#too much obvious sex like this isn’t meaningful in any way

[bibleofficial]

saw Poor Things earlier & there was a guy very loudly snoring during most of it & honestly ? yea

#stream #my bestie told me it was a comedy but like #girl #where was the jokes #is the joke ‘haha u shouldn’t talk about masturbating’ like … girl #ok #everything was just #SO ON THE NOSE #BORING #costuming ? they gave up at the hips #like #BLAND #the sets were nice though #& the characters w less than 3 lines had more personality that any of the main cast #BORINGGGGGGGGGG #my darling loved it though #so it wasn’t BAD i just thought it wasn’t. great #too much obvious sex like this isn’t meaningful in any way

[ryuichirou]

So I haven't seen Lilia/Malleus headcanons...?

Thank you for waiting, Anon! Today is your lucky day, because I’m finally posting these…

I was so surprised when we got your ask and the realisation that we haven’t posted any Lilia/Malleus headcanons hit me. This is simply unacceptable.

That being said, I want to leave a disclaimer that we haven’t watched ch7 yet, so I’m writing these prior to knowing full context about what’s going on in the Diasomnia part of the story. Please keep in mind that I could miss some key things because of that.

We would also appreciate if you keep any possible comments or asks related to this topic spoilers-free.

With that out of the way, let’s dive into these two and their complex relationship~

Starting by stating the obvious: Lilia was Malleus’ first everything. First kiss, first lover and, of course, first crush. He is still deeply and rather possessively in love with Lilia, even though these days he’s acting more mature than he used to. Well…

Despite not acting as desperate as he did when he was younger, Malleus is still quite protective of his love towards Lilia; he is even romantic enough to consider that Lilia is the love of his life. He still remembers the excitement and the butterflies he felt every time Lilia arrived to the castle after being away for way too long.

Lilia, however, thinks that this is just Malleus still being young, overly emotional and also rather sheltered. He also loves Malleus very much, but he doesn’t like it when he starts acting entitled to his attention. Instead, he wants Malleus to get more new meaningful connections, to fall in love with other people, to date other people. This is one of the things he had in mind when they enrolled in the NRC.

While Malleus really tries to get more sociable and approachable (when he isn’t hiding from everyone and pushing others away, of course), when he enrolled in the NRC, he had an idea of this whole thing really different from Lilia’s. He thought that this is finally his chance to spend more time with Lilia……... which isn’t what happened at all. It’s their 3rd year, so Malleus doesn’t agonize over it too much, but he was a bit depressed during their first year.

The only reason Malleus still regrets that he didn’t get to be a part of the Music Club, well, other than the fact that he really enjoys performing in front of the audience, is that he would really love to be in a club with Lilia.

It sounds like things between them are kind of sour, but this isn’t 100% the case. Like I’ve already said, Lilia does love Malleus, so he likes joining him during his evening stroll sometimes, likes to tease him, likes having long conversations with him. And boy oh boy how much he loves to prank others together with him… they’re dangerous when they’re having fun together.

When these two are alone, the mood can get spicy surprisingly quickly. It’s like they were just talking about something random, and then suddenly they’re giving each other bedroom eyes. They flirt a lot, and when Lilia is in a flirty mood, Malleus’s mind goes completely blank. Yep, that’s enough angst, we’re moving to spicier headcanons now lol

Of course, Lilia knows all the right spots on Malleus’ body. He knows how to hold his tail just right, how to pull on his horns and how to grab his throat. He nibs on Malleus’ horns, and Malleus either scoffs or groans at that, depending on his mood. Lilia is never really gentle with him, but Malleus is also kind of bratty, so this is pretty normal for them.

Out of any potential lovers, Lilia would be the only one who isn’t afraid of disciplining and taming Malleus during sex. He puts his fist in Malleus’ mouth when he starts biting too much, he controls his orgasm and almost manhandles him, which is insane, considering their height difference lol but this isn’t Lilia’s first rodeo with this horse.

It can get quite intense when they have sex, because Malleus gets literally dangerous when he is overly stimulated both sexually and emotionally. The guy is shooting lightnings left and right while Lilia is fucking him. Which is super amusing, but such a headache for Lilia, because he has to keep it in mind…..

#replies #headcanons #lilimal

[lizbethborden]

If you don't mind, could you talk about what bothers you about how the teens are portrayed on Yellowjackets? Asking because there have been moments where something just feels off or inauthentic for me too but I can't put my finger on what it is

I only just watched the show for the first time so bear with me if I’m vague/not fully formed here, but this is what I remember:

1. I didn’t like that of all the teens, Tai was the (first?) one to be topless on screen. I do think we later see Van’s naked chest as well, but that doesn’t necessarily improve things. Tai is the main Black character and she and Van are both lesbians. It felt a little pointed to me that the het sex scenes between teens tended to be fully or partially clothed, whereas the show suddenly cuts to Tai and Van in the lake with Tai’s whole upper body fully out of the water. (Fwiw, I don’t think any of them should be shown naked, but that’s me. Sexually active, sure, just not like. Tits out at the camera.)

2. Natalie’s “why are you allowed to have wants” speech to Travis fell flat to me. It felt a bit like somebody was just barely holding themselves back in the writers room. That isn’t to say she can’t have knowledge of feminism or something, we see a feminist slogan on a poster in her room, just that considering she’s half naked and humiliated and angry and like, 17, I don’t know how eloquent she’d be. For what it’s worth, it’s the first moment I noticed in the show where one of them became a mouthpiece in an obvious way, so it could have been way worse.

3. I’m not convinced this depiction of teenage girls is meaningfully different from any other. That isn’t to say I don’t see what differences there are, just that the highly misogynist anti-bullying PSA I watched in middle school, with its moral of “boys are better because they punch each other then are friends again, girls are vicious because they use words and hurt and betray each other,” had much the same to say about girlhood. I’m not arguing that the girls should be angels, just that I think it’s actually the present-day women that make the depiction of girlhood meaningful in retrospect, rather than the teen narrative itself having the most substantial things to say.

I also wonder about the “orgy” scene with Travis. I’m not convinced about it but I should probably rewatch the whole thing again.

[perpetual-fool]

Fear is the mind-killer?

I'm talking myself through some of the things I hate myself for, the things that will completely lock up my thinking. The idea being that getting them 'out' might help, or might suggest something that would help. Starting with the most obvious and most uncomfortable topic: sex.

Looking at it laid out, it doesn't feel wrong. Like, I want a partner to do what I like to me, and I want to do what they like to them, and then I want them to hold me and tell me things are okay.

I think what's happened has to be rooted in the taboo on sex. Context, in religion it's definitely just a tool used to manipulate people. And to do that it has to be something that people would think is achievable, but it isn't. (At least, for most.) Like, the bible says that just being attracted to someone is adultery, and the church says that any premarital shenanigans is adultery. So just being attracted to someone is a sin, and so if you feel attracted when you look at someone then you should gouge your eyes out. That's not hyperbole, that's in the book. Obviously people are meant to fail here, if people actually lived up to this standard then the community would die out by virtue of no babies. But it isn't clear at a glance that this task is impossible. Say, if the claim were that breathing is a sin people wouldn't even try. So people are going to try, but fail, and then feel guilty.

I don't think that's directly what's happening, I suspect two possible effects of that. One, maybe the ideas have just permeated the culture. Something like, sex is assumed to be evil or shameful unless there's an exception. I think this would result in much the same behavior, but without any meaningful justification. Two, maybe people have learned to use guilt as a weapon. Maybe just a habit, not necessarily intentional. Like they try to make people feel bad in response to anything they don't like. Hrm, seems like that one might be much more broad.

In any case, I have said things people found inappropriate. But no one ever explained to me what it was they didn't like. They just told me that it was bad, and that I'm bad, and 'you don't deserve to breathe my air', and 'you're going to end up in prison'. The latter not likely, as I know not to talk to people anymore. But I think that does a pretty reasonable job of explaining it; I was supposed to just know it's bad because everyone knows it's bad, and then they tried to hurt me when something happened that they didn't like. They succeeded, but thinking that I was bad was where I started to begin with. And in particular, there was one incident where I went so far as trying to gauge what would be appropriate by watching others. But apparently when *I* did it it was bad; they were an exception to the badness, I was not.

Though aside, this is all too reasonable to explain others' behavior. If it makes sense to me, it can't be right. Like, I'm not remembering this well enough to do the example justice, but there's the conundrum sometimes proposed about how you would tell whether you're dreaming. But for me it's always been very clear when I'm dreaming. My dreams make sense. Ya' know, in a dream logic kind of way, but things are consistent. It's when I'm awake that things are an incoherent nightmare.

Anyway, I feel better about that one thing specifically, so maybe this is actually helping.

[softsadsassysweet]

Rewatching cowboy bebop and clinging to the fandom online for comfort. Something I’ve seen people rip each other to shreds over in forums and that I want to address for the sake of catharsis:

Were Spike and Faye in love?

First of all, I don’t understand you die hard people who are like “no they weren’t in love and you’re dumb if you thought they were!!”

Who pissed in your Cheerios? Why must you take something meaningful from other people?

More importantly, why can’t Spike and Faye both be in love and not in love at the same time?

Isn’t that real life? Yes the writing could be telegraphed and obvious, but the whole point of these characters is their development through nuance.

Obviously they find each other attractive. I’ve never seen Spike check out anyone harder than he did Faye while she was his dealer at the casino. But fuckability isn’t enough to keep either of them engaged with a romantic prospect for long. Attraction comes and goes, it is as fleeting as the next bounty.

But Spike and Faye are bound together through fate and their choices. They choose to partner up and to protect each other.

So why isn’t there a telegraphed and obvious romance between two partners? Well in laymen terms, they’re kinda fucked up.

Spike is obsessed with the myth of Julia. His trauma revolving around that relationship keeps him in a longing loop to the past. He doesn’t have the emotional availability to love someone else.

So then why not explore a physical relationship if not a romantic one? I think that for Spike, Faye would be way more meaningful than just sex. It’s not even about respecting her, you can respect someone and just sleep with them. I think Spike has an emotional relationship with Faye. They relay their feelings through actions. She banters with him, sings to him while he’s unconscious, and shows up to save his ass in a pinch. There’s consistency with Faye, which equals safety. (Side note about the “Ballad of the Fallen Angels” episode: I think Spike was so touched by Faye singing to him that he kind of had to ruin it. It was too much like Julia and it unsettled him. He had to under cut that moment to protect himself.)

Spike knows himself. Sleeping with Faye could result in revealing emotional parts of himself, specifically with her because of their dynamic. They’ve gotten too close to each other through proximity. He knows things about her past that he can’t unsee and vice versa. Emotional intimacy is tough for both of them and if they breached the physical, it would be a mess and they know that.

If he’s going to keep the peace and be able to stay focused while they’re in a shoot out, he can’t get any kind of feelings involved. The reasoning isn’t that deep. It’s obvious. Don’t shit where you eat.

Also, if he’s going to hold on to Julia then doesn’t that mean he can only be a receptacle for her? Wouldn’t being close to someone else invalidate that? Wouldn’t becoming close to someone else give him less of a reason to hold onto the past?

Now as for Faye, I think her reasons are a lot less complicated. Point blank, Faye has not had a lot of safe or consistent male relationships (if any relationships) in her life since she’s awoken from her cryogenic sleep.

I don’t think she wants to throw sex or romance into her dynamic with Spike, despite her more obvious interest/attachment for him. She needs that familial relationship more. She needs someone who is plutonic and safe. (Yeah okay she has that with Jet, but they’re um rocky.) She gets along with Spike. That sibling rivalry, banter, and protective behavior is probably the closest she has to a real family, along with everyone else on the Bebop.

She doesn’t want to lose them.

I think Faye also came to terms with the fact that Spike is unavailable. In the Jupiter Jazz arc, she seemed really pensive about learning there was a woman Spike is in love with. That scene where Faye is lounging on the couch whispering Julia’s name over and over. There’s so much behind that. To me it always came across like Faye was also falling in love with the myth of Julia (My bisexual self recognizes you Faye). Or maybe because Spike cared about Julia, Faye cared about her now by default. Or Faye was wondering what kind of woman could have a hold on Spike in a way she couldn’t. They were flirty sure, but Faye’s attachment is deeper than that. In my opinion, it’s more about keeping Spike close to her and Julia threatened that. That desire to keep him close could be solely familial or it could be romantic. But why couldn’t she be feeling all of those things at once?

Their relationship, like everything else in Cowboy bebop, is captivating because it feels just out of reach. Nothing is directly said and because of that I have the impulse to gaslight myself out of the things I pick up on. But the writing is there.

So I think Spike and Faye are in love, and not in love all at the same time. Their dysfunctional parts and their desire to hold onto each other keep that from coming to fruition. Maybe in a different life? Or maybe all of that hope for them to be happy is best lived in fan fiction.

Either way we’re gonna carry that weight of everything that could have been and things that were left unsaid.

#cowboy bebop #faye valentine #faye x julia #Spike X Faye #Spike #SpikeSpiegel

[cinnamonest]

Xingqiu - Yandere Profile

I actually just got my sweet bookworm boi to his next to last ascension, my hydro baby, my angel, I love him even if bc of him I have to marathon fight the oceanid

I’ve had a lot of reqs for him & Chongyun dating back to January again lol but it only felt right to wait until I finished both so I could release them at the same time, so, Chongyun’s will be up immediately after this!

=======================

TWs: fem reader, yandere, confinement, manipulative behaviors, mentions of homicide, gaslighting, Xingqiu being a spoiled arrogant brat

TWs (below cut): noncon/dubcon, manipulating and guilting reader into sex, overstimulation, fluids/cumplay, humiliation 

Since there's no canonical age but he has a bit of the rounded young face I'm tagging with the sh*ta tw as well!

=======================

Severity Scale

Intelligence/Perceptiveness: 7 Brutality: 3 Physical capability: 4 Mental/emotional instability: 6 Restrictiveness: 7 Sexual sadism: 5 Stubbornness: 8

What are they generally like? Lucid, aware? Obsessive? How do they behave?

Tries to buy his way to you, initially. He's grown up seeing the power that money holds over people, and, well, his father can always just wave a bit around and get whatever he wants from most people, so why should you be any different? He goes for stereotypical "girl" things like flowers and jewelry at first, unless you have some prominent and well-known interest, in which case he'll invest in something related to that.

Honestly, for all his chivalry and all that, his maturity is something of a faux one, a sort of projected self-image of the gentlemanly figure he strives to be... but when he lets that slip, he can be something of a childish spoiled brat. The thing is... he's completely unaware and refuses to acknowledge that he can be so immature. He likes getting what he wants, when he wants it, exactly how he wants it, and being denied the things he wants isn't particularly common in his life. So rejection comes not so much as a disappointment so much as a shock. No matter, you're just... a brat, yourself. You think you're too good for everyone, he reasons, so you play hard to get.

Really, after recovering from the initial shock, he realizes he likes things this way. He likes challenges. It would be no fun if you came to him easily. You may be a brat, but in the end, the one thing he refuses to ever do is lose. Chivalrous gentlemen are fine with having to earn their things, so really, he's thankful that you reminded him of his morals, of his desire to truly earn the things he wants. It will make it that much more meaningful.

So he goes heavy on the idea of "courting", following whatever old and prudish traditions may exist in Liyue. If you're from somewhere else, he figures, that could be why -- clearly he hasn't followed through on whatever is normal for your culture. Silly him. He makes an effort to research whatever those traditions may be, and goes to the absolute maximum on performing them. Lavishes you in gifts of all kinds, constantly giving you compliments. He even goes to the effort of, if all else fails, reading romance novels targeted at women to get a better grasp of what exactly you're supposed to like, and emulates those behaviors.

Overall, though, in later stages Xingqiu slightly more mild for a yan, allowing you to have interactions with others (even if he’s irritated), such as his family, family servants, and his friends, and will even take you outside now and then. However, he will cut off your ties to those friends you had before that weren't mutual friends. He's also one of the least likely yanderes to ever kill someone, and will avoid hurting people if possible -- if anything, he prefers more discreet methods like ruining their life socially or financially.

He's also a lot more moody behind closed doors than he is to most people. His attempts to be oh-so-mature eventually kinda crumble, and the more comfortable he becomes around you, the more he lets his immaturity show.

He could assign family servants to looking for you, but really, he prefers to do it himself, this is about love after all, he doesn't want to assign them to a task they would never perform as diligently as he could. But rather than stalking, he chooses to just kind of... stay with you. He's somehow always where you are, "coincidentally" running into you everywhere and then somehow nothing having anything to do, because he clings to you for hours until you finally have to go home, and even then, he'll just follow you to continue the visit there if he can. No point in watching from a distance when he can be right there with you. And again, he's actually surprisingly unaware that his clinginess is so obvious, he's oblivious to how obvious his infatuation is. Which is a bit odd, considering that he's usually fairly perceptive, but he's so confident in the fact that he is normally perceptive that he allows himself to slip into abnormal behaviors without really realizing it, because he's not constantly on guard in the way some less socially adept yanderes are.

On a genuinely sweet level, there's one little thing he keeps hidden from you. He's actually written a lot of love poetry for you, verses about you and all of the things he loves about you so much... Despite usually being fairly confident in his work, he can't bring himself to show it to you. He's too flustered. And considering your negative reactions to his affection (read: not wanting to be kept like a captive animal), he is actually a bit sensitive to that perceived rejection, which further discourages him. He keeps them all stashed away, stuffed into some fairly hidden drawer. Should you ever come across them and bring them up, it's one of a very few things that will genuinely make him super embarrassed, and he'll just insist they weren't about you, even though the details make it obvious they were, and storm off, never bringing it up again.

How likely are they to kidnap their darling? How quickly will they do so?

It's not kidnapping. It's... relocating. He's far too chivalrous to resort to something so brutish as kidnapping! He'll make sure you want to come with him. He can easily arrange for there to be rumors and reports of... occurrences near your home. Criminal activity, maybe false rumors of mysterious disappearances. Hell, he'll get Chongyun to testify that your house has demonic spirits in it. Something to make you want to move out. Maybe some things start happening to you -- you get the feeling you're being watched, you get threatening messages mailed to your home, you have strangers (read: randos who will do anything for some mora he gives them) telling you you're not welcome in the area and to get out. It's all incredibly confusing and scary and you have no idea what brought it all on!

Luckily for you, you have a rich, generous friend who makes it more than clear you're welcome to come stay with him for a while at any time. Eventually, no matter what it takes, he can push you to a point where you'll take him up on that offer. Something feels... oddly ominous about the way the gates to his family estate close behind you once you walk in. Like they're sealing your fate.

And once step one is done, step two of his plan goes into place - make sure you never want to leave. He can make that happen, there's plenty of space here for you to roam, plenty for you to do, and even when he's not there to entertain you, there's plenty of servants to keep an eye on you and make sure that whenever you try to leave, they'll smile and tell you you can't go just yet miss, there's this or that going on tonight! The young master said he had something important for you when he gets back later! You can't go out now, there was just an attack by some deranged person in the town still on the loose! Just... go back inside for now.

Of course, it's wishful thinking, but he likes to maintain the delusion that he can just keep this going indefinitely, that you won't finally one day put your foot down and tell him you've been stuck here nearly a month and you're ready to at least go visit home. He might even entertain it a bit - sure, you can go visit your old house with him and collect some of your old things to bring back with you, but he makes sure to make it look at though whatever problem he made up is still occurring. Nonetheless, if you're insistent, or at whatever point you finally crack and catch on, demand to know what's going on - well, it's not pretty. He gets into something of a tantrum if you don't comply, but ultimately, in his own little huffy, ticked off way, says you can't leave, and that's that, no more questions allowed, and no more of this ridiculous demand to leave. Of course, darling is taken aback at first, even thinking he's joking, but it soon becomes very clear he's completely serious, and intends to enforce that command.

How difficult is it to escape from them? How do they keep you restrained? How do they deal with attempted escape? 

When he's with you, he's tends to be pretty clingy, both physically and in conversation, never ceasing talking about this or that, and he's actually a sleep-clinger as well, keeping an iron grip around your waist when you sleep. So, whenever he's at his home, he insists on you being in his presence, usually physically touching, so you won't really get an opportunity while he's just in another room or something because you can't get any privacy to begin with. When you're in public, he's incredibly watchful over your every move and incredibly clingy then as well, so don't expect such a chance to arrive either.

Thus, your best bet is to try when you're under the watch of guards, whenever he's gone for whatever reason. They've been instructed to watch you from a distance, you see, he doesn't want them interacting with you directly, so you'll have a few chances here or there where they get distracted or their backs are turned. There will likely eventually also be a time where there's a scheduling error, you end up unsupervised! However, physically getting out of the estate is still difficult. There's still posted guards everywhere. So all in all, it's fairly difficult, especially in broad daylight, the only time he's not with you.

When you're inevitably dragged back kicking and screaming by some poor guards that aren't getting paid enough to deal with this, after getting back and hearing the report he deals with it in that unnerving saccharine way of feigning ignorance to try and get a reaction. Now, he knows you weren't trying to get out... right? Surely you got distracted by a bird or something, right? That's the only reason why you'd ever try to leave, right? It's obvious he knows better, and is just fucking with your head, but it's best not to lie. What he wants is an admittance of guilt and an apology, preferably down on the floor begging for forgiveness.

