you come.

Yoongi is vocal, grunting as you squeeze him. He fucks you even harder, elevating your high. A squeal escapes you as you shake from overstimulation, the pleasure blinding you momentarily and making you go numb.

Everything flips as Yoongi pulls out and rolls you. It’s not graceful, but your tangled limbs follow his hands and movements as he spreads you out on his bed, breathing hard. His hair sticks to his forehead, slick cock bobbing against his stomach as he stares down at you. In return, you blink back up at him. You’re on the border of something like subspace, the pleasure sending you into a dark, fuzzy corner of your mind.

“Color?” he asks, hands soft on your spread thighs.

“Green.” You lace one of your hands with his, squeezing. Hair sticks to the back of your neck and the sheets beneath you smell like sweat and cum but you don’t care. “Green.”

“Can you give me one more? Wanna see your face when you lose it.”

You nod and reach for him. He seems confused but leans down, letting you brush sweaty hair from his face. His eyes close at the soft touch, letting you press the pads of your fingers into damp skin as you trace the shape of his features again.

“Wanna see you too,” you admit softly.

That earns a smile from Yoongi, the kind where he ducks his head shyly and it’s all gums and crinkled eyes. You love when he smiles like that. It makes your heart flutter, interrupted only when he thrusts back into you without warning.

You gasp and he chuckles. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you manage to grit out. You arch your back as Yoongi pauses to lean back, grabbing your right leg, lifting it and shifting your position so that both of your legs are pressed together, draped over his shoulder as he leans into you. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” he pants, setting a hard and fast pace as he fucks into you. “I know.”

The angle is divine. Your thighs pressed together make your pussy feel tighter. You swear you feel every ridge and vein of his cock as Yoongi fucks into you hard. His thrusts are shallower and he bites his bottom lip, focusing on the way his cock disappears inside your heat.

In this position, you can watch him. His stomach flexes with every movement, muscles jumping and twitching. His hips are glossy with sweat and cum, but he doesn’t care. One hand grips your half, fingers dimpling in your skin while the other holds your hip.

One of your hands shoots to the hand at your hip, gripping his wrist as your eyes roll back into your head. You feel your orgasm again, rapidly approaching though not as strong as the second one. You can’t remember anyone ever making you cum over and over like this, but Yoongi is relentless, chasing after it.

“Touch your clit for me baby.” He’s busy holding your legs and hip to do the work for you. He kisses your calf, gentle in comparison to the way he’s throwing all of his weight into his thrusts. “I’m so fucking close.”

Following his instructions makes you squirm. You deftly circle your throbbing clit with your fingers, the stimulation making you shudder and whine. He laughs and encourages you to keep going.

The sensitivity is replaced with mind-numbing pleasure. You can feel your third release on the horizon, your breath hitching, and your moans coming out as high-pitched staccatos.

“Shit,” he curses, head ducked down. “Fucking squeezing me.”

Something about the way he’s fighting to stay composed sends you over the edge. You almost don’t feel yourself come, everything going white-hot and tingling at once. Yoongi come with you, losing his rhythm, curses laced with your name.

Time seems not to exist in the space between you. Yoongi pulls out – you only know because you suddenly feel empty. Cum drips down your entrance to the bed, the sticky feel of it slightly uncomfortable as you lay with your head to the side, unsure how to move or do anything else.

There are no thoughts. There’s just contentment and trying to catch your breath. Everything feels hot all over, like there is a fire burning under your skin. Yoongi collapses next to you, a human furnace. You don’t move away from him though, a hand automatically seeking any part of him to keep the connection between your body.

You find his collarbone, splaying your hand across his skin. His heart thuds underneath your touch. He lays a hand on top of yours, palms sticky with bodily fluids.

As your breathing slows, you don’t know how long you lay there. It feels messy but you’re tired, and just as you begin to teeter into the depth of sleep, Yoongi stirs and nudges you. A whine escapes you, but you let him pull you out of the bed, careful hands guiding you through dim light to shower.

Yoongi doesn’t turn the lights on in the bathroom. A single salt lamp casts a soft glow, more than enough for you to safely step into the glass shower. The spray of hot water uncoils already loose muscles. Your knees buckle a bit when he leaves you, but Yoongi makes sure that you’re standing safely before he steps out briefly and vanishes into the bedroom.

Steam fills the room. You touch sore places of your skin, feel the indents left by teeth and fingers. There’s an ache between your legs – battered pussy begging for sleep, you think.

When Yoongi returns, there is a soft exchange of touches. Yoongi presses soap into your skin, you scratching shampoo into his hair, a brush of swollen lips.

Somehow it feels more intimate than the sex.

After the shower, Yoongi wordlessly gives you clothes of his. You raise a brow but he waves it off, sitting on his bed and peeling back the covers. It’s a sure sign that he wants you to sleep there, and you’re so spent that you don’t think you could fight even if you wanted to.

The shirt and pants combo smell like him and you grin, sliding into the space he’s made on his bed for you. It occurs to you that he changed the sheets and grabbed a new blanket, the ruined ones balled up in a corner near the hamper.

For a moment, you feel hesitation. Yoongi’s bed for sleeping is foreign territory to you, and you’re unsure how he sleeps: does he cuddle, or does he not like to be touched, what side does he lay on what-

Yoongi reaches for you and pulls you toward him, stopping your stream of thoughts. He tucks you into his side as he lays on his back, one hand behind his head and the other wrapped around you tightly.

Sleeping curled into Yoongi’s side is the best sleep you get in months. But when you wake up the next morning, flinching at the bright screen of your phone to check what time it is, everything is long forgotten when you see a single text from your ex.

So what? You’re a pornstar now? Disgusting.

You lock the phone.

Sit in Yoongi’s room as he sleeps deeply behind you for a moment.

And then you get up and leave without a second thought.

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#min yoongi smut #yoongi smut #suga smut #suga bts #haliiimedewrites #bts fanfic #minors dni #bts smut #suga fanfic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x you #mdni

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lunar-years · 5 months

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roy and jamie and keeley are so hot together and i wonder what you think the public perception of them is like? jamie and keeley were into pda (at the gala, in the locker room, jamie’s pics of keeley lmao) but keeley implied that jamie would hate the tabloids invading their privacy. do we know how long jamiekeeley were even together for?? and then there’s roy who’s super protective about keeley, hates talking to the media, and threatens the paparazzi taking pics of them in s1. idk where i’m going with this but I’m just thinking about that throwaway line in s3, where jack assumes keeley’s talking about jamie when she refers to her “famous footballer ex”. in my head i think keeley likes the grand gestures in the public eye with jamie, but she also loves the private sacred moments no one else gets to see. it’s just really interesting to imagine what they’d be like when they all get together!

Ugh they really ARE so hot together aren’t they!!

Anyway this is such a fun thing to discuss. First off, I don’t think we know for sure how long Jamie and Keeley were together :( But the entire locker room seems pretty familiar with her in episode one, and as a couple, the two of them seem fairly established to me. Not as in like, a serious way necessarily, but in a way where it’s clear they’ve got a lot of trust between them and do know one another. Also, it’s been both long enough for Jamie to have fallen in love with her and for Keeley to have had the deep impact on him that sets into motion all the growth we see in him from that point on. So in my mind, I think they were together for like, a year and a bit. Pretty much as long as Keeley and Roy were together, honestly.

I think the two of them definitely enjoy being public-facing enough to like, have online fan clubs and a big Twitter Stan presence LOL and also they’d be totally pumped to make it onto like, top power couples and best dressed lists. And they both really care about ~their brand~, reputation and image in a way Roy just doesn’t. So I do think they like attending events together and showing out on red carpets and posting pics together on their socials!!

I LOVED that line in season one about Jamie hating the tabloids getting in their business. I think it shows that he respects Keeley, that in his own way, that relationship was special and sacred to him even when it was happening, and that he does have a line between his public and personal life. And then I think we see throughout the series that Jamie is (maybe surprisingly?) actually a fairly private person. Yeah he’s got this whole very loud online presence, but that’s very different than like, him.

So yeah, I think he and Keeley enjoy being public, but only when they can curate what they’re putting out there and have it be under their control. And Jamie would’ve fully supported and endorsed Roy’s smashing that pap’s camera on his first date with Keeley, lol. All three of them I think cherish the moments the world isn’t privy to the most :)

My headcanon is that they don’t go public as a throuple until after Jamie retires, and I think they wouldn’t couple off (as in, publicize that just roykeeley or jamiekeeley are together) when it means leaving someone out, even if that person is Roy who hates the publicity anyway. It would just rub them all the wrong and they all agree they don’t need to kiss one another in public that bad. So I think they keep the romantic/relationship side of things pretty private amongst their families and close friends, BUT I also think they wouldn’t hide being close to one another. The fans definitely know how close they all are, and they don’t try to totally avoid being seen publicly hanging out, in pairs and all three. Also the online rpf shipping community is definitely rampant lmao.

And I think there’s also an element of like, they want to be available to publicly support one another. Being totally private isn’t worth it if they can’t show up for one another when it matters. Obviously, Keeley wants to be there for all their games, and Jamie and Roy want to be at her work functions and events that matter to her just as much, and at a certain point, if people are gonna talk they’re gonna talk! I think Jamie kind of helps Roy come around to this way of thinking as well. Enough to where they can be a little more open with caring about one another, and hug on the pitch maybe a bit longer than they hug anyone else, and even joke about one another in interviews (okay, that one’s mostly Jamie), and not give a shit. So everyone is aware on some level they’ve got a deep bond, but they just don’t know the exact nature of that bond and rjk aren’t forthcoming lol.

#ted lasso #royjamiekeeley #asks #ship post #Jamie Tartt #roy kent #keeley jones

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still-a-morosexual-help · 1 year

Note

so the nightbringer website is open now and from what it says, the mc is gonna be in this game too? and it seems like romance is still gonna be involved? I wasn't expecting that honestly, I was thinking mc wouldn't be apart of this at all.

but if this is the case, does that mean that we're gonna find out what mc really is (they obviously aren't human in canon, but not everyone thinks of mc the same way so that doesn't seem like a good choice on their part) or maybe it will be whoever mc was in the past life? the only other thing I can see is mc going back in time again but that also seems like a weird thing to do.

maybe I'm overthinking what's on the website but it's just not something I even considered until this moment lmao

still v excited for the new game, I really hope that even if they do keep mc as a main part in the game, that the romance is a small part of it (or rather that it's not thrown at you in every scene lol) and that we actually get a good story on how the brothers came to the devildom and more understanding on all of the characters in general.

