#which is strange since his face has changed a lot since he was first built and when col walter died he looked like a walter but not

[saym0-0]

Thinking about a timetravel au (perhaps via hatchy's portals?) where its just the bots as we know them today fucking around in the cavalcadium in the 1890s right before they were built. idk why but theres just so much comedic potential. like they hide from most people they live in the walls its a bunch of baffled scientists attempting to figure out why three (to six. depending on whos coming.) blue matter signatures are moving around their building. they discovered this element last week goddamn it!! why is it here!! then they finally find them and why are there fully sentient robots. why does that one look like dr moreau. why does that one look like peter walter. whats going on. cut to peter frantically looking between his barely sketched out plans of singing automatons and the very-real fully-complete band of robots before him. they sing ballad of delilah morreo. they sing brass goggles. there has never been a more confused group of scientists

[zaceouiswriting]

The Master of Fulfillment

Character: Jason Todd (Wayne) x male reader, Dick Grayson (Wayne) x male reader

Universe: Somewhere in DC

Warnings: Smut, degrading, slurs, cuckolding, Master/Slave, choking

Read it with the thought that Dick and Jason aren't adopted brothers but blood brothers, which makes it all the more intense.

It was an odd sight. Jason and I come to this cafe almost every day as his work takes up most of his time, and it's right across the street from his workplace. My work is easy and gives me a lot of time. It mostly means that I'm constantly alone without my loving boyfriend. At this point, I can't even recall seeing him naked for more than five minutes or him bending me over for more than a moment.

The saddest part? I wasn't even mad about it. Because a quicky with him is really... quick. Not only is it dissatisfying, but it also makes me feel a kind of angry resentment. Since the first few months of our relationship, he hasn't taken the time to make me cum just by fucking me like he used to. He promised it would be a short thing, but three years have passed, and nothing has changed.

We've been drifting apart for a while because he just doesn't seem to care anymore. Sometimes I think he's aware of it, but then again, he doesn't change it. That's probably what annoys me the most. For a few months now, I don't even give him a quickie without rolling my eyes in annoyance. He stopped asking about it, which obviously made him unhappy as well. Yet, still no change.

I lost my sex drive a long time ago. Or I thought so. Because the strange sight, which is completely different from any other visit we have made here, makes me feel things I haven't experienced in a long time. A tight-fitting shirt, bulging arms big enough to crush my head if they want to. An obviously well-trained chest and an eight-pack under the cloth. But the most important thing besides his perfectly square face and impeccable haircut? His damn tight pants. With a nice firm butt. But the most cloth hugs, his massive bulge. It looks at least twice as big as Jason's. I could immediately feel jealousy rising in me for the person lucky enough to be the partner of this god.

I can feel my own pants tightening. I had to take my eyes off this man made of pure sex.

Logically it shouldn't be a strange sight to see a cop, not even a handsome one, at a coffee shop, but he was strangely alone. Usually, they are never alone buying coffee or something to eat for all their colleagues.

I've tried to ignore his existence, but every now and then, my eyes would wander to him, his well-built body, and whenever he shifted his stance, I would stare straight at his massive bulge. He's been there a lot longer than he should have been. But who was I to look a gift horse in the mouth?

Just as I was thinking about it and staring at the back of his head, he suddenly turned around with a scowl plastered over his face, but as soon as our eyes met, his face strangely relaxed. But soon, his eyes wandered up and down my seated body. I could only feel like a piece of meat under his gaze. A grin appeared out of nowhere on his devilishly handsome face, showing off his perfect pearly white teeth and, in particular, two sharp upper teeth.

A bright red blush appeared on my face, so apparent that even Jason couldn't miss it. "Are you all right, babe? Are you sick?” he asked worriedly. He even went so far as to stand up, leaning slightly toward me, and to put his rough, warm hand on my forehead to take my temperature.

His loving touch made me sick. "Maybe you should go and splash some cold water in your face? It might help,” he told me softly but firmly. There's something strange in his eyes, but I can't quite put my finger on what. Somehow I feel compelled to do as he told me. But before I could leave - shortly after I got up - he pulled me in a quick, smooth movement, very close to him. He definitely could feel my hard cock on him. But he ignored it. Instead, he kissed me deeply. He even went so far as to stick his tongue in. His love is on full display.

For a second, he felt like old Jason, the high school football captain I fell in love with, so rough and domineering. But as soon as we parted, he shyly looked away. My stomach turns with disgust.

Without saying another word, I walk away from him without looking at him again. But the cop - I daydreamed so much - got a look from me. Why? I have no idea. Surprisingly, he already looks at me with hunger in his dark blue eyes and lets them run over my body again before I finally disappear into the bathroom.

I lean against the closed door, breathing heavily. Why does this man make my heart beat so fast? Why was my body sweating so much? And why can't I answer any of these questions?

For a moment, I was so lost in my own thoughts that I forgot this was an open toilet. Quickly, before someone tries to open it and maybe knocks me over, I move away from the door.

I'll go over to the sink, open the water, and splash it in my face as Jason told me to. But why am I doing what he told me? Maybe it was the tone of his voice… so demanding it felt like old Jason.

I shook my head, knowing better. He's gone soft. Too soft.

I remember Jason standing over me in the locker room after one of his team members fucked me for the first time. Jason was so jealous. He was so deliciously rough. He treated me brutally. He didn't care if I got bruises from his treatment. Once, he even gave me a black eye. I vividly remember cumming hard that night: no one else could make me cum like this.

A strange feeling on my face snapped me out of my head the second time. Glancing slightly up in the mirror, I discover a single frustrated tear. But at that moment, I realized something: I still love this soft idiot.

I need to talk to him to find out what's changed! Just as I turned around, the door to the restrooms suddenly opened, startling me a little. For a second, I think it might be Jason to fulfill a long-forgotten sexual fantasy of his. But when I could see the blue of a police officer's uniform, a certain sadness came over me. However, this feeling only lasted a second before a strange excitement came over me.

Confused as to what to do, I rush to the urinals. I quickly pull my pants open and get my cock out. Nervously I tried to pee, but nothing came out. Even though I could feel my bladder filling up out of nowhere, I couldn't let a drop out.

The intimidating footsteps of the cop only make it worse. I hope he would walk down as far as possible. Best at the other end of the room. I decided to keep my eyes closed and pray; until I could no longer hear his footsteps. Despite all this, he came to stand right next to me.

Suddenly my heart started beating faster again. Frightened, I open my eyes only to glance sideways and see the intimidating statue of this muscular mountain of a man. But his eyes were forward and closed just like mine a second ago.

He deftly undid his fly without looking and fished something out, seeming to have some difficulty with it, commenting with annoyed little noises. The depth of his voice shocked me to my core. I look up for just a moment at his sharp, masculine features. But even from the bottom corner of my eye, I could see beige skin sticking out of the front of his pants.

And when my eyes noticed whatever it was, my mouth went dry. "Fuck!" I exclaimed loudly. Involuntarily I would like to add! It was just a reaction.

Even after I could hear a deep laugh, I couldn't take my eyes off this huge hunk of meat. His cock is thicker than my wrist and even limp as long as Jason's hard cock. Jason isn't small by any measurement, but this cop's cock is on another level.

But nothing could intimidate me like the sudden powerful jet of water that this man let out, completely occluding my bladder. It's so aggressive that I know he's doing it to intimidate me even further. And it's an eternity before he finally shakes off with a deep, low, satisfied groan.

He pulls back his foreskin and waves it to get the last drops out. But even then, he didn't pack it up again. Instead, he stroked it lazily. It scared me. Not because it wasn't damn hot to see this man do something like that, but because he might notice me staring at him.

A quick glance upwards is enough to see that he is looking down at me. The hunger in his eyes is darker now. "So you're a fag?" he asks with a malicious grin. He seems to know exactly what he's doing. Because for some reason, I could feel some kind of lust tightening in my stomach or wherever.

He boldly steps back from the urinal and holds his semi-hard cock in his massive hand, which would take him at least two more to completely enclose his cock. My eyes widened at the realization that this man wants me, not only wants me but might even want to destroy me, considering his... question.

“I-I-“

"Don't be shy," he mused. He comes closer with his feet straight and pushes me further back. "Touch it," he commanded me. Although his voice sounded sweet, I could feel the pressure of authority pressing on me.

Before I know it, I hold out my shaking hand. Soon I'm touching the fat cock head and feeling a wetness on it. The urge to try it rose in me. But I couldn't! I have a boyfriend! That thought, thankfully, brings me back to my senses. I quickly try to withdraw my hand. But before I can do that, something inside me stops my movements for some reason. I look up anxiously and look the officer straight in the eyes. He angrily stares down at me.

"I see you want more, don't you? Greedy little fagot!” His dark, murderous eyes are now paired with an equally sinister laugh that startles me so much I stumble backward. I almost fall to my knees from sheer weakness. "Get on your knees!" he suddenly orders me.

“Wha-“

"I'm not repeating myself!" he growled right in my face.

"I-I can't! I ha-have a boy-boyfriend!” My teeth are chattering from fear.

All he does is mock me. "You mean that guy out there? The one you flinched from when he touched you? Can't he satisfy a whore like you? Is he that pathetic?”

A sudden surge of caution washes over me. Finally free of this moment, I pull my hand away, even though I mentally curse myself for it. "It's not like-"

"You already cheated on him just because I took out my obviously bigger cock. It's only a matter of time how long it will be before you're begging to take it up your little bitch hole!"

He grins down at me so arrogantly that I immediately believe he is the case and then some. I don't seem to be his first victim of lust. That much is clear. But if you look like him, are built like him, and have a cock like him? Who can blame him for using it to his advantage? I would do the same if I were in his place.

A thick, awkward silence falls over us for a long moment. He just stares, seemingly trying to understand me. But then his face suddenly twists into pure disappointment. Tightened, he clicked his tongue dismissively. Right before me, he tucks his monster cock back into his pants and pulls up his fly. He gives me one last dissatisfied look before turning around.

Suddenly a pang of disappointment comes over me. But why? Is it because a man like him wants me? Do I want to please him? Do I want to please him more than being faithful to my loving boyfriend?

Everything goes so fast, and all these thoughts shoot through my head within seconds of him turning around. He only took two heavy steps, and it is impossible not to miss him. Even his footsteps showed a tremendous amount of authority. They are so powerful that I wish he would step on me.

At that moment, my mouth opens: "Stop!" I call after him, out of breath. For a moment, I did not realize that I'd said anything.

Before I know it, my back hits a wall so hard it takes my breath away. It was hard to focus again. But when I finally managed to come back, a broken moan escaped my lips. A massive hand gripped my throat and cut off my windpipe. But I don't care. After all, it's this man. His eyes were even darker than before.

His mouth opens, and he even says something, but the only thing I can focus on is his hand which I wish would beat me red and blue. I've never seen so many veins in a hand or forearm as he does.

From one moment to the next, my ears start ringing as my head flies to the side. For a second, I feel like a star hit me - literally.

"Are you back, bitch?" he asks smugly. He seems to know that everything about him makes me lose focus.

As pathetic as I am right now, I try to talk, but all that comes out is a choked sound. At that moment, I realize that his hand is still around my neck. So I nod submissively.

"Good," he says, still as smug as before, "because now you're going to listen to me carefully, understood?" Again I nod. "We don't have time for all the fun, so I'm going to turn you around, get you ready for a moment, and then fuck you stupid, got it?"

Unable to do anything else, knowing I'll do anything to feel his hand on me and not wanting to disappoint him again, I nod. Still grinning, he takes his hand from my throat. Instead, he cups my chin between his thumb and index finger. Carefully, gently he slaps my face. 

"Good boy," he whispers huskily in my ear.

Never in my life has my cock become as hard as it is at this moment. I squirm under his intense gaze. His callous hands trail down to my chest. So out of fear, I close my eyes, enjoying his full attention, only to be carelessly grabbed and thrown around. I soon find my face crushed against the disgusting white tiles of the bathroom.

He presses close to my back. I can feel his hardening cock poking against it. This man is just too big... in all regards. But he doesn't let that bother him. Instead, he uses the big body size difference to masturbate with my lower back.

His head is so close and yet, so far away that he has to bend down to let his breath tickle the hairs on the back of my neck and the fine hairs on my ears. For a second, I think he's going to kiss me. His lips are this close to my skin. "Are you clean?" he asks suddenly.

Confused by this question, I try to turn my head to look askance at him. Before I can do that, though, he pushes my head back to where he wants it. I fearfully gasp for air. "Yes," I answer him. Hoping he means if I'm healthy.

An intrusive feeling snaps me out of my thoughts as I feel a long finger poking through the crack in my ass. My eyes shoot down in shock. My pants are on the floor, around my ankles. How did he do that? I neither felt nor heard anything. I didn't even feel the cold breeze around my bare legs like I do now!

"And your hole, bitch?" His breathing gets ragged, hopefully with excitement, as mine does.

It feels so personal, too much, if I'm being honest. On the other hand, I'm standing in front of him half-naked, ready to take anything he wants to give me, just like the slut he thinks I am. And I can't even blame him for that. Then that's precisely how I'm behaving in this moment.

"I-I never ga-gave up my special diet," I choke out as his finger circles my tight hole. I realize how much I need a real man to touch me there and use my hole like it's his.

"Hmm..." he hummed contentedly. "What a good boy you are," he muses again, the smug grin evident in his voice.

As he calls me that again, my resolve shatters. My knees give out. Before I can move too much, though, his hands are on my waist. "Don't worry, I've got you," he murmured, "you're not the first whore to go weak in the knees. Although it usually doesn't happen until they find out how long my tongue is."

I'm gasping for air, confused as to what he could mean. But suddenly, his head is gone. Even more confused, I gather all my strength and press my hands against the wall to get my head off it. I can barely move my head, but my eyes immediately take in what is happening. This god of a man crouches behind me, his head level with my butt.

"Nice ass, I'll give you that," he says absently. With his hands, he kneads my perfectly round ass cheeks. A slap ripped a big moan out of my throat. "A perfect jiggle." At this point, he's just mumbling. He smacks my ass a few more times, though.

Until his voice suddenly gets even lower, with which he says a single word after a particularly hard slap on my ass: "Fuck".

Both together lead me to the most humiliating experience that I have ever happened to me in my entire life. With no warning or ability to stop it, I groan loudly.

It would certainly have been less humiliating if it hadn't snapped the cop out of his horny trance.

"Are you really that needy, bitch? Well, then maybe we should start?” 

Of course, that's not a question because only a second later, I feel his wet tongue on my hole. It's not hard for the tip to break through, considering his fingers have already made me pretty loose.

But he quickly pulls out the tip of his tongue just to lick my hole up and down, teasing it with the tip only to give it a big lick again. Honestly, he has driven me crazy within seconds. With my arms flat against the wall and my head banging against it, I let him do as he pleases.

He pays more attention to my needs than Jason has in years. For years he just fucks me until he's done and then leaves. But this cop? A man I've never met before - I might add - really knows what he's doing, like a pro.

I should soon find out what he meant by the comment about his long tongue because everything in his regard seems to be... extraordinary. I even believe that his tongue alone could get into my stomach. Of course, it can't. But he reaches in extremely far and covers my insides with his spit. He even goes as far as to spit deep inside me once or twice. Preparing me to take his monster cock without lube.

The once cool tiles no longer comfort me. The officer's hot, wet tongue gives me pleasure like no one has before. Not even Bryan, who before the officer was the best fucker I've ever had. And the officer still has to give me what I really want. What I desire, since I have noticed him.

But apparently, he won't give it to me without a fight. Because all he does is please me with his powerful tongue.

Soon, however, even the thoughts that, not so long ago, fill me with fear and disappointment in myself for giving myself to another man and the desire to please him.

All I can do now is fixate on the tongue deep in my greedy hole. The bumps on his tongue massaged my sensitive insides. But what really gets me going is the flexibility of his tongue. Suddenly, he rolls his tongue and uses it like an icebreaker to penetrate me even deeper.

For a second, my mind is blank. When I come to, I'm lying flat against the wall, a hand behind my back holding me tighter against it while an arm around my knees keeps me upright. I can feel the arrogant smirk on my butt, but at this point, I know he's right. I might not like it, but he's a sex god who can turn even something as simple as a rim job into a feast of pleasure.

The tingling sensation of his tongue going deep into areas previously reserved for cocks is just too nice. His tongue is obscene, as are the moans he can filter out of me. I'm already on cloud nine… no, wait, cloud eleven. He gets me high just through my lust.

My brain is so slow I don't feel his tongue leave my hole and gape like a fish out of water. It even takes a moment before he realizes he's spitting in, only to have his long fingers push it in deeper. And it takes even longer before I realize he's talking to me.

I slowly take in his words and somehow find the strength to turn my head slightly. I look at him with blurred eyes, the area around his lips shows a slight reddishness, but it's almost imperceptible.

"I don't think I can do it," I murmur almost silently.

"But a really good boy would do that for his man."

“You aren-“

"Do I have to punish you?" His voice suddenly drops again, and his eyes, which gleam with lust, are filled with anger and disappointment.

With new tears forming in my eyes, I shake my head. It puts back a smug smile on his full lips. "Good," he says before he takes my hand and puts it on his crotch.

Why he wants me to undo his fly again is beyond me, and with my shaking hand, it's no easy task anyway. It takes a while before I can even get my hands on it and even longer before I can open it. But the man doesn't care. He's patiently waiting for me to obey his commands like I'm his whore.

He still helps my hand reach into his pants and leans forward again before I can pull him out. So I can only jerk him off a little over his underwear. "I've never seen a fag like you, who is more like a whore than a regular fag and is falling apart so damn easily. You haven't even tasted my...dick." The last word lingered for a while, seductively.

One moment he's praising me, and the next, he's demeaning me, but unfortunately, both kind of turn me on. I've never bothered with either of them before have only done them to my partners, but now with him? With this man? I want to hear it from him, over and over again, both. Maybe it's his soothing, authoritative voice or his body and what he represents.

“I-I-“

"Try not to think too much," he says, still smugly. "I'm going to fuck you now whether you like it... or not. You asked me to do it, so I'll do it, and if I like your sweet little hole, I might make it mine."

A thousand things go through my mind, but mostly Jason, my faithful, loving boyfriend, who's still at the cafe...alone...waiting for me, and I'm here, with another man, no. .. a real man, someone who can give me what I need. "I can-"

Just as I begin to speak, a sudden pressure is applied to my not yet opened wide enough hole. The pain races through my body, but my mind is too busy to react immediately. On the other hand, the man behind me is more than ready. Before I know it, a hand blocks my mouth, and another arm pulls both of my hands behind my back and holds them there, just to be safe, I suppose.

"Now be a good little boy and scream!"

Without a second thought, the officer rammed into me. It overwhelms me. It feels like he's splitting me in half. While at the same time not giving me much time to understand what he's doing. Then, just a moment after ramming as much as he could into me, he pulled back completely. Every sound I want to make gets stuck in my throat. I just couldn't get it out.

I can feel an intense gaze on the back of my head. With his head far away from mine, his deep voice suddenly roared, "I told you to yell for me, you stupid fag!" After saying this, the officer, annoyed at my uncooperative, aims and rams his massive dick back into my hole.

Finally, muffled screams echo through the room, and tears run down the officer's rough, large hand. Almost as soon as those painful screams come from me, I hear a loud moan of satisfaction behind me.

"You're a lot tighter than I thought...Your boyfriend is even more pathetic than I thought...Shit, so fucking tight!"

Even though he's using me like a fucking toy and doesn't seem to care how much pain he's causing me, I admit it's exactly what I need. I might not be able to walk for a few days and perhaps even bleed because the cop suddenly opens my tight hole so wide. But I already know I'll be needing something like this more often. I would prefer it if he never pulled his cock out again.

I'm so far gone after he pushes himself back inside me that my screams soon become bubbling noises.

Almost as if he's waiting for something like this to happen, he removes his hand from my mouth without breaking his rhythmic movements. "Did you try to say something?" he asks smugly. His breathing is even as if this is something normal to him. Remembering his massive, muscular physique and thinking that he's not just a gym rat but an athlete through and through gives me my answer to my unasked question. Somehow it made this situation even more erotic.

"Roem, a ened erom," I tell him. Everything is right in my head, and I tell him I need more. But when I hear my own words, I am deeply embarrassed.

He chuckles darkly, knowing as well as I do that he's already broken me after just a few moments of him fucking me. Suddenly, a strange, unfamiliar glow appears in his eyes. Just as it appears, he forcibly turns my head and pulls it back, arching my back. As he smiles down at me, terror courses through my veins. Whatever's going on in his head, it can't be good.

Suddenly something wet hits my face. Barely able to open one of my eyes, I see that his smile has grown, and a string of spit is hanging out of his mouth. Shocked and disgusted, all I could do was gape at him.

But he seems to take this as an invitation, so he quickly slaps his hand on my cheek and massages his spit into my skin, two fingers even wiping a bit into my mouth.

Unable to comprehend what is happening, I close my mouth around his fingers and lick them like an obedient whore.

“Fuck!“

His hand on my face suddenly pushes my head down while his other arm pulls me back. Thinking he wants to bend me over and press me against the wall, I move as much as possible to help him with my aching body.

But to my utmost shock, he goes even further. Instead of against the wall, he presses my head close to the bottom of the toilet, into which he has just urinated without flushing. I can smell the strong smell. He almost pushed me in. But I can barely get my hands on the toilet to prevent that.

I choke on the disgusting stench and almost throw up. The officer keeps me there even after hearing about it. "You'd do anything to get that cock back, wouldn't you?" he asks menacingly. Even without hearing anything else, I'm split: on the one hand, I would do anything to feel him again. On the other hand, I have my own pride. And I don't like that shit.

So I gather all my strength to draw a line. I cling to the toilet with an effort, undeterred by his powerful attempts to push me back down.

It takes a while, but once I move away from that smell, I grab onto the top of the toilet and turn my head. "Fuck you!" I tell him in a moment of clarity.

"Feisty." He's not even confused by my sudden action, which confuses me more than anything else. "I like it. A tight fucking hole, handsome, and not easy to bend." After that, there's a long pause, but I can see he's about to say something else. "Then come here and see how much punishment you can endure!"

It's the only form of warning before he pulls me flat against his massive chest, lifts me in the air, grabs me in odd places, and twists me with his monster cock inside me. When I finally get a close look at him, he's pinning us against the wall, with both of my legs resting on his left shoulder because of my pants binding them together and staring down into my eyes.

Not long after, I realize that his warning is no idle threat. He starts pounding me like a beast without breaking eye contact. Even though he's the most handsome man I've ever seen, I didn't feel like kissing him like Jason... Jason does. Shit, I'm cheating on my loving boyfriend.

When the man sees something is wrong, he pushes me harder against the wall. "Don't think about that loser. I'm fucking you, not him! Remember this!"

With that, he goes all in and even starts to sweat a bit. But that doesn't last long as all the pressure of the moment finally takes hold of me. My sensitive cock starts moving, and the officer has to hit me only one more time to make me cum again. This time, however, I scream Jason's name loudly.

But deep anger comes over him when he hears Jason's name slip from my lips. He starts to brutally fuck my hole, which makes my head go blank.

When I come to, the officer slumps on top of me, my hole drenched with his cum.

"You c-came inside me?" I ask him, my fear evident in my voice.

"Of course," he says smugly, "your hole is mine now!"

As if to make his point even clearer, he quickly pulls himself out of my sore hole, sets me down on the floor, and kicks me in the back of my knees, causing me to fall on top of her. I look up at him in confusion in my delirium. Before I could ask what he's doing, he opened my mouth slightly with his thumb. Still confused, I just let him do what he wants. But as the saying goes, if you give some people a hand, they take your entire arm.

Before I know it, he's cramming his first five or six inches down my throat, not without my teeth scraping his skin because of the surprise.

Thankfully, when I look up at him in shock, he doesn't look unhappy. More smug than anything. "Yeaaaah...uhh...oh damn! This hole is mine too!” he says firmly, not caring if I want it... or not. He simply decides for me.

At this point, I don't want to mention Jason anymore or think of him for fear of being punished again. "Clean that damn cock up, fagot!" He grins down at me. It makes me weak enough to see past what he just did. So push him back slightly to get a little control. With both hands, I lightly jerk his semi-hard cock, sucking his cock head clean and licking the rest of his monster clean as well.

When I look up again after cleaning him fully and dropping his cock, I see a happy glow in his eyes.

“Put it back in!“ 

Without further inquiry, I did as I was told, taking his now limp cock - still massive - and shoving it back into his pants, pulling his underwear over them, and pulling his fly back up. I place my hands on his large thighs for a second longer to catch my breath.

As I breathe, one of his large hands caresses me almost lovingly. His smugness is now completely gone. "Don't cry. Isn't it as bad as you might think," he told me cryptically. "Open your mouth."

This time I'm more reserved and only stare at him. He quickly realizes I won't do what he told me to do. He rolled his eyes, grabbed the back of my head, and pulled my hair. For a second, it hurt so bad that I opened my mouth involuntarily. He quickly stuck two fingers in and put something in my mouth.

I try to bite him, but he pulls his fingers out fast enough. As I glare at him, his smug smile is back. "Don't worry," he waved dismissively, "It's just a peppermint." Still, after telling me that, he gets dangerously close to me again. His smug grin turns predatory again. "You don't want your useless little friend smelling a real man on your breath, do you?"

His words hit all the right spots. He knows my guilt and bathes in it like a psychopath.

I push myself away from him, and instead, I crash into the tiled wall, not hard enough to hurt myself, but my dignity was injured nonetheless.

"Next time, I don't want to feel teeth on my cock, got it... bitch?"

He doesn't wait for an answer before going to the sink, washing his hands, and exiting the toilet without a backward glance.

He left me here...alone, with my face in my hands. Finally, the realization of what I've done comes into its own. How could I do that? Jason loves me, and I-I love him too. This will destroy him!

Though sadness overwhelms me, I somehow stand up. To do this, though, I put my hands on the side of the urinal to use as leverage, as my legs were more jelly than anything. Standing isn't any better, my whole back hurts like hell, and my ass is on fire. Somehow, however, I manage to get back to the sink.

When I see my reflection in the mirror, I'm not shocked to see myself completely disheveled. After all, my whole body just got destroyed by this arrogant fucking cop so annoyingly smug... I want to... fucking punch him in the face!

As my anger mounts, I realize it's my fault. A desperate sigh escapes my lips. I activated the water, splashed more water on my face, and cleaned up as best I could in a cafe toilet.

I could remove almost all the accumulated visible sweat and even save my hair to a certain extent. Only the redness on my face and slightly swollen eyes still told me something had happened.

I wait another minute, just hoping I don't seem too suspicious. When I'm happy enough with how I look, I walk to the toilet door and open it with a trembling hand to confront the man I love and just betrayed.

Extra:

Jason is happily sitting at our table while doing something on his phone. When I walk towards him or limp, he thankfully doesn't sense my presence until I've reached him and already sat down again.

"Are you all right again?"

Why is he ignoring my obviously different appearance? I look all messed up, and he doesn't react at all! Somehow it makes me angry. Is he even looking at me?

Suddenly he focuses on one point. As my gaze wanders to this point, terror fills my veins; A fucking semen stain, already crusted. But Jason just pulls out a tissue, looks around, and pulls my shirt up slightly to carefully clean my stomach. I can only sit there in horror.