How easy are they to trick, deceive, or manipulate?

Moderate, leaning towards difficult. He's perceptive, and intelligent, but that intelligence is largely a sort of book-smarts type of intelligence. He's generally crafty and a prankster himself, so pulling things over on him is difficult because he's familiar with the mindset and methods of doing so, but he can be tricked if you put on a believable enough act. Basically, a darling who is a good actor stands a much better chance.

However, he's ultimately a learner. You can get away with some tricks or plots once, but he won't fall for the same thing twice. Any sort of escape or deceit you've tried once, he'll make active efforts to guard against and prevent in the future.

Manipulation, though, you can forget it. He's way too proud and stubborn to be emotionally manipulated, in the end getting his way and what he wants takes priority over making you happy, so don't expect to be able to manipulate him based on the notion of something making you happier.

How lenient are they? What privileges can you have, and what will you be denied?

Fairly lenient, actually. You get a lot of access so long as your behavior is good, so really it's wise to be on your best behavior in the long term of things. He can get you anything you want, especially reading material. And you actually get to go outside, yay! He's like my earlier Childe profile on that -- he likes to go on dates, and he's actually really enthusiastic about it! He's big on date planning, wanting to see everything there is to see and do everything there is to do together. The rules are that you just need to be physically attached to him in some way -- you can hold his hand, grab at his sleeves, or he can do so to you (although he'd prefer you cling to him. He likes the image it projects to people around you). He actually gets really hyped about said dates whenever you plan them, he'll talk to you for hours plotting out all the things to do on this particular outing. At one point, his smile drops and his voice goes low and he tells you that, just a reminder, you know the rules for dates, right? ...Good.

Similarly, if you ask, he'll let you accompany him on more trivial outings as well, say if you'd like to go grocery shopping, and he certainly won't turn down a trip to the bookstore. The same rules apply, although he's a bit less excited for something so mundane.

One thing he won't do, surprisingly, is let you have anything to do with Guhua arts or skills. He won't teach you anything he knows nor let you learn, and if you were a follower of it before, he'll cut off your access to any material. His reasoning is that he just doesn't really think anything to do with combat suits you. You're better off learning more passive skills and hobbies.

In reality? He can't stand the thought of you ever being able to present a challenge to him in that sense. It would kill his ego if you ever managed to do something related to the Guhua arts better than he can, or even half as good as he can.

What kind of rules do they have? What kind of punishment would they use?

Well, to occupy your time, he has things that need cleaning you know... Honestly, he's messy, and he's already used to having maids, so he kinda treats you like one to some degree. Of course, he's active in his little heroism adventures, but when it comes to his own living spaces and such things he can be a bit lazy. So, he'll give you tasks to do sometimes, he likes the power rush too that he gets from ordering you around a bit. It soothes the ego.

Outside of your strolls together, you can't be going outside (and you don't get to choose when you do go on your little walks and dates, he does, although he may grant you the wishes of your begging). Also, don't actually try to talk to the guards. They're there to watch you, nothing more, so pay them no mind, and by no means should you ever have a reason to make conversation with them. If there's an emergency or something you need, you may inform them and get help, nothing more. And really, they're more afraid of this rule than you are -- you'll have difficulty finding one even willing to talk to you, they all take the warnings they've been given very seriously.

He eventually gets nitpicky and makes all sorts of little behavioral rules, it's incredibly obnoxious. But honestly, suffering his bratty tantrums is enough of a punishment, even if he didn't usually follow it up with actual punishment, which, for him, tends to be something perverted in some way.

How do they deal with rivals, or perceived rivals? Will they get rid of them? Will they kill them themselves, or find another way?

He actually gets jealous rather easily, often over people who are no real threat. You can never be too nice to anyone -- even after he introduces you to his father and older brother, he expects you to be happy to meet them... but not that much. If you show too much excitement or happiness over any other being, he gets pouty, especially other men, but also your friends, male or female, family, even animals. His first reaction isn't to kill, rather, just an increase in isolation. Drag you back home and make sure you get a lot of time to yourselves, seeks reassurance that you really love him. If it's his own family, he might get grouchy towards them, snap at them a bit, bitterly drag you back off to your own room, where he'll then proceed to get equally grouchy towards you until you have given him enough reassurance he deems sufficient. In his own time, when you're not around, he makes sure to make it perfectly clear to those around him that they aren't to get in between you two.

He's one of the better yans to have in this regard, though, because he's unlikely to resort to killing anyone. He's got too much of his self-image invested in the idea of morals and justice to be able to do so, he can't delude himself into believing it's right or acceptable. It's not impossible to push him to that point, but it wouldn't just be someone you show any positive reception towards -- if Xingqiu did end up killing a rival, it would have to be one for whom you have very blatantly made clear you have actual romantic and sexual affection, someone who poses a genuine, real threat.

Xingqiu is a sort of open book when it comes to jealousy -- it's obvious to everyone around you that he's mad at someone else for even looking at you, and he doesn't try to hide it. It makes him that much angrier if someone doesn't obey his silent demand to stop interacting with you, doesn't seem fazed by his glares and coldness. He'll meet with them privately and make things clear verbally, since he tells himself maybe they're just dense and too stupid to understand. But they only get one more chance. Cross him twice, and they'll likely find themselves in financial ruin after pulling some strings through the connections of his father and brother.

What would make him significantly more likely to kill someone is someone who poses a legal threat, someone who catches on to what's going on and threatens to get him in serious trouble for it. Even if he tried bribing them, well, they'd likely just pretend to accept, and someone so bold likely wouldn't bow to threats.

This is where he can slip into the mindset of a delusional yandere. He once again projects the image in his head, that knight he wants to be for you, and hey, sometimes to save the princess, the heroes in his martial arts epics have to get their hands dirty, have to unfortunately get blood on their hands for the sake of the greater good. And hey, then it's usually called character development. Most of his fictional heroes tend to have killed at least one person in a sort of epic battle to defend something precious to them. This is no different. Of course, ambushing an unarmed person and running them through hardly counts as an epic battle, but he doesn't really take that part into account.

How easy is it to make them mad? What does their anger look like?

Again, a bit of a spoiled brat at times. He's pouty, gives you the cold shoulder, yet dramatically inserts himself in front of you and whatever you're occupied with so you can't do anything. Basically he's forcing you to acknowledge his pouting and ask him what's wrong so that he can pull the "oh, nothing" until you ask again, and maybe he'll eventually bitterly, passive-aggressively make it clear what you did wrong. The bright side is he's easily soothed - an apology and some groveling will fix his attitude pretty quickly, although he'll have an infuriating air of superiority about it all, telling you he's glad you were able to understand what you did and have, hopefully, learned to correct the behavior in the future.

Worse offenses, things that make him genuinely and truly infuriated, are significantly worse, but rather uncharacteristically for him, he's quiet. And that's what's do frightening about it - for once you almost wish he would blabber or complain or whine like you're so used to, but his fury is dead silent. He moves without speaking, harsh motions that will either shove or tug you to wherever he's trying to maneuver you, and he shows how he feels through actions rather than words - he slams doors and objects, stomps, everything about his body language is frightening enough to make you stiffen and jolt.

Thankfully, Xingqiu is a milder yandere when it comes to severity of things he'll do to you in moments of anger -- he's one that can control himself well enough not to severely hurt you, break bones or anything like that. When it comes to his flashes of anger, at worst he might slap you in his tantrums, but he has at least enough self-control and empathy for you to manage better than a lot of yanderes.

So they see you as above them, beneath them, or equal to them?

Below. It's mostly that he thinks rather highly of himself - he's an important person you know. He saves people, he goes around doing his little vigilante thing, and he's not afraid to flaunt sometimes.

If you happen to also be from a rich family, you can earn a little bit more respect from him, you're cultured and sophisticated. If you're intelligent, you can get some validity in his mind as well. He'll still consider himself more intelligent and higher status, something you'd be mindful to remember, but he'll begrudgingly acknowledge it.

A commoner darling, though? God forbid an airheaded one? Forget about getting any respect - you're more like... A cute little puppy to him. Dumb and loud and clumsy, but nonetheless very cute and loveable. You were just... Made to be something of an accessory to him. And he loves and values you, you mean the world to him really, but that's all the more reason why you should accept your place as such.

How determined are they for you to love them? How hard will they try to make it happen? Or are they content just having you?

It drives him up the wall. You know, his father could arrange his marriage to a ton of young rich daughters in Liyue who would be more than happy about it, but he can't get the attention of ONE girl he likes? It's infuriating. And it makes him all the more insistent to have specifically you.

For Xingqiu, it's a mix of both desperation and a pride thing as well. One one hand he desperately does truly want his feelings to be returned, he wants you to love him, he wants the fantasy he has in his head of you two having a long, happy future together. On the other hand, rejection is also a mark on his pride, and that irritates him beyond comprehension.

So don't expect him to ever give up, really. Unlike a lot of loving yans though, he doesn't blame himself, he directs the rejection hurt outward - maybe you're just so spoiled yourself that nothing is good enough for you. Maybe you're just playing hard to get. Maybe you just think constantly turning him down is funny, it's amusing to you, and, well, he doesn't take lightly to you trying to play games with him. So while he'll continue to try and earn your love, don't be surprised if it results in an irritated mood swing every now and then.

Bonus: Is there anything that makes them unique, in comparison to other yanderes?

A lack of desire/hesitancy to resort to violence or more morally wayward methods. He stakes a lot of his pride and self-image on being a chivalrous, upright, just person, someone who should exemplify right and punish wrong, and unfortunately for him he's not a delusional and can't convince himself that he's doing the right thing. He wants to be a gentleman, your knight in shining armor, the storybook hero he projects in his head that always comes to save his princess, who in turn is receptive and showers him in praise and affection and gratitude. You're the problem, you see, you're not following through on your role in all this.

As such, he really, really hates having to dirty his hands in any way, or do anything that he knows is wrong and will consequently drag him into guilt. Not that he can't be driven to it, because he certainly can, but if it reaches that point, that means you didn't cooperate with him to begin with, which would have made things so much easier, so he'll definitely rid himself of that guilt by redirecting the blame to you, or deluding himself into some bizarre justification.

Another thing... his family's compliance. Honestly? His dad is far too busy and far too done with Xingqiu's shit to expect any help from him. His son tends to be picky, whiny, and demanding -- now that you're here, he's finally satiated, finally actually paying attention to the important matters his father wants him to be involved with, finally not causing nearly as much trouble now that you're around. You can bet he's more than happy to put in some extra funds and personnel to restrain some random commoner, so long as his son is satisfied. His brother doesn't really agree with it all, but his brother wants this and his father is supporting it, so... his hands are tied. He turns a blind eye. And the staff, the servants? They're getting paid far too much to care, and besides, the family is incredibly influential -- should they get fired, it could smear their reputation. It’s kinda really discouraging, being surrounded by so many people, but none of them willing to help you.

General perverseness: how sexual of a person are they? What’s their drive like? How touchy do they get? Do they have any reservations about sexuality?

Bounces back and forth. On one hand, he wants to maintain, again, a gentlemanly and sophisticated image, and in his mind, such people don't normally think about such things, don't behave in lewd or degenerate ways. On the other hand, he's a nasty little perv that secretly sinks to the absolute depths of depravity. There's not much he can't get off to. If his poor brother hadn't been so busy being concerned about the martial arts books under his bed, and had dug further, he would have found that those books are actually just a cover-up for a different set of nasty, gross materials he's spent years accumulating -- some of the most vulgar smut you've ever seen, stuff you question how he ever even got ahold of. Surely the book house wouldn't sell this kind of material... it's honestly a mystery how he manages to get so much.

With his first few interactions, he tends to display the former image, but the more time he spends with anyone, the more that inner little pervert side tends to come out. He's definitely one to get touchy, his light grazing little touches become firmer and more daring, his hands always rest just at a point that's right on the boundary of being inappropriate. Sometimes he'll straight-up grope you and pass it off as teasing. He's also like Kaeya in that he intentionally tries to embarrass you by making your mind go to lewd places, making obvious innuendos and euphemisms, then pretending like he doesn't know why you're looking at him like that... oh, is that what you thought he meant? Wow, you must have such a dirty mind, you little pervert.

How forceful are they? Do they care about your willingness?

Something like rape is barbaric! Of course he would never, eeeeever do something so awful, so unbecoming of someone like him. And he really never will. He's another yan that will simply... Secure your consent by whatever means necessary.

In the end he'll most likely guilt trip and gaslight his way into it. I mean, you're staying with him for free, he took you in, he feeds you and clothes you and you can't show one little bit of gratitude? He treats you like a wife and you can't fulfil your end of that role? Don't be selfish. He loves you so much... He'd do anything for you... don't you want him to be happy too?

He'll try different approaches. If seduction doesn't work off the bat, he'll try gaslighting, if that doesn't work, he'll try guilt tripping, if that doesn't work, he'll make up a bizarre lie - he has to have sex or he'll die, somehow! You get the idea. If you really, really, really push it, he may just resort to a vague threat of sorts - nothing too bad or deadly, but hey, it would sure be a shame if this recent market crash affected your family financially... Not that he knows anyone who has power over the local commerce or anything.

With a more timid, soft darling, you're likely to end up essentially... Dubcon'ed. Half-noncon'ed. He just kinda... Slowly goes for it, and at your protests insists no, it's ok, you'll feel good... And a timid darling too afraid to stop him doesn't exactly fight back or resist, so hey, silence is a green light.

What sort of kinks or fetishes do they have, or would they fill?

Experimentation

As I've said, he's a nasty little perv deep down, and he can get off to, well, a LOT of things. And he loves to try new things out, no matter how weird it may be. He's one you can get into a lot of things involving toys and objects, or physical forms of things applied to the body (think temperature play, hot wax, nipple clamps -- anything that has to do with objects being used on you). Part of the fun of it all is having something new that he's never tried before! Even if it turns out to not be his favorite thing, he'll still enjoy the trying it out, and those things he DOES find himself liking, well, he'll just have to add them to the little mental list of favorites.

And he, honestly, enjoys the little reactions you often have to the notions of this or that -- the shock and sudden fear on your face when he tells you today you'll do this or that, and how you shake your cute little head so rapidly. It's not that bad, he promises, and he's done a lot of research and reading to be sure he does things correctly, so no worries!

Body writing

It's kinda comical because you can't make out a word. With his canonically horrendous handwriting, but fondness for the act of writing, it makes for what essentially looks to you like abstract art on your body -- but just know it's the lewdest, most degrading shit you can think of that he'll get all over your thighs and stomach, marking you as his. If nothing else, he gets off to it, and based on the little things he whispers in your ear, you know it's the same sort of humiliating things. If he takes his time, he can write better, but he gets caught up in the heat of the moment.

Lingerie

He's a fan of lacey, frilly things. And he will definitely invest in as many as he can buy, ornate and intricate things, stockings for your legs that have pretty lace patterns at the top of the thigh, bras and panties that are somehow both lacey and perfectly see-through. He's also a big fan of things that have holes in them for easy access, so you can wear it the whole time. And, if he's feeling meaner, he'll definitely have you walk around in just that for a while -- not out where anyone else in the estate could see you, of course, but in his room with him.

Master/slave

He's not a sadist per se, and doesn't really put you in pain, but he loves your submission. And no better way to exemplify submission than with service. The little bastard already makes you act like a maid outside of bed, but now he likes it even more -- there's a certain rush of power to laying out a command and seeing you follow it. Not to mention the cute look on your warm face as you follow though with the degrading shit. Oh, and you'd better believe he gets humiliating. It's not necessarily degrading in the sense that he says or makes you say bad things about yourself, but rather, just the commands themselves, getting on your hands and knees and crawling over to him, and demanding you slowly strip down. Make it cute, give him a show, you know? He won't be cruel in the things he says about you, yet your pride is still wrecked by the end of it all.

Voyeurism/masturbation instruction

He loves to watch you get off, honestly. It ties into the slave thing to a degree, making you follow every little command, telling you exactly how to touch yourself and move your hands. He'll sigh and tell you no, you're going to fast, you can't do it that fast yet... and if you get too overexcited, he'll just have to make you stop, since you can't seem to listen, and maybe not get to cum until tomorrow, so you can learn to behave better about it next time.

Fluids/Cumplay

He has something of a fixation with all kinds. He loves seeing the trail of saliva from your mouth when you pull off his dick, the way cum drips out of you and runs down your thighs. He also likes seeing it splattered across your face, your chest, in your hair, something about the sight of it nearly has him hard immediately after and ready to go. But he also likes how it will gross you out, leaving you tied up so that you can't wipe it off, are forced to just stay there with it dripping out of your holes and down your skin in a way that makes you shiver. And, really, he loves your fluids too, sweet salty slick that's just so mesmerizing to watch coat his fingers and face. But his favorite thing, probably has to be running his fingers through your own juices and slick, collecting it on his fingers, holding it up to your mouth and telling you to suck them clean. Somehow, it's even hotter when you're licking your own fluids off of his fingers, although you doing so with his is certainly nice too.

How do they feel about pregnancy or babies? Do they want them?

He’d like an heir one day. He's one to want a kid, maybe two, but not a whole lot. Just enough to have a proper family structure, much like the family he was raised in. It's the proper thing to do, he thinks, a natural part of the social order and continuation of a legacy. As a natural extension of his spoiled brat tendencies, he often doesn't think very responsibly in regards to preventing children, so, lucky for him, that ideal will likely come to fruition eventually, if physically possible.

What kind of (nsfw) punishments would they use?

Absolutely uses overstimulation. Whatever sorts of toys exist in Teyvat, he's rich enough that he can easily obtain them - little things he can attach to you and leave buzzing, or thick plugs and internal toys to stuff you full and leave you there to suffer in stimulation and stretching for hours on end. And he doesn't leave you alone, no, he stays close by, leaving you tied up and blindfolded, the occasionally lazy checkup of "oh, how are you holding up over there? I almost totally forgot you were there!" in a mocking tone while he goes about reading his books or practicing or jerking off to the sight.

Also ruined orgasms. Ugh, he's the worst. Gets you right to your peak, likely also after hours of edging, and then just... stops. Right as you reach the high, stops all motion, leaves you whimpering and sobbing, it's literally painful to actually reach it, and then still have that orgasm taken from you. And he'll be sure to remind you that if you were good, you could experience it in full, he could make you feel so good and let you ride out that high... but so long as you insist on being such a stubborn little princess, unfortunately, he can't just give you that. He hates this too, you know, he says. He'd love nothing more than to share pleasure, but you insist on being difficult.

What body parts of their darling do they like the most?

Legs and thighs. He likes the aesthetics of legs, the softness, the way the flesh feels in his hands. The way touching them can make you jolt, the sensitivity, the way they leave little marks so perfectly if he sucks and bites at the skin. It's just really pretty.

#yandere genshin impact #yandere x reader #yandere xingqiu #yandere x y/n #tw: noncon #tw: dark content #tw:shota

[yayteaberry]

*SFW* Just, Relax. (Enji Todoroki)

As far as casual fucking could go, he didn’t leave much room to desire anything he couldn’t give. He liked it in the same ways that you usually did, which was hard, fast, and full of energy. There was a lot of stress in his life and this was one of the ways he got the tension out.

But, you had stress too.

This week had really beaten you down, between several incidents at work you never wanted to think about again and less than favorable interactions with who you thought was your friend, you were exhausted.

Of course, he picked today to stop by.

You knew it from the moment you opened the door, it was impossible to not notice his presence.

Especially when he was right in front of you.

“Took you long enough.” His voice had always been something to excite you, but right now you really didn’t care.

“I’m not in the mood, you gotta go home.”, you say blandly, letting your purse slide onto the floor and shuffling past him, going to your room so you can lay face down on your bed.

The front door closes, and you think he’s left, letting out a long sigh as you continue to lay still, considering just passing out in your work clothes.

Why should you even bother, not like you’re dirty or anything.

“... Is everything okay?”

You push yourself up and turn your head, very surprised he’s still here. Though you sense it’s to get between your legs, not interested in the least. “I said you have to go home Enji, I don’t wanna mess around right now.”

“Never said I wanted to do that. You didn’t answer my question.” He folds his arms in that iconic stance he’s always doing in pictures, taking a few steps closer so he can better observe how miserable you are.

“Sure, you’re so openly concerned about me and my needs. It won’t change anything if you leave, if anything I’d appreciate it.” With that you drop back into position, waiting for him to go away. But he doesn’t, the bed dipping besides you as he sits down. You roll over onto your back and give him a pointedly ‘really?’ look.

It’s confusing that he isn’t getting the hint, he’s never been the type to force anything on you.  Well, anything you hadn’t asked for.

“If things have been rough for you… I.. Hope they improve. Sooner rather than later.” It’s stiff and entirely unnatural for the man to say something like that, but he forces it out, trying to be comforting.

You’re stunned by that, it’d be a shitty attempt at soothing if it came from anyone else, but from him that was absolutely precious. The words do revive you a bit, sitting up so you can lean against him, calmly enjoying the aura he’s made. There’d always been pressure to be someone else around him, he’d fuck you and that was all he was there to do, it made sense you’d exaggerate some aspects of your personality to suit the environment that created.

But this felt different.

Like something changed. And, it wasn’t a bad change either. This was nice, unusual, but nice.