(sorry if this is hard to understand, I'm sick and tired hehe)

Honestly (I might be completely wrong here) I think it's gonna take place in flashbacks or something similar? Like we're gonna be skipping between the past and present. Because the opening showed Luke in it and he (as stated in S3) wasn't alive while the brothers were still angels/during the time of the fall. Plus it showed Thirteen with Diavolo but S4 heavily implied that she first visited the Devildom in S4 itself. So if this is the case then MC and the romance elements would be taking place in the present (though I wouldn't mind seeing MC interact with the brothers when they were angels again, tbh)

I think this game is what's gonna be used to introduce Michael? He's been built up since S1 but some of the things said about him makes him seem like a heavily morally grey character and exploring that in a game like OM! which is just straight up a wholesome otome game won't work because he'll have to be watered down in order to become a LI. But if they introduce him in nightbringer through flashbacks (possibly in anticipation of him appearing in the present) then they wouldn't have to worry about watering him down as much (specially because the opening hints at nightbringer being more lore and angst driven)

I would really like to know more about what the hell MC is because, like it or not, general MC does have a lot of canon facts about them that are sprinkled throughout the game (here's my post that lists all of them) and the fact that they're not fully human is one of them that is brought up as early as in Season 1 (also the time it's brought up the most clearly/directly) and then hinted at/reintroduced in the following 3 seaons (post w/ canon evidence)

(get well soon! And take a nap!!)

EDIT:

I just checked out the website and okay it actually looks really good! The quotes from each brother!!!! Also looks like it might actually jump between past and present but in the form of timetravel rather than flashbacks? Not proper timetravel where they'll manage to remember each other later but something similar to what happened in S3 maybe? Okay but the fic potential of this!!? The angst potential!!!?

MC HAS TO MAKE PACTS WITH THEM AGAIN BUT NOW THEY'RE ALL NEWLY TRAUMATISED I'M CACKLING THIS IS SO FUNNY MC WENT THROUGH SHIT TO MAKE THOSE PACTS THE FIRST TIME AROUND AND THAT WAS AFTER THE BROTHERS HAD CENTURIES? MILLENIA? TO CALM DOWN. NOW MC'S GOTTA DO IT ALL AGAIN, BE A THERAPIST ALL OVER AGAIN EXCEPT SOMEHOW EVERYTHING’S GOTTEN SO MUCH WORSE ANDKNXIDNDN someone should start paying them for this shit 😭😂💀

Okay so the format (regarding the romance) might be similar to S1? Few romantic elements sprinkled throughout but mainly focusing on the therapy and found family elements until the very end?

Also from the three brothers who mention The Fall in their quotes (Mammon, Levi and Asmo) Mammon seems to be the only one who has (at least to an extent) made peace with it?

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chans-room · 2 years

Text

Possess Your Heart - 3

Pairing: TA! Namjoon x cam girl! reader (ot7 x reader overall)

Genre: yandere, smut, fluff, angst, thriller

Rating: Explicit smut so 18+ only! Minors DNI

Words: ~8k

Update: the tag yandere has been applied to the series as a whole; please proceed with caution as yandere themes will be in every chapter.

Warnings: allusions to stalking/creepy behavior from an unknown individual, pet names, choking, D/s themes, WKorea party inspired Namjoon (I will not apologize for this), self deprecation/self conscious thoughts from the reader, descriptions of an anxiety/panic attack, implied sex work (she’s still a cam girl), academic dishonesty lmao, hand kink, a singular accidental use of the word daddy, subspace, potentially dubious consent (reader is enthusiastic about her consent but is on the edge of subspace, so please read with caution), dirty talking, explicit sexual content, hair pulling, thigh riding, finger sucking, mentioned sexual experiences with other people, fingering, biting, overstimulation, multiple female orgasms, brief subdrop, aftercare, blowjob/deep throating, semi-threatening texts from an unknown party. if i missed any please let me know!

A/n: Again, I’m so sorry this has taken so long. Id love to hear your thoughts on this and if there are any warnings I’ve missed please let me know 🖤 beta read by @bibbykins and @masterkenobi so she should be clean

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To do list: Throw out bad food ✔️ Go through closet ✔️ Fix microwave clock ✔️ Make copy of new key ✔️ Check bathroom window lock ✔️ Throw out bodysuit Seokjin gave her ✔️

She couldn’t stop her foot from tapping as they got closer and closer to campus. “Kitten, we can just go home. You can miss another class, it’s okay,” Yoongi hummed, splaying one of his large hands over her thigh soothingly.

“No, I need to go,” she sighed, pouting as he drove into campus. She wanted nothing more than to let Yoongi take her home, keep her safe in bed while he fucked the worries, fears, and all other thoughts out of her head. But she couldn’t. She needed to be stronger than that — she was stronger than that, “I don’t want to. But I need to.”

“If you’re sure… I’ll pick you up when you’re done.” Yoongi said, parking his car in front of the main building on campus, “I’ll be back at 4 and we can go get some rameyon and—”

“Yoon, it’s fine,” she smiled, trying to let go of her building anxiety as she leaned over the center console with a cheeky smile, “It’s Jimin’s birthday, and I promised him I’d go over after I’m done with class today. I’m making him dinner and we’re gonna watch this drama he hasn’t shut up about.”

Yoongi’s eyes narrowed, releasing a huff, “Fine, then I’ll come get you, kitten, it’s not a big deal—“ he began but her lips on his cheek stopped him short.

“I know, but I have a lot to do today, and if you come get me you’ll just get me into bed again and I won’t finish anything and then Min will be pissed,” she giggled before leaning away, but his fingers wrapping around her throat stopped her. His pupils were blown wide, holding her there for a moment before speaking.

“Not so fast, kitten,” he tutted softly, “If that’s what you’re doing today, that’s fine. But I think I deserve a real kiss,” he smirked, pressing his lips to hers firmly. She melted against his touch, plush lips against hers forcing all of her thoughts to come to a standstill. She could only think of him. His tongue in her mouth, the scrape of his teeth against her lower lip, the smell of his cologne.

She whined and pulled away from him with a pout, “Yoongs, I have to go.”

“I’m not stopping you, kitten,” he laughed.

“No, but you’re trying to seduce me,” she whined again.

“Is it working?” He questioned, pulling her back to him by the neck, his lips hovering over hers. “Because if it is, I need to call the shop and tell them I won’t be there before it opens and we’re running out of time.”

His words slowly permeated her brain, her eyes going wide and a frantic gasp tearing out of her, “Fuck! Yoongi I’m gonna be late!” She yelped, flinging herself out of his car, scrambling to grab her backpack, “I’ll call you!” she said hastily before blowing him a kiss, slamming his door shut, and running out across the lawn.

No one bothered to look at her as she slipped into the lecture hall. She normally wouldn’t have minded missing class, but she found herself actually liking Art History.

It definitely had nothing to do with the 6 foot tall, impossibly gorgeous TA she got to stare at for 90 minutes 2 days a week.

It was a silly crush really, like something out of a drama. Namjoon played the part of the swoon worthy, yet aloof and distant TA perfectly. He rarely spoke to anyone directly in or out of class, and was always so serious and stern when he was giving lectures or reminding everyone to turn in their essays on time unless they wanted their hard work to be put directly into the trash. But at the same time, the tight turtlenecks he favored stretched thin across his broad chest made her mind race with fantasies, and his strong arms made her daydream about being picked up and thrown around by him. She hadn’t spoken a word to him, and wasn’t planning on starting a conversation any time soon, and yet his comments on her essays bordered on praise — and he had once even written a whole paragraph responding to a point she’d made in her paper. It made her want to impress him, if that was even possible.

She had just begun to admire Namjoon’s outfit for the day — a tight black turtleneck with the sleeves pushed up his golden forearms, tucked into black slacks that were pulled taught around his muscular thighs, with a gold belt buckle that pulled her focus to the one place she shouldn’t stare — when a sharp whisper pulled her focus, “Good thing you’re here,” Jihyun smirked from across the aisle as she pulled out her laptop and notebook. “We’ve got a test next class. You missed the review.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled, rolling her eyes. Jihyun was one of Jungkook’s fan girls, an incredibly annoying one who thought that becoming friends with her would improve her chances at scoring a date with the ever popular streamer. If only Jihyun knew what she and Jungkook actually did together most of the time; the younger girl would burst into flames from jealousy alone if she knew.

“I mean… I could help you with the review…” Jihyun sighed, “But first I’d need you to talk to Jungkookie—“

“Miss Woo,” the professor snapped, making Jihyun sit up in her seat, “I know you think whatever you’re talking about is more important than my class, but I promise you, it is not. I don’t need you distracting other students, especially not ones who missed the review.” Jihyun sunk in her seat, face turning pink at the professors’ admonition. She wished she could feel some sort of satisfaction at hearing Woo Jiyhun get put in her place, but the professor’s obvious call out made her hands shake with anxiety.

That, plus Namjoon’s calculating stare from the front of the room made her want to disappear.

The rest of the class passed in a blur; she could barely retain a single sentence the professor said, all she could focus on was the feeling of the cold sweat gathering on the back of her neck. Yoongi was right — she shouldn’t have gone to class. All she could do was try to focus on not crying and keeping the nausea at bay —- a much harder feat than she anticipated with Jihyun glaring at her and the feeling of Namjoon’s eyes settled on her skin like acid.

Her goal was to run out of the lecture hall as fast as possible, but when the professor called for the end of class, it felt like she was moving through cement to try and pack her things away. The room was entirely empty by the time she’d finished.

“Hey,” a soft voice coming from behind her made her jump, nearly dropping her laptop as she spun around.