“I-I can ex-explain I-„

Jason gives me a bright smile and just shakes his head. Which immediately silences me.

I can only wait until he's ready to talk and embarrassedly enjoy the attention he's giving me. I haven't felt this good in years! Even if the overshadowing feelings of guilt are getting stronger.

Even after he let my shirt drop, he's still smiling.

“I really need to tell-“

"Jason!" a sudden voice calls out to my boyfriend. One that I know only too well because a few minutes ago, the voice humiliated me and, at the same time, made me feel like a worthy sexual partner.

As I feel the blood drain from my face, I can only watch in horror as the same cop comes to our table, ruffles Jason's hair like he's done it a million times, and sits beside me, putting his arm too close for comfort.

He grins at me, making it painfully clear that something has happened between us.

"How do you know each other?"

With his still smug smirk, the cop switched between Jason and me before focusing on my boyfriend. "He's my little brother. I still can't believe he never told you about me. After all, we hang out together all the time!”

As soon as the words that his dirty mouth uttered registered in my brain, I almost fainted.

“Bro-Brother?“ I ask both men for clarification.

“Yeah,“ Jason admitted in a lowered voice.

Again the cop looks back and forth between Jason and me and can obviously sense the awkward atmosphere around us increasing as best I can feel it.

"Well, nice to finally meet the 'perfect guy' as Jason always flaunts you to me. But I have to go,” he tells us loudly, only for him to lean against me. "Remember, I like you tight," he whispers in my ear while his hand presses softly against my throat again.

But the moment breaks just as quickly as it has come. Jason's brother gets up and walks away, leaving me speechless.

"We can talk about this in the car," Jason says suddenly.

Tears well up in my eyes in a whirlwind of emotions. I don't want to let them fall in public, so I plainly nod. Oddly enough, Jason takes my hand and lovingly draws circles on the back.

But I'm far gone in my head. I now fully realize the gravity of what I've done. Maybe he could have forgiven me for cheating on him if it was some random guy, but his brother?

With a heavy stomach - that almost makes me throw up at our favorite coffee shop - Jason leads me straight to his car. He carefully helps me into the passenger seat and brushes a few strands of hair out of my face. Out of nowhere, he plants a nice, long kiss on my forehead.

I know, Jason! He's not so stupid that he didn't recognize the situation. So why is he still so loving?

It doesn't look like I'll be getting an answer to my silent question any time soon. Because as he gets into the car, he starts it and drives off. I have never experienced such silence, heavy and suffocating.

“I met Bryan again over two years ago.“

When he suddenly starts speaking, I jump a little. Maybe even a high-pitched squeak came out of my throat.

Jason doesn't even give me a sideways glance. He just starts talking again. "By that point, I could already sense that you were no longer sexually happy with me. I asked him if we could have a beer in the evening, and when we met, I asked him how he could keep you happy for so long. He was uncomfortable talking about it because he is actually married now after getting his girlfriend pregnant. But I got it out of him, and...let's just say it wasn't what I wanted to hear."

If someone had told me that my first ex could tear my whole world apart, even if we parted on good terms or as I thought it was on good terms, I wouldn't have believed it. But here I am, fighting against the only guy stupid enough to tell anyone's boyfriend stuff like that.

I gently place my hand on Jason's leg and try to get him to look at me so I can explain, but he doesn't react.

"I always thought I could be the guy you want and need. Maybe I'm the guy you want but not the guy you need. I felt insecure before speaking to Bryan because our sex life had already dwindled, but from what he told me, I felt... inadequate. And how could I not? His cock is huge... he showed me a picture. But the worst? That he could be something I can never be. A master."

My cheeks burn with embarrassment. Jason and I, of course, talked about our preferences. But I never mentioned my greatest. Yes, in the beginning, Jason was a dominant male, but around the same time, I realized it was just a facade. But I was willing to do anything to be happy with him.

“But Jason, I love you and what I did is not-“

"For once in your life, can you shut up?" He yells, gazing into my eyes angrily. I wanted to say something, and he could see that. "I set you up!"

“W-What?“

"I set you up with my brother," he finally admits. "He stopped by two weeks ago when you weren't there. I've been thinking about breaking up with you to give you a chance to find someone you need. All my ex-boyfriends have cheated on me with my brother at some point. He always told me beforehand. But this time? After he reminded me of the love you and I share? I-I asked him to be the one to give you what you need.”

"I don't understand." I'm breathless. I couldn't breathe! What's wrong with me?"

Jason doesn't seem to be doing any better, however. "I asked him to wear the most tight-fitting uniform he has, knowing he would draw your attention. Afterward, he told me that if we both had healthy sex lives, you would never have considered his advances. But he could tell you were starving for brutal sex.” 

It must be difficult for him to admit his deepest worries. Because now I'm just someone who chose his brother over him.

“He's actually in to make this into something regular. And I have already agreed.”

"W-What? Don't I have a say in that too?” I ask him perplexed.

"I'm your boyfriend! That is never going to change! But I can't dominate you as much as you need to. It's the other way around... actually. I want you..."

His last words hang in the air like a lifeline. Yet I cannot really comprehend what he is revealing. A plot to cheat on him, but not to cheat him, but what for? Strengthen our relationship? Or getting me also into a relationship with his brother?

“What does all of this mean, Jason?“

He took a deep breath and took my hand into his again. He looks straight into my confused eyes. "My brother will be your only lover. And I want you to be dominant in bed with me."

I'm stunned, and it will probably take me a moment to really understand what he's saying. This is why we continue driving in silence until we arrive in the underground car park of our apartment building and come to a stop. Where everything suddenly hits me like a rock.

“Jason?“

“Yes, my love?“

“Are you a cuckold?“

It seems I hit the hammer on the head because his frozen reaction, unable to meet my gaze, speaks volumes.

"So you want to watch me get utterly destroyed by your own brother?" The question hangs heavily in the air.

“I-I don’t-I-“

"It sounds really... hot. I can imagine him fucking me silly while you stare at me with jealousy, and my face is contorted with ecstasy... I can imagine us doing that.”

I must have shocked Jason to the core because he fell silent. But he still holds my hand tightly in his. However, that didn't stand with me. I aggressively pull my hand out, stunning him even more.

Without saying a word, I get out of the car, walk around it and yank open his car door. He looks at me so perplexed that I want to cuddle with him and apologize.

“Get out!“ I order him.

He looks at me with wide eyes, a kind of pleasure in them, still trying to understand what I'm doing.

"Eyes down and follow me. You don't touch or look at me, understand?” Jason nods submissively. Grinning, I cup his face in my hands and give him a small kiss on his lips. Only to slap him in the face the next second with a cold expression on his face. He shudders under my gaze and quickly lowers his eyes.

I have a sinking feeling that this agreement will not go as planned. But for now, I'll try to make Jason happy.

[Masterlist]

[suhnshinehaos]

treacherous

...a spin-off to crush culture ! synopsis : after a couple of instances of accidental matching clothing, yangyang finds himself in a dating rumor with possibly the most famous person on campus : yn, the bassist of an up and coming band. yangyang doesn’t seem to have a problem with it. unfortunately yn, who has also built up a reputation for being cold as winter, does. pairing : liu yangyang x gn!reader genre/s : university au, student council + band au, fluff, angst, humor

act three, part three : a familiar face

written part wc : 1.4k

previous  ➤  act three, part two next  ➤  act three, part four treacherous  ➤  masterlist 

you take a few deep breaths before opening the doors. one, two, three. inhale, exhale. you can do this, you remind yourself, though you’re not entirely sure if you actually believe it. it doesn’t take a genius to figure out which familiar face your bandmates were referring to. 

when doyoung mentioned an interview with kwangya club magazine, the first emotion that tugged at your system was disappointment. while you never had any problem with cc!yn, you also knew that they were a music writer for the magazine; yangyang wrote for fashion. the next emotion that coursed through your veins was an excited anticipation. you hadn’t seen any other ncit alum outside of your bandmates since graduation. seeing a familiar face would certainly be a refreshing change of pace from working.

the cold air from the air conditioner hits your face as soon as you stepped into the room, but you were nowhere near bothered. instead, your ears picked up on an ever so familiar voice and your eyes immediately move around the room to locate its owner.

you spot him by the windows, with your bandmates and your manager, and just like that your feet begin to move on their own. 

“i actually voted for this guy when he ran for council. truly one of my biggest regrets.”

you hear the teasing tone in mark’s words as you move in closer, but his voice is nowhere near as loud as the beating of your own heart.

“come on, i think i did a great job in the council.” yangyang runs a hand through his hair before looking down at his feet, “i threw great events, didn’t i?”

“it’s good to see you seem to know each other well, i trust that this interview will go well.” doyoung nods towards yangyang, and just before he could respond, doyoung waves you over. “yn! good, you’re here. we can get started.”

you watch as yangyang’s eyes widen at the mention of your name, looking up from his shoes to meet your gaze so quickly that you fear he would have somehow injured his neck. 

“hey, yn.” he breathes out, and the way he says your name was enough to send shivers down your spine. it held so much weight despite its quietness.

you offer him a small smile, so small that you’re not even sure if it classifies as one, “hi, yang.”

“so, um-”

“it’s been-”

you both start your sentences at the same time, and make gestures for the other to proceed with what they were planning to say first. it feels strange, awkward even. when you were both in university, the atmosphere was never awkward between you and yangyang. even when you had first met. he always found a way to fill up the space with his teasing and flirting, and you always responded with a masked annoyance and eventual endearment.

but now, neither of you knew what to say.

hendery lets out a low whistle, trying to look at anything but the two of you. doyoung is doing the opposite, his gaze darting back and forth between you and yangyang, completely intrigued at the change of atmosphere. mark pretends to check on his phone, but you could tell by the brightness of his screen that he was just swiping his thumb back and forth across his home screen. 

dejun, ever the reliable best friend, breaks the silence.

“so, since yn is here, should we begin? we do have a lot of schedules to get through today.”

“yes, of course!” yangyang speaks claps his hands together just a little too loud, before leading you to an area where a couch and a couple of extra chairs had been set up. “right this way.”

“that will be all, thanks for your time.” yangyang politely smiles, closing his notebook and stopped his recording device. he stands and offers to shake each of your bandmates’ hands, which they take. however, when he reaches you he can’t help but grip a little tighter and hold on a little longer. 

you and your bandmates excuse yourselves and make your way to where your manager was waiting by the door. yangyang lets out an exhale of relief, closing his eyes for a brief moment. he did it, he was able to finish the interview in one piece.

then again, that was mostly attributed to yours and your bandmates’ sense of professionalism. especially in the way they made the interview feel like a bunch of old friends catching up. 

still, there was a weight in his back pocket. the texts that johnny had sent just as the interview was about to begin played on a loop in his head. if you can’t do it for yourself, do it for yn.

yangyang’s gaze travels across the room until they land on you. there’s a strange tugging sensation that makes it feel like he’s being pulled towards you, but it’s not like he’s making any effort to stop himself either. 

“hey yang-”

“can i talk to you?” he doesn’t mean to be rude to hendery by cutting him off, but to him everyone else in the room had disappeared. yangyang needed this. he needed you to know. it’s all his fault. if there was any sliver of doubt in your mind, he wanted it gone.

you look towards doyoung, silently asking if you can.

doyoung nods. “sure, but make it quick. i’m taking you guys to another interview in a bit.”

yangyang leads you to the farthest corner of the room, mentally preparing himself every step of the way. how does he even begin? is there a right way to begin? does he just show you his phone and let you piece everything together yourself?

when he finally stops walking and is faced with your waiting expression, his mind draws a blank. he stands, tense and unblinking, as you crossed your arms in front of your chest and chip away at the air of politeness and professionalism you held onto this entire time. what’s left is a faraway look of hurt in your eyes, the kind that made his own heart ache.

“i didn’t want to do it.”

“then why did you?” a sigh moves past your lips, your voice the quietest he’s ever heard it. still, he misses that all too familiar and comforting sound, even if it was tinged with disappointment and undeniable pain.

his hand shakes as he reaches for his phone, even more so when he hands you his phone. in it contained an album of screenshots of texts between himself and your previous manager, himself and renjun, as well as his group chat with renjun and cc!yn as per johnny’s suggestion when he talked with him in his office the day prior. it took a lot of scrolling back, but yangyang always knew he eventually wanted you to know. he just never thought the universe would give him the opportunity to do so, or if he even had the guts to go through with it.

yangyang could only watch with bated breath as your eyes scanned through the texts, your eyebrows furrowing deeper and deeper each passing second. it’s the longest, quietest, and heaviest three minutes of his life.  

“yang, listen-” you hand him his phone back, and for the briefest of seconds your fingertips brush against his. before you could even finish your sentence, a voice calls out to you from across the room, your manager’s.

“YN! WE NEED TO GO, INTERVIEW GOT MOVED UP.!”

“but-” you turn to look at him, and yangyang could tell in your expression that the gears were turning in your head, cycling through every possible emotion and every single word you wanted to say. 

yangyang shakes his head with a sad smile, not wanting another manager mad at him. he gently pushes you towards the direction of where your bandmates and manager are, “it’s okay. i just wanted you to know. for both our peace of mind.”

“YN! YOU CAN CATCH UP SOME OTHER TIME.”

you sigh, turning towards him, “is your number still the same? you didn’t block mine?”

he nods and you respond with a nod back before jogging towards doyoung and your bandmates.

yangyang was having lunch with giselle, jaehyun, chaeyoung, and seungkwan in the office pantry when he received a text.

bonus !!

#dvforkwangyaclub , aka. yangyang's interview : coming soon

sneak peek of part ??

from reese, with love <3

yeah... this one was a lot huh? apologies for the long time between updates, it took me a while to work on this one. thank you for reading, i'd really love to know what you think! hope you're doing well and taking care :)

[snalzhttps]

IM GOING TO. ramble about an uty headcanon/theory? now SPOILERS

SO THIS is a drawing in Kanako’s room of what appears to be Axis, its meant to be Axis right! (theres an obvious drawing of Dalv too so she’s drawing other characters and we are meant to assume she knows them)

BUT something that sticks out to me is that the heart on Axis’ chest is upside down! (and there are other slight differences too - no gear, lightbulb, or ear things?)

I love the sibling dynamic Axis and Kanako headcanons and drawings they are like my favourite thing, but if Kanako had met Axis 014, how would she get these details wrong?

These could just be errors in memory or artistic ability, she seems very young after all, BUT THAT ANSWER IS WAY LESS FUN THAN RANDOM SPECULATION!!!!!!!

SO. My little headcanon theory is that this drawing is a design that Kanako came up with for a guard robot that Chujin asked her to draw, then he modelled Axis (014 at the least) off of. Kanako is a young monster who wouldn’t know humans had upward facing souls, and only ever seen/known about monsters downward facing souls, so would draw a heart shape that way (then Chujin changed this when building Axis, for some reason)

There is no *proof* for this other than the idea that Kanako is “gifted like her father too” (which is most likely supposed to be referring to the fact they are boss monsters considering the trailed off “she’s a” following), but I like to imagine its also about a creating/art talent since the accompanying picture of Kanako has her painting the mask. Implying to me that Chujin and Kanako could have drawn/created things together and one day the idea of designing a robot (since it was on Chujin’s mind from the steamworks employee reports and letters) came up.

And THAT is where Axis’ (kind of clunky and strange compared to a more sleek and smooth looking robot like guardener that was being built and designed at the same time, showing the capabilities of robot designs) design comes from (this also could explain why the other robot parts in Chujin’s office look a good bit different to how Axis 014 looks).

There is Also nothing to my memory that strictly DISPROVES this, HOWEVER consider this fun value pillar, the fun value pillars in the dark ruins tell the story of the day the integrity human attacked Dalv, Kanako was there, and Chujin sent Axis (014 as we know from his geno route confession and giving exp) after them, killing them accidentally, right?

And it was Dalv (also known to draw, and was attacked by integrity, and is now in the dark ruins) who is the one who drew on these pillars right? So that implies that Dalv saw what happened (most unlikely because Axis followed integrity to Waterfall), heard what happened (unknown from who) or figured out/imagined what happened. In any case it implies that he saw Axis at least once, enough to draw him (even abstractly like this).

I’ve seen the assumption that Axis was there in Snowdin with Chujin, Kanako, and Dalv, (which is fun to think about i think AND matches dalv seeing/knowing axis) BUT in the first Chujin tape where he discusses the event he says no one was there to protect Kanako, which you'd think Axis would be doing if he was there in Snowdin with them.

But where Axis actually was is more ambiguous. In the secret secret tape Chujin says he “should’ve stayed” implying to me that he left the scene to go get Axis from the Steamworks/his office lab basement/wherever, meaning that Dalv couldn’t have seen Axis on that occasion. I also feel like if Axis was in Snowdin it would have been mentioned at some point by someone.

So this scenario doesn’t explain how Dalv saw Axis to be able to draw him. While if Axis WAS in Snowdin that doesnt explain how Kanako would get so many details wrong drawing him, especially if they spent a lot of time/more than one time together.

FURTHERMORE the pacifist route shows that Ceroba and Axis have never seen eachother before either (Chujin also didn’t add Ceroba to Axis’ authorised list by default, implying he didn’t think they’d ever come across eachother?) So if Chujin had Axis and Kanako meet this had to somehow be without Ceroba knowing At All.

(HOWEVER since Ceroba watched Chujin’s tapes she is lying in some way during the pacifist Steamworks because she would have heard the name “Axis” and found out how Chujin got the Integrity soul, so should know more than she lets on about his robotics projects.)

This also implies that Ceroba hasn’t been in Kanako’s room in a long time, maybe even before Kanako fell down, or she would have seen the Axis drawing on the floor. It makes sense that she would avoid Kanako’s room though.

FOR MY FINAL “HOWEVER” I will say that this raises the question of Why the Axis drawing is still on the floor with a pencil, this kind of implies that it might have been the last/most recent thing that Kanako drew, or had gotten out to look at/add too. If Axis 014 is based off the drawing it would be a long time between the Initial drawing -> Chujin builds and codes 014 -> The Snowdin event -> Chujin experiments and falls down -> Kanako falls down -> the events of the game

BUT even between the Snowdin event (the latest time Kanako could have seen Axis, since after that i imagine Chujin would have kept him fully confined to the Steamworks since he was “dangerous”) and the events of the game thats still quite a long time for the drawing to be sat there, so maybe that doesn’t mean much.

THE EXPLANATION I THOUGHT OF MADE ME SO SAD but i have to include this thought, that after the Snowdin event, and especially with Chujin getting very absorbed in his work then starting to fall down, Kanako would have stopped drawing and just left all of her work around her room, and had the Axis one out as it reminded her of Chujin.

ANYWAY i would LOVE to hear what other people think about all this, its very very possible im missing something obvious im a bit silly, if so please tell me haha. Also i love both possibilities of if Axis was in Snowdin or not AND the sibling Axis and Kanako headcanons… the LAST thing i want is to discourage those hc’s they are so cute.

In any case i just think the *concept* of a scientist who wants to perfect his (so far failed) guard robot to protect people, asking his daughter (the monster who he undoubtedly would want to protect most in the world) to design that robot, then getting so lost in his grand pursuit to protect monsterkind that he fails in nearly every way (leaving Kanako at the scene to try and get Axis to apprehend integrity, Axis’ programming messing up leading to him violently killing integrity, leading then to Chujin experimenting on himself and falling down, then the daughter he wanted to protect most falling down the same way because of the work he left behind) REALLY breaks my heart.

[toujokaname]

Game master / Episode 5

Author: Akira

Characters: Rinne, Hiiro, HiMERU, Niki, Kohaku, Aira

"That's the very least you can do, sincerely and with compassion."

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[ Read on my site for a better viewing experience using Ois~su ♪ ]

Season: Winter

Location: Amagi's House

Rinne: Haha. It's all well and good to be buddy-buddy, but first, lemme give some necessary explanations.

You see, ES has some intentions behind all this. It ain't just a formality to boost the show by making improvements and changing the stage.

Around Okinawa, in Hoshijima[1] and overseas, the forbidden areas where even the gods that have ruled the idol industry for many years have been unable to reach—

There's talk that after establishing nationwide domination through SS, ES is trying to expand its territory carefully and meticulously, leaving no stone unturned.

Hiding behind this festival-like Matrix project, ES is seeking to colonize even the Amagi Village to complete their nationwide takeover.

Reading between the lines, is their next goal world domination? Gyahaha! ♪

Hiiro: I see. The overarching trend of this year was nationwide conquest via ES.

That was also the concept ES was promoting from the very beginning. A world of idols, by idols, for idols—

The plan to "make idols the center of this world" will come to fruition with this invasion of the Amagi Village, then.

Rinne: Looks like Hoshijima hasn't given in yet, but they're pushing ahead and colonizing simultaneously—that's the long and short of it.

It's laughable, really. While they're pretending to be immersed in a misguided and stupid festival project, ES is relentlessly aiming to achieve their grand ambitions.

Despite facing countless resistances, they meticulously suppress them, slowly but surely—

ES is, idols are, corroding this world.

Rinne: In this transitional phase, we, the people involved, can still question and make sense of this changing world.

But. The next generation, and the one after that—

By the time our grandchildren roll around, the strange worldview that idols are the center of the world may become the “common sense."

You familiar with hobby anime[2]? They're shows in which a marketable toy becomes the center of the world.

Like a setting where people who play with yo-yos or spinning tops are at the center and considered the most important.

That's what ES is aiming for. A hobby anime world with idols as the theme.

It's easy to understand and enjoy in manga and anime, but if you were actually thrown into such a world, you'd be in trouble.

ES doesn't have ill intentions. They believe it's a wonderful worldview, and that's why they're gunning for it.

No doubt in their minds, they're confident that by doing that, everyone can be happy, and that's why they're ready to do such an outrageous thing.

By overturning the common sense that has been built up by humanity for generations, they aim to repaint the world with their own ambitions—with their desires.

Yeah, it's repulsive and nauseating.

But we, as idols, are also complicit in ES's ambitions.

Hiiro: ......

Rinne: Well, that's fine. It ain't ideal, but even if individuals fight back now, it won't change anything. We're not toddlers throwing tantrums anymore—

HiMERU: That's not very like you to say, Rinne.

Niki: Weeell, Rinne-kun's been like this since way back.

Rather, it's more like his recent attitude of never giving up and pushing forward no matter what is what's outta the norm, or maybe something's changed in him—

Kohaku: Rinne-han's layin' it on thick, huh. Nah, he's just playing out the role of his ideal self.

Rinne: Shaddup, can't you see Rinne-kun's sharing something important? You lot are always like this. Don't butt in with your nonsense, okay?

Hiiro: Hehe. I'm so relieved you have so many people around who understand you now, Nii-san.

In the past, no one understood Nii-san, nor did they bother to try.

Including me.

Rinne: ...Anyway, as I explained, those are ES's intentions.

The real question is how we'll behave in such an "overarching trend."

Aira: But... what can we do?

Rinne: Probably nothing. Especially you ALKALOID, who've become ES's frontline troops.

Just keep in mind, these are the times we're living in right now.

And then. Instead of being mere invading weapons getting their strings pulled by ES, if you're gonna break the status quo, then do it through your own will.

That's the very least you can do, sincerely and with compassion.

Aira: .........

[ ☆ ]

Referencing Stella Maris, RYUSEITAI's climax event.

Hobby anime are shows created to promote the sale of children's toys, making the plot centered around a product they can sell. So Rinne is comparing what ES intends with stuff like Pokemon, Yu-Gi-Oh, Beyblade, etc. But with idols.

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[friezagirl]

Well, I've talked a lot with someone who thinks Steven Grant is a recreation of Marc's brother. Trying to get him to understand my point of view, I don't know whether he understood it or not. But I'm against his idea, Steven is a completely new person and he's just himself, not someone else's replacement, both because it wouldn't be fair to Steven and because I very much doubt he could be. I explain why. Steven was created from Marc's mind, in the series it is noted that he is inspired by the character of a film that gave him courage, that reassured him, therefore not his brother, otherwise he would have been called Roro, or in any case with a similar name or that, vaguely, it remembered, and not Steven. Regardless, the mind creates an extension of a personality. As children, the personality has not yet been fully created, it is not finished, it is in its infancy, its cycle ends in the first years of adolescence; but as children, the personality is formed through the knowledge and relationships that one has in childhood, which in itself is very problematic for Marc due to his family situation. Thus, his mind tries to compensate for this lack of stability and also for all the excessive pain, thus creating Steven. However, not having much knowledge in psychology, I will discuss this through my hypotheses. Steven, even though he's scared, faces it, just as reported on the poster in the room, this is because Marc, having no one, and being a scared child; he needed a figure who would protect him, who would give him security and who would be kind. His brain captured it, it perceived this need, and that's why Steven was born, the brain created him, yes, but then the rest took shape by itself, Steven built himself as a person in himself like anyone in this world. It's only as children grow up and into their teens that they begin to flesh out their own being and who they are and who they identify with, but that doesn't change the fact that Steven wasn't born to be a replacement for Roro, but a friend and a protector who would help Marc breathe and find a few moments of peace thanks to his presence. In addition, it would seem strange to me that Marc's brain creates a person inspired by the cause of his trauma, namely Roro; it would be more normal for him to distance himself from it, and in fact he clung to the fictitious and fearless and reckless figure of a protagonist of a film that Marc loved very much and that he adored playing. It gave him security to be that doctor Grant, he played at being one when his childhood was simpler, so it is normal that, since he was so attached to it and at a time when everything was happier, the brain took that name to give it to the person he created later, giving Marc physical support and psychological that he lacked. I'm not saying that Roro was the trauma, I'm saying that it was in any case the cause, that Marc's brain identified it as the reason why it all started, therefore the first and fundamental cause of pain, and consequently, the brain, the he would push away, keeping him away from Marc to protect him and protect itself. Thus, Steven cannot be replacement for Roro but a different person, born, alive and self-aware, like anyone else, bonded to Marc only for his duty to protect him.

Perhaps, unconsciously, Marc had also begun to hate Roro, given everything that happened to him. He would make sense, he certainly didn't feel it consciously, he was drowning in guilt, but somewhere inside, he must have started to hate him. He was just a child, he felt daily fear of staying at home, he was distressed in those walls, and he suffered. And feelings like pain, loneliness and anger can easily turn into hatred. Quoting a great sage, Yoda: "Fear leads to anger, anger to hate; hate leads to suffering." That could be what happened to Marc, either with Roro unconsciously, or with his mother knowingly. He hated them for the pain they had caused him, but he also loved them for what they meant to him, and he grieved for what had happened to them both, a fault that was not his and that broke him. And these feelings were very strong, destructive enough that he could not allow Marc's mind to create a copy of a brother who tormented him every day at the hands of his mother. So, Steven is not Roro's replacement and he never was, he was and always has been the anchor created to drive away that vortex of cold dark. A bit like the rainbow after the rain, he was born for the sole and simple sense of existing and of being a warm and reassuring light.

But not necessarily unconsciously, maybe the more Marc suffered the more he harbored anger that he segregated inside with force, and then he hated himself but he also hated Roro and his mother, and this feeling then led him to hate himself more, to suffer more, to blame himself with greater frenzy. Then there was Steven who put a stop to everything though, certainly Jake too. Unconsciously or not, he must have hated him. At least a little, just enough not to go crazy. He was constantly nagged, and he was just a kid, all that guilt was too big a burden to carry on his own, and Steven didn't carry a piece of it even though it lightened it anyway, but Marc was the one who kept it all, always, everyday. So Marc had to take a minute to point his finger at Roro, at least for a second to feel better. Only this must have only worsened his mental state, broken him again. Maybe that's how Jake was born.