“That’s sweet,”, you say after a moment passes, smiling when he runs a hand along your arm in a reassuring way. He could be so aggressive during sex that you’d forgotten he’s even capable of being gentle.

You get up on your knees so you can reach him, turning him so you can give him a kiss. “I do mean that, it’s very thoughtful of you.”

When he tries to follow that up with another, you back away, still smiling. “Mm-mm, I’m up for this but that’s about it, okay?”

“If that’s what you want,” he murmurs before cradling the back of your head, successfully kissing you. It’s light, but there’s a serious heat behind it. So you relinquish your hesitations and crawl over to sit in his lap, just barely able to stay level with the massive man.

“Honestly, what are you even here for now?”, you ask as you pull away, curiously sizing his intentions up. It really didn’t make much sense, even if he said what he did, this was very out of the normal for him.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m here because I want to be, because you’re here.”

That makes your heart thud a bit faster, he’s never been one to lie at any rate. You can’t think of a way to respond that’d be nearly as meaningful as you want it to be, so you just say what’s on your mind.

“I mean, not to discredit you, I just straight up told you we aren’t gonna fuck, so you get why I’d be confused as to why you wanna stick around. I’m very aware that you don’t do things out of sheer politeness if you don’t want to do them but…”, your thoughts get bunched up, unable to finish the sentence you’d started, pointedly looking through him as you figure out the best way to piece it together.

He doesn’t let you think long, tilting your chin so you meet his eyes. Doing so breaks you out of your hailstorm of thoughts. “You’re right, I don’t do things I don’t want to do. I don’t hide any of my opinions. So, knowing that, why are you still looking for an underlying motive?”, he says with his eyebrows narrowed down, almost suggesting he’s a little hurt by the question.

That has you feeling bad in a lot of ways, knowing your trust issues are yet again intervening in places it doesn’t have too. Being vulnerable is hard but if he’s doing it for you then you should for him.

“Ah, I’m sorry, I’ve been having a shit week and it’s just a reflex to take anything at its worst anymore…” You huff and let all your weight rest against him, face against his chest.

He hums in response and you can feel the vibration more than you hear it, fully melting when he runs his hand over your back, digits firmly smoothing over your sore muscles. A good few minutes pass by, the peace of his presence actually managing to undo a lot of your pent up angst.

You can hear his heartbeat rhythmically thudding away, almost hypnotized by it. There’s something about him today that has you noticing how nice and masculine he smells today, comfortable in partially smothering yourself for it.

You can’t be sure when you fell asleep, but you open your eyes and it’s pitch black, now lying down on your bed.

Disappointment has you grimacing, realizing you passed out on him and he most likely left right after. As you go to sit up so you can change into some proper sleep wear, you notice a few things.

First, he’s still here, one arm slung over your waist keeping you from actually moving. Secondly he undressed you down to your underwear, which you find sweet that he’d consider how uncomfortable sleeping in your work clothes would’ve been. Third, he’s out cold next to you, but radiating heat like a furnace, something you appreciate with your lack of clothing.

The usual set of events was that he’d leave an hour or so after finishing, likely before you’d even fully recovered, sending a nice arranged gift basket on your way the next day.

But here he was, snoozing away.

You don’t have a clue as to what inspired this behavior but that doesn’t mean you don’t embrace it fully, cuddling up close to him.

When he tightens his arm around you to pull you in close, you can’t help but smile.

#SFW #enji todoroki #enji todoroki x reader #endeavor x reader #endeavor #cuddling #mha fluff #fluff #gn reader #reader is gender neutral #gender neutral reader #a03 fic

[stutterfly]

Tricks of the Trade | MYG (M)

Shared as part of the Similarly Sequestered game with @kpopfanfictrash​, @underthejoon​, @fortunexkookie​, @gukslut​ and me!

Rating: M (Explicit 18+)

Word Count: 24.1K Prompt: “The FBI doesn’t care about your porn preferences.” {Body Swap AU, Soulmates AU}

Genre: Fluff, humor, smut, oneshot

Summary: The convenience store across the street from your apartment carries your favorite energy drink. That's why you frequent it. It's definitely not because you have a big fat crush on the owner you've been flirting with for the better part of a year. Of course your brand of flirting can also be misconstrued as bickering. When a strange man wanders into the store, he thinks you need a little nudge to embrace the strings connecting you. Next thing you know you're waking up in a body that definitely doesn't belong to you. You can't decide if it's the best or worst thing that's ever happened to you.

CW & Other Tags: Anxiety attacks, language, oral sex, unprotected sex, nipple play, fingering, Agent of Chaos Jin, shopkeeper Yoongi, idiots to lovers, frenemies to lovers, bodyswap shenanigans

Pairings: Yoongi x Reader

Posted on June 23, 2020 by stutterfly and cross-posted to Ao3. I do not allow reposting, translations, or edits, to this or any other platform, including YouTube.

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The bell at the top of the door jingles as another customer walks into the store, but you pay them no mind. You’re already scanning the refrigerated drinks section for the third time, scouring the rows of cans and bottles for your beverage of choice. There’s only one kind of energy drink you want but its usual location is barren. Desperate to find what you’re searching for, you squat down to look behind the other drinks in the fridge.

“You’re not going to find any.”

The familiar, disinterested drawl of the shopkeeper has you popping up from the floor to look over at him. He wears a green apron over a black tee and a pair of faded jeans. His back is to you so he doesn’t have to see your face when you complain. He reaches up to take off his baseball cap and runs his fingers through thick locks of ebony hair before returning the cap to his head. He spares a glance over his shoulder at you, knowing you’re watching him. He sighs loudly as he continues to stock nearby shelves with boxes of cereal.

When he opened this tiny shop across from your apartment about a year ago, you thought he was cute, but he’s always seemed cold to you. The gossips around town say he’s a bit scrawny, monotone and boorish, but you like his voice and you like his style. He must be intelligent if he started this business from nothing, especially at his age. Not many people in their late twenties can say they are as independent as Yoongi.

He has confidence and pride in his values. You’ve seen him tell rude people off without a second thought and kick people out for being racist towards other customers. He puts on a front to seem unapproachable but you’ve seen him give a carton of milk to a mother who didn’t have money to pay for it, and free candy to a group of kids on a rainy day. While he pretends to be an old grump who shuffles around his shop all day, you’ve seen him get the energy to sprint around the block after a shift and then collapse at the cafe tables next door. He’s weird. He’s honest. He’s kind-hearted. It’s easy to admire him.

He bends down to pick up more boxes, and you cock your head to the side to stare at the way his ass looks in those jeans. He’s also insanely attractive. It’s no wonder you still come in here every day.

The more you see of him, the more you feel you know him, and the more you’ve grown to like him. The problem is that your relationship with the shopkeeper has shifted into a weird territory you’re not sure how to escape from. It’s not that you hate each other, but it seems you can’t hold a conversation without getting on each other’s nerves. Either you’re always saying the wrong thing or he’s pressing all the wrong buttons when he teases you.

At first you read his teasing as awkward flirting but for someone so blunt, you’ve convinced yourself he would have been straightforward and said the words out loud. I like you. Let’s get a drink. It would be easy for him to say, wouldn’t it? Despite trying to convince yourself he’s not interested, you can’t help but flirt with him at any opportunity to do so. However, you seem to forget how the moment he looks at you. It’s like your flirting skills took an exit down a shitty highway and now you’ve lost the GPS signal to navigate back to civilization.

Talking with Yoongi has become an ache you can’t seem to give up so you’ll take whatever excuse you can to keep doing so. That usually takes the form of you poking fun at one another until you hurt your own feelings. Sometimes you spend the remainder of a day thinking about the ways you can fix tomorrow’s fictitious conversation. You forgot how being infatuated with someone can make you feel so stupid. He’s not your life, just a part that you wish could be more prominent. It’s fine.

All you have to do is get your morning beverage and pastry before working your shift. Then you can focus on how nice it will feel to do nothing all weekend and catch up on TV shows.

“So…. What did you do with it? Are you hiding them from me today?” You quickly snap your eyes to his face as he twists his body to look up at you.

He scoffs. “Not me. College kids came through last night and cleared them out.”

“But you know I always get one,” you pout, crossing your arms like it’s going to make a difference.

He turns his attention back to his task, slowly stacking the boxes in silence before he clicks his tongue. “So? I can’t just hide stuff for you, you know.”

“Don’t you have more in the back? You’ve never run out of Hot6 before.”

He laughs to himself. “This isn’t a warehouse. I have to wait for product to arrive before I can restock. Just get a Red Bull. It tastes the same.”

You crinkle your nose at him. “It does not.”

He crosses the store with a roll of his eyes and a loud sigh. Before long he’s back at the register and sipping on his iced americano. “Whatever. Why do you care? It’s easier if you develop a taste for espresso. Then you don’t have to worry about that kind of thing. Besides, energy drinks aren’t that great for you, you know.”

You make a sound of disgust as you sulk your way over to the pastry cabinet. “Jeez. Do you always have to have such a stick in your ass? You act like coffee is so much better for you.”

“More caffeine, less sugar. I guarantee you it’s better,” he says with a smack of his lips against his straw.

“Whatever, Grandpa. Hmm... Muffin, muffin, muffin…” you quietly chant to yourself as your eyes rake over the racks in search of your daily pastry fix. Today seems to be against you: no muffins.

“We’re out of those too,” he says. “You know you could stand to change up your routine. Don’t you get sick of getting the same things every day?”

You bite your lip and look over the case of pastries, grabbing a simple croissant. “I like my routine, but I guess I could always stop coming here.”

“If that’s what you want.” He sighs dramatically as he leans over the counter, resting on his elbows as he surveys the store. “Well, I could enjoy a quiet morning for once.”

You roll your eyes.“Pfft. You like to argue, so I know you’d miss me.”

There’s a squeaky laugh from behind one of the shelves and as your attention shifts to the sound, a young man with dusty pink hair pokes his head up. He must be rather tall if he’s able to look over the aisles. You quirk an eyebrow at his strange laughter and wonder what kind of stranger could be so entertained by the pair of you.

“Sorry. It’s just…” He holds up a card that neither of you can really make out at this distance. “On the front it says ‘It’s Your Birthday?’ and inside it says ‘Alpaca my party hat!’. Ha! And there’s this pop-up of the alpaca with a bandana and party hat.” He giggles again as he opens and closes the card a few times and waves his hand. “Sorry. Sorry. You can continue flirting now.”

“This is not—” Your breath catches in your throat and you have to take a moment to swallow down your embarrassment before turning back towards Yoongi. “Can you believe this guy?”

He’s in the middle of taking a bite from a half-eaten muffin when your eyes meet his guilty ones. Your jaw falls open as he slowly chews and rings you up, placing the remainder of the pastry back down on the counter.

“You took the last one?”

“I had a craving.” He shrugs.

“You knew I would want it and you took it so I couldn’t have it,” you guess in a playful tone. “Was your aim to make me suffer double today? You’re so cruel, Yoongi.”

He pauses to poke his tongue against his cheek as he handles your change. “It’s not like I planned it. Don’t make me out to be some bad guy.”

“Bad guy. Tch. No, I wouldn’t go that far.” You lean forward, planting your hands on the counter and ensuring a clear sightline into your shirt. “I think you just like getting under my skin.”

He bristles at your words, taking the bait and dropping his gaze to the lace exposed for his eyes. He licks his lips and lazily lets his eyes drift back to your face, his expression unreadable. “Maybe that’s true.”

You cock your head and smirk as you stand up straight, your ego slightly inflated. “Is it really so hard to be nice to me? I’m nice to you.”

“Hah!” He breaks into an amused grin. “When?”

You’re taken aback by his response. Surely you’ve been obvious with your infatuation up to this point. You scoff. “Wha- All the time!”

His brows furrow and he crosses his arms with the change still trapped in his palm. “So complaining is a form of politeness now? Then I should be grateful for how often you shower me with kindness.”

“You know I do more than complain! I complain because you complain to me!” you pout, pointing your finger at him. “Maybe we could talk about something meaningful if you ever cared enough to ask.”

His eyebrows raise with the pitch of your voice. It’s not a big deal. This is stupid. You’re overreacting because you like him. You know he’s fucking with you so why is your face still getting hot? Even if he’s joking, he’s planted the seed in your mind that he sees you as a grumpy customer. He’s clearly never thought of you as anything but a negative start to his day. You’ve seen him be sweet but right now he feels as bitter and cold as the coffee he drinks.

“What do you think of this?” the pink-haired stranger asks, donning a pair of thick black frames with orange-tinted lenses.

The man cuts the tension from the room for a brief moment. Yoongi stares at him, his lip curled up in disgust as he slowly shakes his head. When his eyes travel back to yours they seem full of apprehension. Your name rolls off his tongue as though it’s an apology.

“Don’t ‘Y/N’ me. Just give me my change,” you grumble, reaching up for his palm.

His grip is impossible to penetrate. He smiles as you struggle to work your fingers beneath his, shaking his head like you’ve revealed some embarrassing secret. Heat builds in your face the longer you stand there fidgeting with his hand. You feel like a fool.

“You’re obnoxious. Let me count it out first,” Yoongi sneers while trying to pull his hand back.

“It’s fine.” You roll your eyes and yank his hand towards you. “I don’t need you to count it.”

“You know what I think you need?”

The other customer leans beside the counter, a new pair of glasses on his face that are twice as hideous as the first pair. As you turn to look at the stranger you can see the pair of you reflected in hues of red and yellow in those disturbingly 90s opaque lenses. It almost looks like you’re holding hands. You stiffen at the sight but keep your fingers locked against Yoongi’s calloused ones as you focus on the pricetag dangling across the man’s nose.

The stranger slowly moves a closed fist above the place where your hand and Yoongi’s meet. He waits a few seconds until you’re both focused on his hand before a flash of silver falls from his palm. You almost mistake the shapes for identical necklaces until they untangle and rotate to reveal two halves that form a heart.

The fluorescent lights of the store highlight the engraved text on each. One says ‘BEST’ while the other half reads ‘FRIENDS’. The faux-metal irritates your neck the moment you think about it touching your skin. The chains appear fragile and cheap, like they might break at the slightest amount of tension. If this guy thinks you’re going to take these he must be delusional.

You exchange a quizzical look with Yoongi as the necklaces dangle between you. He’s distracted enough that you’re able to pry your change from his sweaty palm.

“Uh. No thanks,” you say, shoving the coins in your pocket before grabbing your croissant. You take a moment to regard Yoongi with a scowl, cocking your head to the side. “See you, Grandpa.”

The stone in his gut sinks as he watches you leave but he forces his attention to the pink haired stranger in the obscenely reflective glasses.

“You know, I think she likes you,” he whispers with a wink.

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It’s been a long day but at least you don’t have to go out tomorrow. You’ve already changed into your favorite pair of comfy shorts but as you move to unbutton your work shirt something smacks against your chest. Did something get trapped in your cleavage?

“What the fuck?”

As you look down your stomach does a somersault. There’s a necklace draped around your neck with a half-broken heart pendant, etched with the word ‘BEST’. How did that guy sneak this ugly thing onto you? How did you not feel it until now? Maybe he’s some sort of street magician. Your shock is accompanied by a chuckle as you reach behind your neck to fidget with the clasp. Spinning the chain between your fingertips, you soon realize there isn’t one. This thing feels like a dollar store trinket, so you curl your fingers around the charm and pull down with all of your might. It remains secure around your neck no matter how hard you tug.

Your mind begins to break into a panic. What the fuck? What the fuck. What. The actual. Fuck.

You quickly throw on a pair of sneakers and nab the keys hanging near the door on your way out of the apartment. It's hard to believe the speed at which your feet carry you down the several flights of stairs. A couple scrambles out of the way as they watch your frenzied descent. Before long you're pressing the entirety of your body against the familiar door of the convenience store across the street.

The clerk looks up from his phone, his dark eyebrows raised in surprise as you stumble past the threshold. Your body nearly folds in half as you plant your hands on your knees and struggle to catch your breath.

"Are you alright?"

You force yourself to stand up straight to address the man standing behind the counter. The word is devoid of conviction as it leaves your mouth. "Yeah."

You know him as Tae, one of Yoongi's part-time employees. Yoongi offered him a job when he heard him say he was looking for work to supplement his endeavors to put himself through art school. You’ve seen him a lot, spoken a little here and there, and he even knows you by name now. If he's here, it's probable that his boss is not. You sigh loudly in an attempt to relieve some of the panic and frustration built up in your brain. It's not like you can just ask Tae to give you Yoongi’s number.

Tae’s wide-eyed stare indicates his concern for your well being but it’s not until he drags his gaze across your body and purses his lips that you feel something is amiss. It's at this point that you realize how much the air conditioner billows the fabric of your work shirt. Goosebumps form along your calves as all of the blood in your body rushes to your face. You quickly cross your arms over your chest to conceal the half-unbuttoned shirt and the bra that pokes out from beneath it. There’s little you can do to cover the expanse of your legs while wearing such form-fitting shorts.

“I was just… checking to see if you have any Hot6,” you say with barely a glance in the direction of the refrigerator section. “But it’s clear you’re still out.”

Tae raises his eyebrows and grants you a subtle, uncertain nod as your eyes settle on the door that reads ‘EMPLOYEES ONLY.’

“Is your boss here?” you blurt, reaching for the chain around your neck. “I’ve got a—”

Your stomach drops. It’s gone. Both of your hands instinctively smack at your collarbones, like frantically patting against your flesh will cause the necklace to reappear. You hold your shirt open wide enough to peer down at the skin of your chest with a concentrated gaze, eyes begging for any trace of the tacky piece of jewelry to resurface. Was it really just a figment of your imagination? You swear it was there. You felt it. You pulled on it. It had to be real.

You swallow hard and quickly bounce your eyes to the uncomfortable-looking cashier. All you can offer is a weak chuckle as you try to play it off by shaking out your shirt. “Sorry… I thought there was a bug."

There's an awkward, heavy silence between you as he nods with pursed lips. There's no way this poor guy believes your delusional ass. "Bossman's gone for tonight. Seemed kinda beat."

"Oh."

Your eyes settle on the countertop as your brain tries to rationalize what kind of unresolved issues at work are causing your mental breakdown. You stand there while spacing out, barely blinking. You can't believe you imagined that. Not knowing what to do, Tae walks his fingers towards the miniature cans of Red Bull stacked on the counter. He gracefully sweeps his hand around a can and offers it to you. That breaks you from your daze.

"It kinda tastes the same." He attempts to cut the tension with an endearingly awkward, close-mouthed smile. "My treat?"

If it were Yoongi saying such a thing you might scowl and tell him that he must be delusional if he thinks they're the same. Tae is a much kinder soul. You find yourself softening at his suggestion and shake your head.

"You know I should probably lay off the energy drinks now that I think about it," you say. "Have a good night, Tae."

"Goodnight, Y/N!" he calls after you as you wander back through the door. He leans over the counter. "Oh, hey wait! Do you want me to let bossman know you were looking for him?"

"It's fine!" you shout back on autopilot. You're already sinking into a pool of your own thoughts as the door closes behind you.

It was not fine.

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Sleep does not come easy despite your exhaustion. You find yourself tossing and turning all night. When the light begins to stream through your blinds it seems to strike at the perfect angle to blind your fluttering eyes. You pull the blankets up over your head even though you know it’s of no use; you’re already awake and there’s no going back to sleep now.

You stretch out with a yawn as you sleepily shuffle from the bed to the tiny bathroom around the corner of your room. It’s easy to apply toothpaste to your toothbrush on autopilot, taking a moment to rub your knuckles against an eye before glancing up towards the mirror. How bad is the bedhead today?

The sight that greets you causes you to drop your toothbrush in the sink and stumble back out of the doorway. Your fingers grip the frame to keep you on your feet, your attention quickly drawn to the thick digits situated there. As you force yourself forward, you support yourself with one hand on the counter and bring the other up for inspection. The foreign hand trembles as you turn it back and forth while trying to catch the breath that keeps running away from you. Anxiety sinks its teeth deeper into your lungs, causing a puncture that has you gasping for air.

Calluses adorn your fingertips, accompanied by scratches and scars from moments you've never experienced. Your nails are jagged and short, devoid of the pleasing pink color you applied to them two days ago. You dread the journey your eyes threaten to make towards the mirror once again but you find that you are unable to stop them. The face staring back at you with saucer-wide eyes is none other than Min Yoongi.

Your head feels light. This face is fake. You gasp for the air you can't seem to get enough of and stumble out of the bathroom. The walls seem to wobble in place as you race towards the living room where you can feel the breeze flowing through the window you left open last night. This world is fake. Nothing is real. Air will fix this. If you could just breathe like a normal person everything would be okay.

You fall to your knees within spitting distance of the window. For all the air your body greedily sucks inward, your mind feels bereft of any. Your vision goes dark.

╭⋟────────────────────────╮

╰────────────────────────⋞╯

Yoongi does his best to make his way up the stairs with poise, but he's almost sure it looks like a waddle more than anything. His thighs --your thighs-- are chafing from the run here and each step is a painful reminder of the irritated flesh still rubbing together beneath these sweatpants. At least one of your neighbors was kind enough to let him into the main entrance. They must have recognized the face he mysteriously woke up with. Luckily your mailbox has your last name on it and as much as you might disagree he does pay attention when you talk.