She found none other than Namjoon, towering over her — the last person who she wanted to cry in front of.

“Oh, no, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he frowned, eyebrows knitting together in concern as he took a step closer. “I just wanted to ask you if everything was okay. You seemed really out of it all class—“ he explained, but stopped himself.

His gentle kindness made shame burn in her chest, her lip trembling as tears gathered in her eyes. She was such a mess that the TA who barely spoke to anyone pitied her — it made her feel sick. “I’m fine,” she lied, her voice watery as she fought the emotions welling up in her chest. He raised a skeptical eyebrow — the singular action effectively breaking her down. “I can’t fail this test. If I fail it, it’ll tank my class average, and then it’ll ruin my GPA, and I’ll never get my GPA back up to where I need it for my scholarship, and then I’ll have to take on more debt and—“ she hiccuped, tears now steadily streaming down her face.

“Oh no, no, no, no, no. Okay, uh,” he stammered, eyebrows shooting up as he looked around, “Come on, we’re going to my office. No one will bother us there.” Without another word, he grabbed her backpack, slinging it over his shoulder, and plucked her laptop from her hands, tucking it under his arm before grabbing her hand with one of his.

She didn’t have it in her to fight him, just let him pull her behind him, tears blurring her vision as he wove through endless hallways eventually coming up to an office, a placard engraved with the name Kim Namjoon. “How do you have an office if you’re a TA?” She sniffled as he released her hand, fishing in his pockets for a key.

“I’m the department TA, so I get an office,” he smiled, eyes turning into little crescent moons as his dimples appeared. She felt her heart flutter in her chest — he looked so beautiful when he smiled like that. The intimidating man who she had been pining after disappeared in an instant, replaced by a version of him she almost wouldn’t have recognized; but one she found herself liking even more appeared. “We have to be a little quiet though, I’m not supposed to have students in here,” he whispered softly, as he pushed the door open and ushered her inside.

But the moment of reprieve from her stress faded as she remembered why she was there, sinking into the small, gray loveseat tucked into the corner, curling in on herself as the tears started to pour out of her again. Less than 30 seconds later, she felt the seat next to her dip. “I’m sorry, I promise I’ll get it together. I’m just a crybaby—“ she hiccuped, shoulders shaking from the force of her tears.

“Hey, you don’t need to do that,” he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, pulling her to rest against his chest, “There’s nothing to be sorry for.” If it were any other situation, she was sure having her face in his chest would have been something out of a half-baked sexual fantasy that she would use later, but his gentle hand on her back and his soft voice in her ear made the edges of her vision soften. He was firm, yet clearly concerned about her; she had to fight the urge to slip into subspace. Something about him felt natural, and comforting in a way she didn’t feel around most people.

She shook her head, pushing the vulnerability down; Yoongi was just a call away and he always knew how to take care of her when she was in that state. “I didn’t mean to make this your problem. I should have remembered to read the syllabus before skipping class. I’m just dumb and stressed and—“

“Hey, you’re not dumb, don’t talk about yourself like that,” he said firmly, making the haze creep up her spine again as he continued, “Even without the review, I’m sure you’d pass the exam — seeing as you’re one of the only people who actually get the class and the material, but if it makes you feel better I can take you through the review you missed,” Namjoon offered.

She couldn’t contain her gasp as she pulled back to look at him, eyes watering, “You would do that for me?”

“Of course I would,” Namjoon smiled, cupping her face in his hand, wiping away a tear. “I-I mean if anyone deserves to pass that class with a good grade it’s you. I always know which essays are yours, because they’re actually well thought out and have a strong point of view; even if you forget to put your name on them,” he smirked, making blood rush to her cheeks.

“I always kinda wondered how I got grades when I forget to put my name on half of what I turn in,” she admitted, feeling a little breathless at the idea that Namjoon perceived her so effortlessly, burying her face in his chest. “I figured it was maybe like a process of elimination or something—“

“You’d be surprised how few people turn in their essays, actually. Your writing just always stands out to me,” he explained, making her melt even more, “But if you really wanna do the review, I’ll help you. No need for any more tears, baby.”

The tone in his voice made her shift in her seat, feeling the sticky arousal pool in between her thighs, she knew the flimsy lace Yoongi had pulled out of her drawer for her was soaked through. She sighed, “God, Namjoon, I could kiss you,” rubbing her face with the sleeve of her sweater. Her brain caught up with her mouth a second too late; fear and shame rolled down her spine in a cold sweat as she pushed herself back into the arm of the loveseat, putting some distance between them.

But Namjoon simply followed her, maintaining their closeness as he crowded her into the corner of the couch. “Don’t get my hopes up, baby,” he winked, “I’m a weak man. You could take anything from me with those watery eyes of yours,” he cooed, wiping away another stray tear before relaxing back into his seat.

She couldn’t find words to respond, too transfixed by the way his legs spread open, his knee knocking into hers. It took everything she had to resist the urge to drop to her knees in front of him. The situation felt dangerous — not in the way where she felt unsafe; Namjoon made her feel entirely too safe. The sheer magnetism of him was amplified by him being so close, and she wasn’t sure how much more of his teasing or his praise she could take before she did something she would regret.

“You ready to study, baby?” he smirked. How casually he used the endearment made her heart flutter again and heat flooded her cheeks.

“Y-yeah, totally ready for you,” she stuttered, shaking hands reaching for her bag, but his hand caught her wrist, pulling her toward him softly. His grip wasn’t rough, but firm, and if she had tried to pull herself out of it she knew he would let go immediately. But she didn’t want him to let go.

“Don’t worry about your things, baby,” he smiled, pulling her back to his side before he pulled out his laptop, “I have the whole thing on my computer. And I can email you whatever you need.”

“O-Oh, okay,” she nodded slowly. She didn’t know how the hell she was supposed to focus on the review when all she could think about was the sticky wetness pooling between her legs and how much she hoped it wasn’t dripping onto the couch beneath her. She didn’t want to explain to him that the incredibly kind thing he was doing for her was making her pussy so wet she could barely think straight.

“Okay so the exam starts with the Gothic, think Vasari, and spans to…” Namjoon began, but while he spoke his hand drifted to her thigh, and his deep voice turned into a dull hum as her brain tried to keep up with his words. But her focus was taken entirely by the warmth and weight of his massive palm on her bare leg, the look of his fingers spread out across her skin making her mouth water.

Namjoon’s hands were so different from what she was used to. Jungkook’s skillful, tattooed hands on her body always stoked the flames of lust, and she could spend days staring at Yoongi’s beautiful, diligent hands that were always adorned with clunky metal jewelry. But Namjoon’s hands were long and slender, with prominent veins and knobby knuckles. She briefly wondered how they would feel dragging along the walls of her cunt, and how the veins would look glistening with her cum.

She felt her mouth water as she began to imagine what he looked like under that tight turtleneck, but especially under his slacks. She could picture his thick, golden thighs framing what she could only imagine would be a breathtaking cock.

“Baby, don’t take this the wrong way, but I can’t focus with you looking at me like that,” Namjoon rasped, breaking through the haze of her daydream.

“Like what?” she frowned. The emotions firing through her brain were messy, jumbled signals she couldn’t figure out to slow down. The fear she’d been too obvious and offended him mixed with the shame of her obvious crush on Namjoon made her feel nauseous as she waited for him to reply.

He stared at her for a minute, then released a deep sigh, “Baby you’re not paying attention at all, I can see that lost look in your eyes,” he frowned, closing his laptop and turning toward her.

Another flare of shame bloomed in her chest; she was supposed to be paying attention for fucks sake, but instead she was fantasizing about a relative stranger. “I’m sorry, sir,” she mumbled softly.

The sharp inhale from Namjoon made her blood run cold, her thoughts coming to a standstill as she realized what she said. “God, you just,” he ground out, his eyes closing as he took a deep breath. But when his eyes opened, there was an intensity there she knew intimately. “Fuck it,” he snarled before leaning forward as he tugged her to him, pressing his lips against hers firmly.

The effect was instant — the tension in her shoulders melted away as her eyes fluttered closed, letting Namjoon’s presence wash over her mind and mute everything except him, him, him. She didn’t care that what they were doing was definitely against university policies, nor that she quite literally knew nothing about Namjoon aside from the fact he was her TA. She really didn’t care that he was manhandling her, gripping the backs of her knees and pulling her into his lap like a doll. All she cared about was the way he licked into her mouth so purposefully, as if he was savoring the taste of her, and the way his fingers dug into her hips and rooted her into his lap.

“Alright. I don’t want you to fail, and I need to feel you so this is what we’re going to do,” Namjoon said, pulling her away from his mouth with the hand he buried in her hair, “Because you’re just a desperate, needy little thing that can’t pay attention when I’m trying to help you study, I’m gonna give you the answers to the exam, and you’re going to be a good, quiet girl for me, okay? Nod if you understand.”

She nodded obediently, falling into the vastness of subspace she knew so well, her brain repeating softly he wants you, he wants to take care of you, he cares about you.

Namjoon hummed happily in response, pulling her back into another searing kiss. She didn’t even register how he moved her body so easily, pushing her until she was straddling his thigh, warm hands flipping up her skirt to expose her dripping cunt before pulling her away again.

“Look at you baby, making a mess all for me,” Namjoon cooed, snapping the band of her thong against her hip. “Let me help you with that,” he said with a cruel smile before the sound of fabric tearing filled the room. “There you go, now you can leak all over my nice pants like a good little slut,” he smiled, pocketing the shreds of red lace.

The experimental flex of his leg made her gasp, eyes rolling back into her head as he did, “Fuck, Joon,” she shuttered, hands gripping his broad shoulders to maintain some tether to reality.

“Now, baby, I know you have as much to lose from anyone finding out about this as I do, don’t you?” He asked softly. It would have felt condescending if not for the way he cupped her cheek so tenderly, and the flex of his thigh muscle against her core as he spoke. She could only nod dumbly in response, mouth falling open to pant wantonly at him, utterly transfixed by the raw dominance rolling off him. “Good. I know you wouldn't want us to get caught. So we’ll keep meeting up to study, okay? Just so no one gets any ideas. We can tell everyone you’re just very interested in art history, isn’t that right baby?”