In the comics it's already more different, Roro doesn't die as a child, but Marc still creates Steven, who is always kind and good. There the discourse is already more complicated or perhaps similar, Marc always creates Steven as a response to trauma, to create a shield, and therefore distance himself, from the horrible events he experienced with his "uncle". Then, of course, everyone can think as he wants, for me it is clear that Steven is only Steven, a person apart from Marc and Roro. However, perhaps people with DID, or psychologists, would explain it better than me.

[badmusejail]

Since he made his first appearance on his blog, let's talk about WD

(WD is specifically Gaster's sci-fi/space variant.)

WD does share a few traits with classic Gaster, but a lot of things have been adjusted in accordance with the AU.

First of all, this is not a Spacetale or whatever you want to call it where monsters were exiled to space instead of the mountain. This is a simple space AU.

Monsters and Humans still exist and still quarrel and fight; almost certainly with wars over the years but nothing so extreme as in Undertale.

There's also a third classification which is simply "Alien," referring to non-human, physical creatures. (As opposed to Monsters, which are still non-human magical creatures.)

Again, the exact relationships between these are complicated and probably worthy of a few books and outside the scope of this post.

WD can speak normally as opposed to his classic version; in this AU, wingdings is a reference to exactly what it is in real life: an esoteric font used to print symbols. Its not exactly a strange name; the time and era results in a lot of abnormal names, many people picking from a large variety in order to try to be more unique.

WD's past starts just the same as it normally does; a person who just wants to help improve society, and working on technology under King Asgore was the best way to do it.

At this point, his name was simply Wingdings Gaster, Doctor if you want to be polite, as he has no shortage of credentials to his name.

His specialty was engines and warp drives; making ships as efficient and powerful as possible. His CORE technology is still commonplace in a variety of ships across the universe.

Warp drives were his biggest interest, however; the technology existed prior to him but had a lot of potential for improvement and he felt the benefits would be monumental.

And for years, everything was fine. He gained a reputation as one of the Federation's brightest, pushing warp technology beyond what was thought possible.

Until one day he vanished.

It was a routine experiment--practiced and safe, even with a backup drive should the new one prove unstable. Gaster and four of his co-workers departed on a newly built ship.

The experiment shouldn't have taken long; they were expected to return in about ten minutes.

They never did.

The strange occurrence resulted in no shortage of theories about what happened, but the accepted outcome was that there was simply an unrecoverable error and the crew perished on the trip. As much as attempts are made to minimize such chances, it was always a possibility.

Most days, Gaster himself doesn't remember what happened. He remembers waking up, face down on the cold floor of the ship, laying in a sticky, black substance, emergency alarms blaring. The other crew members were gone and the ship was severely compromised.

Something was wrong and there was no evidence what.

In his terror, he never returned to the place he called home.

That was a long time ago. How long depends on the flexibility of my partner, but typically several hundred years ago; which as per canon isn't abnormal for monsters.

After the ACCIDENT as its simply called, he changed. Both physically and mentally, and while he still holds the name Gaster, he rarely if ever uses the name Wingdings, instead shortening it to the initials WD which would become known intergalactically.

This Gaster is larger than his past self; standing at just over six foot five, and though he's still, well, bony, he's noticeably thicker than before.

His mental state is tricker to pin down. He's still compassionate, caring, and loving; and his primary interest is helping people, but unlike other versions of himself, he has absolutely no qualms wiping out dozens of people at a time if he deems it necessary. He's fair and just, but has absolutely no sympathy for those that willfully attempt to deceive, cheat, or steal from him, and rarely offers second chances. He clearly sets the terms of his agreements and expects them to be followed, lest consequences strike true.

What happened? What caused these changes?

Truthfully, these are questions that WD himself refuses to dwell on, answers that he doesn't want to have. But, sometimes, in the corner of his mind, he remembers that day; being struck down without mercy, pinned to the wall of the quivering ship and screaming in agony as something forced itself into his SOUL. Sometimes he wonders if he's really the scientist known as Gaster, or if he's the parasite wearing his shell.

While standard Gaster is a person that was pushed to the eldritch and is trying desperately to be normal again, WD is instead a person that has fully embraced the eldritch and has no problems using the power that comes with it.

He's uncertain of the exact reason he never returned to the Federation. Maybe its because he knew he was different now and knew they would react poorly. Maybe its because he was aware of the corruption and didn't want to contribute to it anymore. Maybe something new was growing in him, a thirst for chaos, a hunger for danger.

Whatever it was, his empire started humble as most do. After all, he was just one person, even if he did have vast powers to simply create things and destroy them just as easily.

He reached out to the isolated planets; the far off places, the backwater worlds that had been deemed unworthy by the Federation, left to fend for themselves. He came to these worlds, he offered them technology beyond their wildest dreams; he offered them opportunities, a chance to be equal to the giants in the universe.

And for what?

A single condition: If I need your help, you will come.

Of course, some places were too skeptical, too cautious, too xenophobic to accept his offer. That was fine; there were hundreds, thousands more. There were those that greedily accepted his offer, those that thanked him with tears in their eyes. There were those that saw him as a god.

He wasn't trying to be a god.

He was just trying to be a decent person.

His faith and optimism was too high. It didn't take long before people attempted to take advantage of his gifts; now, people using his technology to defend themselves was understandable and even intended, but he did not condone people starting wars with his machinery.

It wasn't a problem, though--with a tsk and a snap of his fingers, each of those ships they sought to abuse exploded without a single warning.

He added another condition to his deals: Do not start conflict with my tools.

What started as a one-man operation slowly grew; becoming a haven for all sorts of individuals that were on the run or looking to start a new leaf.

WD started as a callsign to identify himself outside official transmissions, but over the years, it became associated more with the entire enterprise.

Most, if not all, of his parts and equipment are serialized somewhere in the format of WD-XXXXX, clearly designating equipment that came from his business.

WD is traditionally known as a criminal arms dealer--but in his eyes, its a vast oversimplification of the situation. For one, to be criminal, you have to be under some sort of legal system, and he is his own legal system. He prefers the designation of independent supplier. The fact that his business goes against the Federation's regulations is beyond his concern as he's not part of the Federation. That being said doing business with him is illegal in all Federation aligned organizations and planets. He doesn't care and will still do business with these individuals--with a disclaimer that under their jurisdiction, they're breaking the law.

As the enterprise grew and the amount of clients grew with it, it became necessary to adopt a more formal structure, hiring mechanics and assistants to process, analyze, build, and ship the orders they receive.

As such, the vast majority of orders never personally come into contact with Gaster himself--either mass-produced or handled by the assistants for more custom work.

The orders that Gaster himself takes up tend to be odd or technologically demanding; very specific tech meant for a very specific job and highly specialized for the specific contract in mind. The nature of the work results in a lot of negotiation and close contact with the client--a situation that has lead to some unfortunate "accidents."

Projects that Gaster himself takes on usually have the following mark on them:

Colloquially, these projects are referred to as ODs or "omega-diamonds" or, for the ones who want to be cheeky, OGs for Original Gasters.

Somewhere along the line, he created Sans and Papyrus; as children or assistants; maybe a bit of both--whichever it is, he does love them both very much, even if Sans has gotten a bit skeptical of what Gaster really is and Papyrus decided to join the Federation.

(Gaster and Papyrus still love each other very much and are still on the same 'side,' Papyrus was simply attracted to the idea of the Federation; unbothered by the fact his father is one of their wanted criminals. Funnily enough, Papyrus has explicitly stated on numerous occasions that WD is his father--people just don't listen. Undyne usually just tells him to knock it off.)

It's definitely not the life Gaster would have imagined having some years ago, but he can't say he's not satisfied. He works on fascinating projects, meets interesting people, and in his own way, helps the world.

(As for the encroaching darkness inside of him...well, he'll worry about that another day.)

Links

WD's Federation File Dr. Gaster's Portrait About the Voidling Narrative Territories / Associated Locations Appearance

[xavieryaa]

deal // chapter 15: shake my hand to seal our deal (i won't let go)

word count: 2.6k

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯-

Part of Jimin wonders if it’s a mistake to be standing here outside Taehyung’s apartment. 

He had seemed pretty angry, after all, which Jimin couldn't blame him for. He had lied, and then lied again about lying – anyone would be upset. 

But even if he doesn’t succeed, he still wants to at least try to gain Taehyung’s trust again. To be his friend again. 

Because Taehyung deserves better than him giving up. He had only ever wanted the best for Jimin, always concerned and always willing to help him. Not throwing it away the moment things got hard is the absolute least he can do to repay him. 

Taehyung opens the door, curious expression turning to a frown when he sees Jimin, and then closes it again. 

Jimin knocks, harder than he had the first time. “Taehyung, please. I’ll tell you the truth this time. I swear. Please just let me in?”

The door springs open again, and Jimin knows that Taehyung never really planned on shutting him out. He’d holding out hope here, too. He wants to believe what Jimin has to say. The thought almost brings a smile to his face.

That wouldn’t exactly fit the mood, though, so instead he gives Taehyung a look he hopes shows some of the regret he feels and walks inside. 

Taehyung hasn’t been a talkative person for a long time, not since they were younger, but for him to be as silent as he is right now feels strange to Jimin. There’s a new tension between them that he doesn’t like, and it’s worse to know that it’s mostly his fault even outside of the factors he wasn’t able to control.

He’s fucked up in many ways in the past month and a bit. Now he has to try to un-fuck it all as well as he can, starting with his biggest regret. 

Despite all that has changed, Taehyung’s apartment still has not. A few of Taehyung’s favorite photos are hung up on the wall, and Jimin sees himself in several of them.

Taehyung used to show him the best pictures he took each month in a sort of recap. He was always so proud of them, and Jimin was proud for him as well – he really did have a talent for it.

Taehyung clears his throat, deep voice finally cutting through the silence that had built between them, and it hits Jimin how ridiculous it is to mourn and be nostalgic for something that’s still right in front of him, if only he can earn it back.

“So, Jimin, what the hell has been going on?”

If only. 

“Everything I’m about to say is going to sound crazy and fake, but just promise me you’ll listen. Please. I can prove it to you. I’ll find a way. I promise you that,” Jimin says with a deep breath, looking deep into Taehyung’s eyes.

There’s suspicion there but there’s also a sort of willingness to believe and take the risk of being naive. Hesitantly, Taehyung nods.

“I’ll believe you,” he whispers, and the floor is open to Jimin to speak.

“I’ve got up to a lot, so this is a pretty simplified version, but for the past month or so I’ve been working with someone to investigate a murder,” Jimin says, deliberately not breaking eye contact with Taehyung no matter how hard his eyes want to drift away, fidgeting with his fingers to distract the parts of his mind which threaten to ruin this before he’s even fixed it. “I wanted to tell you, I swear, and I would have if I could. But the person I was working with threatened to make me lose my job, and…I still don’t know how much I can tell you but he could. And I can’t afford that. He wouldn’t let me tell you.”

Taehyung may have said he would believe Jimin, but words aren’t anything. He’s not convinced, not at all. 

“It sounds stupid, I know. But-” On a whim, Jimin pulls the letter out of his pocket, unfolding the thing as quickly as he can without risking breaking it. He hands it to Taehyung, whose eyes narrow as he focuses in on the text. 

He can’t read most of it, but Jimin knows the word revenge is clear enough that Taehyung can make it out, and that’s enough.

Taehyung knows Jimin is an awful liar. He wouldn’t go through all the effort to make a letter like this and burn it himself to pull off a lie, and he wouldn’t be so genuine about it. Taehyung looks up at him, and some of the irritation fades from his face. 

He takes a step closer to Jimin, holding the letter back towards him slowly, no longer looking angry at all. In fact, he looks a bit guilty, if anything.

 “I’m sorry. For getting so angry at you that day. I was just worried about you, you know? You never got help for those flashbacks so I was afraid that somehow they made you get hurt. I didn’t know if maybe you had gotten distracted while walking down the street or something like that. And then when I did see you, you wouldn’t tell me anything, and I had no idea why,” Taehyung takes a deep breath, looking Jimin directly in the eyes. “But still, I shouldn’t have blown up at you like that.”

“It’s okay, I understand. I messed up too,” Jimin says. He tries to be serious to match the entire tone, but quite honestly, the absence of him and Taehyung’s normal playfulness is killing him inside. He figures that it can’t do that much harm when he smiles before delivering his next words. “I could’ve told a more convincing lie than that, huh?”

Taehyung snorts, and though he looks away and shakes his head, his familiar rectangle smile has taken its place on his face. It’s been over a month since Jimin has seen him like this.

He’s missed it. 

“No, you definitely couldn’t have. How about next time you end up investigating any sort of drug-ring-murder-plot monstrosity you try and tell me first, huh? That might be more convincing than you stumbling your way through something that’s just nonsense,”

Jimin holds out his hand to grip Taehyung’s and shake it. 

“Deal,”

•

He still hasn’t told Namjoon about the letter.

The realization hits him just as the cold air outside of Taehyung’s apartment building does. He had shown Taehyung, someone who wasn’t even involved in the entire fiasco, the letter before he had shown Namjoon, the man he had been working with the entire time. 

It had slipped his mind last night, given everything that had happened. The moment they had returned to Namjoon’s house he had only had energy for a single thing, and that was flopping onto the bed before he closed his eyes.

He had managed to delay it past the point where he couldn’t delay it any longer. It’s almost funny, but with a sense of dread, Jimin knows that this is the time where he actually, finally has to stop procrastinating and spill the secret which has been weighing down his conscience for far longer than it should have. 

This isn’t something he can tell Namjoon over text, he decides as he pulls out his phone, and it also isn’t something he can spring on him without warning.

Hey Namjoon, when I get back there’s something important I have to tell you.

At the same time he clicks send, he notices a text he had gotten several minutes prior – he had had his ringer off while at Taehyung’s apartment, figuring that it would be rude if a notification interrupted them.

That text is from Namjoon.

Are you going to be out much longer? When you get home I want to tell you something.

Hurriedly typing out an answer, Jimin mentally curses himself and the grudge the universe seems to have against his plans. A few seconds later, though, a smile spreads across his face.

It’s not a bad thing that Namjoon needs to tell him something. It’s perfect, actually. There might be less pressure on him that way. Maybe Namjoon will be distracted by his own news.

If things go well.

And that’s a pretty big if.

•

Whatever Namjoon wants to say to him, it probably means something, considering he’s gone through the effort to make bibimbap for the two of them to eat. Sure, the egg looks like it was cut into pieces with an axe whenever it was put into their bowls and it’s not the best thing he’s ever tasted, but it’s definitely edible, which makes it an improvement over Namjoon’s first attempt at cooking breakfast. 

In the past several minutes, though, Namjoon hasn’t even poked at the bowl. It’s not as if he’s not hungry, considering Jimin had heard his stomach rumble before they had sat down. 

Based on the way Namjoon’s entire demeanor is more awkward than usual, like he’s hesitating to start doing something, Jimin thinks he has an idea what that’s about. It’s whatever Namjoon wants to tell him that has him acting like this. 

“Something wrong?”

Namjoon looks up, seemingly having been deep in his thoughts, before clearing his throat. He sits up a bit straighter and looks Jimin in the eyes as if he’s steeling himself for some sort of courageous act. 

Jimin’s honestly not sure why he didn’t anticipate the next words that come out of his mouth.

“Listen, I don’t want to sound all sappy and shit but,” Namjoon sighs, taking a moment before he continues, “I’ve never felt the way I do around you before. I…well, I enjoy your company and I like you, as a person. Which is saying a lot, I think.”

Jimin’s not sure where he got all the self will it’s taking him to keep himself from smiling, and even still he’s sure it’s visible in his eyes, the slight twitch at the side of his mouth. 

It’s obvious where Namjoon is going and the answer he’s seeking, but it’s so strangely endearing to see him so out of his depth for once, nervous and playing with his hair just to give his fingers something to fiddle with. He knows exactly the question Namjoon’s implying, but Jimin wants to hear him say it more than he can remember wanting anything else in his life. 

“So?” Jimin can’t stop the smile from leaking into his voice, either. 

Namjoon crosses his arms against his chest, mumbling to himself. The Jimin of a month ago would have vehemently denied thinking it cute, but now he’s fully ready to admit to himself that Namjoon’s mannerisms are quite honestly adorable.

“So, I, uhh…I want you to be my boyfriend? Officially. I wanted to put it into words, I guess,” Namjoon shrugs, trying and utterly failing to pass his thinly vailed excited tone off as casual. He directs his eyes towards the ground, but every second or so they flick back towards Jimin like he simply can’t help himself. 

Jimin wouldn’t consider himself the smartest or most perceptive person by any means, but it’s more than obvious that Namjoon cares about this much more than he’s letting on. Instead of answering verbally, he turns a bit more towards Namjoon, leaning forward and pressing their lips together.

The man doesn’t waste a moment before his fingers curl themselves into Jimin’s hair, and he establishes a slow but eager pace, nipping at Jimin’s lips as if he’s unable to get enough of them. It’s all hot breaths and bliss, just as exhilarating as the first time, and Jimin’s sure he’d never tire of this feeling of wanting and being wanted. 

After what feels like much too short of a time, Namjoon pulls back just enough to rest his forehead on Jimin’s, a smile overtaking his face that provides the rare sight of his deep dimples. Eyes hooded, his lashes are soft against Jimin’s skin, and his lips are plump and pink and perfect. Jimin can’t resist kissing him again, lighter and shorter this time, but enough to coax what almost sounds like a whine out of Namjoon. 

The man’s cheeks tint a rather pretty shade of pink, something Jimin knows Namjoon would usually be embarrassed about, but seeing as right now isn’t usual, Namjoon doesn’t care, instead looking at Jimin with hope still in his eyes.

“Is that a yes?”

Jimin shakes his head, and he can’t help but laugh. “Of course it is, you big idiot!”

A few moments later, as the euphoria of the moment wears off, the smile begins to slip from Jimin’s face. 

He still hasn’t told Namjoon about the letter, the very thing he came here to tell Namjoon about in the first place. 

Briefly, he considers just abandoning it all together. The case is over and done with now, isn’t it? Wouldn’t it be fine if he just pretended the letter never existed?

Except it wouldn’t be, because that would be quite possibly the worst possible start to their relationship given all they had just done. 

“Jimin? Is something wrong?” Namjoon says, placing a gentle hand under Jimin’s chin to make eye contact with him. Fighting the urge to shake his head, Jimin sighs and finally nods. 

“I have to tell you something,”

“Ah. When you said that before, I assumed you meant…well, the same thing as I did,”

“I wish,” Jimin lets out a slight chuckle before falling silent again. “It’s more of a confession, really. It’s just…it’s really important and I probably should have told you sooner.”

Namjoon stares at him curiously, saying nothing and willing Jimin to continue. And so, half-regretting it already, Jimin does. 

“Actually, I definitely should have told you sooner. I’m really sorry, but during the investigation, towards the beginning when I was going through all those things from Sejoo, I found a letter. About half of it was burnt away,” Jimin says, reaching into his pocket to take it out, though he continues holding onto it, not willing to hand it over to Namjoon yet. “And I couldn’t read that part. But I didn’t tell you about it, so I was working on it on my own, and after you called me before going to Sejoo I finally solved it and it turned out it was from Sejoo to Wang.”

Jimin’s speaking so quickly and his words are slurring together a bit in his urgency, and he has hope at first that maybe Namjoon isn’t able to understand anything he’s saying at all. 

He really doesn’t know why he thinks he’s lucky anymore. 

“So you found all this and you knew you wouldn’t be able to understand all of it at first,” Namjoon starts, face a mix of annoyance and anger, “and you didn’t tell me anything?”

“I know it sounds stupid, and it was. I was being really stupid, and I’m sorry,” Jimin focuses his eyes on the letter in Namjoon’s hands, not because it’s particularly interesting in this moment but because he doesn’t know where else to look. “I wanted to prove to you that I could be useful so I decided to solve it on my own. And then the more time that passed the more hesitant I was to show it to you even when you trusted me more, and then…well, by the time I actually finished figuring out what it said and tried to call you, you were already at Sejoo’s apartment. And that’s why I came there.”

Jimin swallows harshly, finally turning his attention back to Namjoon. He’s less annoyed now, less confused by Jimin’s decision now that he’s explained his (admittedly quite pathetic) reasoning, but definitely much more angry. His expression is twisted in a grimace, tongue poking at the side of his mouth, eyes narrowed as he looks at Jimin. 

“Fucking idiot,”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers again, stepping away, not sure what Namjoon might do in his current state. Namjoon’s gotten better, but he’s still impulsive, quick to anger. 

But perhaps not quite as impulsive as he had thought. 

Namjoon’s eyes, though still narrowed, soften the slightest bit, and he sighs, stepping closer to Jimin. He grasps Jimin’s smaller hand in his, maintaining eye contact with him, and moves it up and down in a gentle motion. A smile hints at his lips, and though he’s undoubtedly still angry, there’s fondness in the way he looks at Jimin still. He looks both exasperated by and resigned to that.

“But I guess you’re my fucking idiot now, huh?”

[findingjoynweirdstuff]

Ooooo okay overall thoughts on what Tommy did on stream today? As someone who’s been around for a while I’d love to hear your thoughts :)

Anon, you have sparked a ramble because I love talking about meta shit like this. Be warned and also thank you >:)

So...

Remember this?

And this?

And this?

One thing that makes Dream SMP alive is the constant change. Nothing is permanent, nothing is sacred. As much as it hurt, the New L'manburg Festival's impact came from seeing the Community House, which everyone thought for so long surely couldn't be destroyed, in ruins.

Even before then! It was strange to see the old Community House everyone loved go when Dream, Sapnap and George remodeled it after the Reddit post.

But, you know Quackity's second Las Nevadas stream? Do you remember what made that flashback scene so, so impactful when you first saw it?

The fact that, before anything else gave away that it was a flashback, before you saw the black walls of L'manburg cluing you in, you saw this:

Nothing in those pictures looks like it does today. The instant you see that, you know it’s the past. And when you finally saw the walls, it was all the more impactful from that build-up.

Where Purpled's Walmart once stood, Puffy's Targay stood next. Jack Manifold's Tesco in the sky above it was destroyed a long time ago. And now there's room for something else.

Where Fundy's Socializing Club once stood, Ponk's essential oils shop stood. And now there's room for something else.

The Community House has been blown up multiple times. Even Dream's bedroom underneath it was taken out in the explosion from Fundy's prank.

Where Skeppy's house once stood, Bad and Skeppy's mansion now stands.

Tommy's house has changed faces so many times, it hasn't been the original since July of last year.

You can't just carbon date the SMP by which version of Tommy's house you see, or what the I <3 ANDREA sign reads -- you can do that for the whole thing.

Ponk's casino was built on land that used to be taken up by Sam's little castle from when he rejoined the server after his hiatus.

Eret's museum had room made for it by taking down an old frame of a build that was never finished.

The original Camarvan, as iconic as it was, was taken down only a few days after the L'manburg War!

Eret's entire tower -- yes, this tower

was completely destroyed, top to bottom. Entirely demolished. (Thanks, Fundy)

There are a few cases where it definitely hurts. Alyssa's house is the last remnant of the lake area from the early days, one of the very few builds from that time still standing. Wilbur's ball house is the one remaining marker we have of his time on the server from before L'manburg. Those, I think, I would be genuinely sad to see go. The ones where they’re the only remnant of that time, y’know?

But the gingerbread house? That's only been here since December, man, and it takes up so much room. Targay's only been there since November and it had already replaced another build before it. This is a lot more room to build, some much-needed change on the Prime Path tbh.

I was sad to see the CRY sign go a while back purely because it made angsty lore 10x funnier with it in the background, but it's gone now and that's that.

Besides, we'll always have builds somewhere on the server that remain from the old times. Whether it's the escape tunnel to Pogtopia that managed to survive Doomsday, or Techno's old base, or Dream's grave marker for his parrot who died on his journey home with Spirit that still stands, somewhere out there in the ice spikes, waiting for someone to come across it someday.

I mean, this isn't even to mention the sentimental items. 

Spirit's leather is fake. The original was destroyed. For all we know, Tommy's discs are just two of the many decoys that circulated around throughout the saga with no way to tell the real ones apart. Hell, Tommy got attached to the fucking decoy discs back in the day and Tubbo scolded him for that lmao. They got rid of those eventually though. 

This probably all plays a big part in why attachment and legacy are such big themes of DSMP's story. People get attached to things, people get nostalgic, people care about things, but everything in the story has to be let go of at one point or another. It's a balance.

So, time for some summer cleaning!

[floralseokjin]

⤑ made-up love song vii (m).

Your first encounter with Kim Seokjin doesn’t go so well, nor your second, or your third… and maybe that’s because it shouldn’t work on paper. You’re an elementary school teacher, never left the country despite hitting the third decade of your life not so long ago, and you’re unable to remember the last time you dated. He’s the dad of one of your students, nearly a decade older than you and divorced. Oh yes, and just another minor detail – he’s a multimillionaire. 

Your lives are lightyears apart, yet somehow, your paths having now crossed, things just seem to fall into place…

pairing; kim seokjin x reader   au/genre/warnings; strangers to lovers, romance, single dad! seokjin, ceo! seokjin, elementary school teacher! oc, age gap (oc is 30, seokjin is 37), seokjin is a dilf, smut; includes jacuzzi (oral) sex, outdoor sex, the angst/drama comes knocking!  words; 8,336

↪︎ chapter index

chapters; i • ii • iii  • iv • v • vi • vii • viii • ix • x • epilogue (+ drabbles)

A few days after Arin’s birthday party school started back, and just as you’d known you got incredibly busy, incredibly fast. With admin and getting to know your new students you found that you were too distracted to dwell on all the things that had been worrying you. Yes, it was strange not being able to see Seokjin practically whenever you wanted, and yes, you missed him – and the summer, but with work so hectic it cushioned the blow. You didn’t have time to live inside your own head or get sad about stupid, tiny things. 

Letting the school know about your relationship wasn’t mandatory now that you weren’t Arin’s teacher, but you felt better for it, meeting with Hoseok one morning to inform him. Eunbi already knew, being quite a close a friend to you, and slowly, over the next few days you let some of the other teachers you were friendly with know too. You found it quite exciting. You’d been single for such a long time so finding yourself in conversations about your boyfriend filled you with a happiness you weren’t quite used to. You liked talking about Seokjin, bigging him up, some could call it bragging… He’d even very kindly donated money for a new playground to be built in the kindergarten area. He wanted to help Primrose Hill any which way he could. It meant a lot to you and his daughter. 

It only took around three weeks to get yourself into a routine. For both of you to find a rhythm and make it work well. Your lunch break wasn’t long enough for you to zip to Seokjin’s office and join him so he always made an effort to come to you. Sometimes you’d eat in his car, sometimes yours, or sometimes you’d meet in a small café near the school. You cherished that short time together because sometimes that’s all you could have. Depending on how busy you both were you often couldn’t spend time together in the evenings. You tried to at least once in the week, but weekends were reserved for things like spending the night. 