He tries to wipe the sweat from his brow as he bends down to plant his hands on his knees. Even as his breath recovers, he grows increasingly frustrated with how heavy his chest feels. He repeatedly pushes the hair from his face with a groan, wishing he had taken the scissors to it when he had the opportunity earlier. He takes off the cap atop his head, runs his fingers through his hair, and places it back on his head. Everything is too much. You need to fix this. Take it back.

The faster he tries to ascend the stairs, the more he aches. He finally gives up on looking civil when he decides there's no one else in the stairwell to judge him. After all they'll only remember you anyway so what does it matter? He rolls the sweatpants up above his knees and cups the breasts hidden beneath the oversized sweater for support as he scrambles up the last few floors.

He grimaces at the dainty pink fingernails before curling his hand into a fist and rapping his knuckles against your door. He puffs his cheeks out and expels a long breath. What could you possibly be doing? You have to be in there. He tries the handle to no avail. Are you still asleep? He quickly abandons the need for subtlety and places both palms on the door and drums loudly against it. The sound of the deadbolt unlocking tells him he shouldn't hesitate. He's through the door before you can even properly get off your knees.

Somehow you knew what would be waiting for you on the other side. The sight before you has your mind reeling. That's your body, but it's not you. Could it really be Yoongi? You did not get Freaky-Friday'd with him. There's no fucking way this is reality. You can feel yourself panicking again as you back away from the figure, falling back on your ass. You watch yourself look down at you with a look of disgust.

"What are you doing?" That's definitely your voice.

Your body takes slow steps towards you as it crosses one arm over the other. You lean back on your elbows and groan. It's a deep sound, deeper than anything that's come from your throat even on your sickest day. This isn’t happening.

"Oh my god. I'm fucking dying," you murmur while tilting your head towards the ceiling. "Everything is fake. Nothing is real. I’m going crazy. Please let me rot."

The figure bends down and leans over into your field of vision. The image of your face frowns back at you and pokes you in the chest with a pointed fingernail.

“Stop that.”

“I can’t,” you whine between heavy breaths. “I feel like I’m gonna pass out again.

“Y/N. Look at me.”

Those perfectly manicured hands reach out for your shoulders in comfort but you fall flat on your back and your arm flies up to cover your eyes.Tears sting at them as reality warbles around you again. Seeing your own face hovering above you definitely isn’t helping you feel more sane.

"I don't know what's happening," you sob.

With each breath you suck between your quivering lips, your chest aches. Suddenly that pair of hands is cupping your jaw and pushing your arm aside. You look into the eyes you are already so familiar with, but they seem far more caring than you’ve ever managed to display.

"We need to undo whatever is happening right now," he says calmly. "You don't have to like it. You don't have to tell me you're okay. But I need you to sit up and pull yourself together long enough to help me figure this out. Can you do that?"

You swallow hard and nod slowly as you take the hand offered to you. A half-smirk appears on his lips; it's strange to see yourself reflected with such warmth, especially knowing it's coming from Yoongi.

"Good. Now please go change. I can't look at those shorts anymore.”

You look down at your attire for the first time and realize how absurd Yoongi’s body looks in the clothing you wore to bed. The skimpy tank top clings to the muscular, flat chest you now possess. Worse still, you can see bits of flesh poking out against that hairy inner thigh below. You squeeze your eyes shut and pretend like you can forget what you just saw sticking out of your shorts.

You take a deep breath as your face burns with embarrassment. “Okay. Give me your pants.”

He stiffens at your demand and scoffs. “What?”

“I don’t have anything that will fit you— er, I mean, me. Us?” You gesture at your body and stare at the floor, trying to will yourself to not dissociate. “This. You can’t be comfortable either.”

There’s a sigh before he plops down on your couch with legs spread wide open. “My back hurts and my thighs rubbed together so much I don’t want to move anymore.”

You can’t help but laugh at the admission. At least he feels your pain. He looks up at you while reclining his head on the cushion behind him. You’re not hyperventilating anymore so distraction seems to be the key to keeping you relatively calm.

“Why you, of all people?” he wonders.

You roll your eyes and stomp across the room and disappear into your bedroom. “Hmph. I was about to ask you the same thing. This is bullshit.”

You come back with a handful of carefully selected clothes and strappy undergarments that you know for a fact flatter your shape. If he has to walk around in your skin the least he can do is make it look good. You pause halfway down the hall and swallow hard as it dawns on you that he’s going to have to get naked in order to change, which means he’s unavoidably going to be looking at your body without any barriers. You decide you’re going to be strong and you simply won’t think about it or acknowledge it as a possibility.

He’s busy chewing one of your nails when you reach the living room again. You hug the clothes close to your chest and storm across the room.

“Do you bite your nails?! Ew! God, no wonder yours are so jagged and gross,” you complain, thrusting the clothes into his lap.

He offers an apologetic look before glancing down at the attire you’ve supplied with raised eyebrows. He picks up the bra with one finger and grimaces at the way it dangles off his digit. He’s looking up at you with pleading eyes shortly after it falls back in his lap. It’s hard to avoid his gaze. You feel those pupils boring into your skull as you dart your eyes away to focus on the floor.

You clear your throat and muster every last bit of courage you possess. “Um… Your clothes, please?”

He inhales loudly through his nose and you watch the grey sweatpants pool around the toenails you just painted last night. You swallow hard and scramble to pick them up when they slide across the wooden floor to you. You clutch them to your chest, quickly catching the scent of your sweat and arousal on them. Maybe he hasn’t noticed? Trying to suppress the mortification growing in your chest, you purse your lips and trail your gaze back up to his face--your face. Thankfully the hoodie covers your sex and you’re hoping he hasn’t bothered taking a peek before coming here.

“Don’t… Don’t look,” you plead. So much for not acknowledging it.

He’s feeding his arm through one of the sleeves when he freezes in place and locks eyes with you. “I should tell you I woke up shirtless,” he mumbles. As if to lessen the blow of his admission, he continues with a pout, “But you can’t blame me for looking. It’s hard not to look at a pair of perfect tits that mysteriously appear in the middle of the night. What was I supposed to do?”

Perfect tits? You’d almost be flattered if it wasn’t so fucking morifying to know he’s already seen you. Your eyes screw shut and you nod. “Right.”

This is fine. This is absolutely fine.

“Hey,” he calls softly, prodding you to open your eyes. “Here.”

He keeps eye contact with you while feeding his other arm through the sleeve. Watching yourself strip without performing the act is bizarre. He holds the sweater out for you to slowly take. It eases your mind to see his gaze never wavered. Yours drops to the nude form before you and suddenly you’re criticizing every curve and flaw you can find. It’s as though you’re simply standing before a mirror and feeding your insecurity with needless scrutiny. Despite this, Yoongi remains focused on your face and the discomfort you display so openly at seeing your own form stripped bare. Almost bare. That beat-up baseball cap he wears every day now adorns your head like a crown for your mediocrity.

You spin on your heels and speedwalk down the hall. “I’ll be right back.”

It’s hard to ignore the new appendage you’ve acquired but you make sure to shut your eyes while peeling the shorts from your thighs and sliding the sweatpants up in their stead. While you rushed through the bottom half of your attire, you stop for a minute to inspect Yoongi’s bare pectorals. It’s all too easy to get lost in the sight of his body in the mirror. You subconsciously lick your lips and run your fingers across your flat, hard chest.

Your thumb circles a brown nipple and you watch with satisfaction as it grows hard at your touch. Your palms press down over your stomach, feeling the muscles hidden just below the surface of soft flesh. You grab at your hips, fingers threatening to dart below the band of your pants. Instead you suck air in through your nose and scold yourself for such weakness. You’re about to tug the sweater over your head when Yoongi silently enters and flops down on the bed face-first.

“Yoongi? Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?!” you shriek in your haste to cover up your own moment of weakness.

There’s a muffled response spoken into the mattress that you can’t quite understand.

"What?" Annoyance is a front for your embarrassment.

He turns his head to one side and sighs. "There are too many straps. Why did you pick such a difficult one?"

You definitely selected something with a lot of extra straps for a reason but you bite your lip and try to come up with an excuse that seems plausible. The truth is that you wanted to pick something sexy because you wanted him to see you as such. Does he care though? It's hard to tell. You decide the best excuse is to dismiss the question altogether.

"Stop being such a baby. I'll help you."

As he lifts his head to cringe in your direction, you're already out the door. He pounds his forehead against the mattress again and squeezes his eyes shut. There's clearly no logical explanation for this, so what is the next step to take? What should the pair of you do? Is this permanent? There has to be a way to undo whatever has happened. In order to figure that out he's trying to piece together the source of this predicament. No matter how hard he wracks his brain for answers to the puzzle, there still seems to be pieces missing.

"Get up. Come on," you huff, tugging at his arm.

The sound he makes is pitiful and whiny as he rises. It's easy enough to see where his arms are supposed to go when you've already bunched all of the material together. You step behind him and fiddle with the fit around the familiar mounds of flesh at his front. He instinctively looks down to watch how his own familiar fingers slide beneath the bra. He pries his eyes away just as quickly to find he has a much better view of the pair of you in the mirror.

There's a sight he'd never thought he'd see: both of you shirtless with his hands in your bra. It's not that he's never wanted it. It's just that he always seems to fuck it up when it comes to being social, with you in particular. Maybe it's because he likes you too much. There's never been a proper opportunity to make a move outside of work and he knows his flirting skills are abysmal. But looking at the reflection of the pair of you now fills him with equal amounts of desire and confidence.

Just as you’re about to clasp the first strap behind his neck you glance up and find yourself lost in the same reflection. An electric blush creeps up your spine and causes a tingle in your cheeks that makes you freeze like a deer caught in headlights. He hums a soft sound and makes the decision to reach back for your wrist. For a moment you’re not sure if you’re moving or if he is but you find yourself enjoying the sight of Yoongi’s thick fingers dipping below the fabric of your bra.

“Yoongi?” you ask, jaw hanging slack as the bra slips a bit further down.

“Do you feel that?” The voice is quiet as he lets you trace fingers along the soft skin. “It pinches there.”

That pinch is a familiar one but you always tell yourself that’s the price of beauty. The straps chafe. The underwire digs into your ribs. It’s uncomfortable. But it’s the sexiest-looking thing you own so comfort be damned. You watch it slide further down to reveal one of your nipples in the reflection of the mirror; it’s impossible to look away. So much for him not looking anymore. You can’t blame him because it’s impossible for you to take your eyes off it too. The sight of Yoongi’s thick fingers trailing along the side of your breast sends a surge of excitement through your veins.

Goosebumps form a path where your fingers have traced and Yoongi exhales a shaky breath. The sound makes you chew on your bottom lip in contemplation. Is he feeling just as turned on right now? You try to remind yourself that the mirror is a lie. He’s not touching you. You’re touching him, regardless of how it looks. You can’t let your feelings cloud your judgement. It’s so fucking hard to think straight now that you’re together like this, not just because he’s here in your room but because he’s experiencing the unique arousal of his body while trapped in yours.

“Being a girl sucks. What am I supposed to do about it?” Your fingers tremble as you force your eyes to meet his in the mirror.

The action does not go unnoticed. He smirks and quirks a brow but chooses to let it slide without commenting. “Give me something easy and comfy.”

“But—” You hesitate. Do you really need to argue about this? You can’t explain it without admitting your feelings towards him. It seems like an inopportune time, more so than usual. It’s better if you can just shut the fuck up for two seconds and work on the important task at hand: figuring out how to get back to normal.

He immediately fills the gap with an objection of his own. “Why does it matter?”

“It doesn’t,” you say in the flattest tone you can muster.

He turns around to get a better read on your body language but you’re already rummaging through your drawers. You toss a sports bra with a front-facing zipper at him while you don the sweater and slip into the bathroom to relieve yourself. It’s best to avoid situations like that again if you can.

Yoongi takes this moment to inspect the room, crinkling his nose at the several empty cans of Hot6 stacked on top of your dresser. He brings a long manicured nail to his teeth and begins working it back and forth as he slides the folding closet door open with a finger. Much to his surprise your wardrobe is filled with t-shirts that look much more comfortable than the piece you previously selected. He’s quick to trade shirts and carefully replaces the clothing on the hanger before sitting on the edge of the bed and leaning back on his elbows. Comfy. Finally. His attention is drawn to the closed bathroom door. It’s been a while. Are you okay?

“You better not be passed out in there,” he whines, making sure to sound extra annoying for you.

The attempt to conceal the concern in his tone is successful but he’s happy you’re not able to see his worried expression. If you knew how badly he wants to freak out, you might actually start hyperventilating again. He’d like to avoid that. The door swings open and you exhale deeply. You’re not about to tell him you had to wait out the boner because then he’d probably make fun of you. He watches you take a few steps forward while wedging a nail between his teeth.

“Are you biting my fucking nails again?”

“Yup.”

You’re already scrambling across the bed and by the time he moves to shuffle backwards you have his wrists pinned against your soft comforter and you’re straddling his waist. Oh god. This is too fucking hot to be doing with him while he’s in your body. Abort. Abort!

It’s now that you note he’s wearing a soft cotton t-shirt you definitely did not pick out. “Yoongi, did you—”

“These clothes are better. Did you give me the most uncomfortable things you own just to make me suffer for stealing your muffin?”

Between the sports bra and the t-shirt he’s selected the curves of your body are lost to your eyes and your heart sinks. There goes any chance you had of him thinking your body is sexy. He’s expecting a tongue lashing but you sigh instead and release your hold on him, quickly climbing off his form before you can let your body get you into trouble. You search for the laptop that you know is hidden just beneath the covers near your pillows.

“Pfft. Look, maybe we can google what happened to us and not get Freaky Friday movie reviews. You wanna see if it works?”

He offers a half smirk in response and he’s quiet only for a second before he hums a sound of distaste. It’s an accusation and you know it. He quickly scoots back towards the pillows so he can sit beside you.

You scowl as you mistype your own password. “Ugh. What?”

“I’m just wondering why you’re so mad.”

“I’m not.”

You make sure to broadcast the fact that you’re definitely not mad by repeatedly tapping the delete key in a slow, deliberate motion.

“Why does your face look like that then?” he prods while folding his hands across his lap.

“Like what? You of all people should know that your face always looks this grumpy.”

As he rests his head against the fluffy material behind him, he lazily rolls his head towards you. “Y/N.”

You dramatically throw your head back against the pillows and mirror his stare. “Yoongi.”

“What is it?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you mumble.

“It clearly does,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “We have to work together to figure this out, so some honesty might be nice.”

You open the laptop and stare at the password screen for a moment with a longing sigh. “Fine. I look gross in those,” you admit with a brief glance at his attire. “You’re making me look like an unsexy blob.”

He scoffs. “What? Is that all? You’re being ridiculous. These clothes don’t matter at all. We both know what you look like underneath them. Honestly, you could be wearing a trashbag and still be sexy.”

“To whom?” You want to laugh at how absurd his explanation sounds. “What kind of lunatic would think that?”

He blinks slowly and raises his eyebrows with a calculated clench of his jaw. “Me. For starters.”

He’s stiff as he purses his lips and crosses his arms. He stares at the login screen, waiting for you to type your password. “And any sane man or woman with a pair of eyes and a brain.”

Your mouth falls open in disbelief mid-stroke. Was that a confession? Your head might as well be full of helium with how high you’re feeling. This has to be a dream. If the insane concept of switching bodies with Yoongi isn’t enough to solidify it, those words sure are. You have to be dreaming.

Your eyes remain locked onto the fingers now resting against the keys. “Do you really think that?”

“Yes.” The response comes quicker than expected but instead of giving you time to ruminate on it, he nudges you with his elbow. “Password.”

Your shoulders lift with a deep inhale through your nose and drop back down with the subsequent forceful exhale through your lips. What are you supposed to do with that information? You feel your consciousness try to lift into the aether. If you could only make it float back into your own body, you might have the courage to say something, anything. With your mind drifting away, your fingers move of their own accord as they type in the password to your laptop.

"Whoa, what the fuck is that?"

The video you'd left open last night starts up with a preview that brings you back to reality, but not fast enough.

"D-Don't look! It's private!" you screech.

Heat pulses through the veins along the sides of your forehead. Precious seconds have already been wasted by the time you frantically scramble to close the tab. He's seen the keywords in the search bar and the nastiest bits of that particular video. You're fucking mortified.

“I mean that’s definitely a couple privates," he jokes with a laugh. "You seriously just leave your porn out like that?"

”Incognito mode, Yoongi," you sneer while pulling up a new tab. "I don’t need you or my FBI guy judging me.”

He snorts. “Oh come on, Y/N. The FBI doesn’t care about your porn preferences. And neither do I. Besides, you technically looked at it with my eyes already.”

He taps the side of your forehead gently as if you needed the reminder that you're not in your own skin and you swat him away. You quickly type the phrase “body swap” into the search bar and try to focus on the resulting web pages even though you’re distracted by the blood leaving your brain in favor of other body parts.

"Can you just… Shut up for one second?"

"Hey, I'm just saying..." He clicks his tongue thoughtfully as he scooches closer to you. "You’re into some good stuff. We might have more in common than I thought."

Butterflies erupt in your stomach at the physical contact and send a tingling electricity down your abdomen. You clear your throat and reposition the computer over your lap as you feel yourself growing harder. You stare down at the two fingers settled on the trackpad rather than the information on screen. Try as you might to remain inconspicuous, suddenly all you can think about are those thick fingers rubbing hard circles against your clit while the two of you watch porn together. Bad thought. Baaaaaad. You attempt to pass the laptop over to him as discreetly as possible while shifting your pelvis away towards the edge of the bed.

“I’m…” You flounder for an excuse to leave the room and get these racing hormones under control. “...pee.”

“What?” There's a quizzical expression branded upon his features that toes the line of disgust.

“I have to pee,” you quickly correct while tactically holding your forearm over your lap. If there is such a thing as fate, why is it torturing you like this?

“Again?”

You push the laptop towards him once more and pray that he’ll just let you go be embarrassed alone in the bathroom for five minutes. Instead he looks down at the way your forearms cross your pelvis and exudes a deep, throaty laugh that sounds foreign in the tenor of your voice. That laughter travels through your head like it’s made of hot coals.

“Wow. Got a boner, huh?”

Your cheeks are made of fire. Literal fire. They feel like they should melt straight through your skin and torch your brain yet here you are: still alive and wishing you would burn to death. God is dead. There is no mercy in this universe.

"Don't fucking laugh at me! I can't control it!"

When he laughs harder, the urge to silence him overtakes all rational thought. You reach for a lock of hair sticking out from beneath his cap and pull hard. He hisses through his teeth and you smirk, knowing what kind of response this would normally elicit from your body. Will it affect him the same, or is the sexual response guided by mental preference rather than physical? Maybe it’s both. It seems to have some effect because he’s stopped laughing.

Yoongi shivers as goosebumps riddle his arms and prickle along his chest until his nipples are threatening to poke holes through the thin fabric of the bra and t-shirt. His jaw tightens and on instinct his hand shoots up to grasp at the short black hair adorning your head in retaliation. He catches himself before he pursues the motion of yanking down. What is he doing? Can he really be so bold with you? He knows you, but not like this. Things are strange right now but if he keeps going they're bound to get stranger. If the butterflies in his stomach weren't enough to tip him off to his attraction to you, even like this, the wetness between these thighs solidifies the magnetism you hold over him.

A pitiful sound escapes your lips that hints at your disappointment. “Mmm?"

He pauses there to inspect your expression, tilting his head as though it will give him a better read. He should be able to interpret his own expression but looking at his face through your eyes doesn't seem to help at all. Because he's studied your features for so long it's hard to see what you're feeling now that he can't see them at work. His palm flattens against your scalp and he allows his fingers to wander through the thick black hair he's combed out a million times. Somehow it feels softer in your hands. Soon he finds his hand cupping the back of your neck. Labored breaths swim in the space between the pair of you, but it's hard to tell who they belong to.

"What are you doing?" you whisper as your fingers reach for the brim of his cap.

"What are you doing?" he echoes back.

Have your eyes always looked so fierce, or is it his persona breathing a dark fire into them now? You flick the cap off his head, which releases all the hair he had trapped underneath it. You push it back from his face and tangle your fingers within it.

"Pretending like this isn't just you wanting to make out with yourself to see what it's like," you answer, staring at the reflection in his eyes. "You?"

There's a smirk that grows into a full blown grin within seconds. "Trying to convince myself that it isn't insane to want to make out with myself just to see what it's like."

You scoff and drop your hands to his shoulders to give him a firm push back. "Dick."

He giggles at the way you pout and halfheartedly pushes the laptop towards the other side of the bed. The hand still on the back of your neck travels up to massage your scalp and suddenly you're putty in his palm. His other hand trails along your stubbly jaw until his fingers are nestled behind your ear. As he glances down at the tent in your pants he laughs.

"Still hard?"

"Like your nipples," you grumble.

You reach out and twist the peaks barely hidden beneath his shirt; it's an impulse you don't refuse. This time he moans.

"Oh, you liked that, hmm? I bet you're so fucking wet right now," you whisper, embracing your boldness.