She nodded again, barely grasping the words coming out of his mouth but she knew that agreeing wouldn’t stop him from bouncing his leg, which was the only thing she was concerned with at the moment. His black slacks had rubbed her clit in such a painfully delicious way that she could barely keep her eyes open.

“That’s a good girl,” he cooed, making her moan as her eyes fluttered shut. “Now, now, pretty girl, I told you to be quiet. We’re in my office, anyone could walk by and hear us. I didn’t want to have to do this, but you left me no choice,” he sighed, slipping two of his fingers into her mouth and bullying them into her throat. She choked for a second, trying to breathe through the customary panic that accompanied anything lodging itself so deeply into her throat, before swallowing around the digits thickly. She was rewarded with a pleased hum and Namjoon’s hand on her hip, guiding her in a shallow thrust that sent fireworks through her nerve-endings. “God, where the fuck did you learn that?” He groaned.

She was pretty sure he didn’t need to know that she’d become a pro at deepthroating because Jungkook was always getting too excited and forcing his cock down her throat, which nearly resulted in disaster the first few times. He also definitely didn’t need to know that Jungkook often teased her about how he had personally throat trained her, something that never failed to make shame — mixed with a small ounce of pride — flare in her belly. Especially not with Jungkook now becoming more popular on campus thanks to his gaming, even if it meant he was gone more often. No, that would be a secret she took to her grave. No one ever needed to know all of that… well, aside from Jimin. But Jimin knew everything.

“Fuck, you’re just so pretty. Drooling on my fingers as you fuck yourself on my thigh in that pretty little skirt. You look so pretty all the time baby, but I think you’d be even prettier with your throat full of my cock,” he asked, making her whine loudly as she swallowed around his fingers again.

She could already see how big he was — she didn’t consider herself a size queen but she knew what she could take; Seokjin being one of the biggest she’d ever had. But this looked bigger, even hidden away behind the zipper of his slacks. The thought alone made her clit throb in desperation. She didn’t care how stupid it was: she wanted Namjoon, now.

“You want my cock that bad baby?” he laughed, making her nod and whine again around his fingers. “Alright, pretty girl, I’ll give you my cock. But first, I need to see you cum for me.” He gingerly pulled his fingers out of her throat, smirking at the strings of saliva that coated the long digits. “You’re such a pretty, messy girl aren’t you?”

She surged forward, pressing her lips to his again with a hum. The feeling of his lips on hers made her brain go fuzzy, enough so that she needed to pull back to stop from getting dizzy. “I’ll be whatever you want me to be Joonie,” she sighed, smiling hazily as she gripped his shoulders before beginning to rock back and forth. His hands flew to her hips, a little moan slipping past her lips as he pressed her dripping cunt harder into the hard muscle of his thigh.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” he ground out through his teeth, “Now tell me what you want baby.”

“Please make me cum, Joonie,” she pleaded, feeling the familiar tightness in her muscles as she worked herself on his thigh. “Please,” she whispered, dropping her head onto his shoulder with a whine.

“Baby, you gotta be quiet,” Namjoon cooed, scattering kisses across her chest and neck, “If you don’t remember, I’m gonna have to make you cum with your face buried into these very nice couch cushions.”

“Please,” she panted, the image of him fucking her into the fabric, pools of mascara, tears, spit, and cum underneath her filtered through her mind, forcing a stifled high pitched moan out of her mouth.

“As you wish,” Namjoon smirked, standing up from his spot on the couch, holding her against him firmly before setting her on her feet. She felt her cheeks heat as Namjoon towered over her, his thumb brushing her cheek softly before he whispered, “Face in those cushions, ass up baby,” he demanded.

The order shot through her like lightning — goosebumps rose on her skin and her knees wobbled as she took a cautious step toward the couch, her knees sinking into the soft material. The thought of how a relationship with someone as powerful and dominating as him could be sent another wave of arousal through her body as she did what he asked, her face pressed into the ribbed seat cushion. She could feel the sticky essence drip out of her lewdly and roll down her thigh as Namjoon flipped up her skirt.

“Fucking Christ, baby,” Namjoon rasped, dragging a finger through her folds with a hum. “All of this for me?”

“Please, Joon, just–” she pleaded, but choked on her words as two thick fingers slipped into her cunt, her eyes rolling back as he plunged them all the way in. She was right; the feeling of his knobby knuckles dragging through her walls made her pussy flutter and a ragged moan to tumble past her lips, muffled by the cushion.

“So pretty for me baby,” Namjoon whispered before the sound of a sharp crack filled the room, white-hot pleasure pain following immediately as she whined. “You liked that, didn’t you? I could feel you tighten around my fingers when I smacked your ass.”

She tried to string together a half coherent response, but the feeling of Namjoon’s fingers withdrawing slowly and the gentle turn of his fingers inside her stole the thoughts out of her head. All she could think was, “More, please,” which she pleaded for through a warbly moan.

“You’re such a perfect little sub, aren’t you baby? You just want to be manhandled and fucked like the little doll you are, don’t you?” He asked, slamming his fingers back into her forcefully. All she could do was nod as tears welled in her eyes, the soft ah ah ah from the force of his thrusts lost into the padding beneath her face. “What a perfect little sub. Cum for me, baby, I want to feel you dripping down my wrist like the perfect girl I know you are,” he rasped in her ear. His teeth digging into the meat of her ass pushed her over the edge — she came apart with a breathless moan, eyes squeezed shut as the tears spilled down her cheeks, creating a wet patch in the gray material.

Namjoon’s pace was relentless, slipping in another finger as he continued to work her through her orgasm, his other hand gripping the flesh of her ass tightly as he kneaded into the skin, soft nips to the backs of her thighs and ass making her mouth hang open, drool joining the wetness spreading under her cheek.

Namjoon hummed contemplatively, slowing his thrusts slightly but not stopping before he spoke, “You’re not dripping down my wrist yet baby girl,” he tutted, “Gotta fix that, don’t we?”

His fingers slipped out of her cunt with a wet schlick, then she was on her back, staring at the white tiled ceiling dizzily before Namjoon’s face came into focus. His gorgeous smile and soft eyes put her brain at ease, his clean hand tenderly cupping her cheek and wiping away her tears before the same three, thick fingers pushed into her weeping cunt.

“Fuck, Joon, ‘s a lot,” she mumbled as he angled his fingers up, hooking into the spot that made her see stars.

“I could see the bruises on your ass baby, I know you can take it,” he cooed, “And I wanna see your face when I make you cum again.”

She felt the second one building fast, and she knew it would hit her harder than the first — it always did. Her vision went blurry as he ground his fingertips into the spot, his free arm holding her down as she squirmed, trying to get away from the sensation but grinding herself into it all the same.

She felt like she couldn’t breathe with the force of it, the pleasure overwhelming her to the point of sobbing as her pussy spasmed around his fingers. She didn’t realize she was about to cum until it was happening — she had no ability to warn Namjoon, but his lips pressing into hers muffled the scream as she came.

She felt weightless for a moment, like all of her nerve endings had been burned away leaving nothing but the frayed, numbed ends. But then she felt Namjoon’s weight on top of her, his thumb tenderly brushing away the tears on her cheeks. The ringing in her ears muffled the sound of his voice for a second, but it quickly faded into Namjoon’s soft, sweet voice, “You did such a good job for me baby,” he smiled, pressing and open mouthed kiss to her chest, his tongue tracing over the bare skin for a second before he pulled back. “Come on, let’s get you put back together.”

“No, Joonie,” she pouted, feeling him slip his fingers out of her pussy. “Wanna feel you. Want your cock. I can take it, promise.”

“Not today baby, maybe next time,” he said firmly, “You just came real hard and I think we need to talk about some boundaries before we take that next step, and I don’t even have a condom with me.”

She frowned, tears welling in her eyes as she struggled to take the rejection in stride with how far into subspace she was. He doesn’t want you. You’re disgusting. He thinks you’re a cheap slut who will give it to anyone who gives you a smile and does something nice. He’s not wrong; you are a slut. Look, you’re begging to fuck him and he just wanted to make sure you didn’t fail your exam—

“Hey, I said no more tears, baby,” Namjoon chastised softly, stopping the voice in her head in its tracks, “I want you, I do. But we need to not be in my office when I fuck you, and we need to have a discussion about consent and limits and all that before we go there. I really shouldn’t have even done this, because you were in a vulnerable state and I knew that, but fuck you called me sir, and like I said before, I am a weak man,” he explained firmly, “And I really like you.”

His words seeped into her brain slowly, her mind starting to process his words. He was right; they needed to talk before they did anything. He had a right to know about Yoongi and Jungkook — at least in the vaguest terms — and she needed him to know what she could and couldn’t give him in terms of a relationship. And as much as she didn’t want to, she would give up the potential with Namjoon if he didn’t accept her relationship with both of them.

“Are you still with me, baby?” Namjoon asked softly, pulling her into his lap for the second time, tilting her head back to look into his eyes. She nodded and smiled gently, tucking herself into his frame with a sigh.

“‘M good,” she said, “Need a minute.”

“That’s okay, take all the time you need,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head. She let herself relax, pressed against his chest as she came out of the floaty, disconnected space her head was in. “Do you have other classes today?” He broke the silence with a whisper.

“No,” she hummed, “I was gonna get some studying in for the exam and wait for my best friend to get out of dance practice. He won’t be out until 3 though.”

“Well you can stay here and we can actually go over the exam if you want, I don’t have any other classes today either,” Namjoon said. The proposition made her heart flutter; he wasn’t tossing her out or making her feel bad for what had happened. He actually cared.

She shuffled closer, intent on burying her face deeper into his shoulder for the time being when she felt it. His hard cock pressed against her still sensitive cunt made her flinch, but the thick warmth of it made her mouth water. Her eyes flickered up to look at him, nervous to see his reaction.

The golden expanse of his neck was exposed, his head thrown back and jaw clenched as he breathed through his nose. She felt his hand grip her thigh firmly, stopping her from moving an inch against him. She knew he was fighting it; fighting how much he wanted it. But she needed to make him snap.