It was Tuesday today and you somehow had a night free from lesson planning which meant you could join Seokjin and Arin for dinner. You were glad really, because Seokjin had been stressed since yesterday and you hadn’t had a chance to see him properly. He had to go away on last minute business this weekend but it coincided with Misook’s family vacation. He’d asked Nana if Arin could stay with her this weekend but she was busy too. He didn’t know what to do, other than try and postpone the trip. Key word: try. 

Misook had left for the day just as you were arriving, Arin in her room, too busy playing on the Nintendo Switch she’d gotten from Nana for her birthday, so it gave you some brief time alone with Seokjin. You were shocked to see him still in his suit, sat in contemplation alone in the family room. Oh, boy. You hated seeing him so stressed. He was never one to mope or even show his mood. You knew him well enough by now to be able to tell when he was drained, but he still didn’t let it affect him too much, always smiling, always joking around. This evening was different. He’d barely said a few sentences, mostly it involved apologising for his bad mood. He felt selfish, not being much company, yet still needing yours. He had nothing to be sorry for, you reassured, resting your head on his shoulder and he wrapped his arm around you, holding you close. You reached for his hand, and there you stayed like that for a little while, fingers laced together. 

Arin made her way in soon enough, stomach rumbling, a hopeful lilt to her voice as she walked over to you both, hands behind her back. “Can we have pizza for dinner?”

Seokjin shifted, unlacing your fingers and dropping his arm from your shoulders as you both sat up straighter. “Didn’t we have that yesterday, Arin?”

Arin didn’t miss. She was a professional. “But Y/N wasn’t here yesterday. She missed out.” 

Her comeback even managed to draw a quiet chuckle out of her dad. “We’re not having pizza, sweetie.” 

She sighed softly, crossing her arms around her chest as she looked your way. “Daddy is moody today.” 

You raised an eyebrow, your mouth unable to stop quirking up in amusement. “He is?”

“Why do you say that?” Seokjin asked. His tone was light, but you could tell by his frown lines her casual words had him worrying. 

“I heard you on the phone this morning to mommy. There’s no one to look after me when you go away this weekend and she can’t do it.” 

Seokjin faltered, not expecting such a frank answer. He composed himself quickly. “She’s just really busy, Arin. She wanted to look after you, she just couldn’t this time.” 

“I know,” she replied simply, nodding her head. 

There was a beat of silence and then Seokjin reached for her, kissing her cheek, his voice quiet with apology. “I’m sorry. Was I really moody today?” He looked unsurely your way too. 

“Uh huh. You hardly smiled, and when I tried telling you about the field trip I’m going on next week you weren’t even listening properly.” Arin’s small voice filled with such attitude was comical. 

Seokjin chuckled. “Daddy’s really sorry. I’m smiling now, though, right?” Arin nodded. “And if you’re kind enough, you can tell me about your trip again over dinner. Is that okay?” 

“Hmm.” She thought allowed. “So can we get pizza?”

Seokjin snorted. “Nice try, young lady. It’s still a no.” 

.

.

Seokjin ordered from one of his favourite restaurants, helping you set the table as Arin went to check on her rabbits. You ate together, listening as Arin spoke all about her upcoming field trip, finally having her father’s undivided (and interested) attention. However, halfway in, she completely changed the topic, throwing you both. 

“Can’t I stay with Y/N this weekend?” 

“Hm?” Seokjin looked over at her, visibly surprised. 

You swallowed what was left in your mouth just as Arin’s eyes found yours.  “I can just stay with you while daddy has to go away.” Your lips parted, trying to think of something to say, your years of teacher training falling short. 

Seokjin beat you to it. “No, no, sweetie,” he shook his head, sounded a little flustered, taken by surprise. “Y/N will probably be busy on the weekend. That’s her only free time, she can’t look after you.” 

With a small shrug, she put her fork to her mouth. “It was just a thought.” 

Seokjin looked over at you, expression apologetic as he mouthed sorry. 

.

.

Hey, listen…” You began, feeling oddly nervous as you looked up at your boyfriend. It was a couple of hours later, Arin was in bed, time was getting on, you had to leave soon, but cuddled up against him, both curled up on the sofa as you watched mindless television, you really didn’t want to go anywhere. Seokjin had relaxed a little by now (the wonders of food), but you could still tell his mind was exhausted as his gaze fell on yours. You took a breath, deeper than intended, psyching yourself up. “I really don’t mind looking after Arin this weekend.” 

You didn’t miss the way his eyes widened a tad, obviously taken by surprise, but then his mouth lifted at the side, his head shaking from side to side lightly as he let out a breathy chuckle. “Y/N, don’t feel like you have to just because she brought it up.” 

You found yourself relaxing. He didn’t want you to feel obligated. You’d thought so, but the teeniest tiniest most worrisome part of your brain had thought he might now have wanted, or trusted you, to look after Arin. That wasn’t the case. You could tell by the look on his face. He didn’t want to put you out, ask too much of you. 

You moved and straightened your back, eye to eye now. “No, I honestly don’t mind at all, Seokjin.” You reassured, talking faster as you noticed him open his mouth. “Seeing as Arin was the one who suggested it, I guess she’s fine with the idea. I…” Hesitating, you added something else. “I wanted to suggest it myself but… If she’s comfortable with it, I’d love to.” 

It was the truth. Ever since Seokjin had called you at lunch time, telling you Nana couldn’t manage this weekend, you’d wanted to tell him you were up for it but something had stopped you. Even as he’d tried to think of options this evening – maybe his mom could stay for the weekend, his aunt – you’d held back and bitten your tongue. What if you were pushing boundaries? Inserting yourself into situations that didn’t concern you? Arin liked you, yes,   but being entirely in your care for 48 hours was different. She might not want to, she might feel uncomfortable. However knowing that it wasn’t the case, suggesting it herself so casually over dinner had given you the confidence to push through. Seokjin needn’t be worried about asking too much of you. 

Regarding you silently, he considered your words. Lovingly, you glided your hand up his arm, reaching out for his cheek. He pressed into your touch automatically. “I want to help you out.” At that, he smiled gently, lips turning up in a way that rounded his cheeks, making him appear at least a decade younger. It was wholly unfair. 

Turning slightly, his lips grazed your palm. “I’ll ask her about it in the morning.” You grinned, visibly pleased, and Seokjin took your hand to tug you gently to his chest. This time he placed a kiss on your mouth, humming happily. “Thank you.” 

Arin was more than happy about it. Seokjin suggested you stay at his home for the weekend, seeing as that would be easier for the both of you, but she was pretty adamant she wanted to stay at your place. You understood, kid’s curiosity and all. She wanted to know what your home looked like, she wanted to meet your “pretty best friend” she liked to ask about sometimes. Honestly, you felt touched that she wanted to learn more about your life. It was just another reminder of her acceptance when it came to you, and you’d be forever touched by how easily she’d let you into her life. She was more than welcome to come stay at your place, but of course you’d run it by Soojung first. She’d agreed quite easily, even after you informed her you’d be sharing her bed all weekend, Arin of course using yours. 

On Thursday night Seokjin’s guilt was getting the better of him. He had you on the phone, making sure you were 100% okay with looking after Arin. He didn’t want you to feel as if you were trapped just because you felt compelled to help him. He could cancel his trip. You told him how stupid he was being. Cancelling would put so many people out, including himself. Besides, you not only wanted to help him out, you wanted to take care of Arin. You felt as though you were capable, and if you were being even more honest with him, you felt really happy it was happening. Knowing Arin trusted you this much was a great feeling. Knowing he trusted you enough… 

“Why wouldn’t I trust you?” He scoffed in disbelief. “You’re great with her. She loves you.” 

“I wouldn’t go that far,” you laughed. 

“How come?” He was hellbent on proving you wrong, voice softening as he continued. “You’re so easy to love.”  

You felt your heart skip a beat. He’d said it so casually, so easily, you felt dumb searching too much into his words. It was far too early to think of things like that – for confessions like that. Right? Still, he sounded genuine enough. He meant it, even if it wasn’t in that way. Not that you were expecting anything. You were perfectly happy with how things were, your feelings growing stronger each day. You weren’t in a rush, neither was he. That’s what made your relationship so great. But your heart still felt all fuzzy regardless. You found yourself smiling down the line, your thanks obvious in your tone. “I’m going to miss you.” 

“I’ll miss you more.” He ignored your noises of complaint. “I’ll video call you a lot – and Arin of course.” Then he laughed. “Although, I’ll have a feeling she won’t miss me at all this weekend.” 

The next day you finished up work early, it was a Friday anyway, so you never made a habit of sticking around too long, but this time you were packed and ready to go the same time as the kids. Arin would be waiting in her classroom, ready to go home with you for the weekend. Seokjin had dropped off her things early this morning before his flight, indulging you in a few sleepy kisses before he had to go, a promise of ‘I’ll see you Sunday night,” slipping from his slightly downturned lips, hands reluctant to let you go. 

Arin was visibly excited when she saw you, seconds away from jumping up and down on the spot, your first name rushing out of her mouth without realising. It was no big deal of course, but her reaction was cute, eyes widening as her lips parted into a circle, a noise of realisation leaving her. She looked very much like her father, which made it even funnier. You took her hand, saying your goodbyes to Mr. Moon, her second grade teacher, and left the building for your car. 

“This is a really nice car, Y/N,” she complimented as you made sure she was strapped in properly. You weren’t nervous, but you were slightly on edge, cautious, being a better word, to make sure everything was okay. You needed all bases covered. Arin was in your care for 48 hours after all. You told yourself to calm down, if Seokjin knew you were being this antsy he’d be highly amused. You wouldn’t stop hearing about it for a week. 

“I’ve always wanted to ride in it,” Arin continued. 

You smiled down at her. “Thank you.” She was one of the sweetest kids you knew. Your car was average. Not that she knew anything about makes and prices and whatever else there was. You didn’t either. As long as it drove you from point A to B you didn’t care what it looked like. 

“Will your best friend be home when we arrive?” She asked as you got inside the driver’s seat, sticking the key in the ignition. 

“Soojung? She’ll be still in work. Remember I told she works at a department store?” It was adorable how excited she was to meet Soo. Your best friend’s head would be double the size soon, ego inflated. 

“Mhmm,” Arin hummed responsively.  

“She won’t be done until around 6.” You turned back to look at her, knowing your next sentence would make her day. “I think she wanted to get pizza for dinner. Would you like that?” 

“YES!” Arin exclaimed immediately, eyes lighting up. “Soojung likes pizza too?” 

With a chuckle, you started the vehicle up and started backing out of your spot, replying as you did so. “She does.” But in truth, the pizza tonight was Seokjin’s idea. He’d given you one of his bank cards to spend on the food bill with strict instructions to only feed her the doughy delicacy once this weekend. He knew what she was like – you both did. She’d eat pizza for breakfast, lunch and dinner if she could. If you suggested it tonight, then that was it. She’d be eating your menu come Saturday and Sunday. 

“How far away is your house from the school?” 

You’d lost count of how many questions she’d already asked you since you’d arrived to collect her. It was comical. Seokjin had not warned you about that, but your years of experience had told you to expect it. What was a kid without questions? You’d be worried if she was silent. 

“Not too long.” You replied, glancing in the rear view mirror to see her happily looking out of the window. “When we get in, I’ll text daddy and see if he’s free to videocall.” 

“Okay.” 

You tried to stop the smile that wanted to break across your face at her nonchalance. “Do you miss him yet?” 

With a brief shake of her head, still staring at the whizzing scenery outside she answered pretty simply. “Not really.” 

This time you burst out laughing, unable to stop. She looked over at the noise, meeting your eyes in the mirror as you took a right turn, giggling along. “Don’t tell him though, Y/N. It might make him sad.” 

“I won’t, Arin.” You reassured with another chuckle. “It can be our little secret.” 

.

.

She settled in well that night, immediately warming to Soojung (who despite her lifelong insistence, was great with children). You thought perhaps Arin would begin to get homesick once it was time for bed, but after watching a movie you tucked her in and said goodnight. You thought she’d have trouble sleeping because she was in a strange bed but checking in on her twenty minutes later you found her fast asleep, hugging her rabbit plushie. You on the other hand got ready to share a bed with Soojung – the bed cover hogger… 

The next day Arin had you awake at 6am. You already knew about her liveliness in the mornings, so it was no surprise. You’d been woken up countless times over the summer by a knock at Seokjin’s door, Arin’s voice calling out for him. On days you weren’t there she’d even barge in and jump on the bed. Where she got her energy from so early in the morning was a mystery. This morning however, she caught you on the way out of the bathroom. You’d been tossing and turning all night, wresting the covers from Soo. You’d thought about maybe taking a blanket and having an hours nap on the sofa, but there Arin was creeping out of your room, a smile on her face as she saw it was you. 

There was no tempting her back to bed, so you sat her down at the table and made her some breakfast, snapping a picture to send to her father. (Captioned: Guess who had me up at 6am 😴) You had a few things planned today. Seokjin always made sure Arin was busy on the weekends, it was the only time he got to spend with her fully unless she was with her mom, especially now that she was back in school. Even if it was just something as simple as going to the park, he always made plans. So, to do your part and to keep her entertained, you were going to run by her house to make sure the rabbits were fine (fed and watered), then go to the mall. It was simple, yes, but you needed to get a few things anyway, and you promised after all that walking around you’d stop by the food court. Then she had to accompany you to the grocery store to get ingredients for tonight’s dinner. 

She was pretty damn excited regardless. “I like going to the mall with mommy because daddy finds it boring,” she informed you as she picked out her clothes that you’d helped her unpack yesterday. That definitely sounded like Seokjin, you thought to yourself, laughing along with her. “Mommy told me that next weekend she’s going to take me shopping and buy me anyyy-thing I want.” 

“That sounds like great fun,” you smiled, telling yourself you’d pretend you never heard that… Seokjin was keen not to spoil Arin so you didn’t think he’d be best pleased to find this out. “What do you want to buy?”

“Hmm. Something for Olive and Ariel, I think.” 

You smiled again, admiring her caring nature. Her rabbits were the most well looked after in this entire country. She adored them. “I think they’ll really appreciate that.” 

You continued helping Arin get ready first, and thankfully by the time you were done Soojung had risen. You left them watching cartoons together while you showered, eager to leave by 10am. 

Arin you found out, didn’t just like the mall, she loved it very much. She was practically skipping around the place as she held your hand, helping you pick out the things you needed for your craft session with the students on Monday. While she was recommending paint colours to you, she surprised you with a confession. “I wish you were still my teacher, Y/N.” 

“How come?” You asked gently. 

She gave a tiny shrug. “I’d get to see you every day.” 

Oh. You didn’t know what to say to that, touched at her matter-of-fact revelation. Instead you wrapped an arm around her shoulders, giving her a loving squeeze. 

“But actually, maybe I wouldn’t like it.” She added as an afterthought. You waited, curious as to why she’d changed her mind so suddenly. “I’d have to call you Miss Y/L/N. I’d get too confused.” 

You laughed, this child was far too funny for her own good. “Me too, Arin. It’s better this way, right?”

“Right,” she agreed with a nod. 

.

.

“Y/N, this is pretty,” Arin cooed, calling your attention as you rounded the stand. You’d gotten everything you needed and were now browsing around some other stores. You’d let Arin pick a couple out, worrying she might be getting bored, and one of her choices had been Claire’s. She was holding up a charm bracelet. 

“Very pretty,” you agreed. 

And then she struck. “Can I have it?” She didn’t give you time to answer, eyes widening as she began to beg, voice soft and hopeful. “Please. Pretty please.” 

You chuckled. You were practically immune to cute kids, so that wouldn’t work on you. However, she had been really well-behaved all morning, in your eyes she deserved a small treat. “You can. But just this one thing, okay?” 

“Thank you, Y/N!” She squealed, rushing up to you. She gave your arm a squeeze. “I like you much better than daddy.” 

“That will hurt his feelings,” you burst out laughing. She didn’t have to butter you up, you’d already said yes. 

As you were paying the cashier, she wondered off to a stand of keychains, her eyes catching something instantly. “Oooh, pretty,” she purred and the cashier, a woman no more than a few years older than you, laughed. 

“Best escape before she wants something else,” you joked, handing over some cash. 

“My daughter is just the same. Kids, who’d have them, right? We’re glutton for punishment.” She joked. 

“Oh, no, I’m –” You stopped yourself dead, unsure what to say. Had this woman just mistaken you for Arin’s mother? It definitely sounded that way. But just how could you correct her? 

“Don’t get me wrong,” the cashier said, shaking her head. “They’re definitely worth it.” 

You forced yourself to smile, feeling a little wooden, but the chuckle you got out sounded better. “Yeah, yeah they are.” You glanced over at Arin, thankfully she was too distracted by the abundance of cute animal keychains. You turned back and took your bag from the woman, trying to shake off how awkward you felt. “Thank you. Bye.” 

Walking over to Arin you took her hand. “Hope to see you again soon,” the cashier called behind you and you gave a wave, telling Arin to do the same.

“Thank you,” she sang sweetly as she did so. 

.

.

“So, something weird happened today,” you told Soojung as you prepared food, careful to keep your voice low even though Arin was well and truly distracted inside the living room. Taehyung was a master with children. The guy needed a career change immediately. You’d never heard Arin laugh so hard. She’d been in stitches for the last hour. You were worried she’d be way to hyperactive for bedtime once it came. 

Soojung looked up from where she was chopping onion, interested as her eyebrow raised. 

“The woman at Claire’s mistook me for Arin’s mother.” 

Soojung scoffed, lifting her shoulders in a casual shrug. “I’m not surprised. It was bound to happen. It’s normal.” She added, reassuring you as she saw the look on your face. “People just naturally assume.” 

“I guess…” 

“What did you tell her?”

Your expression turned sheepish. “I just went along with it,” you confessed, placing spaghetti in a pan of bubbling water. You caught the look she gave you. “I didn’t know what to say!” It was the truth. “I’m her father’s girlfriend seemed too… I don’t know…” Too impersonal? 

“That’s what you are though,” Soo snorted.

You gave up, knowing you were probably making a huge deal out of this. Was it that serious? Probably not. “I just felt awkward.” 

“Because you hate correcting people, or because you didn’t like someone mistaking you for Arin’s mother,” your best friend pried. 

“It’s definitely not that. It’s just…” You sighed. “How would Arin feel about it? What if she’d heard?”

Soojung shrugged. “She loves you. You’re great with her.”��

That wasn’t the point you were trying to make. “It still might have upset her though. She adores her mom.” You weren’t trying to take Nana’s place and you didn’t want her to ever think that. 

It was Soo’s turn to sigh, dropping the chopped onions into a fry pan. “Do you want my opinion?” 

“Please,” you requested meekly. 

“I think you’re looking way too much into it.” Obviously. “It’s not a big deal at all, and Arin didn’t hear anything so nothing to worry about.”

“You’re right,” you agreed, telling yourself to shake it off. 

“Of course I am,” she quipped, rooting around in a cupboard now. She turned back, a can of tomatoes in her hand. “I’m sure Seokjin will be able to ease your mind with his sexy Dilf powers or whatever he calls them.” 

“Shut up,” you groaned. You weren’t even sure if you were going to tell him. Like she kept saying, it wasn’t a big deal, right? It was an easy mistake to make. Probably happened all the time. 

From inside the living room you heard Taehyung roar loudly, mimicking a lion (possibly) and Arin shrieked out his name, laughter exploding from her. “Quick, let’s get dinner ready as soon as possible.” Soojung begged, dramatic as always. “I’m scared Tae might be getting ideas. I’m too young for kids!”

.

.

The rest of the weekend went by smoothly. Despite the excitement levels that Saturday night brought, Arin was knocked out by 9pm. You, Soojung and Taehyung stayed up for another hour before he had to leave and then Soo made her way to bed, needing to wake up early tomorrow for work. That left you on the couch, awaiting Seokjin’s video call. He’d already called once today, but Arin was so hyped, talking a mile a minute about her day, you couldn’t get a word in edgeways. (Neither could he.) You were thankful for some alone time. You were missing him. He’d gone away on business trips a couple of times in the summer but it didn’t mean you’d get used to it. You both talked about your day, and you decided there and then not to tell him about the Claire’s “incident.” Soojung was right, it was no big deal. It was a common misunderstanding, one you’d probably made unknowingly before too. After you’d said your goodbyes you went to bed, already strategizing how you were going to steal the covers back from Soojung. As much as you’d enjoyed looking after Arin, you couldn’t wait to have your own bed back. Sharing with your bestie was torture. Taehyung was an admirable man. 

Sunday was a chillout day, although Arin still had you awake at 6am. You made her breakfast, watched some cartoons and shared turns on her Switch before you both got ready for the day. You checked in on Olive and Ariel briefly before driving back to your place. There was a park nearby and you promised you’d take her. The weather was still warm despite September trickling by. It was crazy how fast this year had gone, autumn already nearly here. For the rest of the day you both relaxed in front of the TV, waiting until Soojung was home to watch a movie, and then you made dinner. Seokjin was due back around 7pm, so you made sure all of Arin’s things were packed up ready to go. It was just gone eight when he turned up at your door. Arin had already passed out on the sofa after her hot chocolate so he couldn’t stay long. You thought with how entertaining this weekend had been it had finally all caught up with her. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to spend the night?” He asked, careful to keep his voice down as he strapped Arin inside his car. (Still sleeping.) You’d followed him out as he carried her towards the vehicle, wanting to say your goodbyes. 

He straightened up, closing the car door as he stepped closer to you. You rubbed his arm. “You must be exhausted.” 

“Don’t baby me.” Reaching forward, he wrapped his arms around you, squishing your arms to your side. “I missed you.” 

You hummed, pressing your lips to his, careful to keep your voice a whisper. “Your dick missed me.” 

He scoffed in disbelief but couldn’t argue. “That’s…not a lie. My heart missed you too though.” 

“How sweet,” you joked, but couldn’t keep your charade up for much longer. “I missed you too.” This time the press of your mouth was much firmer. He matched it, letting you slip your arms around his sides, holding him too. 

“Tomorrow, then?” He asked hopefully, tip of his tongue wetting his bottom lip slightly as he pulled away. “I know it’s a school night but I swear I only get a good night’s sleep lying next to you.” 

Laughing, you nodded your head. “Tomorrow.” You agreed wholeheartedly. Sleeping alone was no fun anymore. 

He captured your mouth again, humming happily. “Can’t wait.” 

The following weekend Arin was with her mom so you and Seokjin had the entire weekend to yourselves. Saturday was busy, you’d both probably been a little too ambitious when you’d decided to cram as many different activities as you could into the day, but it was too good of an opportunity to pass up. You didn’t get many days to spend together likes this; walking hand in hand as you explored the local market, having brunch together, checking out a new museum exhibit, watching a movie at the theatre… You treasured days like these. And what better way to end one with? Jacuzzi time! 

Seokjin’s jacuzzi was fast becoming one of life’s staples lately. Who were you? A changed woman, that’s who. This was your favourite space in Seokjin’s garden(s). An area of decking, solar lights draped over the sleek fencing. In the middle was the jacuzzi, set into the wood. Now that the nights were drawing in, it was especially cosy out here, summer holding on for just a little bit longer as the weather stayed quite warm. It wouldn’t be like this for long so you had to make the most of it right now. 

You were sat inside the jacuzzi, water gently bubbling around you as you gazed up at the stars that had just started to appear when you heard Seokjin emerging from the house. His footsteps sounded against the wooden steps as he made his way towards you. You didn’t bother looking but when he didn’t join you straight away, you glanced over curiously. To be met with a rather naked boyfriend. 

“What are you doing?!” You exclaimed, eyes bugging out. 

He grinned. It was hardly innocent. “Jacuzzi’s are much more enjoyable naked, didn’t you know?” 

You tsked, watching him climb into the tub and make his way over to you. His mouth was immediately on yours, arms around your waist as he tugged for you to stand up. This wasn’t just any type of kiss. Like you’d said before, you knew Seokjin very well by now, and besides, you’d already noticed his dick was half aroused as he stood above you… He had a plan. 

On cue, he broke away, corners of his plump lips tugging upwards with a suggestion. 

“Join me?” 

“Seokjin…” You warned, voice low, hands grazing the tops of his arms. He couldn’t be serious. 

“No one can see us,” he reassured you with a wider smile. 

You mean, he was correct. This time you let your hands make their way to his shoulders, massaging them lightly. “You’re crazy.” 

“Yeah, crazy for you,” he smirked, leaning in to kiss you once again. His lips were slow, coaxing. Even more so as they made their way down your jaw and to your neck. You keened into his touch, his hands grazing down your sides, fingers toying with the sides of your bikini bottoms. “C’mon…” He sunk his teeth into your skin gently and you whined. “I know you want to.” You did indeed. Very much so. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you confirmed, voice suddenly hoarse. You cleared your throat just as his fingers began to untie the strings of your bra, mouth still peppering your neck with kisses. Until that was your chest was bare, and then his lips were wrapped around one nipple, water rippling with the sudden movement. You moaned as quietly as you could, wanting to encourage him because it felt good, but also nervous as hell because you were outside. You didn’t care if there was no one around for a good mile, you were still out in the open. 

Cupping your breasts in his palms he gazed down at them, sighing dreamily. “Have I ever told you how much I love your tits?”

You raised an eyebrow. “One. Don’t be so crude.” (Not that you didn’t like it.) “And two. Yes, yes you have.” You broke off with a laugh, reaching for him to mesh your mouths together. He couldn’t help but chuckle too, but elsewhere he had a hand down your bikini to grab your ass. 

“What’s gotten – Seokjin!” You practically roared, cutting yourself off as he suddenly dived down into the water, fully submerged, hands attempting to tear your bottoms off. “What are you doing,” you giggled, clinging to his back as you tried to stay upright. He had one of your ankles in his hand, wrestling with the fabric. 

A few moments later he arose successful, flicking his head back to stop his wet hair from dripping in his eyes. He pushed it back further with his hands, forehead now devastating, skin glistening with water droplets. You heart stilled, he looked gorgeous – and naughty. Behind him your bikini bottoms floated to the surface. A smirk spread across his face as he finally replied. “Getting you naked.” And then he was on you. 

He kissed you hungrily, his erection pressed up against you, hot and eager now, just like his tongue. Your fingers threaded through his wet locks, letting him push his body weight into you until the backs of your legs hit the seat. 

“Up here for me,” he pulled away briefly, command light, tapping his hand against the deck behind you. You let him slip his hands around your hips and lift you up, legs spread to accommodate his body, feet still in the water atop of the seat. 

“You’re not too cold?” He made sure to ask, concerned despite being ravenous. You shook your head, desire for him enough despite the night air cooling the water against your skin. Satisfied he immediately dove in, leaning forward to place a kiss against your wetness. You pulsed against the touch, moving back on your elbows to get comfier just as his tongue came out and flicked against your clit. Suddenly you didn’t care that you were outside. 

From up here you had a great view of the expanse of his broad, wet back, muscles rippling as he ate you out. You moaned softly, running a hand through his hair, gaze falling to his face. His eyes were closed, water droplets caught in his dark eyebrows and as if he could feel your eyes watching him, he looked up, smirking against you before he sucked the sensitive bud into his mouth, actions growing more eager as he heard you go crazy for it. 