You watch his eyes roll with the flutter of his lashes at your words. Both of his hands glide through your hair and he begins to flex his fingers around some strands. He alternates between releasing his gentle grip on your locks and twisting his fingers back into them. You’re making him crazy. Should he even bother trying to compose himself at this point?

“What?” you prod, pushing the limits of his endurance for such brattiness. “Aren’t you going to pull my hair, Yoongi?”

The way he glares at you causes your skin to break out in a series of goosebumps. How can you be shivering when your body was just doing its best impression of molten rock? Yoongi. That’s the answer. You whimper a pathetic sound as his knuckles curl towards your scalp. The motion brings your forehead down to meet his and your eyelids flutter closed. He focuses heavy breaths out through his nose and stares at the lips he knows are his own. They may be part of his usual physical appearance but right now they’re a part of yours.

“You’re so fucking obnoxious.”

He sucks his bottom lip through his teeth and moves towards you before he can second guess what he's about to do. His lips seem to meld with yours and your eyes pop open to be sure this is really happening. Is this really happening? You see your own nose and heavy lidded eyes peeking open just enough to roll back in pleasure.

The hands buried in your hair drop to cradle your jaw and you can feel the stubble scraping against the delicate skin of his fingers as he drags his hands slowly towards your chin. You melt into his touch and hold your breath like you'll never inhale another again. Suddenly you're kissing him back and no amount of lightheadedness can stop you.

Oh shit. This is happening. It’s not anything like your daydreams but it’s real and it feels so fucking good. It feels surreal. It feels too surreal. Maybe the lightheadedness can stop you. It's you, but it's not. Your eyes open again and you find a battle of anxiety raging in your brain. He pauses to peck the edge of your mouth when he realizes you're no longer kissing him back.

"What are you doing?" he murmurs, resting his forehead against yours. “Did I… read that wrong?”

“No! No, I’ve wanted to do that for a while. It’s just…” A laugh bubbles from your throat and you shake your head before bursting into a fit of giggles. “This is weird.”

Relief washes over his features and he smiles as he leans back to look at you. “It’s definitely unique. But I can’t say I want to stop.”

His admission fills you with a fresh wave of tingles up your spine. “Me neither. I… still want you.”

You sheepishly turn your head to the side and find the mirror lining the closet wall, looking at the image of the pair of you as if it will save you from the embarrassment of your own words.

"What? Now you're getting shy?" he teases while following you gaze to the reflection. It dawns on him that he can enjoy the view. "Or do you just want to watch?"

He moves towards your lips slowly while keeping focused on the mirror, watching your eyes lazily roll back behind your lids and revelling in the whine this pulls from you.

“Look,” he pleads in low whisper, angling your body so you can get a better view. “Look how good you look with your tongue on my neck.”

Your head lolls around just in time to see exactly that before the sensation snaps across your nerve endings. He latches on, sucking light bruises into the tender flesh. He knows where to put his tongue to have you gripping the back of his neck and arching your back up towards him. He smirks as he glances at the mirror, licking a hot stripe up to your ear where he teasingly nibbles on the lobe.

"Does it look as hot when I--when you...?" You flounder on your words in between soft pants, your eyes trained on the reflection.

He counters with a whisper, “Do you want to find out?”

“I’m… curious,” you admit, leaning your head back to give him access to more of your neck.

“You want to know how it feels,” he lazily mumbles against your neck. “Hmm. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about it.”

“It’s a unique opportunity,” you say, trying to convince yourself that proposing the idea isn’t weird at all. “Maybe we just… See?”

“Right. This is a unique opportunity,” he echoes in agreement, burying his face into the crook of your neck. His voice is muffled as he sighs a heated breath against your skin. “We should take advantage of it.”

“I mean, as long as you don’t tell anyone.”

He pops his head up to look at you, his brows knotted in confusion. “Who would believe me?”

You shake your head and smirk. “I guess you’re right.”

There’s a moment where the concept of time seems to evaporate. You both stare at each other like you’re seeing your own faces for the first time, like it’s the first time you both can actually love and accept yourselves as you are. It’s easier to be gentle with someone else, but now that someone else is technically also a part of you it brings a level of clemency to your feelings regarding your appearance. You like yourself better now that you can see a part of him there.

“Will you show me how you like it?” he asks with a tilt of his head.

“If you show me, too,” you say with a gentle rock of your hips towards him.

“You first.”

Your mouth is already covering the soft expanse of his neck, dragging your teeth with just enough pressure to tease the skin. He watches you work up and down through the mirror, feeling the arousal between his legs building. As you're kissing a path back towards his mouth he takes a chance and swings his leg over your midriff so he's kneeling just above the throbbing cock hidden beneath the thin layer of gray fabric. The jeans dig a hard line into his stomach and limit the range of his spread.

"These pants are horrible," he complains.

"Take them off if you hate them so much," you agree between hungry kisses. It's impossible to keep your eyes from the mirror. He hooks his fingers beneath your sweater and begins working it upwards, stopping only to rest a palm on your chest.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He trails his fingers down the flat expanse until he gets to your navel, passing over the dark hair leading down into your pants. He tugs at the place where the hair begins to grow thicker and laughs when you hiss an expletive.

He quickly pulls the oversized sweater upwards. Instead of helping you out of it, he clutches the fabric with both hands as you bring your arms above your head and presses you back into the mattress. You find your bent elbows trapped in the sleeves.

“How about this?” he whispers. “Do you like this?”

“Yes.” You look down at the delicious pectorals he’s exposed, practically salivating at the sight of those pert nipples. “Yoongi, please.”

He smirks as he runs his fingers down your chest, ignoring the nipples you wish he would do something about. Lower. Lower. His hand travels behind him until suddenly your body spasms with pleasure from the practiced grip he’s placed on the cock standing at attention behind him.

“This? Does it feel good when I touch you like this?”

“Fuck! Yes. Please. Yes!”

Just as quickly as his hand pressed against your clothed erection, it’s gone, leaving you a whimpering mess. He plants a kiss beside one of your nipples, but denies it any direct contact.

"Stop teasing me," you whine. The pressure in your chest builds with every second that passes and you feel like your heart is going to burst.

He lets out a lofty sigh as he sits back on his thighs, promptly removing his t-shirt. "But you make it so easy..."

You wiggle out of the arms of the sweater and sit up to unsnap the button to his jeans. You kiss up his stomach until he’s unzipping the bra and letting you nip at the supple flesh for a moment. He discards the bra like it’s nothing before rolling over to unzip his pants. He peels them from his legs along with the soaked panties. It’s hard to not look at the mirror as he climbs over your waist. If he holds any shame for being nude in front of you, it’s not apparent in his current form. Your face, however, feels hot. Your body is exposed and he keeps looking at it, groping those breasts with his hands.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he says quietly, admiring the reflection as he plays with his nipples between his fingers.

You want to bury your face in something to hide your embarrassment so you plant your face between his tits and begin to suck bruises into the soft flesh beside his fingers.

“Oh fuck.” The sight of his own face diving between those squishy tits is enough to make his body involuntarily flex in ways he’s never experienced before.

“How does it feel?” you murmur, slowly licking a path to one of his nipples and lightly dragging your teeth along it.

The sound he makes when he moans has you shivering all over again. He lets his head fall back for a second and then he looks at you. “Like I want you to touch me.”

Now you’re the one who smirks with confidence. “Lay back.”

He snaps the band at your waist as he rolls off of you. “These. Off.”

Manicured fingers slip down to rub some of the tension from the swollen bud between his legs as he watches you awkwardly push the pants down past the cock begging to be touched. You try to avoid looking at it. It’s hard not to feel exposed even though it’s not your body. You scramble back into the bed as quickly as you can. His laughter catches you off guard.

“You’re so shy now. Look at it. Feel it,” he urges. “Grab my cock.”

You try to be casual about your downward glance but the way you lick your lips is anything but casual. You press your thumb into the base of the cock to admire its shape from a 90 degree angle. It’s average in terms of length but your mouth waters at the sight of the bulging veins and increased girth just below the swollen tip. You don’t bother to resist the urge to grip the shaft. You drag your hand up and trace your thumb around the fleshy mauve tip. The sensation causes you to shiver. It’s so sensitive.

As you’re admiring the way it tapers towards the base, soft, thinner fingers curl around yours and begin to guide them into a slow, controlled pumping motion that sets your nerves alight.

He quirks a brow at you. “What do you think?”

“Fuck, Yoongi,” you choke out with a held breath. Greedy gasps break the small silence that follows. Has it always been so hard to speak while masturbating? It’s not like you’re terrible at dirty talk so why are you hesitating?

“Do you need me to stop?”

You fervently shake your head and follow it with a needy groan. “No. Please… Keep going.” You hope he never stops.

“Then use your words” he urges, placing his hand over yours to slow your pace to a crawl.

You whimper. It’s a pathetic sound created with his voice in his throat, yet it still somehow sounds so deliciously like you. While he finds himself attracted to your usual body, it doesn’t bother him that you’re currently assuming a different form. Looks are fleeting anyway. It’s the person inside he’s grown attached to, the caring soul he feels connected to.

He’s seen you stare at the bulletin board near the restroom and tear off the tabs of creative community activities to benefit those in need. If he wasn’t so busy managing the store all the time he would have been able to sign up for those events too. He’s seen you volunteer at the homeless shelter just around the corner. He’s seen you cradling posters for your neighbor’s missing cat— he’d even let you keep one on the door to his store until you told him they found it.

The truth is that your soul is so beautiful and full that he’d want you no matter what you looked like. If only he had the courage to say that. But it's easier to hide behind snark.

“It feels so good,” you whine. “I wish I could put my mouth all over it. Bet you’d fill me so good.”

A growl escapes with his exhale and he guides your fist up and down the girth between your legs with increased vigor. He gently leads you by the dick, pulling you closer to the bed until your knees hit the side.

“Look in the mirror, Y/N. Watch,” he whispers in a low tone, almost begging you to keep your eyes on the reflection.

You do as he says and watch in awe as a set of manicured fingers tap against your chest and trail down to the cock still nestled in your fist. They work their way beneath your palm and shoo your hand away. Even knowing that Yoongi is behind the action, the sight of your hands stroking that perfect cock sets a fire of desire coursing through your veins.

You watch in the mirror as your lips plant kisses on the dark hair beneath Yoongi’s navel. You watch as your head sinks lower and lower until soft, plush lips are skimming the tip of his dick. You watch his length slide into your mouth and immediately your knees threaten to buckle.

His hands are already reaching up to stabilize your stance even as he glides his tongue against you. The pleasure is unlike anything you’ve felt before, but having your clit sucked and teased comes close. It’s heaven. You whimper a tortured sound sitting somewhere between the boundaries of pleasure and anguish. He plays your role so well, maybe even better than you could play it. You attempt to distract yourself from the nervous tremble of your thighs by gathering bits of his hair in your hands and balling it in your fists. He gargles out a muffled moan against you.

“I look so good sucking your pretty cock,” you whisper in awe.

He leans back to swipe his tongue over the slit and then sinks back down, nose hitting the tuft of dark hair at your pelvis as you bottom out in his throat. Your grip around his hair tightens with the slight rock of your hips. You press his face against your crotch like you never want him to leave. The pair of you look so fucking hot. You’re revelling in slow, shallow thrusts deep in his throat when he makes a gagging noise you know all too well. He grips your thighs and you immediately release your hold while pulling your hips back.

“Fuck I’m so sorry!” Heat rises in your face and you want to run and hide.

He rests his palm on your waist and catches his breath, a trail of sticky precum and thick spit connecting his mouth to your cock. It involuntarily flexes and bobs up towards your stomach and then back down, which severs the path of saliva.

“Don’t be. That was hot.” He wipes his lips with the back of his hand.

“Yoongi, you didn’t have to! I mean I was curious but I—”

You’re cut off by his harsh tug on your hands. You stumble forward and meet his dark gaze. How can he make your eyes look so hungry?

“I’m a firm believer in never asking someone to do what I wouldn’t. I like to know what I’m giving, don’t you?”

“God, I wish that were me. I want to taste you so bad,” you whine, licking your lips as you spare a glance down at the glistening appendage standing at attention between your legs. “Wanna taste you dripping off my tongue.”

“You can,” he assures you in a soft voice, cupping your face with his hands.

His lips are on yours in an instant and you’re moaning against them like you’ll never get enough. The salty tang on his tongue transfers to yours as it dips into your mouth. You wish you could take him into your mouth yourself, but this is a good substitute for now.

"You taste good," you pant between kisses. "Why haven't we done this sooner?"

He pulls away to shrug, cocking his head to the side and focusing on your neck. "If you want something you have to speak up. No one can read minds and even if they could, often times people are so wrapped up in their own heads they'd never see what you think.”

"Wow, getting philosophical on me, huh? So… What? I'm just supposed to say, ‘Hey yoongi you're hot. Wanna fuck’?"

"That's a little blunt don't you think?" He laughs, allowing you to push him back onto the mattress. "Been holding that back long?"

Your heart skips a beat, heat flushing your ears. "Maybe. Would it have made a difference?”

He ponders this for a moment as he squints at the ceiling in concentration. "Mmm. I'd say you should at least buy me dinner first… "

You scoff. It’s not a no but it’s not an enthusiastic yes either. You climb onto the mattress, trying to ignore how casually he lays in your bed, completely barren before you.

He rolls onto his side and props his head up to survey your approach. You seem a little nervous so it’s easier for him to fake confidence for both your sakes. "I guess we're both guilty of not saying what we mean."

"What is it you really mean to say then?" If he’s got a juicy secret he’s been holding in, then you want to know to salvage what’s left of your pride.

"I give you shit but I like that you come into the store every day to get your muffin and your gross energy drink. I like when you come back in after just to bitch about your day and pretend like you need a snack that I never see you eat. I like when you ask me about my day, even though you know I’m shit at conversation. It makes me happy because I care about…" he hesitates when he sees your smug grin. "...”

“Yes?” you prod.

He draws a deep breath from his belly. “You. I care about you. I’ve never found an opportunity to tell you that I like you. I’m always working, keeping my store afloat, focused on the numbers and the success of my business. But I see you coming out of that building every day. I watch for you to make sure even after a year of this that you’re still coming here first. It’s crazy but you put me at ease and make me anxious at the same time. I feel like I know you, like I’ve known you all my life.”

He pauses to allow you to interject. When you don’t, he continues, “I feel it in my bones when you smile at me, when you roll your eyes at me, when you try to make me laugh... You’re so easy to fall for. I know that I’m not, but sometimes you look at me and I feel like you want to. I want you to. I wish you would come back when I’m locking up for the night so that I could see you outside of work, so I could take you out, so I could take you home. A thousand possibilities are always running through my head when it comes to you and I freeze when I think about acting on any of them. That’s what I don’t say.”

“Yoongi…” you finally whisper.

Your face scrunches up like you’re about to cry and he grimaces at you, knowing you’re definitely about to do just that.

“Don’t do that. My cheeks look so fat when you do that. Hey, are you listening? Don’t make my face look so ugly!”

His attempts to make you smile simply causes the tears to fall from your eyes. You melt into his embrace, burying your face against his neck as you sob. He places a tentative palm on the back of your head.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, planting a kiss against your hair, “if it’s just me.”

“No, I feel the same way,” you admit, turning your head to kiss his cheek. “You say you’re hard to love but how can that be true when I feel what I feel so easily? I will wait for you to close your shop and walk you home every day if you let me. I will be yours, if you let me.”

He turns your head so that he can bring his lips to yours. They taste salty again for entirely different reasons. Can you feel the way he’s trembling right now? All the relief in the world can’t assuage the ache of carrying such a burden in his chest for so long. The adrenaline is coursing through him like a wildfire, spreading until his lungs are burning with a heat he can’t quell.

“Mine, then,” he whispers, allowing the tears to stream down his cheeks freely. “Mine.”

He tangles his fingers in your hair, pulling you into a passionate kiss that threatens to steal every last bit of oxygen from your lungs. He growls into your mouth, claiming every inch inside with his tongue. He grinds his hips upwards and it’s then you remember that you’re naked and you have a dick that’s still half-hard and growing harder by the second.

You groan loudly. “Fuuuuuck. I want to fuck you so bad right now.”

He pulls back to bite his lip, the intrigue in his features apparent. “You want to try it?”

“I mean… you sucked your own dick for me. You don’t owe me anything—”

“I don’t do anything I don’t want to do. I want to try it,” he says, wriggling his hips beneath you. “Fuck. Me.”

“This is still so weird,” you say with a giggle, your eyes rolling back into your skull when the tip of your cock glides against his clit. “Ah…”

The pair of you pause and slowly repeat the motion. You can feel how wet he is and instead of being embarrassed like you would be in his place, you find it incredibly hot.

“Do it again,” he pleads, spreading his legs further apart to allow you better access.

You look down, pressing your thumb into the base of your cock and carefully glide the tip across the folds between his legs. He hisses an expletive between his teeth when you drag it past his clit and begin rocking your hips back and forth.

“Yeah, just like that,” he whispers through frantic panting and sloppy kisses.

You feel a cramp in your thigh and pull back to nurse the ache. He whines when you slink away from his body, missing the friction on his clit already, although he’s satisfied enough when you circle one of his breasts with your tongue and take a nipple into your mouth. You press light circles into his clit with the pad of your middle finger until you can feel his legs flexing around your body like you’re not giving him enough. His fingers dive beneath yours to tease the swollen bud.

“Let me feel,” he pants. “Let me learn where to touch.”

You carefully guide his movements for a minute while treating his other nipple to the pleasures of your tongue. He seems to get the hang of stimulating himself pretty quickly so you turn your attention towards his thighs. You sink between them and begin kissing the sensitive skin beside his folds. His thighs twitch when you trace circles around his entrance with your tongue. You briefly pause to inspect your fingernails, making sure none of them are a jagged mess from the way he’s bitten them. When you’re satisfied with your inspection you peek up at him.

“You want to try my fingers first?” you ask, feeling envious that you can’t be riding three of them to the knuckle right now. “I can show you how my mouth feels too, though I doubt I’m an expert on that.”

“I don’t care about that.” He lifts his hand so he can peer down at you from between his tits. “I’ll take your mouth anywhere you want to give it.”

He watches as you flick your tongue across the sensitive, slick bundle of nerves. He bucks his hips as you clamp down and roll your tongue back and forth over it. His pretty painted nails look so good digging into your ebony hair. It’s not long until you dip a finger inside his cunt, teasing until you’re bobbing it in and out at a decent pace.

“Oh…” he says, as if he’s surprised that the experience is so pleasurable. “Shit, that’s good. Fuck. I’m gonna....”

You push another finger into him, curling the longest digit as far as you can to try and reach the g-spot you know is hiding nearby. When you finally get it he grips your shoulders and arches his pelvis off the ground like he’s committing to a new yoga routine. You recognize the stiffness in his limbs, the involuntary tremble of his thighs beside your head, the heaving of his chest and the frantic nonsense spilling out from his lips. You focus your energy on his clit, replacing your mouth with your hand since you have more confidence bringing about his climax this way.

His hips stutter and you know he’s riding the line. It’s a little bit more difficult to find that perfect rhythm when your hand isn’t in it’s normal position. The way he sucks in a breath to release his needy whines almost makes you feel guilty. It’s not like you’re trying to edge him but you’re not able to keep that pressure as consistent as you’d like.

“I’m so close,” he pants. “But I keep losing it. I’m sorry.”

You’ve been there plenty of times but you’re desperate to make him cum.

“It’s okay. Don’t be sorry. Rub it, baby. You know what feels good,” you whisper, shifting your attention to fingering his cunt. You don’t call attention to the pet name, but it feels so natural falling from your lips in this moment. You hope he doesn’t mind.

In an instant his fingers replace yours on his clit and he’s building back up. His thighs quake and his back arches off the mattress one more time and you know it’s coming. He’s about to reach his peak.

He takes a sharp inhale and where you expect the loud wails you would normally make while riding out your high, there’s quiet shuddering and softy breathy moans that linger in the air around you. He grabs your wrist with an ironclad grip as soon as he rides the last wave and his sweaty thighs fall limp around your face. You’re grinning like an idiot as he pulls you by the hair towards his lips, desperate to feel you, to taste you. His tongue is exploring every bit it can, trying to steal the essence from your mouth.

“Mmm. I want to taste that sweet pussy every day.“

“Do you… Still want me to fuck you?” You’re really trying not to sound hopeful but you can’t stop thinking about it.

He smirks and wipes the sweat from his brow. “Let me feel how well my cock fills you.”

“Do I need a condom?” you ask. “Are you clean?”

He laughs like it’s an absurd question. “That’s up to you. I haven’t had sex in four years. I’m clean. If you’re not worried, I’m not worried.”

“Four years is a long time,” you mumble, suddenly feeling pressure perform well. “I have an IUD so if you’re okay with it…”

“I wanna know how it feels.”

As soon as you line yourself up with his entrance you’re sweating like you’ve never sweated in your entire life. You don’t know what you’re doing, but you’re hoping it doesn’t suck. It doesn’t take a genius to sense your nerves. He reaches out to cup your stubbly jaw.

“We don’t have to.”

“I want to. Just… tell me if I’m hurting you,” you whisper before pressing your lips to his.