“Joon, can I… can I see you at least? Or let me give you a hand?” She smiled innocently, met only by a deep grumble from inside Namjoon’s chest.

“Fuck baby,” he sighed as she rocked backward, feeling the length of it drag against her slit, “We shouldn’t.”

“But Joon,” she whined, littering kisses across the sliver of his exposed neck and across his cheeks, “Please?” His fingertips dug into her skin, making her shiver and smile, “I’m not feeling super subby anymore either. I know what I want Joonie, and it's your cock in my throat.”

She felt the breath catch in his chest, hands relaxing as he hummed, “Alright baby,” he nodded, releasing a shaky breath, “Since you begged me so pretty.”

Excitement slithered up her spine as she pushed herself off his lap, settling between his open knees. She watched closely as he undid his belt, fingers meticulous and nimble as he unbuttoned his slacks; the sound of his zipper slowly being undone consumed her senses. She couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the sight — Namjoon was criminally beautiful. The peak of his stomach as he pulled at the hem of his sweater out of the confines of his slacks made her hands tremble, and the expanse of sculpted, golden thighs made her brain swim with ideas as he pushed them down his legs, allowing them to pool on the floor beside her after he kicked them off, along with his shoes.

“Go on baby, take me out,” Namjoon breathed, flinching as her cold palms made contact with his skin. She frowned apologetically, kneading into the flesh gently as she leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his clothed cock, giggling when she felt it twitch. Namjoon’s hand threading into her hair made her eyes roll back as she continued to drop chaste kisses along his shaft, lapping at the wetness growing on the front of his underwear.

“All this for me?” she smirked, peeling back the band of his underwear as she stared into his eyes, watching the realization flash across his eyes as she repeated his words.

“Don’t tease me, brat,” Namjoon growled, tightening the grip on her hair, “Or the next time I see you I won’t be nearly as nice as I’ve been today.”

She couldn’t help but smirk as she inched the fabric of his underwear down, holding eye contact until his fluttered shut in bliss as her tongue darted out to meet the warm flesh. She hummed happily, watching his Adam's apple bob in his throat before she cautioned a look down at his cock.

Her mouth hung open in shock at what she saw — she was truly concerned he would hurt her if she tried to take him without some serious prep. She also didn’t know how he didn’t get lightheaded from the sheer amount of blood she figured it took to get him hard.

His cock was long, pretty, and thick, and the sight of it made her pussy throb with desire. She thought for a second about how well his cock would fit into the course requirements for Art Appreciation — his cock was up there with Jungkook, Yoongi, and Seokjin for prettiest she’d ever seen. She was mesmerized by it, ghosting her lips across the length of it before she took the tip between her lips. His hips twitched as she moaned softly, savoring the salty bead of pre cum as it hit her tongue.

“Shit, baby,” Namjoon choked out, shivering as she began to suck on the head of his cock softly, “God, your mouth is fucking incredible.”

She preened softly, the encouragement emboldening her to flatten her tongue as she inhaled sharply through her nose and pushed herself forward to take more of him into her throat. He was far thicker than what she was used to; she was positive there would be a definite bulge in her throat.

She let out a shaky breath through her nose, trying to gauge how much more of him there was to take when she felt his fingers intertwine with hers, “You don’t have to take it all, baby,” he said through his teeth, “I know its a lot and I don’t want you to hurt–”

She cut him off as she swallowed around his length, narrowing her eyes at him as he threw his head back again. His words made her heart melt a little, but the voice in the back of her head took it as a challenge — she needed to show him that she could do it, she wanted to do it. With another sharp inhale, she pushed herself forward, tears instantly breaking past her lashes and tumbling down her cheeks. The stretch made her breath hitch; pushing down the asphyxiating feeling was much more difficult with him than with anyone else because of his almost unbearable girth. But the next thing she knew, her nose was pressed against the soft skin of his pelvis. A flash of gratefulness flickered through her brain at the fact he was so well groomed, before her mind was taken over by the need to please him.

Her free hand gripped the wrist at the back of her head, giving it a squeeze in time with their conjoined hands before she relaxed her throat. “Baby,” he groaned, “Are you sure? I won’t last long with you like this anyway but–”

She cut him off with another shallow swallow, making the hand in her hair tighten. Then she felt his length dragging through her throat as he pulled her off him slightly. Her eyes fluttered shut as he set a slow, shallow pace, fucking himself deep into her throat so carefully. She was absolutely smitten with how gentle he chose to be despite such a depraved act — it made her heart flutter in her chest.

But the absolute filth that poured out of his mouth made her head spin. “Fuck, you’re so perfect, baby, my perfect little sub. Gonna fuck you so good next time, gonna make sure we’re in my room where I can hear you scream my name, baby, fuck,” he rasped, fighting to keep his voice low. “I’m gonna cum baby, where do you want it?”

She simply squeezed his hand and relaxed her throat making him groan gutterally, his whole body twitching for a moment as he came.

She pulled off him with a soft pop, his softening cock resting against his thigh. His body went limp as she did, the hand in her hair unwinding tenderly as she rested her cheek against his knee. “I don’t know how I’m going to do anything the rest of the day baby,” Namjoon sighed, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles.

“I knew I could do it,” she preened, earning a laugh as he tucked himself away.

“You really showed me didn’t you?” he chuckled, “So good for me. I don’t even know what I would get done if you were mine, I’d just think about your pretty mouth on my cock all day.”

The word echoed in her mind — mine mine mine — and for a second, she felt a flash of fear shoot up her spine. She knew nothing about Namjoon, for all she knew he could be the person creeping on her OnlyFans and sending her threatening messages. Her hands stuttered to a stop as they moved across his thighs before flinching away from him, ripping her hand away.

Namjoon’s eyebrows furrowed in concern, following her as she pushed herself off her knees and onto her ass, scrambling away from his grasp. He froze and raised his hands in surrender, falling onto his knees in front of her. “Hey, did I do something wrong? I didn’t mean to offend you–”

“Does the name Soft Vixen mean anything to you?” she cut him off, backing herself into the desk.

Genuine confusion flashed in his eyes before he carefully replied, “...No? Should it?”

Relief settled in her brain, but an uneasiness returned. There was still someone sending her messages, and potentially breaking into her apartment doing god knows what. “S-sorry there’s just… stuff going on in my life right now and it’s all a little… scary.”

Namjoon frowned, scooting closer hesitantly, “You don’t have to tell me anything, but just know that I’m here for you, whenever and whatever you need.”

She nodded, stifling the panic in her chest as she scooted forward, letting him pull her into his arms.

“Sorry. I know you didn’t sign up for this when you brought me to your office–”

“Don’t worry about it, baby. Some tears aren’t going to run me off that easily,” he whispered, resting his chin on the top of her head. She felt the familiar flutter of warmth in her chest when she felt his arms tighten.

It was hard for her to believe someone would care about her so effortlessly, especially when so many people in her life had made it abundantly clear she never mattered to them; not to her family, to her former friends, not even to her former fiancé. But in 3 years, she had managed to find people who seemed to genuinely care about her. She figured that even if she was wrong about them in the long run, she wouldn’t deny herself the opportunity to accept their affection.

Her phone vibrating in her bag next to her pulled her focus; she gave Namjoon a sheepish smile before answering, Jimin’s excited voice filtering through her speaker.

“Where are you, angel? It’s my birthday, I’m out of practice early, and we have so much wine to drink tonight,” he said with a laugh.

“I’m just finishing up in the main lecture hall,” she rolled her eyes, Namjoon’s arms loosening around her as she began to shuffle in her seat, “I’ll meet you at the library in like 10 minutes and then we can start on our night of drinking and absolutely insane drama you want me to watch so bad it’s the only thing you requested for your birthday.”

“Damn right,” Jimin laughed proudly, making her heart squeeze in her chest. She loved Jimin’s laugh, it always made her feel like her problems were so small and so distant, “Now get your cute ass over to the library so we can start my birthday extravaganza.”

She giggled, nodding to herself as Namjoon helped her up, “Alright Min, I’m on my way,” she said, earning an indignant huff in response.

“Hurry up, angel, I am no-so-patiently waiting,” he snarked before the line went dead. She smiled, rolling her eyes at his impatience before giving Namjoon another soft smile.

“Sorry to run out like this, but he will hunt me down if I don’t show up in the next 10 minutes,” she grimaced, “He has my location on his phone for when we go out and he absolutely has used it to find me in the mall before when I wasn’t answering his texts.”

Namjoon smiled, cupping her cheek gently, “Don’t worry about me, baby, it’s your friend’s birthday. May I?” he asked, gesturing to her phone. She nodded, making him smile as he plucked the phone out of her hand, typing something quickly before putting it back in her hand. “Now you have my number, you can text me or call me any time.” He stared at her for a moment before he hummed contemplatively and peeled off his turtleneck.

Her mouth went dry at the expanse of his chest; it was firm and built, a truly marvelous sight to behold. Her mind flickered through the catalogs of art she’d studied, all the depictions of the naked male form that had been venerated by scholars as perfection, and found all of them paled in comparison to him; he was absolutely statuesque.

“Here, take my sweater. I’ve got another in my bag. You can clean yourself up with it, if you want,” Namjoon said with a shy smile. She found it endearing how easily he fluctuated between the shy, nerdy version of himself and the dominating, critical one.

“Thanks, Joonie,” she smiled, her face heating up at the tenderness of his consideration, “But what are you gonna wear? I don’t think you can just walk across campus like this–”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ve got another outfit in my bag,” he shrugged, “I work out on campus anyway, no one will think anything of it. It’s the least I could do considering I ripped your thong. Which I can and will replace by the way.”

She nodded, taking the sweater from his outstretched hand with an innocent smile and a shrug, “No need, I have many more where that came from,” she winked. Namjoon’s eyes went wide at her words, tucking his chin into his chest.

She made quick work of cleaning herself up as Namjoon changed into his work-out attire, apologizing as she did and promising to bring the sweater back when she saw him next before shoving it in her bag. Namjoon walked her out of the building, carefully leading her back through the maze of empty halls, refusing to back down when she assured him she could find her way alone.