He knew your body well, which is why he cruelly held off slipping a finger inside of you. Actually, on second thought, he knew damn well that the second he did so, your orgasm would soon follow. It wasn’t hard to tease your body, to control it how he wanted. As soon as you felt his middle digit push inside, you clenched around it, hips bucking into Seokjin’s face as a stifled cry forced its way out of your mouth. He grunted, inserting another finger, curling and uncurling them as his other hand gripped your hip, trying his best to keep you still. It was no use, you were a woman possessed, pleasure beginning to hurtle through your body at an alarming rate. You stretched out, fingers of one hand sliding along the wood beneath you, desperately trying to cling onto something as you moaned uncontrollably. Seokjin hummed along, encouraging you, coaxing the orgasm through your body. With each wave your breath shuddered harder. 

You only started coming to when you felt his fingers slip out of you, his tongue ceasing, mouth now at your inner thigh, kissing you wetly, passionately. Your hands reached for him, wanting him close, but he was already on it, straightening up to meet your mouth. “I need you,” he breathed. You could taste yourself, it was intoxicating. “Here.” 

“Here?!” You exclaimed weakly, unfocused eyes trying to concentrate on his face. 

He kissed you once more, moaning a little. “Yeah.” His hands wrapped around your hips, lifting you further up the decking before he climbed out of the water and crawled over your body, reaching for something behind you. “Look – let’s use this.” He had a beach towel in his hand, the one you’d left draped over one of the wicker chairs, and he hurriedly laid it out, pressing you into it to kiss you again. His cock was hard and wet, bobbing against your inner thighs. 

“Are you sure you’re not cold?” He asked, wet hair now having fallen in his eyes. 

You cupped his face, nodding your head as you leaned up. You were still thrumming from your high. “Yes.” Your tongue curled against his open mouth, slipping in to meet his own. The kiss was messy, distracted, as he spread your legs, hooking one up under your thigh. 

Breaking away from your mouth, he straightened his back and aligned himself at your entrance, needing no hands he was so erect. You clung to his shoulders, waiting for the first thrust. His skin was still dotted with water droplets. “I’m too impatient, baby,” he told you simply, and then he pushed inside. 

Slowly, savouring the feeling of your walls stretching around him, both of you gasping as he bottomed out. With a slow thrust he groaned. “You feel like heaven.” As he leaned in to kiss you, he noticed you trying to hold back a giggle. “What?” 

You burst. “That was so cheesy.” 

Chuckling, he kissed you again, tips of his ears turning red. “Don’t laugh at me.” You snorted, unable to help it, reaching for him in silent apology, despite laughter still escaping you. “Seriously, stoppp,” he whined, dropping his head. 

You grinned. “Or what?” 

That got his attention. Looking up, his top lip twitched. His hand cupped your face, thumb brushing over your lips. “I’ll have to teach you a lesson,” he murmured, voice an octave lower. You opened up, sucking the digit into your mouth, looking up at him knowingly. He knew what you were thinking. That didn’t sound so bad. 

“My mistake.” He smiled, gaze intense as he pulled away, his thumb leaving you with a silent pop. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” 

You were seconds away from agreeing but became distracted, watching him lift both legs up by the back of your thighs now, hiking them above his shoulders. He dick slipped so deep you choked, feeling so full you didn’t know what to do. 

“S-seokjin,” you panicked, your hands clutching his arms. 

He cocked his head to the side, voice soft. “Trust me?”  

You nodded, something already so addicting about feeling him inside you like this. You felt beyond sensitive, beginning to tremble as he slowly thrust in and out of you, bringing the tip of his cock almost all the way out before sinking back into your warmth. You moaned out, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes with a pleasure so overwhelming. He sped up, going harder now that he was certain you were enjoying yourself, wet squelches sounding along with your moans and his grunts. You loved watching him fuck you like this, towering down over you, the wet spikes of hair falling down around his face, fucking you with his entire body weight, your ass sliding back and forth against the towel. 

However, you also loved kissing him. Holding him as he thrust inside, keeping him to you. 

“Seokjin,” you breathed, voice tight, hands reaching for him. He got the message, easing your legs to the ground carefully as he took one of your hands and brought it up to his mouth, kissing it tenderly, your name slipping from his lips, breathless and husky. 

He moved closer, capturing your lips eagerly and you hooked your legs around his waist, clinging to the back of his neck in the process as your hips jutted up to meet each roll of his own. You were both panting by now, grunts of exertion slipping from your mouths as you continued to make out. His movements were messier, wet bodies pressed up close, enough to provide enough friction for a second orgasm. 

“Ah… I’m close,” he panted, mouth grazing down your throat as he attempted to keep the same momentum. 

“M-me too.” 

That spurred him on, hips snapping into yours with a cry, newfound determination, lips pressing into yours once more. You came together, out of breath and quite sweaty, but mouths unrelenting. You’d never get enough of kissing him. It was addictive – especially like this. 

Spent, he slid out of your dampness naturally, having grown flaccid, kissing you slowly now, indulgently, until he was moving south, capturing your left breast in his mouth, tongue encircling your nipple. You shuddered as he pulled back, one of his hands cupping the right breast to give that a parting kiss too. It wouldn’t be long before you started growing cold, but you were so content here you didn’t care. 

Seokjin lifted his head up, gazing straight into your eyes. His were warm and soft, drunk on your beauty (or so he would say). “I want to give you the world,” he breathed, sealing his confession with a press of his mouth. 

Your heart swelled, heat prickling your skin and you clung to him. But despite that, you felt the need to joke around. Call it a defence mechanism, who knew. “Men are so weak,” you chuckled, running your fingers through his hair to pull it back, revealing his face again. The tips had already started to dry. “Let them cum inside you and they’re like putty in your hands.” 

He laughed too, genuinely amused, but his eyes were still soft and he leaned into your touch, content with the way you held his face now. “I mean it though,” he whispered. “Tell me what you want. Anything. I’ll make it happen.” 

You raised an eyebrow. He was being ridiculous, acting drunk. Still, you were pretty simple. You didn’t have many wishes, many dreams. “I want to travel on a plane.” 

It was his turn to lift an eyebrow, intrigued. “Like a private jet or?”

“No,” you giggled, “just a plane in general.” You kissed his nose. “You know I’ve never been out of the country before.” 

“You want me to take you on vacation?” He hummed, turning suggestive pretty quickly. “A sexcation?”

“Seokjinn,” you whined, dropping your hands from his face. 

He nudged his nose against yours playfully. “Well, of course there’ll be sex involved, but,” he grew serious, genuinely interested, “where do you want to go?” 

“Hm, anywhere?”

“Anywhere,” he confirmed, adding, “unless it’s another planet, or the moon.” 

You smiled, amused, yet deeply preoccupied now. Where did you want to go? What was your dream destination? You’d had one place in mind since you were a child. Running a hand down his bare chest you suddenly felt coy. “I want to visit Paris.” 

He grinned. “France, Mademoiselle?” 

You matched it. “Oui.” 

“Done.” He kissed you, sealing the deal. “Let’s go there tonight.” 

You burst out laughing at his idiocy. “I have school. You have work – a daughter!”

He laughed too, but he was distracted, gazing at you tenderly once more. He opened his mouth, about to say something but hesitated. Instead he smiled, nodding his head resolutely. “Okay, soon. Very soon.” He laughed when you squealed in excitement, bringing one of your hands to his lips. “I’m going to take you to the most romantic city on earth, baby.” 

.

.

It was Sunday the next day, which meant only one thing. Lazy morning sex. It was his favourite, his time to indulge in all things beautiful and pleasurable he told you. (i.e. You). You’d grown used to his lame lines, he couldn’t help it, and deep down you secretly loved them. A man so shameless with his desire, his devotion. You really had hit the jackpot. 

Sundays were also your excuse to just be lazy in general. You usually skipped breakfast in choice of an early lunch, but today you wanted to picnic outside. You knew in a week or so the weather would begin to change more drastically so this was your last chance. You made a reluctant Seokjin get out of bed and shower with you, ignoring his advances as you did so. He was like a dog in heat. Not that you usually complained, but today you really wanted to hit the grocery store before rush hour. Sundays were always busy. 

A few hours later you had everything ready, outside in the spot that saw the most sun. It bleated down on you as you kneeled, arranging all the dishes across the blanket you’d placed down across the lawn. 

“Oh, shoot. I forgot the salad.” Seokjin realised by the side of you. “I’ll be one sec, honey.” He kissed your cheek as he stood, smacking your ass playfully in the process. “Don’t start without me.”

“What will you do about it?” You called out to him, unable to help it. 

“If you’re feeling brave, I guess you’ll find out.” He called back with a laugh, retreating into the house. 

A good girl, you waited patiently, but then time started to tick on. One minute, then five… At ten you stood up with a sigh. Where was he? You had visions of the salad bowl on the floor smashed to smithereens. You made your way through the doors that led inside the back of the house. You past his study, calling his name. “Seokjin? Did you get lost?”

You were met with silence, which wasn’t surprising, his home was big after all. Down the corridor, closer to the kitchen you began to hear voices. Seokjin’s familiar rumble, although you couldn’t make it out, and then a louder, unfamiliar voice – female. You followed the sound, realising it was coming from the living room nearest the front door. A sick feeling was slowly creeping its way up your throat, but you didn’t understand why. As you got closer your heart began to race, blood rushing through your ears. There was this sudden feeling of dread. It was so strong you could practically taste it, and you were so frazzled you couldn’t concentrate on the words you were hearing as you rounded the corner of the open door, although you did acknowledge them. 

Immediately as you came into view you heard them loud and clear though. Directed at you. 

“Oh, and this is her, right?” 

They were coming from a woman, her dark eyes piercing into yours. She was beautiful, was your first thought. Tall and slim, with long black hair, so silky she could have come straight from a shampoo commercial. It reminded you of someone. Her hair just as dark and shiny. Arin. 

At the thought of the child’s name, you looked down, spotting her beside the stranger, clinging to her hand, eyes wide and shiny with worried tears. Everything clicked into place then. Confusion clearing, yet the sick feeling got stronger. This wasn’t a stranger. It was Arin’s mother. Seokjin’s ex-wife. Nana. And she looked angry. 

You glanced around, spotting Seokjin who was looking your way with apologetic eyes. His face looked torn. He murmured your name, stepping towards you, a protective hand reaching for your own. He held it tight, giving you a comforting squeeze. His palm was clammy. 

“Yes, here she is!” Nana laughed harshly, needing no reply. It made you wince. Beside you Seokjin groaned quietly, rubbing his free hand across his face before he took a deep breath. As if he was gearing himself up. 

You looked at Nana, chest a little tight, something heavy in your stomach. When your eyes locked the corners of her mouth curled upwards. 

“The stepmom!” She sneered. 

Written 2020 - 2021. Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2021

[memxntomxri]

𝚏𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚕𝚎

𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝟮 | 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 | 𝗵𝗼𝗺𝗲

𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 - bisexual!hinata shouyou x gn!reader, hinata shouyou x miya atsumu

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 - angst, break up

𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘤 - hinata shouyou is trustworthy - with everything except for your heart

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 - 2.4k words

𝘵𝘸 - slightly descriptive nsfw?, cheating (i'm sorry to be doing my children hinata and atsumu dirty this way but this got stuck in my head 😭), major angst, break-up, no happy ending, lots and lots of crying, lots and lots of reader's internal thoughts, atsumu is an asshole

𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴 - this is the result of brainrot i had stuck in my head after reading chapter 18 of SabbyWrites' A Study in Depravity. HAIKYUU BOYS ARE NOT CHEATERS - I REPEAT, HAIKYUU BOYS ARE NOT CHEATERS. BISEXUAL PEOPLE ARE ALSO NOT CHEATERS. i just couldn't resist writing this lmao

also, i'm doing my best to make this a gender-neutral reader, but it might lean more towards AFAB/non-binary readers since i'm both ashelkgjkdlkjf male-identifying readers i'm sorry

thanks @meiansmistress, lou (LouEve_094 on ao3), lena, and emmy (Noisy_Emmy on ao3) for betaing! your feedback helped me a lot

𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙙𝙣𝙞 - there are some descriptive scenes of smut in here 👀 shoo, shoo

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Hinata Shouyou is trustworthy.

You know this.

It's the reason you met, after all.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

The summer you moved to Miyagi, following your father's dream of teaching in a little town similar to the one he lived in as a child, you were unhappy. Who could blame you, after all? You had a comfortable life back in Osaka, and unlike your father, you were a city dweller at heart. It was also the middle of your first year of high school—who wanted to transfer schools, let alone across prefectures, in the middle of a school year?

It was hot in Miyagi, and when the moving truck broke down on the side of the road, the entire family piled out and sat on the curb. Just your father (who you were still mad at), your mother, and you. That was what it had always been. Sure, you had friends, but somehow the friendships never got too deep. You were willing to bet that within a month, there would be no texts other than the occasional New Year's greeting or "happy birthday" from your so-called friends back in Osaka.

And don't even get you started on romantic relationships. It wasn't that you weren't attractive, or that you weren't easy to get along with—it was just that there was never anybody. Yes, you had liked people before, but nothing had ever come of it.

Your mother piped up, saving you from your dark thoughts about the state of your relationships with other people. "Y/n, love, can you go back down the hill again? I think we saw a konbini a bit that way, please buy some cool drinks." she says, depositing coins in your outstretched hand. Oh well, something to do, you supposed.

You strolled casually down the road, sweating buckets. When you pushed open the doors of the konbini—Sakanoshita Store, you noted, it definitely didn’t look like a konbini—opened, you basked in the cold air of the air conditioner for a bit. As you stood there, looking a bit dumb with your arms outstretched, you felt a weight barrel into you from behind.

With a bang, you fell forward, the weight landing on your back. "Ow!" you cried, rubbing your right wrist, which had unceremoniously made contact with the ground, pain shooting up the limb. You twisted around to glare at whatever had so unceremoniously bowled you over. You were met with the sight of wide, brown eyes and flushed cheeks. "Sorry!" the boy squeaked, getting off of you quickly. "So sorry!" You frowned and got up.

"Watch where you’re going, okay?" You were a few centimeters taller than him, you noted.

He started blabbering, talking about how he needed to get the first-aid kit because a "Stingyshima" had "accidentally" ran into "Bakageyama" and this "Bakageyama" now had a bleeding knee and that he was the fastest runner in their volleyball club (he was strangely emphatic about this point). By the time he was finished rambling, you were chuckling slightly. It was obvious that he hadn't meant anything by running into you, and it was actually kind of endearing how earnestly he was trying to explain himself.

You held up a hand, stopping him from continuing to ramble. "Y-you aren't mad, right?" he asked anxiously. You smiled and shook your head slightly. "It seems your team trusts you to help take care of your friend, so why don't you grab the first-aid kit and go help him?" You suggested gently.

He nodded quickly and darted behind the counter, grabbing a white box. As he jogged away, he seemed to remember something and turned around to holler at you. "My name's Hinata Shouyou! I'm a first year!" he introduced himself in a bright voice.

Just inside the konbini, a small smile slipped across your face.

Hinata Shouyou, huh. He seemed nice.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Hinata Shouyou is trustworthy.

It's the reason you fell in love with him.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

The first day of school, you meet Hinata Shouyou again. And again. And again. He somehow seems to pop up everywhere you go—not that you're complaining, he's entertaining and nice—and soon, you think you can count yourself as his friend.

You go to his game against Aoba Johsai, then Shiratorizawa, then you're hugging him as he jumps up and down, celebrating their win. That’s the first time your heart jumps when you look at him, haloed by the lights of the gym.

Slowly, you feel yourself falling in love with him. Not just falling for him, no, because Hinata Shouyou will not let anyone do anything in halves, especially not falling in love. Shouyou, to you, (because by then you were on first-name basis) is someone you can rely on, someone that is always there, like the sun, trustworthy.

And because he is always there, it's also easy to confess to him in your second year. You know him well enough by now to know that even if he doesn't feel the same, nothing would change about your friendship except for the addition of unspoken words. And you think that he might love you back, if the lingering glances and brighter smiles are any indication.

Your guess is right, and by New Year's break, the two of you are a happy couple.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Hinata Shouyou is trustworthy.

It's why you let him go, if only for a little bit.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

When Shouyou left for Brazil, you took a break from each other. To be honest, it was your idea.

It wasn't that you didn't think that you couldn't trust him ten thousand kilometers away—it was that you knew you would hold him back. He was going to Brazil to chase his dream, and having a tether to his hometown would only slow him down. It hurt, having to say goodbye at the airport, but somehow the two of you got through it.

You still talked—a little more than "just friends" should—but you were careful not to let him think that you were together.

Shouyou was meant for greater things, and back then, as an insecure, just-barely-adult going into medical school, you weren't sure if you fit into the picture.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Hinata Shouyou is trustworthy.

It's the reason why you let him back in.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

When Shouyou returns from Brazil, the first person he visits is you. You, all the way out in Osaka, pushing yourself to your limits as you study for med school. When you open your door and see him standing there, smiling as bright as ever, you fall into his arms—both literally and metaphorically. It turns out, even two years later, you trust him to catch you.

It was all too natural for you and Shouyou to get back together, and by a stroke of luck, he joins the MSBY Black Jackals, right there in Osaka. You move in together, his slightly larger salary allowing the two of you to rent a bigger apartment.

Yes, it's hard work being in a relationship again, but you like having Shouyou to return to every night after your shift is over. You wake up early every morning to make the two of you breakfast and lunch, and Shouyou always has dinner waiting for you when you step back in the door, often also staying up so that you can talk.

You're content.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Hinata Shouyou is trustworthy.

It's the reason why you think nothing of his closeness with his teammates.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Shouyou has always been a people-magnet. Even back in high school, everyone loved him. Shouyou is bisexual. You know this. He’s always had more than enough love to give back, too, and his bisexuality had never impacted your relationship. Why should it, when you’re every bit as queer as him? Your relationship was strong, and you believed in it. That's why, at every team dinner that he takes you to, when someone else inevitably takes the seats next to him instead of you and you're relegated to a corner, you don't worry about it. Shouyou loves you, and it doesn't matter where you sit for a couple of hours.

Yes, Miya Atsumu is a bit aggressive whenever Shouyou compliments him, throwing a smirk over his shoulder at you triumphantly, but you chalk it to them being good friends and Miya-san wanting to get to know you better by having a little friendly competition, and that's okay.

Yes, Shouyou starts going out with his team more and more, but they're his team. He's supposed to be close with them.

Yes, you start to feel a little neglected, but it wasn't as if you were the most attentive back when you were still struggling through med school.

And anyways, Shouyou always makes time for the two of you on Saturdays, your designated date nights. You have trust in your relationship, in its rock-tight foundation built upon years of knowing each other.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Hinata Shouyou is trustworthy.

It's why you believe his words.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

One Friday, after an especially busy shift at the hospital that got cut short for you when a coworker unexpectedly came in to fill in for you, you decide to head home early and get some rest, maybe cuddle with Shouyou while watching those romcoms you both enjoy.

You had told him that you'd be home late that night, and you hoped that you could surprise him with some dinner. So, you swung by his favorite yakitori place and ordered dinner, driving home as fast as you safely could.

As you open the door to your apartment, you hear the distinctive sounds of sex, skin slapping on skin, grunts and moans, high keens. You frown. Maybe Shouyou was watching porn? He sometimes liked to get himself ready (the two of you enjoyed the occasional pegging) before you got home. You drop the food on the kitchen table and put your jacket on the hook.

"Love, I'm home!" you call out softly. No response.

Frowning deeper now, you move towards the bedroom door. Just as you're about to open it, you hear something that stops you cold.

"A-ah, Atsumu!" It's distinctively Shouyou's voice, and suddenly, you can't move anymore.

Shouyou, who told you you could make it through med school.

Shouyou, who made you yakisoba and miso soup whenever you were stuck studying.

Shouyou, who whispered sweet nothings in your ear every morning as the two of you made breakfast.

Shouyou, who is currently in bed with Miya fucking Atsumu.

You want to get up, you want to slam open the door, you want to demand answers, but somehow, you can't get your legs to budge from the spot in the ground they've rooted themselves to.

Then,

"Who do you love, Sho?" Atsumu growls.

Your heart skips a beat.

No.

No.

You pray to all the gods you know that what's about to pass Shouyou's lips will miraculously stay trapped in his throat, but it seems like the gods don't feel kind today.

"Y-you, Atsumu, you!" you hear Shouyou cry.

Your heart shatters into a million little kaleidoscopic pieces. Tears start running down your face, hot, involuntary, painful, because they represent the six years of a beautiful relationship down the drain, because nothing will ever be the same, because Shouyou is cheating on you.

Finally, your legs decide to move again. It seems like someone else is controlling your body as you walk towards the door, opening it with a shaking hand.

Shouyou is pinned down by Miya-san on the bed, legs thrown over his shoulder, as he slams into him.

The door bangs against the wall.

Shouyou looks up, and when he sees you, his face floods with guilt.

You don't say anything. You just stand there, tears flooding down your face, betrayal evident in your expression.

"Y-y/n!" he says. "I-I- I swear, this isn't-" he begins.

You cut him off. "I don't want to hear it, Shouyou." you spit.

Miya-san chuckles. "Who are we kidding, this is exactly what they think it is. What, did you think that you would be enough to satisfy Sho? You, with your infinitely busy schedule? You, who has no clue about volleyball?" he says, cutting into you.

"Atsumu, stop!" Shouyou says, frantic. He can tell that he's going to lose you, but he's not going to go down without a fight. "Babe, I love you, please-" he says, getting out of Miya-san's embrace and moving towards you. You sidestep him, holding a duffel bag with a change of clothes.

You stand there, looking at the scene, chuckling darkly inside your head. Just a scorned lover, a man, and his side-piece. You take a deep breath.

"You know, Shouyou, if you fell in love with someone else, you should've just told me. I trust you to be honest. I'm leaving—because even though you might love me, you're in love with Miya-san." you said.

Shouyou looks stricken with guilt, but you know it's from lying, not because he loves you anymore. Your laugh is broken and rough on the ears. "You think I didn't hear you? Oh, Shouyou, I heard more than enough. Have a nice life, and I hope that you remember how you broke me. I hope it fucking haunts you to the day of your death," you hurl at him.

Because even though at that moment you're screaming at him, you know that you still love him, that you’ll always will love him, and that you will carry this scar for the rest of your life. And even though you love him enough to leave now, to let him be with the person he loves—you still have enough love for yourself to hope that he bears some of the weight of this horrible, messy end too.

And with that, you walk out the door.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

But you're wrong.

Hinata Shouyou might love Miya Atsumu, but he still loves you more.

Years later, looking back, he comprehends that he didn't just break you. As he stares at his empty apartment, devoid of a lover—because what you said was true, he still carries the guilt, the memory of your tear-stained face, the recollections of your golden time together that ruined any relationship he might have had before it started, the echo of your absolute trust in him,

—Hinata Shouyou realizes he ruined himself too.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

© ʙᴇᴛʜᴇʏᴅᴏᴄʀɪᴍᴇᴡʀɪᴛᴇꜱ 2021 - ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴄʀᴇᴅɪᴛ

[ruby-whistler]

The Prison Arc - a Complete Recap

[ /dsmp /rp - All of the people mentioned in this post are the characters, not the content creators behind them. TWs for mentions of fictional murder, abuse, torture, self-harm, and other canon-typical themes. ]

Watch the cut-down version of this recap here! The video doesn’t have all the details, but is well-edited and easier to watch.

Starting where we left off, after the Disc War finale, Dream reveals the last trick up his sleeve, the revival book. Seeing him as an active danger to the server, the people need a way to get rid of him in order to keep themselves and each other safe, but instead of killing him, they store him away for later use, also making the prison a Vault in a literal sense.

This is where the story of the prison seemingly begins, but - let’s rewind for a moment, because any and all information here is vital. What do we know about the prison? It was commissioned for 64 diamond blocks by Dream to be built by Awesamdude a day after Tommy was exiled. The prison was supposed to be inescapable, and hold a highly capable individual, yet allow visitors.

Getting back to the lore, a day after Dream arrives in the prison, Tommy goes to visit him. During this visit, Dream states that there is nothing to do in the cell besides watching the clock on the wall, and that he is planning on writing something in the books that were given to him. Tommy shows him how to spin the clock really fast, which Dream calls a new game. He says that he is doing well so far, that he gets fed raw potatoes and can write or “swim”. He goes on to jump into the lava that blocks off his cell, killing himself. Tommy teases him, Dream asking him to visit more as he is alone in the cell with no real interaction. He then argues that if he stays for a long while and gets better, he can be freed, however Tommy doesn’t agree. Dream then apologizes, presumably to convince Tommy he can be let go, and talks about feeling bad about things he lost during the Finale. Tommy gives him five books to write, saying it’s so that he can forgive him. After this exchange, Tommy asks who Dream misses the most, and Dream yells for Sam to make him leave.

Around this time, as he reveals later, Dream starts telling Sam about what he did to Tommy in exile, which leads to the Warden becoming increasingly fearful and especially hateful towards the prisoner.

Nine days later, BadBoyHalo decides to pay Dream a visit as well. Dream is slow to respond at first, commenting that BBH is the first visitor in a while. He says he’s doing good, and spins the clock, because apparently he burnt some of his books, and doesn’t write much anymore. Bad tries to be optimistic about his conditions, and Dream agrees in a very… unconvincing, tone of voice. (29:40 - 29:49)

He says that he gets potatoes, but they’re raw, so they’re not good food. Apparently, Sam has told him he couldn’t have any visitors for a few days, because he would try to get out. He concurs to Bad that he did bad things that got him locked up, and asks how Sapnap and George are doing - noting that they haven’t visited him yet. Bad tells him that Tommy has started a hotel, and about the Egg. Dream seems lethargic and preoccupied the entire time, spinning his clock - he says he’s named it, but doesn’t want to elaborate further. He gives Bad a note that says “thank you for visiting me badboyhalo!” and explains that his sentence is forever, which is later also confirmed by Sam, and goes on to talk more about the clock and how he “likes it halfway” it’s because c!Ranboo metaphorically is the clock-

He once again reiterates that there is not a lot for him to do, and that nearly no one has visited him. He reveals to BadBoyHalo that he sometimes does a “prank” where he’ll burn his clock, so that Sam has to come to replace it and he can see and say hi to him. After being asked whether or not he gets in trouble for it, he replies that Sam will sometimes deprive him of food as punishment, essentially starving him for his attempts at interaction, though Dream diminishes it and laughs about Sam reprimanding him. The Warden is planning to make an automated food dispenser so as to not have to come into the cell himself, which means even less interaction in essence. Despite all of this, he says that Sam is “treating him amazing” and that he’s happy. During the visit, he sniffles and coughs as he talks, voice low and void of energy.

BadBoyHalo wants to become a prison guard so that he can make the cell look nicer, perhaps giving Dream a potted plant and flower or two, as well as promising he’ll talk to George and Sapnap who Dream says he wants to visit him the most. He encourages him to look forward to better things, think positively, and - (42:03 - 42:20) As BBH freaks out, he explains that hurting himself this way is how he keeps himself entertained, setting himself on fire again. He says he wants to summon Bad into the cell by breaking a block when he becomes a guard, but goes back on this as it would potentially make Sam mad. Bad promises to visit with his friends, and leaves the cell.