You let the tip dip inside and descend into his cunt slowly, knowing the thickest part of your dick follows the tip immediately. The stretch must be delicious. You’re distracted by how tightly his walls are clamping down on you. It’s tempting to bury yourself in his warmth as quickly as possible but you show restraint. His breath hitches as he adjusts to your girth and you freeze. Has your body ever taken someone as thick as him? You can’t recall. Probably not.

“Keep going,” he coaches, grabbing at your ass to press you further inside until you’ve bottomed out.

Your head hangs down as you try not to let the sensation overwhelm you. His lips find yours, helping you climb back down from the high. You slowly move your hips back, already missing the tight warmth hugging you. It takes a few more slow thrusts until you’re pumping into him at a relatively steady pace.

“Sorry if my rhythm isn’t good. I’ve never done this,” you manage to say between heavy breaths.

“You’re doing fine. This feels amazing. What are you talking about?”

He could be lying to make you feel better but it’s working. He puts his hands by his head to indicate he wants you to hold them. You immediately twine your fingers in his and press the back of his hands into the mattress.

“Yeah? It feels so fucking good, Yoongi.”

“It does... But I know you can fuck me harder than that, Y/N.”

You can already feel the tightness you’re holding back, a pleasurable pressure building in your pelvis that warns you of the imminent orgasm you can only stave off for so long. You can’t help but slam your hips in harder and faster at his request. The sound of balls slapping against skin fills the room and he moves his hips to meet yours. His breathing grows labored but you know he’s not about to cum again. You’ve never gotten off from penetration alone and there’s no way your sloppy performance will cause that miracle to happen now.

“There you go… Fuck. That’s it.”

“I’m gonna pull out,” you warn, feeling like you’re testing your own limits with every thrust.

“Already?” he teases, digging his pretty fingernails into your back.

“It feels… too fucking good, Yoon…” You wish you had more stamina. “Gonna cum on those pretty tits.”

“Yoon?” He chuckles, now distracted by the way his tits are bouncing with each slap of your hips.

“Just wait until I’m back in that body riding your cock. See how long you last then.”

“Is that a promise?” he questions, cupping your jaw to kiss you.

“...Yeah...”

He can feel the difference in your pace, in the shivers of your body. You’re about to cum. He turns your face towards the mirror so you can see how fucked out your reflection looks. It’s intoxicating seeing Yoongi’s body so needy and desperate.

“Look at you. You’re not gonna make it to these tits.”

“Fuck…” you bite your lip and try to slow your pace but it’s too late. The tension and pressure bursts from the head of your cock like a confetti popper on New Years. With a few, strong pumps you spill your seed into his warm cunt. “Oh fuck. Fuck. Fuck! I’m cumming! I’m cummmph--”

Yoongi brings your lips back to meet his to muffle the unexpected sounds of your orgasm.

“Oh my goooood. You’re so loud,” he teases when you finally come down, but you’re too spent to refute him.

There’s another twitch in your dick and you lay there with your mouth open, trying to regain sense of your faculties. He intentionally clenches around your softening length and every muscle in your abdomen flexes.

“Too much!” you shriek, pulling out and rolling off of him in one swift motion.

You let your sweaty back hit the soft duvet, trying to recover from the sensation. He laughs, angling his legs towards the mirror. You’re about to ask what he’s doing when he spreads his legs and swipes at the cum dripping from his cunt, pushing it back inside with his fingers and releasing a soft sigh. It’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen yourself do, and you’re not even doing it.

When he’s satisfied that he’s pushed it all in, he lays down next to you. The two of you stare at the ceiling in silence for at least a minute. Is it awkward or was it just that good? You can’t tell the difference right now and it’s making you anxious. He covers your hand with his and looks over at you with a warm smile.

The anxiety-driven words come out before you can stop them. “You should pee. You don’t want a UTI and neither do I.”

╭⋟────────────────────────╮

╰────────────────────────⋞╯

About an hour has passed in awkward silence as the two of you conduct research on what the fuck happened to you. You haven’t talked about what you both did in this bed, but the smell of sex still hangs in the air. As soon as you both put your clothes back on it was like a switch of modesty came back into play, and you feel too shy to point it out. You don’t know what to say, so you’ve just been clicking on every link you possibly can to fill the silence as he scrolls through articles on his phone nearby. It’s uncomfortable and you hate it.

“I think I have something, maybe,” you say, scrolling through the 90s looking website you’ve been exploring for the last few minutes.

Yoongi scoots closer to you and furrows his brow as he squints to read the sloppy banner at the top of the page. “The Unsolved?”

“I know what you’re thinking. Conspiracy theorists are insane, I know, but—”

You reach for the trackpad at the same time and your fingers brush, causing you to freeze mid-sentence. You stare at the keyboard for a second and chew on your lip, allowing your eyes to dart towards your periphery without moving your head. When he doesn’t say anything you clear your throat and scroll with the trackpad.

“But, look.” You point to the two embedded images triumphantly.

“Necklaces.” He cocks his head to the side and reads the text underneath aloud. “‘An Amulet of Discord is used by an Agent of Chaos to spread mischief and debauchery in the universe. It can be split into two halves to displace unsuspecting victims from their bodies. A glamour will protect the Amulet once the ritual is complete, making it impossible to see or touch. In order to reunite the victim with their body, the Agent responsible must be compelled to remove the glamour and mend the fragmented pieces into one.’”

“Last night I had one of those chincy friendship necklaces on and I definitely did not put it on. It looked a lot like the ones that weird guy tried to give us at your shop yesterday. I tried to get it off but it wouldn’t budge. Then it disappeared.”

“This sounds insane,” he muses, mulling over the information.

“Did it happen to you too?”

“I thought I saw one briefly, but… It was gone when I looked again. I thought I must be seeing things.”

“It’s gotta be it!”

Yoongi furrows his brows as you scroll back up to the navigation, not sure if he fully believes in this explanation. “What’s an Agent of Chaos anyway?”

“I guess they like… cause mayhem for fun? I don’t know, the description said something about pleasing a patron that they get their powers from.”

“Like a god?”

The thought makes him uneasy. If a god of chaos exists then surely there are more out there. If gods exist but they do nothing to balance out the cosmic injustices of the universe, are they really gods or more like demons? He feels like he’s about to have a full meltdown over something he can’t understand or control.

“Maybe. It doesn’t describe them at all. But…” You give him a reassuring smirk. “It does give instructions on how to trap an Agent. We just need a little more space and some chalk. We’ll draw him out, trap him, then make him undo his magic. What do we have to lose?”

His heart feels lighter when you look at him so softly. “Makes it sound simple when you say it like that. Also, slightly insane.”

╭⋟────────────────────────╮

╰────────────────────────⋞╯

The website was very lax on defining the ‘discordant energy’ needed to summon the agent, so the pair of you have been improvising. Yoongi suggested moving into the store for the space you needed, but you have a feeling he’s just anxious about it being closed for the day. It’s fine. You don’t want to constantly be thinking about the sex neither of you are acknowledging right now. Yoongi is brushing his teeth after drinking a bottle of orange juice.

You grimace at him. “You really think that’s gonna do it?”

He stops mid-brush, his mouth full of foam and garbling his words. “It’s better than doing nothing. How are you helping?”

You give the sunglasses rack a slow spin. “I drew the sigil on the floor. If we’re gonna trap him we need to be ready. Were you able to find anything else?”

He clicks on your laptop a few times before hurrying into the back room. He reappears a moment later, wiping at his mouth. “That was gross.”

You watch him concentrate on the screen, trying to forget the way it felt to kiss him everywhere he would let you. It’s hard to focus on the task at hand when there’s this feeling lingering in your uneasy stomach. Are you doomed to never speak of the things that made your heart flutter?

“ A thousand possibilities are always running through my head when it comes to you and I freeze when I think about acting on any of them. That’s what I don’t say .”

You tell yourself you imagined those words, that you wished them into existence. You turn the rack of cheap sunglasses again. Even if you knew what you were looking for, you wouldn’t find it with the way your mind is wandering. You look back at Yoongi, debating whether or not you should speak up about the uncertainty in your gut.

“Keepsake!” he says excitedly, running out from behind the counter. “It says they often leave something behind so they can return to observe their work.”

His sudden movement makes you jump and loudly smack your hand against the stand in a panicked attempt to look inconspicuous. He pauses to look at you and raises an eyebrow but you’re already laser-focused on the rack again. Desperate to hide your growing embarrassment you pluck a pair of sunglasses that is strikingly similar to the ones you’d seen the man wearing that day.

As soon as you put them on you inhale sharply. “What the fuck?”

“Hmm?” Yoongi wonders. “What is it?”

“There’s something written… on the fridge.”

“What? Where?”

You lift the glasses up to be sure you can’t see the letters scrawled on the glass without them. The message disappears. Once you place them back on the bridge of your nose they practically glow, beckoning you towards them. You push past him on your way to the drinks section. “Here. It says… Now you have… specs appeal?”

Yoongi pinches the bridge of his nose. “That’s it?”

“What do you mean, ‘that’s it’? It was a solid pun.”

The pair of you look towards the sound of the stranger’s voice. Instead of forming words you exclaim a sound of surprise. He looks confused.

“You’re going to need to speak clearly. I’m not sure I understand your language.”

“You! You did this!” you shriek, taking a step forward.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” the man says with a puff of his cheeks. He stuffs his hands in his pockets. “It’s not nice to accuse people of things. Have I done anything? Are you sure you’re not dreaming?”

A haze of golden dust spreads across the room like twinkling stars. As you blink and rub at your eyes you yawn and feel a sudden urge to lay down.

“Mmm. I am sleepy…” you admit as you sink to your knees.

Yoongi looks down at you like you’ve grown two heads. “Y/N, what are you doing?”

You laugh and lazily grapple with his leg. “Come lay down. Please? It’s made out of feathers.”

Yoongi watches you close your eyes. Suddenly your body falls limp at his feet. He crouches down to cradle your face in his hands, your name an urgent plea on his lips. “Y/N. Y/N wake up.” He pinches your cheek but you don’t respond.

“She wants this to be a dream. Don’t you?” The man takes a few casual steps forward.

“No, I don’t,” Yoongi growls. The threat sounds odd coming from this body, tone too meek to pass for intimidating. He glares at the man after reluctantly tearing his eyes from your sleeping form. It may be his body on the floor there, but you’re trapped inside it. “Wake her up.”

“She’s tired!”

Yoongi rises to his feet and shields your unconscious form as the man creeps closer. “Don’t take another step. You’re going to regret it.”

“Threatening me? Hah… You’re pretty bold, considering you’re not really in a bargaining position. Spunky! I’ll give you that. Say, I’m curious. What do you think I am anyway? I’ve got a bet going and I know I’m gonna win because I’m right, but I need proof. So if you wouldn’t mind speaking into this...”

Out of his pocket comes a microphone. He holds it out like he’s giving the most intense interview of his life as he awaits Yoongi’s response.

“You’re… Some kind of trickster.”

The man sucks his teeth and shoves the microphone back in his pocket. “That’s not exactly what I had in mind. So much for my bet… Come on. Don’t you think I look more like a god?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you work for one,” Yoongi muses, “but you sure aren’t one.”

“Wooooow….” The man sighs in disbelief. “The disrespect! At least you’re honest. I can appreciate that. I— ”

The stranger’s body seizes up as he takes another step forward. ”Ow!” His body convulses for a second before he regains his faculties. He looks down to find the sigil scrawled in chalk around his feet. Try as he might to scrape the markings off with his heel, his shoes are unable to scuff the powder. He furrows his brows and throws his hands in the air.

“Really? Are you kidding me? An integrity prison? Where did you learn this?”

Holy fucking shit. It worked, Yoongi thinks. He’s never been more relieved in his life.

“Wake her up,” he repeats calmly.

“I was gonna,” the man pouts, slumping into a cross-legged sit. “But now I really don’t want to. Would it kill you to have manners? Look at this. You’ve put me in a difficult little pickle here.” He reaches behind his back and pulls out a jar full of dill pickles. He fishes one out and takes a loud, crunchy bite. “I was just having a little fun and now I’m stuck here, doomed to this ugly little space.”

Yoongi crosses his arms, quickly losing patience. “Stop being dramatic.”

The man glowers at him and crunches on the last bit of the pickle with slow, loud chewing.

Yoongi lets out an exasperated sigh. “Please, stop being dramatic.”

With a surprised nod, the man gulps down the pickle and hops to his feet. “Well, you said please, at least. Was that really such a big... dill?”

Right as Yoongi groans, the man snaps his fingers and flexes his pointers into finger-guns. You immediately yawn and sit up.

“What happened?” you mumble.

Yoongi offers you a hand and you take it, rising to unsteady feet. He wraps a hand around your waist to support your weight. “You took a nap but you didn’t miss much. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you murmur, the haze lifting from your sleepy eyelids. You gasp as your eyes focus on the man trapped between the center aisles. “Huh! We got him!”

“Yeah, yeah. Time to celebrate. You trapped me. Good job.” The sarcasm in his tone is evident, accompanied by a roll of his eyes. Confetti falls from above your heads, showering the pair of you in glitter and shiny streamers with the flick of his wrist. “Now let me out.”

You’re blown away by the bizarre moment, springing forward and out of Yoongi’s grasp. “Magic? Then, are you really… a god?”

The man pats his pockets frantically. “Finally! Someone with a sense for my greatness! Ugh! I should have been recording. Damn! Where’s my microphone?”

“Gods don’t get trapped with chalk,” Yoongi says, folding his arms and tapping his toe impatiently. “This guy is an underling. Hey! Don’t get too close!”

Your mouth hangs agape in awe as you approach the man. Scrutiny must be new for him because he seems stunned. That wide-eyed expression is erased quickly enough when he strikes a heroic pose, planting his hands on his hips and puffing his chest out. His pecs and shoulders seem to inflate when he inhales, causing them to swell into well-defined muscles.

“Oh.” You blink a few times, entranced by the sudden transformation. You reach your hand out as if to touch the meaty bicep practically bulging from his sleeve. “Who… What... are you, really?”

“Y/N!” Yoongi’s hands enclose around your waist, pulling you back into him just as your hand is about to break the barrier.

The man’s muscles deflate with his held breath as he bursts into a fit of squeaky laughter. “Oh! I almost had you!” He wheezes a squeaky sound through his inhale that you can only guess is laughter. He clears his throat. “My name is Jin. Matchmaker…” He holds up two matches in his hands and sets them alight with a flick of his wrist.

“Lover...” He winks and the matches disappear. In their stead are two roses. He tosses them at the two of you but when you go to catch yours it disintegrates.

Yoongi catches the disappointment on your face and thrusts the flower towards you, hoping it will restore the shine to your eyes. You give him a big, cheesy smile as you dust glitter from his hair.

“Ah… And! Balancing agent…” He stands on one foot as a seesaw appears to lift him into the air. He jumps down triumphantly with a bow. “At your service.”

You clap enthusiastically until you look over at Yoongi, who looks less than amused. You then nudge him with your elbow until he gives a solitary clap.

“What’s a balancing agent?” Yoongi asks dryly.

“We restore balance to the world. Things that are too uniform need a little chaos. Things that are too chaotic need to be put back into line. In our down time we like to have fun in our own ways. Me? I like to set people up.”

“So you’re not an Agent of Chaos?” you ask, disappointed that the conspiracy theorist page that led you to this point isn’t exactly the fountain of knowledge you had hoped for. There’s so much you don’t know.

Jin looks at you, clearly confused. “I mean some people call me Cupid, but I guess you can call me that. Has a nice ring to it. My powers are more inclined for chaos.”

“Cupid?”

“What? I’m a romantic. I can see the strings of fate! Also I may have a penchant for mischief, but that’s neither here—” He points at his feet. “Nor there!” He points at the shelf beside you which causes a bag of chips to burst, sending its contents everywhere.

“Hey!” Yoongi yells. “Are you going to pay for those?”

“Yoongi…”

“What?”

You can tell he’s irritated but clearly this guy can do a lot more than pop a bag of chips from across the room. You don’t want to fall on the bad side of his magic but you don’t exactly trust Yoongi’s mouth to keep you in Jin’s good graces.

“Stop being rude,” you whisper through clenched teeth.

He scoffs and answers you in a hushed tone. “How am I rude? He’s making a mess!”

“Then we’ll ask him to unmake it.” Your irritation heightens the volume of your voice to the point where it’s barely a whisper anymore.

“He’s playing with us. I’m through asking.”

“Yoongi.”

“Y/N.”

Jin laughs. “See, this is what I mean. Fate is practically screaming for me to help you. Chaos is just an added bonus for this boring town.”

You both look at him and ask in unison, “What?”

He points to the both of you. “Look.”

As you turn back to face Yoongi you’re shocked to see a pale blue orb glowing above his head. “Huh? What’s that?” You reach out to touch it but your hand passes through it without any change.

“You have one too,” he mumbles, squinting at the way a thin line seems to stem from it. Then he sees another. And another. It looks like a shiny, glittering web that splinters into a thousand different directions. His brows furrow as he inspects the tiny threads. “Do you see them?”

Your gaze follows his pointer and suddenly you can see the branching strands too, not just yours, but his as well. It’s beautiful. It’s overwhelming. It’s terrifying. Seeing the trepidation written on your face he silently beckons your attention to his finger, which is pointing to a thread that is golden instead of a pale blue hue. It’s the only one of its kind in the intricate glittering lattice between the two of you. You follow his pointer as it traces the path that stems from your orb until it gets closer to his and then you take over, finishing the path with your finger to the point where his orb engulfs the line.

“What is it?” you wonder aloud.

“A string of fate,” Jin answers with a wistful sigh. “It’s always exciting to see one, isn’t it? It means you’re soulmates.”

“Hah. Bullshit,” Yoongi responds, waving the air with his hands as if to disrupt the strings. They remain intact. “You just like causing mischief.”

Jin puffs his cheeks and scowls. “I can lie about a lot of things, but the strings aren’t one of them,” he huffs. “Why would I need to do that? What’s more unpredictable than true love slapping you in the face?”

He makes a motion with his fingers and sweeps them towards Yoongi.The compulsion rises and you’re powerless to stop it. Your hand moves of its own accord and lightly slaps Yoongi across the face. He looks betrayed as he rubs his cheek.

“I’m sorry! It wasn’t me!”

The tingle in your arm causes it to move back towards him in a gentle swoop. Your wrist is limp as it smacks into his chin and rubs back and forth as if to comfort him. Jin bursts into a fit of laughter as he breaks the compulsion.

Yoongi lets out an exasperated sigh, stomping up towards the circle around the stranger. “Just change us back and you can go on causing problems elsewhere.”

“I can’t,” Jin answers simply, crossing his arms. “The charm will break only under specific conditions.”

“And those are?”

Jin shrugs with his bottom lip protruding as he frowns. “It’s different for everyone.”

“Of course it is.” Yoongi sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, pacing back towards you.

“There are some things you can try. Staples of the trade.” Jin notes some dirt beneath his fingernails and begins cleaning them. “Number one. Have you tried talking about your feelings?”

Yoongi’s gaze settles on yours and it’s like you can feel your heart stop. Say something. You open your mouth to speak but the words won’t come so you snap your jaw shut and stare at the glitter on the floor.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Yoongi says as he folds his arms across his chest, trying to not get distracted by the breasts he inadvertently touches. He decides to drop his hands to his hips instead.

Jin rolls his eyes. “Okaaaay... Number two is filling the chaos meter. Go crazy. Do the unexpected.”

“I don’t know what we’d do,” Yoongi admits, pacing around the circle.

“What if we kissed?” The voice is soft and sweet.

He turns to face you, a combination platter of surprise and confusion. “But we did.”

“Reeeeally?”

Jin’s laughter makes him feel like a fool. He was convinced you said it, despite knowing your voice is not your own right now. How stupid could he be, walking right into that? He squeezes his eyes shut a moment and then focuses his attention on the captive.

While Yoongi is distracted you’re working a pack of mentos out of their packaging. You kneel down and twist the cap off one of the liters of cola placed on the endcap you. The hiss of the carbonation makes Yoongi shift attention.

Your name on his lips is half a warning, half a question loaded with uncertainty. You open another bottle beside it before he can get close enough and drop mentos into each. The liquid erupts into two fizzy fountains that reach the ceiling and spill back down to the floor. Yoongi takes off his hat and grips his hair like he wants to tear it out.

“What are you doing?”

“Filling the meter?” you answer meekly with a shug, stepping back from the puddle on the floor.

Jin roars with laughter. “Oh man. There is no meter, but that was delightful.”

Yoongi grumbles and goes back to the counter, grabbing the laptop and sinking down behind it to hide from the pandemonium of this situation.

“You’re the worst,” you mutter as you pass Jin. You quickly sit next to Yoongi on the floor.

“It was a joke!” Jin calls. “Come on, don’t leave me alone here.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize as his fingers rapidly tap the keys. “I’m trying to help.”

“I know.”

“What are you looking for?” you whisper.

Yoongi listens for a minute to the grumbling of the man trapped in the circle nearby. “How to trick a trickster. I have a feeling we need him to undo it but he won’t come out and say it.”

You sigh and press your chin against his shoulder. “I’m tired.”

He looks over and tips his head down to nuzzle his cheek against you. “I know.”

“Huh?” Your vision diverts to a shiny blue can beside him. “Are you serious?”