They made it to the library as their 10 minutes were up, Namjoon giving her a smile and a wave as he split off from her, heading toward the gym. He was clear about not wanting her friend to see him, but she knew she was about to spill everything to Jimin anyway. But Namjoon didn't need to know that.

She felt her phone buzz, rolling her eyes at Jimin’s meticulous time management skills when she saw him wave at her from one of the tables. Her eyes narrowed in confusion as she checked the notification.

From Yoongs: kitten, i have your new key, i’ll leave it in your mailbox. also, you should really check your bathroom window. it was unlocked. To Yoongs: my bathroom window unlocks? From Yoongs: yes, kitten, it does. be more careful, yeah? for me?

She shivered, fear creeping up her spine as her phone chimed again. She didn’t want to look, she fought the urge to just ignore it without looking, but morbid curiosity got the better of her.

From Unknown: You’ll see in time that we’re meant for each other. We always have been.

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Taglist: @kosmicbomb @eureka-its-zico @bibbykins @here2bbtstrash @haliiimede @gimmethatagustd @bri-mal @seokjinkismet @pasteljoonie @whatudowhennooneseesyou

#namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #kim namjoon smut #kim namjoon x reader #yandere namjoon #bts smut #bts yandere #bts fic #bts x reader #bts thriller #bts fanfction #possess your heart

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gamerwoo · 1 year

Text

Hyunjin: Age-Restricted (Part Three)

Characters: Hyunjin x female reader (ft other skz members)

Genre/warnings: nanny!reader, boy next door/neighbor!hyunjin, generally inexperienced and painfully shy virgin!reader, fluff, humor, there’s a little angst if you count reader panicking lmao, chan does onlyfans lmao, reader almost walks in on something she shouldn’t (but nothing spicy happens), mentions that reader and chan madeout once while they were a little intoxicated and she had a panic attack, reader has anxiety, implied that reader has issues w her mom, reader and co get drunk (if i missed anything lmk!!), minors dni!!!

Word count: 5,890

tag list: @hyuneyeon @ack-aashi @rindomo @fridayamirah [be added to the taglist by filling out this form!]

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Mrs. Park texted you that morning, saying you wouldn’t be needed. Apparently Hajoon was sick and she wanted to stay home with him, which you didn’t mind. It meant you had a free day to yourself, and after what happened with Hyunjin the previous day, you really wanted to see your friends and get their take on everything. As much as you wanted to gush about everything to Chan last night while playing Smash, you found yourself listening to how his day had gone and getting off-track a lot, so you didn’t really have the time or space to say anything. So you got ready to go out for the day and make your way to your old apartment to see your friends.

Seungmin and Minho might’ve been busy, but you knew Chan was always home. Plus, he let you keep the spare key that Minho illegally copied, so you could get in even if Chan was for some reason not home.

“Yo, _____!” Jeongin waved at you from the front desk as you walked through the lobby.

Your eyebrows knitted together, “I thought you worked nights.”

“Had to switch shifts,” he shrugged. “Where’re you off to today? You’re leaving later than usual.”

“No work today,” you sighed as you strolled up to the desk and rested an elbow on it. “Gonna go visit my friends and hope they’re around.”

“Do they live far?”

“Couple hours away or something like that.”

“Oh, well have a safe trip,” he grinned.

“Thanks!” you chirped and waved goodbye, starting to walk away.

“Oh, hang on!” Jeongin suddenly gasped, making you stop and take the few steps back toward the desk as he fished around for something on the desk by the computers that you couldn’t see. “Before you go… This is for you.”

He held out a folded piece of paper with a knowing smirk, though you didn’t know why.

“Oh,” was all you said, taking the paper with a slightly confused expression.

You continued to stand there as you unfolded the paper, and then you felt butterflies in your stomach as you read the short note, a smile creeping onto your face despite not wanting it to with Jeongin standing right there.

I forgot to give you my number. Text me sometime

-Hyunjin

P.s. I’m holding you to this too

“Have a good daaaay, _____,” Jeongin sang.

‘He definitely read the note,’ you realized, folding the note and waving to Jeongin again before swiftly leaving the building.

Chan’s car was parked in the usual spot, so you knew he was home. But knocking on the door left you with no answer. Chan was probably asleep since it was before noon. So you let yourself in.

You left your bag by the door as if you still lived there, kicking off your shoes and hanging up your coat in the usual spot you used to. Then you went straight to the bedroom you used to share with Chan, busting open the door and mouth open, ready to yell at him to wake the hell up because you had a situation.

Except there was a new situation in front of you that made you stop dead in your tracks, inhaled breath held, and mouth still open.

Chan stood in front of you, facing the door with his phone on a tripod between him and the door, the screen facing him. He was dressed in a nice white button-up and some black slacks. His shirt was unbuttoned, exposing his toned abs that you’d seen far too many times, and his hands were frozen, in the middle of unbuckling the belt around his slacks.

He stared at you silently, as you did the same to him.

Finally you let out a sigh, “I thought that this would stop happening now that we don’t live together.”

“Well maybe if you’d knock,” he stated, dropping the buckle.

“I knocked on the front door, how did you not hear?”

“I figured you were like, a delivery person or something and you’d just leave it out there!”

“Well I figured you were asleep!”

He groaned and ran a hand through his hair, “You realize I have to do this commission all over now, right?”

“Well, do it later,” you told him. “I need your help.”

Chan’s eyebrows furrowed as he gave you a concerned look, “Help? You doing okay?”

“Love life help,” you confessed with a sigh, knowing that would absolutely pique your friend’s interest.

And it did, as gasp leaving his lips as his eyes went wide, “Really? Aw, _____!”

“No, it’s… I don’t know what it is. Just get changed and I’ll wait in the living room.”

“Why can’t I just wear this?”

“Chan, you’re almost half-naked.”

“Yeah, and? _____, we slept in the same room forever and you’ve definitely seen me wear less,” he scoffed.

You shrugged with a slight nod, “Yeah, touché.”

Curled up on one side of the couch with your back to the arm rest, one knee to your chest with your other leg curled under you, Chan almost mimicked you as he sat on the other side, only one of his legs was stretched out in front of him, almost reaching your leg. He folded his hands on his stomach as he kept his full attention on you.

“So you know Hyunjin?” you asked.

He narrowed his eyes, quirking a brow as he thought, “That’s…the front desk guy?”

You shook your head, “Hot neighbor. Front desk guy is Felix the Austrailian.”

“Right, hot neighbor!” he nodded, wagging a finger at you. “Still think you should go for front desk guy, but I’m just biased.”

You rolled your eyes, “Anyway, he like…hit on me, I think?”

“You think?”

“I mean, like… Okay, so he asked me to help him bleach his hair so I went over, and we watched a movie in between him processing, and then he told me he actually knew how to dye his own hair and he just wanted an excuse to invite me over because he wanted ‘a pretty girl to play with his hair’.”

Chan kept his eyes on you through your entire babbled recap. Honestly, he was surprised that he even kept up with how fast you were talking, but he seemed to understand everything, a smile creeping onto his face.

“Aw, _____! That’s good!” he grinned. But he saw the way you were biting the inside of your cheek despite the small smile on your face, and how you were fiddling with the strings of your hoodie. “What’s wrong?”

You let out a groan as if it were obvious, bursting, “Chan, I’m a virgin!”

“Okay, didn’t realize we were jumping to sex so quickly,” he commented.

“No! He didn’t jump to anything – I mean, I think he almost kissed me but then you called.”

Chan seemed upset with himself, giving you puppy-dog eyes as his jaw dropped slightly, “I cockblocked? I didn’t mean t– Oh, wait, is that a good thing?”

Chan knew how you got when people kissed you. He may or may not have discovered your issue himself when the two of you were kind of drunk during a night at home without Seungmin and Minho where you both admitted to finding the other cute – you still thought Chan was good-looking, but you definitely did not see him as someone you wanted to date. You still weren’t sure who kissed who first, but Chan’s tongue was in your mouth and suddenly, you shut down. Eyes squeezed closed, body tensed, and your breathing was jagged and uneven.

You were having a panic attack. And it happened every single time somebody new kissed you, and it usually took you a few times to actually warm up to them enough to makeout with them comfortably. You still didn’t know why you were like this – maybe it was just the anxiety of knowing you were inexperienced and you feared you were a bad kisser or whatever awful thing that could go wrong – but you were embarrassed every single time it happened nonetheless.

But Chan was now fully aware of your fears. He was there to hold you and promise you that you were okay in between your breathy apologies. You opened up to him about what might have caused you to do that, and told him it happened with your last two – and only two – boyfriends, so you were pretty sure this was just…a thing.

A thing that you hated so, so much.

You frowned and looked down at your lap, feeling defeated, “I don’t know, dude… I wanted him to kiss me, but I also didn’t want to, y’know, hyperventilate and freak him out. But also, I don’t even know if he only wants to kiss me. Like, what if he’s just looking for a hook-up? Or even if he does want a relationship, how am I supposed to explain that I have no clue what I’m doing in regards to basically anything?”

Chan just shrugged, his lips pressing into a thin line, “You just be honest. If he’s worth your time, he won’t care. No decent person will think less of you, _____; I’ve told you that so many times.”

“I know, but I care!” you shot back.

“You care too much,” he stated.

“I know!”

“Look,” Chan sighed, letting his head tilt to the left and rest against the back of the couch, looking at you softly – if it were anyone else, you’d think it was pity, but because it was Chan, it was more like…a weird sense of understanding; like he could see your point of view, “I know you’ve said your anxiety is manageable, and I do think it is. But when it comes to more…physical relationships, I think that’s when it really stops you. You care too much because you're anxious, and you need to figure out where that stems from and work on it.”

You scoffed, “I think we both know where it stems from.”

“You can’t blame everything on your mom, _____.”

“She made me a people pleaser!”

“Sweetie, you’re far passed people pleaser,” he chuckled, even though he found no humor in your mental state. “You’re more like a…”

As Chan stopped to think of a word, you let out an annoyed huff, “This isn’t even about any of that. Can we get back to the Hyunjin thing?”