He tells Sam that he needs to replace the clock, who refuses to, seeming frustrated with Dream’s antics. Bad tries to convince him to give it back, Sam saying it doesn’t matter whether Dream has it or not, although it’s basically one of Dream’s only sources of entertainment, and Bad tells him to give him one more clock as a compromise. Sam asks whether he… said anything, suspiciously enough? And Bad says they only talked a bit and that he jumped in the lava. Sam confirms he does that a lot and he thinks it’s for attention.

BadBoyHalo feels conflicted, to say the very least. (53:34-54:02 54:16-54:33 56:34-56:53 1:02:24-1:03:05)

That very same day, Ranboo has a strange hallucination-like nightmare about visiting Dream. However when he tries to visit again, Sam tells him that he visited not too long after Dream was first locked up, also bringing a memory book with him. Later, during the prison podcast with Techno, Dream himself mentions Ranboo and says that he “used to visit a lot” before stopping completely - this lines up with what Ranboo does afterwards, having Sam promise to never let him in again.

On February 7th, Dream dies in lava repeatedly on someone’s stream. This happens a couple of times throughout people’s time on the server, and seems to line up with Sam’s claim that he swims in lava pretty often.

Twenty-one days into Dream’s stay in the cell, Sapnap finally decides to visit. Dream stands mostly still and silent, holding the clock in his hand, and explains through books that he’s not talking because he’s on strike. He places the clock and spins it - Sam seems to have renamed it to “DO NOT BURN”. He tells Sapnap that he took too long, who responds that it took him a while because he felt hurt, but also says that Dream can talk to him if he wants to. Dream’s cell has had some of the obsidian changed out for crying obsidian as a security measure - Dream could’ve, and tried to, light a nether portal in the cell to escape. Sapnap tells him he needs to stay in the prison, because that is where he deserves to be - Dream burns his clock in response, insisting that he will get better and get out eventually. Sapnap threatens to kill him if he does - Dream simply tells him to deliver a message to Ranboo because he stopped visiting, a smiley face, which seems to trigger his enderwalk when received, and promises to stop throwing his clock away in return. Sapnap says he’ll visit more, and that he’ll tell George to visit him as well.

The next visit is nine days later, and is an attempt at getting closure. Tommy notes there’s a little hole on the prison roof when he goes to check up on it beforehand. (1:39-1:44). When Sam asks, Tommy says he thinks Dream is deserving of being locked up, but he highlights he doesn’t think he deserves death. He implies he could or might deserve torture though. (12:13-12:16). He says he’ll only ever visit Dream if he needs anyone revived from now on, calling it the only reason Dream’s still alive. Upon entering the cell, he notices some of the obsidian is now crying obsidian.

The first thing Dream tells Tommy is that he lost his clock since the last time he visited him. Tommy seems nervous, stumbling over his words. Dream eagerly tells Tommy he’s glad he came to visit him, that it’s been a while, and that he wishes he would visit him more. He says he likes having people visit him, that he likes just talking to them (23:46-23:49).

Tommy tells Dream this is his last visit. Dream argues that forever is a long time, asking why it is the last time. Tommy tells him he’s the pinnacle of villainy and that he wants to move on. He says he’s been suffering from success while Dream wasn’t there. Dream replies that he has been too, except without the success part, just suffering - Tommy says he had it coming. Dream nonchalantly replies with “yeah”. He goes on to say that maybe one day he could leave, saying he’s already been changing since he came. They talk about the crying obsidian, Tommy comparing the situation to exile, which devolves into an argument. He finds out that Dream burnt the books he was supposed to write, and that BadBoyHalo visited at some point. Dream asks him to visit again, but Tommy refuses, saying he’s terrible. Dream says that everyone thinks they’re in the right, and that he did bad things for good reasons (31:51-32:13) - Tommy refuses to listen to said reasons, listing Dream’s crimes again, and says he refuses to stress himself out by going to visit Dream any longer. Dream says he’s trying to change, promising to be better if he comes back, and Tommy says goodbye.

In that moment, explosions are heard going off in the distance. The two talk about it for a moment, before Tommy starts yelling for Sam. His name disappears and the Warden doesn’t answer as more TNT goes off, Tommy freaking out and Dream seeming to find it interesting.

Tommy starts begging Dream for a way out, and Dream tells him calmly that Sam is dealing with the security issue. Tommy doesn’t get it, so Dream explains that it means he could be stuck in there for a little bit, maybe even days. Tommy is getting desperate, Dream tells him he knows he signed a book, because he’s the one who wrote it, that said that if there’s a security issue, he can be in there for up to a week.

Tommy rambles about all the things he has to do that week and calls out for Phil. Dream suggests they break out together, but Tommy refuses this offer.

Dream gives Tommy some potatoes, who hits him and yells at him to explain, to which Dream yells back he has no idea what is going on as he’s locked in a room.

Tommy accuses Dream that he’s lying, saying it’s too perfectly timed to be a coincidence, calling him the monster of the server, saying he hasn’t changed, and Dream trying to convince him he did or he’s trying to. The two argue, Dream bringing up exile in the process, until Dream suggests to just deal with each other’s presence, not hit each other, and explains he’s happy to finally have company, Tommy panicking and saying he wants to hurt Dream. He takes the “thank you” books from the chests, as well as empty books and quills, and burns them despite Dream’s protests, telling him if Sam hears him panicking over the items, he’ll come back - Dream begs Tommy to just wait, panicked, and gives him potatoes.

After quite a bit of arguing and Tommy nearly punching Dream into the lava multiple times, Sam says the prison is on lockdown. Tommy is incredulous. Dream says it’s not that bad, that they have tons of time to bond, and after Tommy repeatedly calls him dumb and evil, Dream loses his cool, yelling that Tommy’s the one that’s being dumb. Tommy calms down as the realization sets in, and the stream ends.

The next time we see Dream and Tommy, the scene opens with Tommy running around the cell, making loud noises, and Dream sitting in the cauldron, writing. He’s frustrated and asks Tommy to be quiet - who looks at the cat that seems to have appeared in the cell, calling it annoying. Dream disagrees, saying it’s the best thing that’s happened to them - Tommy tries to repeatedly lead it away from its place on the chest, however the cat always comes back. He keeps asking Dream questions, punching the cat to which Dream stands in front of it, asking him to stop. Sam appears to give them potatoes. He asks Sam to let him out, who refuses as the security issue hasn’t been fixed yet. Tommy complains about not having enough food, to which Dream gives him some as well as Sam dispensing more into the cell. Tommy punches Dream away from the potatoes, also getting the clock. He tells Sam that this feels like exile, but worse, saying he’s claustrophobic - he refuses once again, and leaves the two alone. Dream says it’s not that bad - that he’s gotten used to the cell, that he’s happy to have company and a cat with him. He burns the clock, and after Tommy asks to be let out again, suggests they escape together - Tommy says no, punching the cat as Dream tries to stand in front of it to take the blow. He asks Dream if he loves it, killing it when he says that he does and wants it to stay after Tommy leaves. In response to this, Dream says that the cat was hope he could stay in the prison and be content, however now he’s even more motivated to escape and get his revenge on everybody who’s wronged him. He says he’s grown tired of Tommy’s whining about being in the same box he’s been locked in for a hundred times longer - Tommy tells him he will never get out, and Dream promises to never use the revive book on him or his friends. He says he’ll be freed someday, because the only way he’ll ever revive anyone, is if he’s let out - Tommy reveals he doesn’t think the revive book, the only reason people are keeping Dream alive, is real. They argue, Dream asking if the fact he can’t be killed because of the leverage he holds makes him some kind of god - Tommy disputes that he has said leverage, Dream killing him as a result to prove the point that his life still holds value because he can bring people back to life.

In the aftermath of this event, Sam reacts by saying he didn’t anticipate Dream actually killing Tommy - hence he never reached the cell in time. When Bad mocks him for this, he replies saying that he thought he had “broken the will out of him” to act up that way. He also reveals that Dream laughed when he started screaming at him - he says he can’t think of worse ways to punish him than he already does, not knowing what time it is, without the clock and with only raw potatoes as food.

After this happens, Sam leaves for an island that we see in Quackity’s lore later on. Quackity comes to visit him, only to rile him up and give him the idea to kill Dream in retaliation - however, when they arrive in the prison, Sam realizes that Tommy trusted him to keep Dream locked up and alive, and decides against it because of his duty and the revive book.

Two days after Tommy died, he was revived once again, with Dream asking him questions about death and the limbo, such as how long he’s been there, who he’s talked to, and what it felt like. He says he was scared it wouldn’t work, because he had never tried it before; Tommy details that being dead felt horrible, he’s talked to Wilbur and Mexican Dream although Schlatt, strangely enough, appeared to be asleep. He expresses signs of trauma when Dream punches him after being asked to do so, and has somewhat of a breakdown in the cell. Dream proclaims he is a god as he can revive people, and Tommy says Wilbur said horrible things to him while he was in limbo with him, and tried to get Dream to promise him that he would never bring him back, declaring Wilbur worse and more dangerous than Dream ever was - Dream refuses, saying he is the only one with the power to decide on that, and he thinks Wilbur hasn’t done anything that bad. He also suggests experimenting on Tommy to find out more about the afterlife, and perhaps even become unkillable. Tommy realizes Dream is the revive book, in essence, and there is no other way to get rid of it than to kill him, to make sure Wilbur stays dead forever. Dream invites him to kill him, however Tommy realizes he can’t, because then he’ll be stuck in the cell alone forever - Dream even walks into lava for him, all the while detailing the possible consequences of such an act.

Dream says that when Tommy gets out, he can tell everyone the revive book is real - that he wasn’t lying. He also says since he can kill everyone and bring them back, they’re his puppets - when Tommy asks him why he killed him, Dream says he wouldn’t listen to him, and hence he had to prove the legitimacy of the revive book to him. He says he’ll let Tommy go, and not kill him again, just so that Sam doesn’t cut off his visitors further or starve him again - but also promises to bring back Wilbur, with whose help he will escape.

After eight more days, Dream and Tommy are still stuck together within the room, Dream remarking that he’s starving, confirming Sam hasn’t come back to give either of them food during the time since Tommy’s revival. He lets Tommy keep his when he says he has only one, and the two bicker after Dream hits him. They’re bored, waiting for the Warden, and have no idea how much time has passed - Tommy burns his food in lava as they argue again, before Sam finally arrives, and Tommy is released. Tommy warns him to not allow Dream any visitors, saying he plans to escape, and that Techno owes him a favor. He also calls Sam inadequate to run the prison.

After this experience, both Ranboo and Tommy start plotting to kill Dream, so that he can’t “bring back the villains” of the past, present, and future, allowing them to rid the world of such dangerous individuals for good.

However, another person also ends up becoming interested in the powers of the revive book - and that person, is none other, than Quackity.

He doesn’t intend to destroy its powers for good, though. He persuades Sam into letting him bring weapons into the cell as a means of getting the revive book, taking away the last bit of power Dream has, and allowing them to take his final life. Sam agrees in the end, giving him better tools before he steps into the cell, including netherite weapons and shears. During the first visit, Dream comments he hasn’t had a clock in a while, Quackity saying the cell doesn’t look very comfortable. He goes on to talk about Dream’s loss of control since he got locked up, to which Dream asks if he came to gloat. Quackity brings up Tommy’s death, and Dream is interested in other people’s reactions. The topic goes back to the revive book, Dream asking again whether people knew it was real now, saying it’s good that they do. Quackity begins to ask that he gives it to him, but Dream refuses, saying he burnt it a long time ago and it is preserved only in the form of knowledge. Quackty takes out the weapons, and after the initial shock, Dream begins to frantically yell for Sam, not knowing the two are working together. Quackity promises to come torture him daily until he gets the revive book from him.

Around this time, the prison’s keycards are stolen by Ponk. Sam builds him a room, planning on killing him and then burning him with lava, beating and poisoning him until he gives them back, even though at this point they aren’t even functional. (4:05 - 4:24) Ponk tries to talk him out of it, saying that the prison is controlling him as much as the Egg would, and that he’s changed. (6:26 - 6:38) Sam ends up cutting off one of Ponk’s arms, successfully getting every last one of the defunct keycards back.

Later on, while BadBoyHalo and Antfrost are handing out invites to the Red Banquet on behalf of the Eggpire, Sam greets them holding a clock and gives them empty books & quills he claims to have confiscated from Dream.

In Quackity’s next lore video, we get confirmation that he has in fact been coming in daily to torture Dream, always escorted by Sam, using different tools and staining his shirt’s sleeves red.

Tommy finally decides to come and kill Dream, sneaking in with an invisibility potion while using Ghostbur as an alibi. The lava starts dropping, and Dream seems to run around the cell once, before coming to a stop at the center. Ghostbur yells excitedly when he finally spots Dream on the other side. He looks at Ghostbur, coming closer to the edge to wave at him, but stops waving when he spots Sam. He backs off slightly, breaking eye contact with Sam. Ghostbur and Tommy cross the lava, and Dream has his back turned on Ghostbur.

As soon as Tommy arrives at the cell, and before the netherite bars drop, he reveals the Axe of Peace. Sam yells at them to stop. Dream takes a step towards the entrance, Tommy immediately turns to him, trying to hit him. Dream backs off until he hits the wall, letting out a small “What?”. Tommy crosses the bridge while Ghostbur stays. Tommy and Sam argue, Dream interrupts, but Sam shuts him down, telling Ghostbur to get further away from him.

Dream pleads for Sam to let him out, who tells everyone to shut up, as Tommy is asking Ghostbur if he can reach Dream to kill him. Dream yells that he has a hostage. Sam answers that he’s just a ghost, while Dream stammers that Sam wouldn’t let another person die.

Tommy starts insulting Sam, calling him a horrible warden and telling him to kill Dream, and they start arguing again. (31:00-31:13, 33:50-33:58) Dream shows that he has the revive book in his hands. Ghostbur starts pleading for Tommy to help him. Tommy and Ghostbur count to ten, Sam telling them to shut up. After he shuts down a last request to set Dream free, he kills Ghostbur as the lava starts covering the entrance.

After well over two months of daily visits, a scene opens with Quackity showing Dream which weapon he will use that day, choosing an axe. Dream tries to take it off the item frame, however fails and only gets himself in trouble, with Quackity yelling at him while he cowers. He says it’s getting tiring, but that he needs to come in to remind him every day about everything he’s done or else he’ll forget, to which Dream promises he won’t. Quackity then proceeds to ask him questions about his involvement and relationship with Technoblade, and tells him to write a note, inviting him to visit. He refuses to say why, but promises to give Dream a week-long break if he obeys. Dream doesn’t trust him, continuing to question his motives. He tries to compromise, offering to write a note to Sapnap instead. Quackity goes on to threaten to kill him, saying he doesn’t care about the revival book, and that he likes hurting Dream, because in his eyes, he can never pay back the amount of evil Dream’s done to everyone on the server. He says not even Sam can help him, swinging his axe around and hitting Dream with a sword while he begs him to stop. In the end, Dream agrees to write the note for him.

Outside of the cell’s confines, Foolish proposes to Sam an idea to reform Dream through community service. This idea is shut down immediately.

MichaelMcChill, a new addition to the server, also tries to break him out a couple of times because - because he. Because he thinks he’s hot???

Interestingly enough, Quackity doesn’t have the note to give techno and just tells him to visit Dream verbally - Techno does, getting trapped in the cell in the process. And, well, in the end: (4:24 - 4:40)

That’s it for the recap!

Thank you.

[multiplefandomfics]

Relations

Pairing: Bucky x Stark!reader

Warnings: angst, soft smut, fluff, fighting

Words: 2862

“Y/N? Where are you?” no response.

“Friday? Would you be so kind as to tell me where my little sister is running around?” 

“Of course, boss. She is currently sitting in the garden, reading a book.” 

“Thanks Friday.”

Tony headed out to talk to his sister. 

“There you are. Please come inside. We have to talk.”

“Alright. I’m coming.” you smiled up at your big brother. 

He was everything to you. Y/N had been born in 1990 and had not exactly been planned. A year later your parents had died and Tony was left alone with an infant. Fortunately he was wealthy enough to have nannies looking after you as long as he was still in college. 

But the time you did spend together was thoroughly enjoyed. Everytime he was home he took you to the zoo, swimming or you just celebrated your lives. 

All in all Tony Stark was the best brother anyone could have wanted. 

Then he was kidnapped and became Iron Man. And Y/N was in the middle of it all. Tony tried to keep you away from it all but that didn’t work very well. You had begged him time and time again to make a suit for you too but he refused. Fortunately you were as technically talented as he was, copied Tony’s files for his suit, made some modifications and built it. 

Yours was purple and silver instead of red and gold and it had some other nice gadgets which would probably prove useful. 

When you took the first flying test outside the tower you didn’t really care that you were probably going to get caught. 

And of course the moment you landed again Tony busted you.

“Y/N. What were you thinking? You could have gotten hurt.” he was worried.

“But I didn’t. You really have very little trust in my abilities. I flew didn’t I? And I used your plans and software. I even have Friday on my ears at all times.” you rolled your eyes at your brother.

“I can’t decide if I should be angry or proud.” he muttered. “I trust you and your skills but please let me ease my conscience and have a look over your work before you go flying again.” he asked.

“Alright, if that calms you down, sure.” you smiled and hugged your brother.

“So what is this about?” you asked him.

“I am throwing a party tonight to celebrate taking down the hydra base and recovering the scepter.” he beamed.

“And I am invited?” 

“Of course. Wear something nice.” he instructed and left you alone in the entryway. 

Y/N prepared half the afternoon for the spectacle and looked your best when evening rolled around. You hung at the bar with Natasha and Bruce, let Thor and Rhodey tell their war stories and sat around the table while everyone tried to lift Mjölnir and failed miserably.

Then suddenly a mangled Iron legion droid came walking through the door saying strange stuff and ending up attacking everyone. You were just so able to jump behind the bar and duck down. After that you promised yourself that you would never feel that helpless again. You wanted to be in the thick of it all. 

When the dust settled everyone was really confused. The peacekeeping program Ultron had “killed” Jarvis and taken off into the world wide web. 

“What did just happen?” Rhodey asked while Thor was on the way searching for Ultron.

After a battle with Ultron and the Maximoff twins, where everyone seemed to have lost their minds at one point or another and the Hulk destroying half a town while Tony tried to stop him, you made it out alive and had to disappear and landed with Clint’s family. 

You stayed there for a while and then left for Seol to retrieve the crate with the human print inside.

In the end you had a new addition to the team and a devastating fight against machines in Sokovia. 

Everyone was upset after that. Sokovia was destroyed, many civilians had died and Hulk was MIA. Thor left too to shine some light onto the appearances of the infinity stones.

You stayed at the newly built compound to start your official training with Vision, Wanda and Sam.

Some time later things escalated in Lagos with Rumlow and a biological weapon. After that everyone was suddenly afraid of Wanda although she was just as scared. 

A day later you were walking through the hallways, passing some office and conference rooms on your way to the gym. You were lost in thought when you heard your brother's voice. At first you wanted to storm in and surprise him but then you heard him talking.

“She isn’t actually my sister, Steve. She’s my daughter. Y/N is my daughter. I’ve never told anyone before I couldn’t-” the rest was not heard by Y/N because you had dropped your towel and run towards your room. 

The next few days you just couldn’t face your father. That was so strange to think. You never said it out loud. Y/N felt so betrayed. Why did he never tell you? Of course he had been relatively young when you were born but he still could have been honest with you. Did he not want to be seen as your father? Were you such a disappointment? And over all of that stood the question after your mother. Who was she? What happened to her? Why did she not want to meet you? All those thoughts rushed through your brain and you couldn’t stop the nagging feeling that Tony didn’t want to admit the truth to you because you weren’t worth it. 

The bad thoughts did not leave you alone anymore. You had nightmares and isolated yourself from everyone during the days. 

Although everyone was constantly asking you what was wrong, you couldn’t tell them.

Until the day Natasha and Pepper waltzed into your room, overriding Friday’s authority. 

“Hey Y/N. We noticed that you have been by yourself a lot lately, not letting anyone in anymore. So tell us, what is going on with you? You know you can trust us.” Pepper added the last part after seeing you hesitating. And finally you caved in.

“I overheard Tony and Steve talk a few days ago. He said something I need time to process for.”

“What did he say that shocked you so much?” Nat asked.

“All my life I thought he was my brother. He’s been my rock. We went through thick and thin and then I find out that he lied to me all these years.”

“What do you mean he’s not your brother?” Nat pressed further.

“He told Steve that he’s actually my father.” the girls looked at you dumbfounded and it got eerie quiet.

“You sure you heard that right?”

“Of course I am sure. I’m not deaf!” you said a little enraged.

“And I gather you have not talked to him about it yet, have you?” Pepper had a calming nature especially when she put her hand on Y/N arm.

“No I haven’t. I couldn’t. What if it is somehow my fault that he didn’t tell me? What if he doesn’t consider me good enough to be his daughter?” you started to sob quietly.

“Hey, look at me Y/N. If anything it is the other way around. Under all that confident exterior he is actually very insecure and I am sure that he just didn’t want you to be disappointed to have him as a father.” Pepper ensured you.

“You really think so?” you sniffed looking up at her.

“I do. You should talk to him.” she encouraged you.

“Maybe I should tell him that I know and see how he reacts.”

But before you could go forward with your plan Friday alerted you and Nat to come to the conference room because the Secretary of defense had arrived to talk about something 

 The fights in Sokovia and Lagos had been PR nightmares and the government and the UN did not want to stand by anymore. The Avengers had to bow to the law and sign the Sokovia accords or they would be forced to retire. They were given a few days to think about it and talk this through. 

After long discussions the team split in two. Which led to the situation at hand. 

Your dad had grounded you together with Wanda after you had voiced your opinion that you thought Steve was right. Well, when Clint came to pick up Wanda you stuck to them and flew to Germany. Steve was kinda surprised when he saw you get out of the car at the airport but he thought you were old enough to make your own decisions. 

Well, it ended in a really bad fight in the middle of the runway. In the end you made it out with Steve and Bucky and flew to Siberia under Steve's protest.  

“So you’ve been Steve’s friend since childhood, hm?” you asked Bucky while still in the air.

“Yep. Known him forever. And you are Stark’s kid?” he asked back.

“So Steve told you. Yes it seems to be true although my whole life I thought he was my big brother. He lied to me so I’m not very happy with him at the moment. Kicking his ass has been a nice change for once.” you smiled at Bucky sadistically.

“You are a sick little thing, doll!” he laughed out loud.

 You landed not much later but you had to admit the crush that had already developed towards Bucky. 

And then Zemo happened and that stupid tape.

Were you the only one wondering why the hell there was a security camera in the middle of nowhere on an abandoned street exactly at that point where your grandparents car was forced to crash? And all that in the early 90’s? 

Tony did not want to think rationally at that point so he started a fight against Steve and Bucky. You stood by. Too in shock to do anything. The only thing you knew was that it was not Bucky’s fault your grandparents had died but hydras. 

You snapped out of your trance when Tony shot Bucky’s arm off. Then it was your moment to jump between your dad and Steve.

“Stop it, dad! Think for one moment!” he was startled for a moment because he wasn’t used to hearing you say that. 

“You know?” he asked and his helmet slid back.

“Yes, I do. I overheard you and Steve the other day.” you spoke silently. “Sorry I did not talk about this with you earlier but I was just so upset about the fact that you didn’t tell me. Am I such a disappointment that you thought I wasn’t good enough to be your daughter?” you asked him with tears in your eyes.

“What? Of course not! You, Y/N, are the best thing that has ever happened to me. It was me who felt not man enough to be your dad. In the beginning when you suddenly appeared on my doorstep I panicked and thought I could have never lived up to the responsibility of a father. So I became your fun big brother to save you and me from disappointment. At some point I just felt that I had missed the point of telling you without the fear of consequences. So I stuck with the lie. I never meant to hurt you and I hope you can forgive me. I love you so much.” 

That explanation was enough for you to jump into your fathers arms and hug him close. 

“I love you 3000, dad. And can we now please get out of here? Bucky doesn’t deserve to die. Can you maybe see that he was controlled and hates himself as much for what Hydra made him do as you hate him? He is actually a really nice guy and like a brother to Steve and you know Steve, would he have bad friends? Also Buck needs help, physical and psychological. So please dad let us help him. He’s a war hero after all.” you finished your plaidoyer.  

Your dad just stared at you but in the end took a deep breath and said: “let’s get home. I can’t do anything here.”

Outside you met King T’Challa who was holding Zemo in his grasp. He was gonna bring him to the CIA and then fly home to bury his father. He also promised to help with Bucky’s recovery because Wakanda had the most advanced technology to heal anything. 

For months you stayed in Wakanda, which was pretty beautiful by the way, to maybe help Bucky recover step by step. 

That’s also how you became close. You went for walks and to his therapy sessions together. The latter also because you thought you could use some talking about your life too. 

At first he had wanted to go back into cryo but you had convinced him that that wasn’t necessary. In the beginning your dad had called you everyday to check in but he had stopped after a particularly annoyed outburst on your side. 

“Bucky you alright?” you asked him one night after he had come home from his private session with Ayo.

When you saw his face you noticed the big tears leaking down his face.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” you asked scared this time.

Without saying a word he just walked up to you hugging you close to his chest and kissing you intently. 

“You know how much I love you, right?” he whispered.

“Of course. but what happened with Ayo that has you this shaken?” you were persistent.

“I’m free, baby. She said all the trigger words and nothing happened. I’m free.” he repeated as if not believing it himself yet.

You started crying, too at that moment. You knew how much that meant to him, hell how much it meant to you. He had full control of his life back. 

“I’m so proud of you babe. You deserve this so much. The past is finally behind you and we can start into a new future.”

“I love you.” he whispered into your hair and started kissing down your neck.

“Oh, okay. So that’s where you are going. Hmm, I like that. But let’s go inside first.”

You pushed him backwards until you reached the hut and inside your bed. You pushed him down and straddled his lap. He grabbed the seams of your blouse and tore it down the middle so the buttons flew in every direction. 

“Someone is needy, hm?” you whispered while grinding down on his boner. 

“Need you so bad.” he murmured 

“You know I would give you everything. Come and take what you want. I swear I won’t break.” you kissed him intensely again before he threw you around and you landed with your back on the mattress. 

The next thing he did was rid you both of your clothing. The look on his face was absolutely feral. 

“Need to breed you baby. Fuck a baby in you.” he groaned and your pussy clenched around nothing.

“Gotta prepare you first.” he slurred just as he pushed a finger into your dripping wet cunt.

And the moment his tongue touched your aching clit you came with a cry. But he didn’t stop there. No. He kept on flicking your nub with his tongue and added a second finger to stretch your walls for his girth.

“Getting you nice and wet, baby.” he moaned. When he hit that particular spot you arched your back and pushed your pussy further into his face. It didn’t take long for you to come again. You drenched his face in your juices which he happily licked off of his face.

He climbed up your body and on the way nipped at your breasts and left hickies on your neck. 

“I can’t hold on any longer. Gotta be inside you.” those words were the last warning before he breached your entrance and pushed his massive length inside your tight channel.

“Oh, fuck Bucky. So big. Shit.” you moaned loudly which seemed to spur him on.

He pummeled into you with all the force he could muster.

His blissed out face was all you ever wanted to see again.

His rhythm got erratic. You put your hand in his hair and coaxed him “Let go baby. We’ll be fine. I love you so much.” 