“Hmm? Oh yeah.” He picks it up and quickly downs the last sip, the Hot6 Logo shining back at you in mockery. “I found it earlier and needed a pick-me-up.”

“Did you find more?”

“Nope. Just the one.”

“But…” you pout. “I wanted it.”

He holds the empty can out to you. “It’s grown on me.”

“I’m about to die without the sweet taste,” you whine, shaking the can to make sure there’s nothing left.

“You’re so obnoxious.”

He rolls his eyes and cups your jaw, leaning in to press his lips against yours. You don’t protest when he dips his tongue past your lips to rub against yours. You can taste remnants of the drink on his tongue. If Hot6 wasn’t your favorite drink before this, it is now.

“Better?”

“Maybe. Still not sweet enough.” You giggle.

He takes the opportunity to kiss you again, crushing your mouth against his in a deeper kiss. You’re practically melting into him as his tongue glides against yours, moving in a rhythm that you now crave. It’s so easy to forget everything else, where you are, what’s happened to you. He moves to straddle your lap, grinding down intentionally as he grips the back of your neck. He knows you’re half-hard already and fuck if he doesn’t just want to have you again. You’re the only thing that feels real right now.

He pulls down the zipper of the hoodie you’ve given him to allow access to his neck. It’s not until he allows you to latch onto the sensitive flesh there, with his hands buried in your hair, that he notices the security mirror. You’re so hot. He wants to be in you so badly but he’ll settle for you being in him right now.

╭⋟────────────────────────╮

╰────────────────────────⋞╯

Suddenly he notices the other person in the mirror. Jin is sitting cross-legged on the floor in his invisible prison, resting his chin on a hand as he stares back through the reflection with eyebrows raised. Yoongi quickly clears his throat and climbs off of you. You blink in confusion at the disruption until he points at the mirror and then you cast your gaze at the floor.

“We should take care of this.” He runs his fingers through his hair to compose himself before placing the cap back on his head and focusing his attention back on the computer.

“Wow, you almost went there with me watching. That would have done it for sure,” Jin says, breaking into a grin.

“Come on!” you shriek, popping up from behind the counter. “Please, just change us back.”

“I told you. I can’t,” he repeats firmly. “I actually don’t lie as often as you seem to think I do. Maybe you should try having sex. They say the soul leaves your body for an instant when you reach the finish line, you know. It can’t hurt. Ohhhh wait a minute...”

He jumps to his feet after watching the guilt flash across your face. Your eyes seem to dart around him, but never land close enough to his. Blood rushes through your ears, drowning out all the sounds that aren’t your heartbeat.

He smiles wickedly. “Oh my god, you already did. I mean, I get it. Who wouldn’t be curious? It’s only human to wonder. Oh, to be human… Seriously, have you tried talking about your feelings?”

You turn towards Yoongi and crouch back on the floor, disappearing from Jin’s view. He steps on his tiptoes to try and see around the counter before settling back on the security mirror. You can’t help but focus on his nosiness.

“Yoongi. I... Look. Can we go in the back? I need to talk to you. Privately.”

Jin clicks his tongue and sighs as the pair of you cross the store and slip into the door that reads ‘EMPLOYEES ONLY.’ You breathe a sigh of relief when Yoongi locks the heavy door behind you. He bites at his nails--your nails as he waits for you to say whatever you need to. You take his hands into yours.

“Things are weird right now and not just because of this,” you hold up his hands in yours. “Are you regretting everything now?”

He smirks and gives you a small laugh. He slinks away to rub the back of his neck. “I don’t regret anything. I mean what I said. I care about you. I just… I get embarrassed, I guess.”

He’s embarrassed? You didn’t think he was capable with how blunt he normally is. “Sorry,” you mumble. “I’m insecure. Sexy, right?”

Time seems to slow as he draws near. There’s a lighthearted laugh on his lips before they meet yours. It feels like the first time all over again. Butterflies erupt in your stomach and you throw your arms around his neck, desperate to get closer even though you’re already pressed up against each other. You lean into him as you gasp in his hot breaths between kisses. To counteract the weight you’ve pressed against him, he pushes you backwards. Your arms fly back to catch yourself as you stumble but you knock into a freestanding shelving unit. Cans of soup clatter to the floor and roll off in various directions as Yoongi steadies the rack to keep it from falling.

He sighs, dropping his forehead to your shoulder in defeat. “We should focus.”

You whimper and will yourself to move the pair of you away from the wire rack. You run your fingers through your hair and attempt to compose yourself. Everything feels like a dream. It’s hard to think with him consuming the majority of your thoughts. You clear your throat, hoping your mind will also clear with the action.

“Hey,” he says, fingers on the latch. He pauses to lock eyes with you. “It might have seemed like the heat of the moment, but I really mean what I said. So tell me you’ll stick around after this is done?”

You run up and lace your fingers in his free hand before giving it a firm squeeze. “Promise.”

As he opens the door Jin jumps like you’ve startled him with your presence. “Whoa, I thought maybe you’d murdered one another. I heard a loud bang.” His gaze drops to your entwined hands. “What? Did you finally embrace destiny?”

“Destiny. No destiny. It doesn’t matter,” Yoongi says calmly as he squeezes your hand. “This could all be a dream. But we’re here now. We care about each other in this moment. That’s real. That matters.”

Jin does a slow clap while grinning from ear-to-ear. “Wow! It usually takes people a few days, maybe a week!” He looks at his wrist as though he’s wearing an invisible watch. “It’s been, what, a day? You did good.”

“Does that mean you’re going to help us now?” You perk up immediately.

“I mean I think you’ve helped yourselves. You look happy. You’re comfortable, right? Can’t you just let me go and keep existing like this?”

When he’s met with silence he sighs. “Ahh, well there is one more thing you can do, I guess. Have you tried checking your pockets?”

His suggestion is met with eyerolls from the both of you. While nonsensical, the unexpected has become a staple of your current state of existence and you feel you owe it to yourself to at least entertain the possibility. Your fingers slip into your pocket and explore the ridges of the hard object nestled against the fabric. Excitement courses through you as you pull your half of the locket from the confines of your sweatpants. Dumbfounded, Yoongi sticks a finger into his tight jeans and fishes the other half of the necklace out of his pocket.

“Hah, I can’t believe you didn’t even look,” Jin says with a laugh. “Now put them on, place the pieces together and say ‘Me Hoy Nimoy.’”

You exchange a skeptical look with Yoongi but you both comply and blurt the phrase soon after linking the pieces of the necklace together. You hold your breath, waiting for something spectacular to happen but disappointment soon floods your lungs. Just as you’re about to speak up, Jin clicks his tongue.

“Ah, close your eyes. It won’t work if you’re watching.”

Yoongi grumbles. “You’re fucking with us.”

“Hey, some magic is shy. Follow the rules. Do you think I’m just making this all up?” he pouts.

Your answer comes in unison with Yoongi’s: “Yes.”

Jin looks hurt as he clutches a hand over his heart and staggers backwards. “Woooooow. Well, just do one more thing then. ”

A devilish grin soon replaces the expression and his squeaky laughter fills up the store. He points at the pair of you with both fingers and wags his fingers in circles. You feel compelled to turn in place. Yoongi matches the uneasiness in your gut with the panic in his eyes. You both spin in circles away from one another. Once. Twice. Three times. Just as you’re about to complain about the nausea churning fresh waves in your belly, Jin waves his hands inwards.

You’re lifted into the air. The toes of your sneakers leave behind squeaky skidmarks of rubber on the tile as the pair of you are dragged forward. Jin cocks his head to one side and examines you with an expression of stone. For a split second you’re terrified but then he breaks into a grin and snaps his fingers. His thumbs and index fingers form the shape of a heart as he holds them out and you drop to the floor.

Yoongi reaches out for your shoulder. There’s a soft tremble to his fingers as he pulls you close to him. When you look upon his visage you can already see his jaw transforming, a thin stubble growing in along its perimeter. Every time you close your eyes to blink more of his face has morphed back into his own. You look down at your own fingers and watch as the nails narrow and elongate. A glossy pink hue returns to them but the polish looks slightly less finished with the way Yoongi has gnawed on the edges all day.

Suddenly Yoongi is frantically scrambling to his feet, kicking off his shoes and working the zipper down on his jeans. Everything is quickly growing far too tight. The hoodie you’d given him just barely covers his crotch as he stands up straight. He looks over at you with a relieved sigh and cups your jaw.

“You good?” he asks, rubbing the pad of his thumb across your chin. It takes all of your self-control to keep from licking it as it grazes your lip.

You nod, eyes falling to the necklace dangling over his sweatshirt. As soon as you reach out to yank it off, the trinket disappears in a puff of purple smoke with a clap of Jin’s hands. He holds them in place like a silent prayer just below his chin, a strained smile staining his face just above his fingers.

“So, here’s the thing. I’m gonna need you to hold up your end of the deal.”

“Fix my store first. Clean up this mess you’ve caused,” Yoongi says while taking a step in front of you.

Jin’s bottom lip protrudes into a pout as he eyes the puddle of cola on the floor. “I didn’t do that,” he complains under his breath.

It’s incredible how close he came to freedom, incredible and frustrating. His magic may not be able to touch or alter the circle, but you almost freed him with your ignorance. If the liquid had run close enough to seep into the chalk, he would be somewhere far more sunny and beachy right now. He’s earned a vacation for this milestone of success.

“Fiiiine,” he concedes.

With a snap of his fingers the store is spotless once more. While Yoongi inspects the area of the tile floor previously coated in cola and glitter, you glide your foot over the circle of chalk and break the seal that binds Jin to his current location.

“Finally…” he sighs, side-stepping out from the invisible barrier. “You’re welcome, by the way. Invite me to the wedding, okay? Don’t forget the little people who helped you on the way. As for me... I’ve got a date with the pearly beaches of Accord.”

He swirls his wrist in the air and the pair of ugly red mirrored sunglasses appear on his nose just in time for him to adjust them. He lowers the specs to give you a wink before snapping his fingers. Before you can even call out for him to wait, he’s gone in a puff of purple smoke that quickly dissipates. You’re left in stunned silence to contemplate your existence.

What are you supposed to make of everything?

As you stand there on the cusp of a mental breakdown, soft, velvety petals brush against your cheek to steal your attention. The scent of the flower overtakes your senses as Yoongi uses it to tickle your nose. You find him smiling back at you, almost like he’s too shy to speak, but then he does.

“Weird day huh? Can I have my pants back?”

You hum thoughtfully, making sure the shutters of the shop are still shielding you both from the outside world. “Would you mind if I wanted to get back in them later?”

He snorts, holding back a laugh. “Been waiting to use that all day?”

“No, I just thought of it right now. Aren’t I impressive?” you say, wiggling your eyebrows at him. You shimmy out of the sweatpants and leave them pooled on the floor, doing your best to walk past him with grace and seduction.

“So impressive.”

He offers an amused laugh when you bend over to pick up the garments he was so quick to discard when his transformation reverted. You spare a glance behind you to see if he’s looking at the way you so blatantly flaunt your ass. He’s in the middle of dragging his bottom lip through his teeth when your eyes steal his attention.

“Something wrong?” A wicked grin belies your innocent tone.

He exhales a long breath and shakes his head, turning his attention to pulling his pants up. “Impressive isn’t the word. You’re obnoxious.”

“Isn’t that your way of saying you wanna make out?”

He’s quiet as he takes off the remainder of your clothes to reveal a muscular chest riddled with goosebumps. It’s hard to hide how your grin spreads wider as he approaches with them in hand. You’ve had dreams like this: he’s shirtless, asking you to take off your clothes so he can fuck you in his store. Right here with your tits against the cold glass of the fridge. It would be a dirty secret only the two of you would know and you’d think about it every time you’d come in for your energy drink.

You slowly lift the hoodie from your own body, trying to appear as alluring as possible. You make sure to arch your back as your breasts briefly catch in the fabric and then drop against your ribs, completely exposed to the chilly air. Much to your dismay he’s quick to spin away from you and mutters a “thanks” instead of naughtier offers.

He’s aware you might mistake it for rejection, but he’s hoping you don’t see the way his fingers tremble. It’s incredible how scared he feels being back in his own skin. The intimacy of your connection left a void behind that’s quickly filling with disquiet. He feels incomplete without a piece of you with him, lost in the vast emptiness of himself. How can he feel such need for you? His chest aches with the possibility that he won’t ever feel whole again. The bravery that possessed him while piloting your body has waned. Now that normalcy is somewhat restored, he has the chance to start processing the events of the day. A part of him begins to embrace the panic he’d previously pushed down and his confession replays in his mind as though he’s just spoken it.

It was a bold move, especially given the situation. It could have ended horribly. He puffs out his cheeks and holds his breath, trying to remind himself that it didn’t. It’s okay to let go of the anxiety over it, but he still feels so uncertain. Even turned away from you and fully clothed, he’s never felt more exposed and vulnerable. He tries to hide the burning of his ears by running his fingers through his hair and shielding them with his arms. He has to bring himself back or else you’ll be talking him down from a panic attack and he doesn’t want you to see him like that.

Stupid. Stop throwing yourself at him. You struggle to put on the tight clothing as quickly as possible. Tears threaten to fall as you awkwardly wiggle your jeans back and forth up your thighs and over the swell of your ass. You make sure to swipe at the corners of your eyes before clearing your throat to signify you’re fully changed. He spins to face you but everything he means to say gets lost on the way to his mouth. He freezes, overwhelmed by how beautiful you are even in this shitty lighting, and how thankful he is to be able to see you through his own eyes.

His heart pounds at the confines of his chest like it needs to burst from within. There’s a small burst of adrenaline that plumes from the explosion of butterflies in his stomach. It fills him with the courage he needs to close the distance between you with a kiss, the kind of kiss he’s been dreaming of giving you for months. Right here in this store.

He loves how eager you are to reciprocate when he tangles his fingers in your hair. He holds you there like you’re about to melt away in a puff of smoke. Your lips are so soft, so sweet, so warm pressing against his. His tongue rolls over yours, desperate to keep tasting and feeling more. You grasp behind his neck and dig your fingernails into his shoulder as he deepens the kiss. When you roll your hips towards him as a subtle test for determining his hardness, you can feel him smile against your lips.

“Not in the store.” He gives you one more chaste kiss and pulls back just enough to allow you both to breathe. He adjusts one of the boxes on the nearby shelves. “You already drive me crazy. If we do it here I’m going to be thinking about it every time I’m stocking shelves.”

“Yoongi…” you whine. “Please tell me you’re keeping it closed for the day.”

He sighs as he plucks his phone from the counter to check the time. “Might as well.”

“Can I walk you home?” You chew on your lip as you wait for his response. What you wouldn’t give to spend the night with him.

Unable to hide the smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, he nods his head towards the exit. “Why would we waste our time?”

Your heart sinks into your butt, thinking this must be it. He changed his mind after all. He hates you. There’s no doubt about it now. All you can manage is a squeaky, “Hmm?”

He rests his palm on the handle of the door and he presses his lips into a thin line, looking wide eyed. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so adorably hopeful and embarrassed at the same time. “You live closer.”

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The comforter at your back is soft and cool to the touch as you scramble to settle yourself against the pillows. Yoongi wastes no time wiggling off his sweatpants and climbing over you. The sound of your panting mingles with his as he hovers above you with his lips parted, trying to catch his breath. If the hurried ascent up the stairs wasn’t enough to have him gasping for air, the makeout session just inside your front door definitely has him devoid of oxygen. This still feels like a dream, but it’s one he doesn’t ever want to wake up from.

"How do you want it?" he whispers. He glides a finger up your thigh and lightly traces circles around your labia.

Your mind travels back to your earlier experience of coming undone and suddenly your stomach is doing flips.

"Just like this," you answer. "I want to feel you just like this. Do you remember where to touch?"

He nods, skimming his parted lips over yours while he places his finger over the hood of your clit. "Like this, right?"

"More pressure," you plead, working your hips in circles to coach his movements.

He does as you instruct and clamps his mouth over yours in a futile attempt to find relief for the aching need to be inside of you. He grinds himself against your side, his cock rubbing against your soft, heated skin as he tries to remember the exact motions needed to elicit enough pleasure to make you cum. He doesn't have to wait long until frenzied, weak moans are vibrating against his mouth so he turns his attention to your neck. He wants to hear how fucked out you are. He wants to hear how badly you want to cum. He wants to feel you pulse around his fingers.

As he plunges a thick finger deep into your cunt, a pathetic, desperate sound escapes you. "Oh, fuck."

"Feel good?" he mumbles into the hollow space between your neck and shoulder.

"Please. Please. Please. Please," you whimper incoherently, bucking your hips to meet each thrust of his finger. You can feel his cock rutting against your side and all you can do is imagine that he's pumping it into you instead of his fingers. "Oh fuck, Yoongi."

His lips twitch into a smile as he feels you tighten around his finger. He kisses your neck and sinks a second finger carefully inside you. You allow your head to fall against the pillow and bite your lip to try to contain the drawn out needy groan already helplessly spilling out of you. So close. Your back arches off the mattress and he wishes he wasn't so concentrated on the motions of his hands right now because he would absolutely love to be tonguing your perfect tits.

He pants against your skin and looks at them longingly. Maybe he can manage it? He's determined to use what he's learned about your body to help you cum, but not yet. You can't help but whine at the loss as he repositions himself, which breaks the sightline you had on your orgasm.

"Yoooongi... I was close..." You whimper when he abandons your cunt entirely to press your tits together. His mouth is hot as it clamps down on your nipple, giving the peak a hard suck before dragging it through his teeth.

"I know. Wanna make you cum with my tongue," he murmurs into the supple flesh.

He swipes his fingers along your cunt and swirls the wetness over your clit before bringing it to his mouth. You can already see how they glisten in the low light of your bedroom. The low moan that rumbles its way from his throat has you rocking your hips up against his pelvis as he settles between your legs. Your silent grinding isn't enough of a confirmation. He wants to hear you say it.

"Can I go down on you?" He blurts the shameless question while alternating between kissing both of your breasts and only pauses to meet your eyes.

You want to feel him everywhere but mostly you want his mouth on yours while he’s balls deep inside you. You don’t even care if you cum because being with him like this feels good. Being with him fills your heart with giddy hope and your stomach with butterflies. Being with him is enough. You want to tell him that but instead you nod and whimper out a pathetic “please.”

He wastes no time dipping his head down between your thighs to press the flat of his tongue against your clit. A low growl escapes with his exhale before he puckers his lips to kiss the soft skin and breathe in the heavy scent of your arousal. You’d be embarrassed if his tongue didn’t feel so magical. It glides against you so effortlessly, bringing pleasure with every quick flick against you.

Your hands dive into his hair and you start rolling your hips to grind his face harder against you. He doesn't seem to mind though. In fact he seems to embrace the motion, wrapping his arms around your thighs and pulling you in as closely as possible. If you weren't so preoccupied with the orgasm building just below the surface of the place where his tongue keeps hitting then you might worry that he's suffocating himself. Right now all you can focus on is the pleasure threatening to break you open and leave you spilling a million curses into the air around you.

"Yoongi. Fuck. I'm close," you warn, as if the frantic way you've twirled his hair around each of your fingers isn't enough to tip him off. Do you really think he can't feel the shaking of your thighs in this moment?

He hums a sound like he doesn't hear you, but he doesn't let up at all. He keeps his pace steady for you as you approach your end once again. Your nails scratch against his scalp but he doesn't mind. He actually really likes the way you're losing your mind over the simple things he's doing with his tongue right now. He can't even begin to imagine the pretty sounds that might spew from your lips with practiced effort but he knows he can't wait to hear them.

Suddenly your hand flies up to pound the wall behind you and you announce the wave of pleasure coursing through your clit through the use of a loud string of expletives. He can feel the way your flesh pulses beneath his tongue and he revels in it. You ride his face so well. You can ride it for as long as you want as often as you want. He wants to tell you that but he also wants you to ride out your high for as long as it lasts, so he lets you buck your hips and raise your cunt off the bed. He lets you thrash around through the sensitivity until you're finally pushing his face off with both hands.

"Good? Do you need more?" he verifies, rising from between your legs to deliver a messy, wet kiss to your lips. He smirks through it, knowing he really doesn't need to ask at all to know the answer.

"Cheeky fuck," you murmur, not bothering to even attempt to hide your matching grin against him. "I need it."

"What do you need?" His fingers trail a soft line down your side, reminding you that his teasing nature is simply a front for his caring heart.

"I need you inside me." Your breathing is spotty as you pepper kisses along his jaw. "Like this. I want you to feel me the way I felt you."

It doesn't take long until you're tasting yourself on his lips again. He shifts slightly and you know he's lining himself up with your entrance when you feel the swollen tip of his fat cock nudging at your hole. He's slow to thrust into you. In fact he stills, only giving you shallow, teasing thrusts. He favors letting you wiggle down just a little bit to coax him in. He smiles against your lips and pushes in further, giving you that stretch you were hoping for.

When you suck in a sharp breath he pulls out, but as soon as you whine in protest, he's already carefully moving to slide it back in. The slow stretch has your jaw dropping open and he takes the opportunity to bite on your lower lip. You take the bait and feed him hungry kisses until he’s completely buried inside of your tight cunt. He takes a moment to growl a low sound that has you clenching around him.