“Right,” Chan cleared his throat as he readjusted himself on the couch to get a bit more comfortable. “Well, my dear, I think… I think you need to just see what his intentions are. Go from there and just explain your boundaries.”

“But it’s embarrassing having to tell people I’m in my 20’s and have only had two one-month-long relationships, and I’ve never done more than makeout with someone,” you whined, looking at Chan with desperation like he could make all your problems go away if you begged him hard enough.

“If he thinks it’s embarrassing, you call me and I’ll bring Minho and Seungmin over to embarrass him,” Chan promised with a laugh. “They don’t hold back.”

You let out a sigh, eyes staring off as you recalled the many times the pair had made a virgin joke to you, “As much as I sometimes wish they would. Even they were shocked when they found out I’m still a virgin!”

He cocked his head to one side, eyebrows creasing together in confusion.

“When we played that drinking game, I had to confess how many people I’ve slept with,” you explained. “I said I was a virgin and both of their jaws dropped.”

Chan’s eyes widened when he recalled the memory, “Oh! Oh, _____, no! They weren’t shocked because of your age, it’s because they didn’t think like… Like someone like you could be a virgin.”

It was your turn to be confused, “Someone like me?”

“Well, you don’t exactly look like an incel, y’know?” he stated, gesturing to you across the couch. “You’re good-looking, _____, and you don’t act like…weird. I mean, you’re weird, but in a likable way. You don’t have the appearance or personality of someone you’d think would still be a virgin. Think, like: sweaty guy who lives in his mom’s basement.”

“Oh…” you figured that made you feel a little bit better that your roommates were never judging you that hard. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Anytime,” he grinned, his eyes crinkling in the outer corners. “So, did you wanna go do something, or what? Maybe get your mind off things for a while.”

“Kinda was hoping we could just play video games or something,” you told him. “When are Seungmin and Minho coming back?”

“Seungmin should be back any minute, and Min’ll be a couple hours,” he said, checking his watch that he really only used for ‘daddy’ commissions for his Onlyfans, so you laughed a little seeing that he still had it on despite being changed into basketball shorts and a t-shirt. He looked back up at you and narrowed his eyes. “You shut your mouth.”

“Didn’t even open it,” you replied.

Changbin eyed Hyunjin from across the table, watching as the younger boy kept his eyes on his phone as he nervously curled a strand of blonde hair around his index finger, biting at his bottom lip and bouncing his leg. To his left, his girlfriend, Kit looked over the menu, oblivious to whatever was going on between the two friends – or she didn’t care.

“Are you going to like, be here anytime soon?” Changbin asked.

His voice made Hyunjin jump slightly, looking up with wide eyes, “Huh?”

“You’ve been staring at your phone for like, ten minutes,” Changbin told him. “And judging from your nervous ticks, I don’t think you’re just scrolling social media. Honestly, I haven’t seen you nervous in a long time. What’s up?”

Hyunjin sighed, dropping his phone on the table and running both hands through his hair, “She hasn’t texted me.”

Changbin’s eyebrows dropped as he deadpanned, “This about about apartment girl, isn’t it?”

“Can you stop judging me?”

“A girl?” Kit asked, eyes widened as her interest in the conversation piqued, her menu being lowered to look between her boyfriend and his best friend. “There’s a girl involved? Jinnie, you like a girl?”

“He hardly knows a girl,” Changbin corrected. “Remember, the girl who moved in across from his apartment?”

“Oh,” she nodded, recalling Changbin briefly mentioning the situation to her – well, he ranted about it but she picked out what was important. “She made you blonde. Y’know, Jinnie, I’ve pegged you for a lot of things but never a hopeless romantic.”

At least her stupid joke could make Hyunjin laugh, looking down at the table as he seemed to relax slightly in his seat.

“Did you give her your number?” Changbin asked.

“I left it with one of the guys at the desk – Jeongin, remember him?”

“Maybe he just didn’t see her today.”

“She always works weekdays,” Hyunjin insisted.

“Maybe she didn’t like your ‘move’ as much as you thought,” Kit chuckled, mostly just trying to tease him a little and lighten the mood a bit more.

If anything, it made him more tense as he said, “No, she did, I know it! I’m so good at reading people, Kitty -- you know! She was blushing and hiding her face and everything. It was honestly really cute…”

Though, it more so sounded like he was trying to convince himself rather than them.

“Maybe she’s busy,” Changbin suggested with a shrug. “If she’s working, that’s probably what it is. I mean, what does she even do?”

Hyunjin scoffed, picking up his phone again and sliding a little bit down against the seat of the booth, “I’m not asking. Then she’ll ask what I do and I’m not getting myself wrapped up in any lies before I can…explain.”

“I mean, if she’s as shy as you said, maybe she’s afraid to text you first,” Kit said as she went back to looking over the menu. “Bet you didn’t think of that one, loverboy.”

Hyunjin looked at her absolutely dumbfounded. He looked like she just casually told him the meaning of life. Honestly, why didn’t he think of that? He obviously knew how shy you were.

While Changbin just smirked at her and gently nudged her side, “Good call, babe.”

“I know everything,” she nodded. “The only way that girl could ever possibly have the courage to text you is if she’s drunk – and that’s still a solid maybe.”

And almost on cue, Hyunjin’s phone buzzed against the table. Kit set her menu down and Changbin glanced at the glowing screen as Hyunjin picked up his phone slowly, eyeing Kit before his eyes flickered down to the screen to see a text from an unknown number.

Two slices of pizza and two rounds of Beerio Kart later, you were considering just spending the night at your old apartment. Despite loving your own space, you missed having people around. You missed the good moments of being drunk and laughing about nothing and everything because they could somehow make anything a joke – including the one time the four of you heard a thud from the apartment above you and Minho suggested that the old man who lived there finally kicked the bucket and instead of calling someone, all of you were laughing until you were crying.

Except Jisung basically lived there now, sleeping on their couch more often than not.

And boy, was explaining the situation to him fun.

“I don’t get why this guy maybe wanting to date her is a big deal,” he had said when you were recapping the situation to Seungmin and Minho.

“She’s nervous because she’s scared he’ll think she’s like, weird or undateable if she’s still a virgin,” Minho deadpanned, eyes still on the screen.

Jisung’s jaw dropped, “You’re still a virgin?!”

Needless to say, you finished your drink first and won the first round.

Now, you were two whole drinks deep, you were feeling pretty tipsy – like, tipsy to the point that you were about to confidently tell Jisung your whole life story for fun – and you were contemplating just not going home at all since you were having so much fun. But you also knew it was the alcohol talking because, god, you loved your bed.

“One more?” Minho asked, setting the controller down on the coffee table.

All five of you crammed onto the couch, with Jisung perched on the back, one foot planted on the right armrest while the other was behind Minho. Chan sat beside him on the back of the couch with you sitting comfortably between his legs, leaning back into the cushions as your legs stretched out in front of you. Minho made damn sure to manspread enough to get his own space, while Seungmin leaned into the left arm of the couch. But Seungmin at least seemed content having to lean into the arm of the couch. It could be worse – he could be sitting by Jisung.

“I don’t think _____ should keep drinking,” Chan spoke up, always the voice of reason. “She’s gotta get home, remember?”

“She can crash with you, it’s fine,” Seungmin told him, waiving the worry away.

“The bed is gone, remember?”

Minho and Seungmin looked up at Chan, then at each other, like they forgot you were really gone.

“You guys had a fourth bed?” Jisung exclaimed.

“Yeah, it’s in the dumpster now,” Minho told him as he got up from his seat. “Why don’t you go sleep in it?”

“What if we make sure _____ gets home safe?” Seungmin asked as Minho went to the kitchen for another beer, and Jisung swung his legs around the back of the couch to go follow him. “Then can we play one more?”

“Yeah, dad,” you leaned forward and turned your head to look up at Chan with pleading eyes, “can we?”

Chan gave you a stern look, “How will we know you made it home? We can’t go on the train with you.”

And that was when you remembered something. Something that made butterflies erupt in your stomach before, but now only brought you drunken delight.

“I have Hyunjin’s number!” you squealed. “I forgot! I can text him and I can see if he’ll pick me up from the train station and–”

“And you can blow him in his car!” Minho teased with fake-enthusiasm, though the shit-eating grin he gave you when you glared at him was very much real.

But then you raised your eyebrows and said, “Unless…”

“You won’t,” Chan stated, but it wasn’t like he was telling you that he didn’t want you to. He was telling you that they all knew you wouldn’t.

“How did you forget to tell us you have his number?” Seungmin wondered, leaning toward you as you fished the note from your pocket and began typing the number into your phone.

“It’s _____ we’re talking about,” Minho scoffed.

“Are you sure you wanna text him right now?” Chan asked warily.

“I’m not that drunk,” you promised. “Only enough to have a little more confidence and courage.”

“You go, bestie,” Jisung chimed in before taking a drink of his beer.

Minho groaned, looking at him in annoyance, “Now you need a new beer to play!”

You drowned out their bickering as you typed Hyunjin’s name into your phone before starting a new message.

?????: hey, it’s _____! sorry i didn’t text you earlier!!

“That’s so dry,” Seungmin commented beside you before adding with a shrug, “I mean, you are a virgin.”

You lifted your head to glare at him, meeting his innocent gaze, “Do you want me to announce that I’m drunk?”

“It would make things more interesting, yeah.”

Before you could quip a reply, your phone buzzed in your hand.

Hyunjin 😳💌: no worries! how was work today?

_____ 😌🥰: i didn’t. i hung out with friends all day

Hyunjin 😳💌: oh, that’s fun!

Hyunjin 😳💌: what did you do?

_____ 😌🥰: beerio kart lmao

Hyunjin 😳💌: im a PRO at beerio kart lmao

Hyunjin 😳💌: did you make it home alright after that or are you staying over there?

_____ 😌🥰: ummmmmm

“He’s also unbearably dry,” Minho commented, disgust in his tone as he watched you text from over your shoulder.

You shoved him away from you, his face landing in the cushions.