That was all it took for him to lose it and he spilled deep inside you.

He collapsed on top of you and then rolled to the side, not to crush you. You winced when he pulled out.

“That was amazing.” you breathed out. “Yeah. Best sex I ever had.” he agreed. 

You two lovebirds spent 6 more weeks in Wakanda. Then Bucky got his vibranium arm and you left Wakanda to go back to New York. No matter what you told yourself, you did miss your dad. 

But you definitely promised to come back every time you got the chance. 

[tokoyamisstuff]

Scandal Ch. 5 - Loki x Reader

Summary: Loki returns to claim what is his - willing to kill everyone in his way.

Warnings: Angst.

Words: ~1800

I Story Masterlist I General Masterlist I

Taglist: @catlover092402152, @hi-there-x, @haloangel391, @misssilencewritewell, @babayaga67, @accioremuslupinn, @mochimommy2002, @just-someone-who-likes-to-write, @damalseer, @bethanystan, @loser-alert, @star017, @nina1800, @queenariesofnarnia, @n1fangirlsblog, @vengefulsokovian, @lunamoonbby, @freyagallileaevans, @emmojoy, @literate-lamb, @aninnai​, @justsomerandompersonintheworld​

A/N: Sweet little Feedback Anon, I took your suggestion. You know which one I mean if you see it. (:

Btw guys I have like 60+ Drafts I need to finish so pls be patient with me.

Word sure spreads fast among the folk of Asgard, about Odin’s shame and your innocence.

Since his lies had weakened the favor among his subjects, the Allfather was desperate to clean his name and reputation, ultimatively inviting you to come back.

But you declined, stating that this wasn’t your homeland anymore ever since they betrayed you to fullfill their selfish ambitions.

However, Asgard’s hypocrisy wasn’t the only reason you chose to stay on Midgard - you just knew that it would break your heart every day you’d spend on a place with so many memories connected to your deceased husband.

Earthlings, the people of S.H.I.E.L.D and especially Thor’s friends Jane and Erik Selvic had basically become like family to you. Even though they could never fill the void Loki had left in your heart, things being like this was more than you could wish for.

“Lady Y/N!” a familiar voice greeted you, yet his worried tone startled you. Thor was already standing in your room, practically kicking in your door as he was visibly upset.

Immediately, you put Liam into his crib and rushed to his side. “What’s the matter?!”

A strange mix of horror and excitement was stretched across his face, making your heart sink to your stomach.

Actually, you didn’t want to involve yourself with the Asgardians any further. All you ever wanted was for your child to be healthy and happy, no matter where this was possible.

But Thor was still your cherished brother-in-law, as well as a wonderful uncle, never ceasing to provide for you and Liam, even when everyone else had forsaken you.

Yet what he was about to tell you let your blood run cold: 

“Loki is back.”

Immediately, all the walls you had built up over those past months were crumbling as you collapsed to the floor, crying out of anger and relief.

“H-How? How is this even possible?! He’s dead! Loki died!”

“Pull yourself together, Lady Y/N!” Thor has always been a rather touchy-feely kind of person, in opposite to his raw and bulky appearance.

But right now, he wouldn’t dare to hug or console you, like he’d usually do. Instead, he was offering you a hand to help you get back up - which you wouldn’t be able to take just yet. “There’s no use in overthinking this! We need to hurry!”

“What do you even want me to do?” you wondered, because if your husband was really alive, you’d doubt him wanting to see you. “He’s changed...killed a lot of people before he disappeared. And still, I don’t wanna fight him. How can I be of any help at all?!?”

“We know he’s probably after you and the child” the God of Thunder stated coldly. “So you need to be transferred to a safe location.”

What can be more safe than a base of S.H.I.E.L.D? If only you knew he had already demolished a whole, giant outpost of them with ease...

“I’ll explain everything to you on the way.” “Let me quickly get the baby.”

“What, did you forget the name of your nephew already?” you chuckled awkwardly, but seeming to have struck a nerve.

Thor was only slowly approaching the crib in which your lovely baby was resting, staring at it with awe while his trembling hand caressed Liam’s cheek.

“Incredible...” he whispered mainly to himself,  as if this wasn’t the thousandth time he would lay eyes upon him. “He’s just like I remember him.”

Something was off.

Of course Thor had a spare key to your flat, but you had never heared him unlock it - he had just kind of appeared in the middle of the room. Could as well be that you had been to invested with something, or buried in thought to notice him, and yet...

“Wait” you stated, making him flinch away from the child and turn around. “My knees are still weak. Help me up first.”

With heavy steps, Thor would force himself away from the crib and towards you again, lending you another hand and easily pulling you up - just for you to point a sharp dagger to his throat.

“Lady Y/N, when did you summo-”

“Shut up!” you hissed, and the god held his hands into the air to assure his goodwill. "Drop the disguse. Now!”

The man let out an amused huff, a taint of green covering his body to revert it back to normal - revealing your husband.

His hair had become longer, and dark rings showed how devastating those past months went by for him. Yet still, he was unmistakingly your husband.

Yet a faint, mad spark in his eyes was what worried you the most.

Now he was holding a knife as well, both circling around the crib with a knife at each other’s throat, as if to dance with each other.

“So it’s really you, Loki?”

“The one and only” he declared, chest swelling with pride at his performance and completely ignoring your hostile undertone. “I missed you painfully, my sweetling.”

He looked to the side where your son was still sleeping soundly, regret clearly visible on his face. “Wha- what name did you give our child?”

“Liam it is.”

The smallest of smiles tugged on his lips, swallowing harshly to surpress the sobs wanting to break free. “Beautiful name. Very well chosen.”

Pain was stretching across your features, desperately trying for the dam of emotions to not break. The dagger in your hand vanished, rather choosing to reluctantly caress his cheek - to make sure this was really him, and not one of his illusions.

And it was really him, leaning into your touch with a content purr. “Yes, my love, just like tha-”

A loud noise drang to his ear, effectively cutting him off. He needed a second to understand that it was in fact you slapping him what caused the interruption.

“Dear, wait, I-” Another hit, this time it was your knee digging into his groin, making him gasp in pain.

With his current power, it would be a piece of cake to block you - yet he knew that after everything that had happened to you, and everything he had done...

...it was what he deserved. So he would allow you to let off some steam.

Yet much to his surprise, you were done already - now grabbing desperately on his cloak and pulling him in for a passionate kiss.

He immediately reciprocated, dropping his weapon as well to embrace you fully, lips mingling with each other over and over again.

Oh, how long had both of you craved for each other?

“Sorry” you panted as your lips finally parted, “Just needed to get that off my chest.”

“Do not apologize, my love” Loki declared, chin resting atop of your head, still no intention to let go off of you. “I deserve far worse than that.”

You looked up to him, the kiss having made something surface in his eyes: So solemn, and incredibly fragile, it made your heart ache.

“Wha- what happened to you? Where have you been all this time?”

Loki’s face contorted at the question, as if the thoughts in his mind were physically painful. But his mind was clouded, unable to make his proper memory resurfacing. “Places far beyond your imagination, dear. And I have learned many things.”

“I-I thought I had lost you...” you ultimatively began to sob, face dug into his chest.

“No” the god whispered softly, his gaze still unwavering. “You always have me. I promise.”

“What now?” you sniveled as he gently pet your head, just as back in good old times. “Where do we go?”

“What do you mean?” Loki’s features creased into a slight frown, “We stay here. There’s no need to leave or flee.”

“Bu-” you hesistantly took a few steps back, to take in his full reaction. “But you’re a wanted criminal, Loki! On Asgard as well as Midgard!”

His manner became more defensive again, glee radiating off of him. “Oh, my sweet, innocent Y/N...still the idealist, I see.”

“And you are still insufferable” you scoffed back, crossing your arms. “What do you mean?”

Actually, you dreaded the answer.

The man seemed to be thinking about many things at once, eyes narrowing before he finally took a hold of your hand, squeezing it ever so slightly when he saw that you were still wearing his ring - even after everything that had happened.

“Y/N, my love, those deaths were a necessary evil.” He tried to peck a quick kiss on your hand, but you pulled away at those words. “The only crime I feel guilty for is having left the love of my life. But don’t you worry, I’ll make up for it.”

He summoned a staff, glowing in the same blue as the tesseract - and much to your terror, his eyes started to adapt to them as well.

“I will create my own kingdom, Y/N! Here on Midgard, with you as my queen! This is what you deserve, my love! You and our child will have everything you desire and more!”

“This is madness, Loki!” It wasn’t the first time he had heared that.

People always treated him wrongly, afterwards wondering why he was trying to create felicity on his own. “Is it?” he croaked, “Is it madness for a person born to rule two kingdoms to create a home he never had?”

His plan did not merit awe or any such feelings he hoped you to have - the only person in the world he thought would understand him.

“Loki, what your parents have done to you is inexcusable, yet-”

“They’re not my parents!” he screamed enraged, eyes then widened in shock that he had raised his voice at you. “My apologies, I...”

“They have kept the truth from you so that you’d never feel different. You know you’re their son, and the Asgardians are your family. You must know that!”

“You speak like mother” he spat, and still Frigga’s words he could not shake off as easily as Odin’s. “There is no going back to that place, and Jotunheim I never had a connection with. You most likely heared that I tried to kill Laufey, yes?”

Nodding in silence, you nervously bit your lip. “Please...” Wrapping your arms around him and placing one ear at his sternum, you could clearly hear how his heart was fighting a war, struggling to decide.

“You can still stop whatever you were gonna do. We can start anew somewhere, lead a peaceful life with Liam. I don’t need wealth or power, and you clearly know any of this wouldn’t give you the satisfaction you’re searching for!”

“As always, you’re right” he grumbled deeply, already regretting what he was about to do. “But it’s not that easy, my naive little dove.”

“No~” With his hand on the back of your neck, he infused a powerful magic inside your body, slowly shutting down your nervous system completely. As careful as possible, he cradled you in his arms and slowly led you to the floor, then proceeding to take his heir.

“The only thing I need for myself is our little family - and I will avenge you by murdering anyone that did you wrong, or tries to separate us again.”

[rightsockjin]

Summary: Your best friend of your near entire life has been a total asshat to you ever since you started to casually date which didn't seem super fair to you since he did the exact same thing and you were nothing but supportive! It just sucks that you two are growing apart over a coping mechanism that you adopted to distract yourself from your overwhelming crush on said idiot. If only he knew. Wait- did you say that OUT LOUD?

Rating: M (What isn't on this blog?)

Genre: Maybe a little angst? Smut for sure tho.

Word count: 8003

Warnings: Thongs, sex, lewd thoughts, erections, physical pushing, raw dogging, cream pie, mentions of giving head, a looooooottt of swearing, mentions of slut shaming. Oh right- oppa kink and little splashes of korean as well.

yeo-chin= girlfriend

nam-chin= boyfriend

halmoni= grandma

apa=to hurt

aya=expression to express pain equivalent to 'ow'

Author’s note: HI EVERYONE! We are somewhat back!! So sorry for the long wait for content. Things have been insane and we’ve been working on a much- much longer fic for this blog which will involve all of the boys! It’s a long story but this hit me like a truck yesterday and it was initially meant to be a reaction but I couldn’t stop writing… so it’s 7k and the other boys will get their own version of this prompt “best friend is jealous of the attention you give to guys” thing. Starting once again with the one and only Yoongi! Hope y’all enjoy:)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You know it’s funny, I don’t remember asking,” Yoongi said virulently, his attention centered solely on his phone as he scrolled through instagram... or twitter... or maybe it was tinder. Your heart sank. You had been excited that this guy- Woojin- had given you attention. He was good looking by a lot of standards and it had boosted your confidence significantly. Of course, you wanted to share that excitement with your best friend. Rejecting someone that good looking always made you feel really powerful and attractive but you had barely shown him Woojin’s picture and commented on how attractive he was before your so called best friend had brushed you off and went back to his solitude and avoidance.

You had noticed that something was off for a while now but hadn’t commented on anything to avoid any conflicts but this was ridiculous. You had constantly listened to the stories of how girls would trickle in like water for him. He seemed to be going out with someone new every two weeks.

It wasn’t fair that you had to put up with his annoying descriptions of how beautiful these girls were while you sat and gave him your undivided attention as your heart slowly chipped and broke with each new conquest of his. Especially when each girl was so different from who you were. At first, you thought that maybe you were annoyed by this simply because it was hurtful to think he didn’t at least think you were pretty. It wasn’t long after that that you realized that it hurt you when he went out with women who were your polar opposite because it meant that he would never date you.

This had been shocking in itself. You had known Yoongi for your entire life, or at least a good portion of it, and you had always seen him as a brother. Your oppa in the least sexual or boyfriend-y form possible, but when you looked at him now… he was looking a lot more like well- an oppa.

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish. His words stung more than you would like to admit. Whenever Yoongi got this snippy, you liked to equal him in snip and double him in sass, never showing how vulnerable his disinterest made you feel, but this time, it felt like he had punched you in the chest with all his force and told you you were ugly to boot.

You didn’t want to cry in front of him either. He’d make fun of you. Last time you had cried, he’d awkwardly pat you on the head and quickly changed the very serious topic of your parents' relationship with yours to something totally different and not even a little relevant to helping you feel better. Given, that had been years ago and he’d never been very good at comforting you nor had he so much as expressed his support of you. Not since that one time when you had broken your wrist and he’d promptly pushed the girl who had been the culprit off the swing set thus getting himself suspended for a week and a half when you were both in elementary school.

But this… this was just cruel. It was ugly. It made you look at your “best friend” in a light that was not so shiny and pristine. He’d changed so much since then. He’d pulled away from you since then and you hadn’t even noticed. Or maybe you had and had just ignored it. Maybe you’d hoped if you didn’t mention it, that it would go away and he would come back full force with one of his dumb dances and pretty smiles. Maybe you hoped he’d realize soon what you had realized in your early twenties.

You loved him. And not the brotherly love that you had always had for him, no, you, Y/N, were very much in love with your best friend. Which made this whole situation so much worse.

When you said nothing, Yoongi briefly glanced up at you from his seemingly important phone conversation with most likely another of his soon to be dates only to look back down.

“What? Cat got your tongue? No snippy rebuttal? You’re not gonna chew me out for being mean to you again?”

His face was illuminated by the blue lights of his screen; he had it at the near darkest setting and his eyes were squinted to see it better. Something that had always annoyed you because you knew it was only hurting his vision.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. When that didn’t help, you cleared it, accidentally catching his attention. He clicked his phone off and looked over at you as if ready to argue but something in your face must have given away your inner turmoil because his hard features softened and his lips fell slightly open.

“Are you crying?”

No. Of course you weren’t crying. You never cried. Not ever. But then your cheeks were wet and the onslaught of emotion seemed to burst. How far had you fallen for this indefinitely cold man that his sarcasm made you fall in hysterics? Far it seemed. Too far.

You angrily wiped the tears away from your burning skin and crossed your arms over your chest. The hoodie you had stolen from him earlier that day felt like sandpaper against your skin as opposed to the comfort you’d initially felt when slipping over your head and smelling the fresh scent of his cologne clinging to it.

You felt him shift on the couch to face you fully, out of the corner of your eye, you could see his features had turned worried, alarmed even but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him nor care. Too little too late.

“Hey, Y/N, I’m sorry.”

The words hung in the still air like a wrong note played in a symphony. It made your head spin and ache.

You didn’t dare speak. It would only give away how truly hurt you were by his words and actions. You didn’t want to be around him anymore.

Abruptly, you stood up and yanked the hoodie from your body. The tank you had on pulled up slightly showing the skin of your belly. It was lopsided, you noted when you looked down and saw that one side was pulled over and under your bra and the other was too high on your chest but you didn’t really care.

Yoongi watched you with conflict evident in his eyes, if only you would turn to see. He hadn’t meant to offend you. He’d only been trying to keep you at arms length. You had also been going out with multiple guys, telling him how good looking and tall they all were. Most of these men were also built like rocks and he himself was toned at best. Contrary to what you thought, Yoongi had come to the realization that he’d been in love with you since you were kids. He did not tolerate when anyone made you feel like shit, and, being a very mature kid, he’d told his mother quite early on that he would marry you someday. Of course, she’d only chastised him and told him that he couldn’t possibly know what love was nor could he force you to marry him, but he was adamant.

He’d stopped telling her about it after that though, and instead of telling you how he felt, he’d opted instead to watch over you and make sure nothing happened. So when in high school, you had started to date and it had not been him whom you had chosen, he’d made sure to keep the sorry excuse of a man you had chosen in line. That was… until the incident.

Yoongi would never forgive himself for not being there. For not stopping the bastard who thought he owned you. He’d never forgive the idiot either and if you hadn’t stopped him, he would have killed him with his bare fists then stuffed his own socks in his mouth.

It was then that Yoongi realized that you deserved better than him, and at the same time, no one was worthy of you. It was a strange dynamic. He’d never once approved of your dates, but had decided to start dating other women because, let's face it, he was a guy and he’d like to have children someday but not even in his wildest dreams could he think that you would ever settle for him. Someone who’d failed you as your self imposed protector.

Not that you knew any of that. You didn’t know that Yoongi often teamed up with your other best friend, your girl best friend to scope out your dates once you’d left. You’d almost caught them once as well and it had been by pure luck and the hair of a very out of place clown that both of them had escaped your wrath that night. You also didn’t notice that after you had fully broken up with that first asshole, he’d threatened to beat him to a pulp if he so much as breathed in your direction once more and later, he’d threatened ‘asshole’ two and three with the same things.

But then your dates had gotten taller and stronger and much harder to intimidate. He’d once made the mistake of threatening a casual date that you’d set up who was at least a solid half foot taller than him and he’d been laughed out of the restaurant only to find out later that the jerk had forced a kiss on you.

No, Yoongi’s days as your protector had dwindled and left him feeling half of the man he’d already thought he was and so his only defense, his only way to keep you safe- though now that he was watching tears well in your eyes he wondered what logic he’d used to justify this behavior- was to be the asshole himself and teach you how to deal with them on a first hand basis.

He hated himself for making you cry. He hated that you looked so dejected and hurt and like you never wanted to speak another word to him again. He hated that your shoulders slumped and that your pretty eyelashes were coated in wet tears and it was all on him.

“You know what,” you finally managed to say with some semblance of calm under the storm that was brewing in the irises he’d so loved, “I think we’ve grown apart a little too much. Maybe we should just- cut our losses and,” you heaved a deep breath, trying to keep yourself calm, “stop seeing each other.”

Were you breaking up with him? How were you even going to break up with him if you weren’t even dating? Yoongi’s heart sank into the pit of his stomach. He had tunnel vision. All he could see was you and the way that you seemed to pull yourself up from the ground, rebuilding before his eyes.

“Stop see-what? Are you demented?”

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Was that all he was capable of being? Wrong. Incorrect. Inexact. Erroneous. Mistaken. He was plain stupid for the words he’d let slip but there was no taking them back now.

You let your eyes widen as you wiped more of your furiously falling tears from your skin. You turned to face him, your shirt fixed and covering you exactly how it should and your features set and intentional.

“What’s the point? You clearly don’t want to be around me anymore and I’m tired of being berated every time I mention a guy. You’re the most unsupportive friend I have and that’s because I’ve known you the longest. If you don’t want to be my friend just say so instead of slut shaming me and bullying me every chance you get you asshat.”

“Asshat,” he chuckled, crossing his sleeve-covered arms over his toned chest, “real clever, Y/N. Is that all you got, kid? You never were one for words were you? Why don’t you just sock me instead?”

Oh you were considering it. He seemed so unbothered by the prospect of losing you that you realized maybe you had already lost him and hadn’t realized. You had dealt with your fair share of jerks in your life, but you had always counted on Yoongi to be your hope. He’d shown you that there were men in the world that seemed to care about women. Men who could love you even when you felt unlovable, unworthy, but here he was, proving to you once again that all men were the same evil and vile creatures, incapable of love or kindness if they weren’t getting their dicks wet.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you? Then you could go around saying that I’m a crazy bitch. You know what? Fuck you Min Yoongi. I hope you get well and royally fucked.” You yelled, grabbing the tote bag you’d brought over from your apartment and stomping to the door.

“Fuck you too,” he yelled, following you to the door. He caught you at the landing strip, prying on your chunky sneakers with a bit of difficulty, your house slippers, the ones he’d bought you, lay haphazardly nearby.

“And fuck all of those asshole guys you keep bringing home. Better yet, I hope you don’t fuck them.”

You turned your head up to look at him, confusion and disgust written all over your face.

“What the fuck do my dates had to do with what a fucking jerk you are?”

Choosing to ignore your question, he focused instead on your insult, “A jerk, am I? Well you’re a bitch. How do you like that?”

He didn’t know why he was insulting you. He didn’t think you were actually a bitch, but the anger on your face made him feel better.

It was followed by near instant regret as you drew yourself up to your full height and looked at him with pure venom in your gaze.

“I’m a bitch?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, trying to keep his shoulders square, but you were scary when angry and he’d never fared well in fights with you.

“I’m the bitch?”

“You heard me!”

You balled your fists at your sides, your eyebrows connected in the center and your breathing was heavy. He knew better than to use the B-word.

“You’re a piece of shit.” It was low but your voice carried and hit all of the bones in his body before it hit his heart and burrowed deep in the wounds he’d stitched up but pulled open multiple times over the years that pertain only to you.

“You are a sorry excuse of a man,” you growled, pushing him by the chest. Somewhere in the back of your mind you noted that it felt really firm and stronger than before.

“You’re an ass, Min Yoongi,” you continued, giving him another push so that he stumbled slightly back into the living room of his apartment once again.

“You low life,” another push, closer to the couch, “weak minded,” you shoved him, he sidestepped the glass coffee table where your untouched coffee mugs still rested, probably cold by now, “son of a bitch, fucking baby, involved sorry excuse of a man-” He fell onto the cough. Your vision was red.

“You already used that insult.” Was all he said as you stood over him, your chest heaved with the exertion of trying to keep yourself from slapping the now blank expression from his face.

A slew of incomprehensible noises escaped from your lips as words completely left your brain. Damn him. Damn this idiot of a man that you were in love with. He could go to hell for all you cared and you hoped that the devil himself ripped his testicles off and served them on a platter with some kimchi and fried rice.

“Okay first of all- ow,” The asshole said, pulling you back to reality and not your fictitious rework where Yoongi was now sitting at the end of a long table being force fed his own balls, “And second…”

You held your breath. Fear ran down your spine. You hadn’t meant to say that out loud-

“You-you’re in love with me?”

Well… he got his wish, you were royally fucked. Instantly, you tried to back track. Your mind kept replaying in your head what you had said and tried to correct itself but you couldn’t think of anything that could possibly absolve you.

“Like a brother,” you said finally, your voice shaky and thin.

Yoongi only blinked up at you. What you said was bullshit and he knew it. You knew it too.

“You’re in love with me… like a brother?”

“Oppa,” you clarified as if that would somehow make more sense, and it did kind of, but it didn’t absolve you at all. In fact, this only made a smile tug at his lips, his pearly teeth suddenly on display, blinding. You fought the smile that threatened to pull at yours too. It was always hard because his smile was so contagious.

Yoongi stood. He was less than an inch away from your own body. You felt small, meek. You’d misstepped this big game of chess you seemed to be playing. He was going to make fun of you. He’d never let you live it down. You liked him.

“You like me,” as if he had read your mind, he echoed your thoughts, or maybe you had spoken that out loud as well.

“No I don’t,” you argued, taking a step back just so you could have some space to breathe.

“Oh yeah you do,” Yoongi argued, his smile so wide you were sure it would hurt the muscles in his cheeks

“No,” you said again, not really thinking anything you said at this point would convince him otherwise. The son of a bitch was stubborn.

“Admit it,” he said, closing the distance between you again, his neck craned down to look directly at your face.

“I don’t like you!” You tried to take another step back but the coffee table knocked your feet out from under you. You fell onto it knocking Yoongi’s mug of coffee over. The black decaf liquid seeped into your shorts.

Yoongi’s rusty laugh was pried from his throat as he watched your face contort. He was having the time of his life, it seemed. Good for him.

“Stop laughing at me,” you groaned, your cheeks red. You were practically sweating from how feverish you felt.

It was like you hadn’t spoken. Your shorts were wet and made you feel sticky. In a fit of anger, like a child throwing a tantrum, you unbuttoned the denim and ripped them from your legs. This shut Yoongi up instantly. With the soiled fabric, you cleaned up the liquid before it fell onto the light grey carpet.

Yoongi stilled as his eyes traveled up and down your long legs.The way you were twisting, he could see the back of your left thigh up to where it met your ass- your bare ass. You were wearing a thong.

God help him, he was rapidly getting hard. He forced his eyes away from you, his walls being pulled back up at seeing you naked. Well partially so. He pushed his hands into his oversized hoodie and made sure that it covered his front. The last thing he needed was for you to see.

But then you turned and pulled your legs together, your thighs squishing attractively. What he wouldn’t give to be choked by those thighs.

“Let me wash those for you,” he said tightly, pulling a hand from his hoodie to take the soiled shorts, the hem of the fabric pulled up enough for you to see exactly what he’d been trying to hide.

Yoongi had a hard on. You weren’t sure why exactly you were surprised. You were attractive, that much you knew, but you never really expected for your best friend to see you in that way. In fact, you were pretty sure that you’d been in your underwear in front of him before and he hadn’t even given you a second glance, but there was the evidence. And God was there a lot of evidence.

Slowly, you handed him the shorts. His hand grabbed them tightly, avoiding touching any part of your hand with his. Then, after a slight pause, he turned on his heels and walked towards the kitchen to put the shorts into the washer.

You’d called him oppa. You rarely called him oppa and it had hypersensitized him to the word coming from your lips. Other girls called him oppa sometimes and it had no effect on him but there he was, stiff as a board and it had something to do with you calling him oppa and your state of undress. Fuck. He was fucked. So fucked.

At least he wished he could be… But no. He pushed those thoughts from his head as he threw in some nice scented soaps into the wash and clicked it to life. He shut his eyes, trying to think of anything that would drain the blood from his member- halmeoni maybe?- but your voluptuous ass kept intruding, giving his halmeoni some nice curves that messed with her wrinkled face. He shook his head once more and decided he’d just have to hide his boner until it went away, or go beat one out in the restroom really quick.

He grabbed a pair of his clean sweat pants from the drying rack to give to you, just so you would be comfortable, he told himself, not because the thought of your naked butt in them made him unspeakably horny.

But when he got back to the living room, what he found was not you, covering yourself with a pillow like he’d expected, but you, only in your thong- fuck did it have to be a thong?- and your bra. Your shirt was nowhere to be seen.

“Fuck me,” he groaned, burring his head in his hands and turning away from you.

“I mean, if you ask nicely enough that can be arranged,” you answered rather boldly. There was no way for him to know that you were quaking in fear for his rejection.

Yoongi’s dick twitched in his sweats.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he said under his breath as his heart beat faster. He felt like he was having a whole heart attack. He patted his chest, hoping to calm it down knowing it was useless.

Should he go for it? You had just admitted accidentally that you did have feelings for him and you were clearly propositioning him. Should he just-

He turned around, back to face you, determination paining his expression. Still on the coffee table, your legs were spread open, only covered by the thin sliver of fabric that your thong allotted. You were a little cold, but all of that melted away when you saw the way that Yoongi’s eyes roamed your exposed body, then stopped abruptly to meet your own.