_____ 😌🥰: I still have to take the train home

Hyunjin 😳💌: you’re not still drunk, are you?

_____ 😌🥰: i mean…..i’ve been drunker

Hyunjin 😳💌: do you need me to pick you up from the station? will you be able to get on the train okay? i can pick you up wherever you are

Jisung clicked his tongue, “He sounds desperate.”

You turned your head around to give him a confused look, “I hardly even know you.”

Hyunjin 😳💌: sorry if i’m being a lot lol i just want you to get back okay

“Does he even know where you are?” Seungmin asked. “I don’t think he’s that committed to driving all the way here. It’s kinda long.”

“How much do you trust this guy?” Chan wondered, looking a little concerned. “You’d be in a car alone with him for about two hours.”

“That also means even more Beerior Kart than just one more round,” you pointed out, a grin spreading across your face.

“Yeah!” Minho cheered, holding his beer in the air. “We love Hyunjae!”

“Hyunjin,” you corrected.

“Whatever-the-fuck!” he said in the same tone with the same smile plastered on his face.

“I don’t know if I would want you in a car with him for two hours if you’re gonna be even more intoxicated,” Chan admitted, placing a hand on your upper back.

Your phone buzzed again in your hand, but it continued to buzz after the first one. You looked down to see Hyunjin’s name illuminated on your screen.

“He’s calling!” Seungmin gasped with wide eyes.

“Go take it in my room,” Chan told you, helping you to your feet and gesturing to his bedroom door. “I already know these freaks will start moaning in the background and shit.”

“Can you be like, a little more fun, grandpa?” Minho frowned.

You went into Chan’s bedroom and shut the door, feeling nervousness wash over you despite having liquid courage in your system. Maybe that was just the overall anxiety of taking phone calls. Still, you forced yourself to answer.

“Hello?”

“Hey, _____,” Hyunjin breathed. “Sorry, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Yeah, I’m at my old apartment with my friends,” you explained. “They’re trying to figure out the whole ‘me leaving’ situation.”

“Like I said, I can come get you,” he offered again. “Where are you?”

“It’s almost two hours away,” you chuckled.

“That’s okay. I’d rather you be safe than worry about a long drive.”

“Weeeeeeell…” you began slowly, wondering if you should even admit this to Hyunjin or not but your mouth was talking before your brain could consider anything else, “one of my friends is kinda concerned about me being drunk and alone in someone else’s car for two hours.”

Thankfully, Hyunjin laughed, “Understandably so. I can pick you up from the train station if you need. Do you need money for a ticket?”

“No, I’m okay. I think maybe Chan just wants me to get a taxi from the station or something.”

“I can call one for you and have it there by the time you get there.”

Feeling maybe too bold from the alcohol, you blurted the question that suddenly came to your mind: “Hyunjin, why are you being so nice to me?”

Your boldness seemed to catch him off-guard for a minute considering his silence, but you heard somebody chuckle in the background, along with a feminine-sounding laugh. It made your heart sink a little bit. Was he with another girl?

‘Are you seriously getting jealous already?’

But in your tipsy state, you’d basically forgotten about it when Hyunjin started talking.

“I’d be like this with any of my friends,” he told you. “If you’re drunk, I want to make sure you make it back safely. So if I can’t personally make sure, I’ll call a taxi at the very least.”

“It’s not that I don’t want you to pick me up,” you babbled, unable to control your mouth because about 50% of your brain was just spilling whatever it thought up, “I just want Chan to not worry about me, either.”

He chuckled, “Sweetheart, I get it. I’m not offended.”

Your face was already feeling flushed from the alcohol, but it somehow got hotter hearing him call you that. You were kind of glad you weren’t around him because you didn’t want him to see how big your smile was at the name.

“‘Kay, just making sure,” you told him, still giggling from the way your heart fluttered from the use of ‘sweetheart’. You were probably going to think about that all night.

“Let me know when you leave and I’ll have the taxi ready for you,” he promised. “Let me or your friends know if anything happens, alright?”

“I will.”

“Have a good night, _____.”

“Thanks, Hyunjin!”

The bedroom door creaked open just as you ended the call. You looked up from the phone to see Seungmin’s head poking in, a devilish grin on his face.

“One more?” he asked.

You nodded eagerly, “One more.”

The train ride went smooth despite you having the spins, and you were pretty sure you were almost fully-sober by the time you were in the taxi. But when you got out of the car and went to walk toward your building, you stumbled slightly.

Okay, so maybe you did play more than one more round.

It was almost 2am as you entered the lobby, and you expected to hear Felix’s deep voice greet you. But instead, you heard one that made your heart skip a beat.

“_____,” Hyunjin stood from one of the chairs in the lobby and strolled over to you, a casual smile on his face. “You made it back okay.”

Your eyes were wide as you stared at him, absolutely shocked that he waited up for you and stayed in the lobby to make sure you showed up. Nobody had ever done that for you – well, except for your grandmother when you would spend the nights at her house when you were in high school and she wanted to make sure you made it home safely, and sometimes Chan did.

“Are you still drunk?” he asked, seeming a little concerned as he slightly tilted his head to one side, eyes studying you.

He mostly asked because you were just standing there staring at him and not saying anything. In fact, you were staring at him like he was some famous person that had strolled in and taken you off-guard.

“Maybe a little,” you admitted in a mumble.

“Do you want some help to your room?” he offered.

A yawn escaped your lips as you nodded, and it hit you just how tired you really were. You kept yourself occupied with your phone on the train and in the taxi, yawning a little here and there since you weren’t surrounded by the excitement of your friends anymore. But knowing your bed was only a few floors away now, you were ready to pass out immediately.

“Need a hand, Hyunjin?” the familiar deep voice commented from by the counter.

“I think I’ve got her,” he replied, carefully sliding an arm around your waist and putting your arm around his shoulders, keeping his hand in yours. “Thanks, though, Lix.”

“‘Course! Have a good night, guys. _____, call down if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Felix,” you slurred slightly, glancing over at the counter to give him a lazy smile. “You’re the best.”

He grinned brightly with a wave as Hyunjin helped you to the elevators.

All you could think of was how good he smelled. Would it be weird to try to subtly nuzzle into him or would he notice? Could you even be sneaky like this?

Being drunk typically gave you some sort of god-complex, but all of a sudden, you were basically back to being your shy, anxious self.

‘I sobered up at least a little bit,’ you reminded yourself, ‘I’m just not drunk enough. ...I should’ve gotten drunker.’

Had Hyunjin been around you at your peak drunkenness, you probably would’ve been throwing him pickup lines left and right.

“Was your trip home okay?” he asked as he pressed the button on the elevator with a slender finger.

“Yeah,” you yawned, trying to not let your head drop onto his shoulder. “Pretty boring, honestly.”

“How was hanging out with your friends?” he continued as the elevator doors slid open.

Honestly, you were fine to walk on your own – it might not have been in a perfect straight line, but you knew you wouldn’t fall on your face – but you continued to let Hyunjin think you couldn’t just because it was nice feeling a strong hand on your waist and his warm fingers wrapped around your hand. And also just leaning into him was nice. Everything about Hyunjin thinking you were far too drunk to function was nice.

And then if you did decide to be bold, you could pretend like you didn’t remember it tomorrow. It was a win/win!

“I didn’t win,” you pouted as you entered the elevator and Hyunjin pressed the button for the 8th floor. “I’m not the best at chugging my drinks…or at driving…”

“Remind me to not get into a car with you, then,” he smirked, glancing at you with a teasing look.

You huffed back in his face, “Okay, real-life driving is not using a fucking controller and trying to drift on Rainbow Road.”

“It could be,” he shrugged, “if you try hard enough.”

“I think you’re the drunk one,” you stated, going so far as to reach up and press the tip of your index finger against the button of his nose.

His eyes closed as your finger touched him, and then he blinked a few times before laughing at you. And you stared at him in a way that clearly said ‘why the hell did I do that’, trying to process exactly why in the hell you did do that.

Then you stared straight forward, whispering to yourself but very much out loud, “What the fuck am I doing?”

“So, who’s the drunk one again?” he continued to laugh, and you could feel teasing eyes on you but you couldn’t look at him.

Maybe you wouldn’t look at him ever again after this.

“Oh, now you’re gonna be shy?” he chuckled, releasing your hand to put his fingers under your chin and guide you to look at him.

Doe eyes met his slender ones. You couldn’t tell what kind of emotion he was looking at you with. There were hints of a smirk on his face but there was still softness in his eyes.

‘Oh god, it’s happening.’

Your heart was hammering in your chest, bracing for whatever was going to happen next. If he was going to kiss you while you were drunk in an elevator, you at least hoped you didn’t also get trapped in the small space because that wouldn’t help you at all.

The elevator dinged softly.

His features broke into a sweet smile as he said, “You’re cute.”

As the doors slid open, Hyunjin dropped his hand to hold yours that you now realized was fisting the shoulder of his shirt because of your nerves. He guided you out of the elevator and walked you halfway down the hall to where your doors faced each other.

“Keys?” he asked.

“Ummm,” you hummed as you fished around in your bag with your free hand, your mind still reeling from whatever Hyunjin was doing to you in the elevator.

You finally found your keys with shaky hands, handing them to Hyunjin. He made sure you weren’t going to fall over if he let you go – you wouldn’t have before but now because of him, your knees felt like jelly – before he unlocked your door and pushed it open slightly for you. Then he handed you your keys back with a smile.

“I’m glad you made it home okay,” he told you.

“Thanks for making sure,” you mumbled, still finding it difficult to look him in the eye.

So all you saw was one foot step forward toward you. You didn’t see his hand come up to cup your cheek, or his head lean forward to press plush lips to your hairline, making your eyes squeeze closed as you felt your heart implode, erupting butterflies in your stomach.

“Have a good night, _____,” he murmured softly. Then he gently took your shoulders, turned you toward your door, and lightly pushed you inside because he knew you wouldn’t move your feet on your own. You could hear him chuckling at you as he added, “Don’t forget to drink lots of water.”

And then he closed the door.

And you stood in your kitchen/living area in the dark, feeling somehow more drunk than when you even left Chan’s.

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