He was in front of you in seconds, his longer legs carried him farther and faster than you had anticipated. Then he was pulling you to stand. You wobbled on your legs but one of his arms found its way around your waist. His free hand came up and held your jaw with two fingers on either side of your face, squishing your lips together slightly. His hot, heavy member pressed against your stomach through his sweats. He was so close that you could smell the coffee on his breath and the fading smell of his cologne you loved so much. All you wanted was to grind against him but you were held too tightly.

“You never know when to shut up do you?” But he didn’t let you answer. He crashed his soft lips onto yours, his hold on your jaw ached but you didn’t care. There was a passion in his kiss that you hadn’t expected, subtly dwindling to something more like tenderness, and the kiss continued. His lips dragged against yours delicately, pinching your top one with both of his. Small breaths came out of his nose, whistling softly against your cheek. You timed your breaths with his, high on the feeling of finally being kissed, coveted by him. Was it real? Was this actually happening?

Your brain suddenly caught up with your body. The rightness that came with the way he was kissing you, like he couldn’t get enough of you, like he needed you to properly breathe, was like nothing you could have imagined.

The hand on your waist was drawing small circles where the elastic of your thong rested, his index finger casually hooked onto and under pulling lightly. You pressed yourself tighter than he had you against his erection. He groaned, his mouth opening and his tongue suddenly darting out to taste. He pulled your jaw open, granting himself entrance and exploring your mouth.

You moaned, a sound so sensuous and wanton that Yoongi felt that he could cum just from those sounds alone. He wanted more. He wanted you to sing his praises as he fucked into you and caressed your chest. He wanted you to drool around his cock and to have your sweet mouth wrapped tight around it. He wanted to feel you gag at his girth and he wanted to pull at your hair. But most of all, he wanted to kiss you, just like how he was at that moment. He wanted to kiss you until he’d taken your soul from your body and replaced it with his own. He wanted to kiss you until he could erase every trace of all of the men who’d hurt you and made you doubt that you were worthy and wanted. Yoongi wanted to kiss his love into you no matter how long he had to do it. If he was locked in a room with you for months, so be it.

But your hand had found its way between your bodies and was slowly coming down to his hips. Suddenly, he realized what he was doing and panicked. He hadn’t gotten your consent. He hadn’t asked you if it was okay for him to kiss you or to hook his fingers on your thong. As stupid as it sounded, even to Yoongi himself, he needed to make sure that you wanted this to happen, even as your hand had found the outline of his cock and you had started to trace the outline of it over the fabric-

“Tell me to stop,” he gasped, ripping himself away from you. The hand around your waist was now on your shoulder to keep you at enough distance so that his brain could function and wasn’t clouded by the horniness he was feeling.

“Wha…?” You slurred, your eyes were glazed over and your body was completely relaxed.

“Tell me to stop,” he repeated, fighting his every instinct to push your mouth open and have you suck on his thumb before he pushed you onto your knees to suck him off, “and I will.”

His eyelids were heavy and he was sweating slightly. He was so hard that it hurt and the circles you were drawing on his penis were not helping at keeping him at bay. He knew if he looked down, there would be a stain of precum on his sweats.

“I don’t want you to stop,” you whispered, leaning in and kissing his jaw before you nibbled and kissed down his taught neck.

“Fuck.”

“I want you to fuck me.” You licked a thick swipe up his jugular, “I want you.”

“Then admit it,” Yoongi heard himself say. He was just as surprised as you were to hear those words from his lips, “admit that you like me.”

You pulled away then, dropping both your arms in exasperation, “Are you fucking kidding me? I’m in my underwear, stroking your cock and you want me to stroke your ego too? Un-fucking-believeable. You’re a dumb ass.”

You rolled your eyes and flicked his forehead.

“Aya, apa~” he groaned, rubbing his head, the dynamic that you were used to suddenly restored.

“Yeah? Great! I’m glad that it hurt! I hope it hurts really bad you jerk. Then maybe you’ll understand what it was like for me to listen to you go on and on about all the girls you went out with every fucking week. In fact-”

“Aya! What the fuck? Stop flicking me,” he nearly screamed, clutching the tip of his nose.

“Make me.”

Big mistake. Yoongi didn’t take your dare lightly. His eyes darkened then he leaned down and picked you up. You squeaked, wrapping your legs around his waist as he walked you to his room. His hands cupped your butt fairly comfortably, like this was something you did often. He kicked the door open and threw you on the bed.

“You think I wasn’t hurt as well?” He asked, clasping a hand around your neck and lightly pressing his fingers against your skin.

“You think I like knowing that everywhere we go, men are watching you, coveting you the way I do? You think it isn’t torture when you go out and I don’t hear from you until the next day?”

He pushed you up against his pillow. The duvet was already all messed up under your body. He was between your legs, pressing himself into your core. Fuck, you wanted him. You wanted him all the way inside you. He wanted nothing more than to do the same but he had to make sure you knew first.

“You think it was easy being in love with you when you wanted nothing from me but friendship?”

Your eyes softened. Yoongi was in love with you too? When?

“Since we were kids,” he answered. Again you had spoken without meaning to. “I always knew it was you, Y/N. It was only ever you.”

But something wasn’t adding up. You fought your rising feelings of elation. You wanted to understand what he was saying. If he had liked you since you were kids then why had he never asked you out? Why become the serial dater he’d become? But he’d never had a girlfriend, you reminded yourself. He’d only ever “dated” and then dropped these women. You always assumed he was screwing them all.

Yoongi became sheepish then. “I uh… I did have sex with some of them but-” and the hurt in your eyes would be enough to kill him,” it was only at the start. I thought that if i had sex with other people I’d stop chasing after you. But it didn’t work… I haven’t slept with anyone since junior year of college.”

Your eyes widened. “College?”

He nodded, his pale cheeks blushing prettily.

“They just...were never you… and then I thought if I pushed you away that would help but that only made us estranged and-”

You pushed yourself up and shut him up with a kiss. He was over thinking and you could talk about all that later.

“You’re an idiot,” you started and he rolled his eyes, “but if you don’t fuck me right now, I’m going to do it myself.”

Yoongi’s eyes rolled into his head and he thrust lightly into your wet center.

“Talk after?”

“As long as you want,” you agreed, already pushing at his sweats. Yoongi sat up and pulled his hoodie and shirt off in one fell swoop, then, at the speed of lightning, pulled off his sweats, leaving him in his boxers.

After a moment of hesitation, he pulled his boxers off as well and then he was naked before you. Your mouth went dry. He was big. You could tell just by looking at him that he would stretch you good and you wanted so badly for him to pin you down and have his way with you.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Really? Cause that would be really helpful on days when I’m home alone-”

“Wha-no!”

You chuckled and lay down on your back, making sure that your legs were spread wide for him to have his fill. Like a moth to a flame, he was between your thighs, his tongue licking at the wet fabric.

He moaned against your covered lips, sucking up the arousal that clung to your underwear.

“Fuck, Yoongi yes,” you said without meaning to say much at all. You unclasped your bra and threw it somewhere in the room. You could look for it later. This caught his attention. He thrust his naked dick into the mattress, needing some sort of stimulation.

“Damn it… fuck, if I wasn’t so desperate to be inside you, I swear I could get you off with just my mouth all day, Y/N.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved off, gesturing for him to come up to your face, he did so without question, “Hurry up, I’m dying. Please.”

“Are you begging?” Yoongi’s lips curled lightly, teasingly,

“Do you want to get your dick wet or not?” He kissed the wrinkle between your eyebrows lightly.

“Yeah, can I take these off?” he hooked a finger on the elastic of your thong, pulling it a little higher than he probably should have. It was an old pair. You heard rather than saw the stitching on it pull apart and then the thing was hanging limply from Yoongi’s fingers, his expression shocked.

“Yoongi!”

“What? I didn’t do it on purpose!”

“For fuck’s sake! That was my favorite thong!”

“Well, clearly it was cheap,” he countered, throwing it across the room somewhere too.

You groaned, shifting slightly under him. His dick nuzzled between your wet lips. His mouth dropped open and a pleasured grunt escaped his lips.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he rut against your wetness, hitting your clit lightly, far too lightly, “you are so wet. God, this should be illegal.”

“Y-Yoongi… more,” he reached down between you two and found your sensitive nub without much hassle. It was like he knew your body already. Your body twitched under him and he circled the bundle of nerves for a couple of seconds. The noises falling from your lips were heaven on earth and Yoongi realized you were his new favorite song.

He gave your clit one rough stroke, ripping a small gasp from your throat. He gathered some of your slick with two practiced fingers and brought it up to eye level. It caught the low light of his room from the window, the smell enough to threaten to send him over the edge.

“Jesus Christ that’s hot.” Then he smeared it all over his penis and gave himself two rough pumps.

“Can I-”

“Yes.”

“You don’t even know what I’m asking-”

“Don’t care. Just do it. Yes.” You said angrily, pulling him closer and closer, his toned chest flush against yours.

“Have you been working out?” You asked, breaking the intense way he was staring into your eyes, his smile pulled wide over his gums.

He shrugged but clearly was glad that you’d noticed, “Namjoon and Jungkook convinced me to join them in the gym. It’s no big deal.”

“But your arms,” you complimented, squeezing his bicep. He flexed it lightly for you. You blushed when you realized exactly what you were doing.

“It’s just a little muscle,” he commented offhandedly.

The conversation lulled, he smiled down at you, and you up at him. He kissed the tip of your nose.

“So can I put it i-”

“I already said yes.”

“In your ass?”

“Ew no!”

Yoongi laughed loudly, “see this is why you can’t say yes to something without knowing what you’re agreeing to.”

“Shut up and put it in the right hole,” you groaned, then for good measure, “oppa.” It was a joke. You thought it was a joke, but something lit up in his pupils as two measly syllables rolled off your tongue and hit his eardrums. You felt his skin prickle under your touch and his member twitched against your folds.

Like a deer caught in headlights, you looked up at the handsome man. His eyes had narrowed as well as darkened. He looked absolutely ravenous and you wanted him to eat you up.

“Say that again.” He commanded as he pushed the head of his massive, and now that you could properly feel it, you knew that you had been right, cock at the entrance of your lower lips.

“O-oppa?” you questioned, astounded that the simple word that he’d no doubt heard his whole life had this effect on him.

“That’s right yeo-chin,” he growled, his voice gruff and harsh as he pushed lightly into you. His dick opened you painfully, perfectly.

“Yeo-chin?” You ask through the explosion of pleasure between your thighs.

“Is that okay?” He asked, suddenly looking really vulnerable and scared. You reached up, stroking his cheek lightly with your knuckles.

“Oh honey,” you trailed off, bumping his nose against yours before you pulled back abruptly, “If you want me to be your girlfriend, you have to ask me properly.”

Yoongi sighed, his smile telling you he expected as much and wasn’t hurt, “Talk after?” He asked again.

“As much as you want,” you reiterated.

And then he was pushing into you once again, surprising you because you could have sworn you had been full before but inch after inch, he pushed into your awaiting hole, filling all the emptiness you’d felt your whole life until his balls tapped your ass softly.

His face was contorted in pure ecstasy. At least from your perspective. Yoongi, in all truth, was trying his hardest not to blow his load into you already. He couldn’t believe his luck. He was inside you. He’d waited his whole life for this and he was finally inside you.

You wiped a bead of sweat from his temple and playfully licked his lips. He grunted against you, holding himself up by the forearms. Suddenly, he was really grateful that he had started to work out and that Jungkook had him doing three minute planks for fun. He’d have to thank him later, even if he did complain a whole lot.

“Can-can I move?” Yoongi gasped. Your walls fluttered around his member as if welcoming it home with soft caresses. You were so warm, maybe hot, he wasn’t sure, but you were tight and wet and all the good things in the world.

You only breathed, feeling so unbelievably full. It felt like he had pushed in all the way to your throat. You were no size queen, really, you weren’t, but if this is what they were going on about, you understood.

“Y/N,” he panted, his body begging him to move, “please.”

“Are-are you begging?” You giggled mirroring what he’d asked you before.

“Yes.” Without hesitation, he admitted, “Please… please…”

Well fuck. How could you say no? You nodded fervently, all mirth erased from your expression as he pulled out slowly, your juices squelched as your lower muscles tried to keep him in.

“Gah- ash-Y/N… you’re so tight.”

You only moaned in response, the head of his cock was still in you, stretching you to the point you didn’t think anyone could fully make you feel this way again.

“You’re so big,” you complimented scratching at his back. His muscles rippled under your touch.

He pushed back in, still torturously slow. It felt like you were being split in half. You felt like Olaf in the first frozen movie after he got stabbed by an icicle.

“Yoongi,” you gasped as he pulled out again at the same speed, his face screwed up in concentration.

“Oppa,” he growled into your ear, kissing roughly at your skin.

“Oppa,” you agreed, though it wasn’t your favorite word, he seemed to be getting of fairly

well so you let it slide, “move faster.”

“You sure?” He asked.

You nodded, knowing it was probably going to hurt but you wanted to feel him and you wanted him to cum.

“Yes.”

He didn’t need to be told again; he drew back, once again leaving only the mushroom tip inside you once again, and then he thrust. Hard. You nearly choked as he pumped himself over and over again hitting the nerves in your vagina. The slap of skin against yours was loud in the empty room, only accompanied by your moans and his pants and grunts. Your names mixed in every once in a while, your lips kissing any and all the skin that you could possibly reach. He licked at your lips and sucked bruises onto your neck, your chest. He wanted to mark all of you. He wanted to make sure you knew who you belonged to… as soon as he asked you right after he finished up.

This idea itself spurred him on, to thrust faster, deeper. He wanted to finish and make sure that you finished too, not quickly but soon. He wanted to talk. He wanted to make sure that you were in the same place.

So he reached between you both again, his fingers blindly found your clitoris and began to rub abstract shapes into it. Your back arched off the bed, your hair and boobs bounced with each thrust, his balls slapping against your ass. You were seeing white, your mouth wide open in a silent ‘o’. You were so close. So so close.

“Come, Yeo-chin,” he whispered against your temple, and though you weren’t technically his, the title sent you over the edge along with his fingers and the deep thrusts that hit your cervix.

“Oppa,” you groaned, your face screwed up.

That did it for Yoongi. His fingers on your clit stuttered along with his hips. His thrusts became erratic and he hit the sides of your walls. You squeezed around him as he over stimulated you through your orgasm.

“One more time… say it one more time,” he begged.

You complied, whispering it into his ear, it was cut slightly by a particularly pleasurable thrust. Yoongi felt pure euphoria fill his blood as his hips paused, then buried deep into your hole. Ropes of hot cum shot into you, filling you.

Yoongi panted heavily over you, his head resting on your shoulder as he struggled to keep himself up. You were breathing heavily as well, your nipples brushed against his chest. You were sensitive. You hissed.

“You can lay down,” the words had barely left your lips before he had let his weight settle on top of you. A smile crossed your face as his hands tangled in your hair and stroked it lightly. You wrapped him up in a hug, wanting him to stay like this for a while. It was nice to feel him so close.

After a couple of minutes of both of you just recovering and your breathing getting much harder, like a wrestler, you tapped Yoongi twice.

“I’m out,” you joked, “can’t breathe.”

With what looked like a lot of effort, he pushed himself up and off you, pulling out of your suddenly. The cum inside of your vagina gushed out.

You made a face as you felt it drip onto his sheets. Yoongi watched it ooze out of you, not really caring where it was going. He looked mesmerized. He reached out as if to swipe at the cum on your lower lips but you grabbed his wrist before he could.

“We talk now,” you sighed, a bit calmer than before but still a bit worried.

“Now?” He looked so vulnerable again, like he was a scared child. He lay on his side, resting his head on his elbow. He looked down at you, waiting for you to take the reins, the way you always did but this time, you didn’t know where to begin.

Yoongi cleared his throat looking around uncomfortably. When you said nothing, his mind had started to race.

“So… do you… want to be my girlfriend, or are we friends with benefits level right now? Ow!”

You’d smacked his shoulder, not hard at all but he was dramatic and you knew that. He frowned at you, his lips tempting you into another kiss that could lead to something more once again. You were already feeling a little turned on again just looking at the results of his recent gym trips.

“So no to yeo-chin then?”

“Yoongi!”

“Don’t you mean Oppa?”

You smiled up at him, a teasing glint in your gaze, “I didn’t know you had an oppa kink. This whole time, I was right to refuse to call you oppa. I knew you looked way too happy whenever I called you that!”

Yoongi scrunched his nose and looked away, “I don’t! It’s just… when you say it.” He admitted waving a hand as if to bat away your inquisitive and teasing stare.

Not really knowing how to answer that, you chose instead to answer his previous question.

“Nam-chin,” you ran a finger down the center of his pecks, tracing all the light visible muscles that made you want to get off on just riding his chest. Yoongi tensed under your touch. He seemed frozen.

“Did you just call me nam-chin?” You, for once, were not embarrassed. You smiled brightly, happy that the title finally had a head to sit on.

“Is that okay?”

Yoongi pulled you close, his arms wrapped tightly around you, his heart beat erratically in his chest, singing to yours. To its credit, your heart synced and harmonized almost instantly. He smelled like pure sex and fresh water. He buried your face into his bare skin, listening to his song. After all these years, after all the tiptoeing and fear, you were finally where you belonged.

“Of course it is,” he paused, kissing the top of your head a couple of times, “yeo-chin.” This time, the word made a shiver roll down your spine. Arousal began to pool between your sticky thighs once more and if the third leg on your stomach was anything to go by, he was as well.

“Can- can we take a shower?” you asked him, biting your lips and pushing your chest against his suggestively.

He smirked, his mouth watered at the thought of taking you in the shower. He could almost hear your moans echoing in his wet room as he sat you down and ate you out until the water ran cold. Easy clean up even.

“Yes.” he breathed, connecting his lips to yours. You kissed for a while, your lips meshing together lovingly. Yoongi was a good kisser, you realized. He was a good lay as well. And he was cute to boot. Suddenly, he pulled away and picked you up bridal style and walked you to his restroom. He once again kicked the door open to avoid using his hands and walked you through, but this time instead of throwing you down, he set you on the toilet, him on his knees between your pushed open legs.

“I hope you don’t have any plans,” he said, kissing up your thighs and pulling you close to the edge, “because I have all the time in the world and I’m really, really thirsty.”

He ran two fingers over your abused center, collecting his cum and your new arousal. Sure, there were still a lot of things to talk about between you two. Yoongi still wasn’t sure if you fully understood the depth of his feelings nor was he sure if you simply liked him and the slip of the L-word was nothing more than that. A slip. But like he’d said, he had all the time in the world to ask and all the time to make sure he earned you and your trust. He would do anything he could to prove it and some day he would be.

But for now, he was royally fucked by the sinful sounds that escaped your pretty lips and he wanted nothing more than to just enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Masterlist -in case you want to read more....

I hope yall enjoyed it and that this is a good come back after our roast session from permission to dance:)

[angry-geese]

hello, how are you? so i don't remember very well how it went, but yesterday i found your tumblr and i was amazed and you write so well 🥺💗

but then i'm a bucciarati simp (i will never get over your end) and i would like to know if you can write a scenario where the reader is just an ordinary citizen who admires bucciarati (because he helped her a while ago) and wants to join the passione and he's just against it because he doesn't want to expose her to danger, he just wants to know her real reason, so he uses his ability to find out if she's lying, which is very helpful as there's a sexual tension there and well, everything ends up in sex.

ok that was very specific lmao maybe if you want to change or are not willing to write, that's fine with me.

anyway thanks, you are amazing 💗💗

aww thank you <3

don't ever worry about being too specific, I always love seeing what other people come up with :)

Tomorrow - Bruno Bucciarati x Reader

warnings: nsfw/minors do not interact. mutual pining, fluff. minor mention of violence. unprotected sex, quickie, fingering, hickeys, hair pulling, body worship (??? if you squint???). afab reader.

word count: 1.7k

It's hard to believe it's almost been a year.

Your shop had been open for barely a month. When you first moved to your neighborhood, it was made known to you it was a dangerous place. But rent was low, and the building was just too perfect to pass up on. Not many places had room for a bakery, and a space to live upstairs.

You were in over your head. But you were too stubborn to admit it.

It had caught his eye the moment he saw it. Maybe it was its cozy nature; a small shop tucked away, full of plants, a cat dozing off in the window. Or it could have been your inviting smile, the way you lit up as the door opened.

Every day he got the same order. By the end of the first week, you made sure to have it ready for him.

From the very beginning you faced issues. A business like yours attracted a lot of attention; good and bad. The local gangs knew you were bringing in money. They wanted a cut, and you weren't willing to give it to them.

You should have given it to them.

You were warned. They told you they'd come back. You were warned but didn't listen.

They trashed your shop. You swept broken glass from your floors for weeks before it finally came out. They were persistent; more than you ever thought. When you stood up to them, they threatened to kill you. They probably would have, had Bruno not stepped in. While you were willing to lay down your life for your business, he wasn't going to let you.

You're not quite sure what Bruno did, but you never saw those men again.

You never charged him for food again. If it meant he would keep coming back to your shop, you would do a lot of things. You said you owed him. At first, he was willing to accept. Weeks went on as you still refused his money. It got to the point where he felt bad. He hid money around your apartment hoping that you'd take the hint. But you never did.

You could never pay him back. Bruno claims you already have—with all the free food—but truly it's a debt that can't be repaid. Putting it lightly, you owe him your life.

The mess was cleaned up, but you'd never feel safe in your home again.

Over the past few months, Bruno had become one of your closest—if not your closest—friend. His little free time was spent at your shop. The two of you could talk for hours about nothing in particular. Business would come and go, but he was always there. If you called, he'd come running. You really didn't have to call. At the first sign of problems he was by your side.

Bruno's influence only works so much. He could only pay off those thugs for so long.

He was worried when you missed his call this morning.

His stomach sinks as he sees the broken glass.

You're not crying. You really don't look too upset. To you, this is the final nail in your coffin. You only notice him as he stops. You motion for him to sit next to you on the steps.

The people in this town are like vultures. They can sense any bit of fortune. Any money you have can't be kept for long. Stashing it away is never a good idea.

"What happened?" He asks.

"I didn't get my protection fees paid in time."

He takes a seat next to you. For the first time in his life, he feels speechless. As far as he knew, he'd taken care of this. Those thugs would have hell to pay.

"I want to join." You say.

"What?"

"I'm taking Polpo's test." You say. "I want to join Passione."

"Why?"

It's finally occurred to you how close your faces are.

You ball up your apron and toss it aside. You don't have a better answer for him. As much as you wish you did; you don't. You want to tell him anything but the truth. Really, he feels betrayed. Has he not done enough? Has this all gone to waste? He's tried all he can to keep you away from the gangs.

It seems it wasn't enough.

His grip on your arm tightens. You don’t dare look him in the eyes. As if you couldn't be more obvious. You nearly jump out of your skin as he licks a long stripe up your cheek. Instantly your face goes red. Your cheeks burn at the heat that sends right to your core. You're stammering out a few nonsensical sentence fragments.

"That's the taste of a liar, y/n."

You whip around to face him. "I want to be able to defend myself!"

The look in his eyes isn't what you expect. It's more a look of betrayal than anything. To be honest, you didn't expect him to have any reaction at all. He's rather adamant about keeping you away from Passione.

"I can protect you." His voice has gone oddly soft. "I'll take care of you."

Bruno's grip on your arms loosens.

He leans in for a kiss. It's soft, but his warmth lingers on your lips long after he's pulled away. He smells like fancy cologne, and almost like a restaurant, strangely enough. It's a weird, comforting mix of cooked food and expensive men's cologne.

He's wanted to do this since he first met you.

His hands move to cup your cheeks. They're so warm. It's hard to resist his touch. He looks at you with such longing that it makes your chest swell with affection. The heat in your face returns, but it's in less of a lewd manner. He admires every dip and curve of your clothed body; how your waist is cinched in whenever you wear your apron, how your strong hands work pastry dough into shape.

He leans in for another kiss. It's deeper this time, and leaves a longing ache in your chest. The rough muscle of his tongue presses past your lips. He tastes faintly of alcohol.

You're too impatient to get to your room. He'll settle on bending you over your apartment's kitchen counter. He wants to take his time with you, but for now, he's content with this. Maybe there'll be a second time.

His long fingers work to undo the buttons of your pants. You don't take a lot of prep work. You're already soaked. Two of his fingers press into you. They’re long, but fairly thin, and slide right into you. His fingers stroke against your g-spot as his thumb works circles around your clit. It doesn’t take him long to figure out just what makes you weak. Bruno has you a shaking, moaning mess in no time.

You lean against the counter, propping yourself up on your elbows. He wastes no time in freeing himself from his pants. His cock is built like the rest of him; long and dark. It’s girthy, but not intimidatingly big. The hairs towards the base are neatly trimmed, and the same color as the hair on his head. A vein runs up the bottom, only getting more prominent as he gets harder. He shoves your pants down to your knees.

Bruno groans as he sheathes himself in you. The feeling of your warm, wet cunt is intoxicating. Maybe he’s a bit more pent up than he thought. His hand buries in your hair. He leans forward to nip at your earlobe. Bruno coos words of praise into your ear, telling you how good you take him, how good you feel around him.

He rolls his hips against yours in desperate, quick motions. Bruno can't decide what to do with his hands. They're gripping your breasts, then your hips, then settling in your hair. He’ll have you like this again, he’s certain of it.

Heat pools in your stomach. His touch leaves you with an aching need for more.

"Fuck- I've wanted this for so long," he says, "you’re so beautiful.”

His fingers dig into your thighs hard enough to leave bruises. He sucks a dark mark into your shoulder—one where you won’t be able to see it. It sends a whole new heat to your core. While his cock isn't the biggest, it curves in just a way that makes your toes curl.

He makes it known just what he thinks about you; babbling about how good you feel around him, about how long he’s wanted to do this.

The sound of skin slapping on skin fills the room. If you had any neighbors, you'd certainly be getting noise complaints. Your moans are like music to his ears. You don't worry about being quiet. Let others hear you, what do you care?

"Harder Bruno!" You cry out.

He can't resist something as beautiful as you.

His free hand moves to your clit, tracing circles around the bundle of nerves. He works you up in a way you never knew possible. Your skin feels feverish, and sensitive to the touch. The heat in your stomach only gets more unbearable. You want to beg him to cum inside. You need him to cum inside. Your mind is too hazy to think of much else but him and the way he fucks into you. He leaves none of your sweet spots unstroked.

Something in you snaps. There’s not one specific thing that sends you over the edge; it's everything. You clench around him as you cum, crying out. The way you suck him back in is almost enough to send him over the edge.

His thrusts get sloppier as he nears his own orgasm. He scrambles against the counter for purchase, gripping the edge of it so tight his knuckles turn white. He doesn't want to risk cumming inside. He pulls out, giving himself a few pumps before cumming into his hand.

Bruno presses a kiss to the exposed flesh of your shoulder. Your skin is sticky with sweat. A tired, but pleased look spreads across your face. His hair tickles your neck. The sight of your shaky, sleepy form is almost enough to make him hard again.

You lean back into him, giggling. “We made a mess…”

“Want to make another?”

"Are you suggesting a round two?” It’s a joke, but you carry some seriousness behind it.

"Anything for you,"