“So tight,” he whispers, pausing to curl an arm beneath your head.

He presses the back of your hand against the mattress as he twines his fingers with yours. He drives himself deeper into you with each slow thrust and it feels like he still can’t get close enough. So you raise your other arm above you and angle it until you’re linking your fingers with the ones beneath your head. You kiss his cheek and savor the intimate moment.

When he lazily sinks into your cunt again you crack a smile. “Can't you fuck me harder than that?"

"Mmm." He lifts his head and seems to accept your challenge. His hips pull out slowly and suddenly slam back into you. This sets a new fervent pace that has you squeezing both of his hands. "What do you think? Is this better?"

You do little to actually answer his question and instead offer a slew of swears and moans each time his balls slap against your ass. "Shit. Fuck, fuck fuck. Yoongi..."

"What kind of answer is that?" he asks innocently.

"God, your cock..."

"Mhm," he prods.

"Feels so good, Yoon."

He chuckles. "Yoon... Cute."

"I'll show you cute," you huff.

"Oh?"

You release his hands in favor of pressing your palms against his chest. He pulls out and before you can miss the way he fills you, you're flipping him down on the mattress. You swing a leg over his pelvis and straddle him. It takes you a moment to properly position yourself. You give his length a few pumps in your hand before lining it up with your entrance.

"Careful," he warns, planting his hands on your thighs. "Don't wear yourself out."

You sink down quicker than you probably should. You're eager to make him cum faster than he did for you. The wetness in your core seeps down in translucent trails down your inner thighs. Your own brand of lubricant seems to be enough to keep the stretch pleasurable. Yoongi bites his lip as he gazes down at the way you're bouncing on his cock. You know how good it feels for him, especially with how hard your pussy is squeezing him.

"Don't worry about me."

The sensory overload building in your gut coated with the memory of the unique experience. It mixes with the high threatening to burn its way from your core. You take a deep breath and exhale loudly before you continue. You revel in a slow descent, memorizing every kind of way the stroke makes you feel. Then you begin to quickly draw him in and out of your cunt. The obscene sounds of wet, rapid slapping fill the room.

After a few minutes you've finally got a good rhythm down. Despite the cramp throbbing down your obliques, he's hitting that sweet spot inside you at just the right angle. If you didn't know any better you'd think you're about to cum again. You steady yourself on his chest and trail your hand to his stomach to maintain your balance. Trying to keep the unrealistic pace you'd previously set for yourself is proving difficult, but you swear you're feeling like maybe you're about to crest into the biggest climax of your life. Then again, it could certainly be the biggest letdown now that you're aware of it. Your orgasms have left you for less.

Yoongi knots his eyebrows together in concentration and he reaches down to rub circles against your clit. His fingers are clumsy and new to this angle but they're feather light. He can see in your face that you're chasing some great new high and he just wants to help you achieve it without overdoing it. He knows how shy your cunt is about giving you orgasms so he really wants to do it right. Is this right? He figures you'll tell him if it isn't.

You moan weakly in response. Suddenly, you know it's coming. You can feel it building every time his hips slap up to meet yours. "Oh my fuck."

His abdominal muscles flex beneath your palm and he forces his breaths through his nose as he struggles to keep himself composed. Your cunt is squeezing him so tightly that he knows he's on the brink of his own release but he's determined to help you feel as good as you make him feel.

"That's it. Cum for me again." He tries to coax it with those strong pleas, but his voice is broken with an inhale sharp enough to cut his words.

Both of your thighs are coated in slick sweat. You don't think you've ever felt so fucking wet in your life. He glistens just as much in the dim light so you know between the two of you there's a puddle of sweat soaking your sheets. It's easy to forget how gross or embarrassing it is when the tip of his cock rubs against your g-spot so well. Right now the only thing that matters is getting relief for this pressure building behind your clit.

Despite the shakiness of his fingers, he's able to coax it out of you. Your trembling thighs feel like an earthquake that's finally reached its peak tremor and you find yourself crying out and bouncing to the rhythm of your spasming cunt. You chant your praises and curses in the same breath. His name is a drawn out breathy expression of gratitude and bliss. As soon as you slump forward to kiss him he takes your hands in his own and frantically pumps himself up into you. He can still feel the involuntary flex of your cunt even after you've clearly expended every ounce of your energy reaching and literally riding out your second orgasm.

"Can I cum inside?" he asks between frantic breaths.

"Well, you're not gonna make it to these tits," you tease with a smirk. You may be spent but you'll always have the energy to give him shit. "Do it."

"So fuckin hot," he mumbles against your lips.

The muffled grunts expelled against your mouth and the slow, deliberate snap of his hips leave you in a state of surreal euphoria. He squeezes your hands in his along with his release to let you know this is real. You're here with him. When he comes down from his high he kisses you gently one more time and pulls back to look at you. You take the break in physical connection to roll off of him and stretch out your aching calves and let the air from the fan cool your skin. The tingling in your legs tells you not to get up right now, as much as the fear of a UTI screams at you to do the contrary. Instead you turn your head towards Yoongi and he smiles at you. Sleep threatens to take you when he begins to stroke your hair.

"If you'd have told me last week I'd feel this close to someone, I'd have laughed at you," he starts in a quiet voice, "but I feel really close to you. I'm glad this insanity happened to us."

"Me too." You can't help but smile back. "I don't want to go to sleep because I'm afraid you'll be gone when I wake up. What if this is a dream?"

"Then I'll find you when I wake up. You'd better find me too."

"What if we forget?"

He grabs your hand and runs his thumb over your knuckles. "I won't forget."

"Promise?"

"Mhm." He closes his eyes, clearly every bit as exhausted as you are. He's quiet for a minute and you think maybe he's already fallen asleep until he peeks out from under his eyelids. "... I think you need glasses."

"What?"

"I was just thinking. I felt like I was squinting all the time when I was you. Maybe that's why it took you so long to see how I felt." He shows off a big, toothy grin.

"Wow that guy really rubbed off on you, huh?"

You smack him in the face with a pillow when you get up.

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╰────────────────────────⋞╯

The muffin and can of Hot6 sit on the counter, guarded by Yoongi's forearm.

"Wow, you already have my stuff ready? Is this the kind of perk I get for dating the owner?" you wonder.

He rolls his eyes. "Not yours until you pay for it."

"You're so sweet, not eating my muffin this time."

He drags his lip through his teeth and tries to hold back a devilish smirk. "I've found better things to eat, don't you think?"

Your heart thumps against your chest and you do your best to remind yourself that offering to suck his dick behind the counter is not what you should be doing in this situation. But you want it so bad. He watches your internal struggle with raised eyebrows and a smug smile. He slides the energy drink towards you.

"Here. This is on me today. You look a little thirsty."

Your shoulders raise and then deflate with your sigh. "Do you even want me to come back later?"

"What? It's free for you. You should be happy."

"And the muffin? What do I owe for that?"

He mimics your dramatic sigh and places it before you. "It's crazy. Your boyfriend offered to pay for that too."

"He's so generous." You shake your head but it can't keep the grin from your face. "Lots of free stuff today."

"It's a... special for today only. So don't get used to it or anything. But there is one more thing we're having a sale on, if you're interested."

"Hmm?"

"Free of charge, for you only." He taps his lips with both pointers, looking impossibly cute. His charm is devastating, really.

He cracks a smile and you feel yours grow impossibly wider. You lean over the counter and give him a sweet kiss.

"How long does this offer last?"

"As long as you want."

"Forever."

"Forever, it is." He gives you one more quick peck. "I've gotta mop the floor and you're gonna be late for work."

"Ugh. Wanna trade?"

He purses his lips and gives your hand a little squeeze. "Not a chance."

#smutcentralnet #yoongi smut #bts smut #similarly sequestered #yoongi fic #yoongi x reader

[keanureevesisbae]

But professor… - c.7

Summary: Penny discovers something

Professor!Walter Marshall x Penny Townsend (Asian ofc)

Wordcount: 3.3k

Warnings: Mentions of sex

Masterlist // But professor… masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter

It’s February now and I officially quit school. Never in a million years did I think that I would be good enough for it anyway and when I went back after Christmas break, I realized I wasn’t in the right place at all. Ever since I dropped out, I have been looking into cosmetology school and how to tell my parents about this sudden change.

Walter is getting ready to teach for today and is going to drop me off at the mall, because I need to buy a few things. Since I have yet to move out of the dorm, I need at least some boxes and just some other items.

‘Princess, you look absolutely gorgeous,’ Walter says, patting my butt through my jeans.

I squeal, before turning around, slapping him across his chest. ‘Don’t do that,’ I laugh.

‘Why not?’ He wraps his arms around my waist and lifts me up. ‘You’ve got a cute butt.’

After I triple checked if I have everything, the two of us leave his loft and walk downstairs towards the garage, his hand securely wrapped around mine. Like usual, he opens the door for me and kisses me the second he got in his truck as well. It’s becoming a thing now and it’s weird if he doesn’t do it.

Walter holds my hand as he drives towards the mall. ‘Princess, how about you and I get you moved in the middle of the night? So I can help you carry some boxes.’

‘I can ask someone to help me,’ I say. ‘Maybe just call someone from one of those services. Please, I don’t want to risk running into someone I might possibly know.’ When I notice he isn’t liking it, I say: ‘Please, Walter, don’t sweat it. I can move out myself.’

‘I know, I know,’ he grumbles. ‘It’s just that I want to help you out.’ He presses a kiss on my hand and leans back in his seat. ‘You look beautiful.’

‘Do you need to tell me that every opportunity you get?’

‘Yes,’ he simply says. ‘Come on, princess, scoot a little closer.’

It’s been a few weeks since he got the truck fixed, so I could sit closer to him. I unbuckle myself, before sliding over to his side. He wraps his arm around my shoulders and I close my eyes after I strapped myself into the seatbelt. ‘You’re so needy,’ I chuckle.

‘I’m not needy, I just love you. Need you as close as possible, darling.’

His arm feels heavy on my shoulders and when we’re close to the mall, I say: ‘Do you need anything?’

‘Maybe some snacks, but I’ll leave that up to you.’ He gives me a long kiss, before I get out of the truck.

‘I love you,’ I say.

‘I love you too, princess. Text me when you’re back at the loft, okay?’

‘Will do.’

✎ ✎ ✎

Shopping was nice, until I had to throw up. That never happened to me before. I think in my entire life I have vomited only once, until today. I stare at the stomach contents that are floating in the toilet. I can’t think of eating anything that has made this nauseous I need to puke.

Why would anyone vomit? The only reasons I can imagine is food poisoning, a stomach bug or being pregna—

Oh.

Could it be?

I flush the toilet and with the moving boxes that I have yet to fold into boxes, I walk through the shopping mall to the drugstore. I ask the woman behind the registry if I can have a pregnancy test and she simply nods. I don’t know what I was expecting (maybe the woman first completing a three hour interview before handing me a test, I don’t know), but after I paid for it and hid it in my purse, I walk out of the mall.

What if I’m pregnant? I mean, yes, I did skip a period, but that is not new to me. I mean, I’ve been pretty regular all my life, minus a few times. Normally me skipping a period didn’t make me suspect anything, since I wasn’t having sex, nor was I the next virgin Mary, but now…

Walter and I have been having sex quite a lot. I mean, it’s always with a condom of course, but even those are not one hundred percent effective.

I might be naive from time to time, but I’m not that stupid to unrealistic about the effectiveness of condoms.

The bus ride back to the loft couldn’t be any longer and when I finally arrive at Walter’s place (soon to be ours), I quickly text him I’m home, before hiding into the bathroom. Buying one was weird, peeing on a stick is weirder.

As I wait for the two minutes to pass by, I think about what to do. Would I have a baby at this age? I mean, I’ve always wanted kids and maybe now is a good time? Okay, no, it’s not absolutely ideal (the timing couldn’t have been more off), but… I’m not in school right now and—

Oh no, that’s just me being selfish and only thinking about my situation. I haven’t even thought about Walter yet. We never spoke about having kids, because I don’t think you are supposed to do that this early on in your relationship.

Right?

Oh my goodness, this is too much for me to think about. Let’s just wait until I see what the test says. I mean, there is a possibility I’m not pregnant and just a little bit late with my period and caught a stomach bug. Why think about all sorts of scenarios when there is a chance that it’s not applicable to me.

I grab the test and discover it has two strips. After a quick examination of the box I discover that…

I’m pregnant.

✎ ✎ ✎

Six hours. Six hours have passed by since I took the first test. In that time, I went back to the drugstore, to buy another one and peed on that one as well. They say there is no such thing as a false positive, but I’d rather be too sure.

And that one was also positive.

So naturally I spend my time wisely until Walter came home. I’ve been pacing through the loft, looked online how to tell your partner that you are pregnant and I ate some watermelon.

Walter walks in with a deep frown between his brows, but that disappears when he sees me. ‘Princess,’ he says, ‘you have no idea how much I missed you.’ He sits next to me on the couch and gives me a kiss. The frown appears again when he takes in my expressions. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘I’ve got something to tell you.’

He nods. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Yes, it’s just that… I don’t know. It’s kinda huge.’

He places his arm on the backrest, while his other hand takes mine. ‘Tell me, princess.’

Don’t beat around the bush, just tell him. ‘I’m pregnant, Walter.’

If it were possible, I’d suspect someone pressed on pause, because Walter completely froze. He tries to find some words for it, however nothing seems to leave his lips. I mean, what am I expecting from him? I’m trying to figure out whether or not I should be happy or scared.

‘Oh,’ he finally says. ‘And you’re planning to keep the baby or not?’

I nod. ‘I do and I understand that it’s too soon for us and that you won’t want to stay. I really understand that, Walter. I’m so sorry.’

Walter scoffs and actually looks super offended. ‘I do not understand why you think I wouldn’t stay, because I’m going to be right by your side, every step of the way.’ He squeezes in my hand and says: ‘You will never get rid of me that easily, princess.’

I let out a nervous chuckle, realizing how stupid it was of me to actually think he wouldn’t stay. I mean, we’re talking about Walter here. ‘I’m sorry,’ I say, ‘for just assuming. It’s just that my brain is working overtime. I might be a little scared.’

He nods. ‘I understand. It’s quite a lot, but let’s think about one thing first, okay?’ His lips curl up into a smile and says: ‘We’re going to be parents.’

When someone else says it, it’s even more meaningful. My eyes fill with tears as realization hit that I am indeed gonna be a mom and that Walter is staying, thus becoming a dad.

Walter pulls me closer and gives me a kiss on my forehead. ‘Princess, it’s okay.’

‘I know, but it’s so scary. So much is gonna change.’

He nods. ‘Nothing we can’t handle though.’ He pulls me on his lap and gives me another peck, this time on my lips. ‘Now we really need to get you out of that dorm. This weekend I’ll make sure someone is gonna help you with moving and you’re gonna stay right here with me.’

I smile. ‘I can’t wait.’

‘And,’ he says, ‘do you really want to go to cosmetology school now? We can always arrange something when the baby is here.’

‘I kinda want to focus on the pregnancy first, since I have no idea what to expect.’

‘Alright,’ he says, ‘then we’ll wait with that.’ He places his hand on my flat stomach and says: ‘Oh shit, Penny, I’m gonna be a dad.’

I can’t help but squeal when I think about it a while longer. ‘And I’m gonna be a mom.’

✎ ✎ ✎

It’s only obvious that we have to tell my parents. After I had my first scan, I realize that I really shouldn’t push the matter and just tell them, especially because the baby is healthy and I’m out of my first trimester at fifteen weeks of pregnancy. Besides, I also officially live with Walter and those nerves are slowly becoming less and less prevalent.

My bump is minuscule, but that doesn’t stop Walter from continuously placing his hands on it when he can. It doesn’t matter what we’re doing, his hands are always on my stomach, but that’s okay. It’s sweet to see the demeanor of the detective change from someone who always has a figurative thunderstorm hanging above his head, to someone with childlike happiness.

We’re driving to Maryland now and we’ve been on the road for a mere forty-five minutes, when I say: ‘I have to pee.’

Walter starts to laugh loudly. ‘Again? Princess, you went three times back at home.’

Home. That shouldn’t make me giggly, but sure does. ‘I know, but I have to go again.’

‘Lucky you there’s a gas station right here.’ He gets off the road and parks his car. ‘Want something to eat, princess?’

‘Some orange juice, chips and chocolate.’

He simply nods and tells me to stay put. As usual, he opens the door for me. He was already very chivalrous when we just started dating, but pregnancy has multiplied it by a hundred. He securely places his hand on the small of my back and like the true detective he is, he checks everything and everyone in the gas station, before he says: ‘I’ll be right here, princess.’

I squeeze his hand, a silent thank you, before walking off to the restrooms to pee. After I washed and dried my hands, I exit the restrooms, to see Walter is already waiting for me, with all the snacks I wanted and even some more.

It’s nice to know that he still loves me a lot, even after we spend so many weeks together.

Once we’re back in the car, I let out a deep sigh.

‘Princess, you okay?’

‘Yeah, I’m good. Just tired.’

‘Why don’t you sleep?’ he suggests. ‘I’ll let you know once we’re close.’

I groan. ‘No, because that is so boring and I’ve been boring for so many weeks now.’

He scoffs. ‘You’re not boring, you’re pregnant. You’re allowed to be tired, princess and please just catch up on some sleep now.’

I hold his hand in mine, as I close my eyes and drift off to a light sleep. Walter doesn’t need to wake me up, because after an hour or so my eyes flutter open and I smile. ‘We’re almost there?’

‘Maybe an hour?’

I grab some of the snacks and feed Walter, as he continues to watch the road. I once saw how he drove, because we were video calling then. It was fast, hasty and in my opinion not very safe. When he drives with me, he doesn’t ignore the speed limits and is very very safe.

Imagine if there’s a child in the back, I bet he’ll drive just as safe, if not safer.

He places his hand on my stomach and says: ‘I’m not gonna lie, but I’m kinda nervous to meet your parents.’

‘You are?’ I ask. I thought nervous wasn’t in his dictionary. ‘Why?’

‘I don’t know, it’s just nerve wracking. Not only have I never met them, but I also got you pregnant. That usually doesn’t do well.’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t worry,’ I say. ‘My parents are very open minded. Besides, my mom and I used to watch Sixteen and Pregnant and she always said that despite not having to worry about that since I lived like a nun back then, she’d love a grandchild. So, I think we’re good. Also, my dad is probably a little scared of you. He is not that tall.’

Walter chuckles. ‘Well, maybe this’ll go well.’

‘It’ll go splendid, Walter,’ I say, ‘really. If my parents see how well you take care of me, then there is nothing to worry about.’ I place my hand on his and whisper: ‘They’ll love you.’

He smiles. ‘Good. Alright, let me get this straight one last time: we met at a coffee place, right?’

‘Correct,’ I chuckle.

The last part of the drive goes by fast and before we get out of the truck, I put on a sweater to hide the little bump. Walter unbuckles himself and his hand slips underneath the thick fabric, placing it on my tiny bump. He leans forward to press a kiss on it and says: ‘I can do this forever. I might have to quit my job, so I can do this whenever I want.’

I roll my eyes. He has been taking this dad thing so serious and while sometimes it’s very cheesy, I love him for it. Really, I couldn’t have asked for a better man to start having a family with. Is it pretty short notice, being only together a little over four months? Yes, of course, but that’s okay. I feel like the two of us can actually handle it. ‘We should go.’

We get out of the car and when we walk up to the door (Walter holding our luggage, since my mom insisted we stayed in the house I grew up in) my parents open the it and mom runs up to me.

‘Oh, honey, there you are!’ She gives me a hug and I hold back a little, so she won’t feel my bump against her body. I give my dad a hug as well and they look both hopeful and a little nervous when they see Walter.

‘Mom, dad, this is my boyfriend Walter. Walter, these are my parents, Lance and CC.’

Walter is polite, a role that fits him so well, yet I barely see it. He is always so sweet and kind to me, so grumpy and annoyed when it comes to my classmates and so neutral when it’s others. Now it changes a bit. He smiles, he shakes my parents’ hands and from the look of their faces, he isn’t over squeezing it (I actually had to tell him that). ‘Nice to meet you,’ Walter says. ‘You have a lovely looking home.’

‘Oh, aren’t you a dear.’ Mom ushers us to come inside and Walter places his hand on my back, as we follow them inside. I give him a little nod, a sign that it is all going well.

And, it actually goes really well. My parents are in love with Walter and he is slowly warming up to them, eventually even cracking some jokes. We talked about how the two of us “met”, what Walter does for a living (currently he is working at the police department in New York and not as professor at NYU) and a little bit about my parents’ work. Of course, the subject school came up once or twice, but I kinda chickened out telling them I actually quit.

I clear my throat and say: ‘I actually have some news.’

Walter finds my hand underneath the table and gives me a reassuring squeeze.

‘What is it, honey?’ mom asks.

I look at Walter, whose eyes say it all: I’m ready when you are. ‘Well,’ I whisper, ‘I… I’m pregnant.’

Oh no, they’re silent. Oh my gosh, how are they going to react? I bet they’re mad. Oh, shit, my dad is clenching his jaw. They are totally mad.

‘Are you serious?’ my mom asks, blinking a few times.

I nod. ‘Fifteen weeks.’

‘Oh my goodness,’ mom says. ‘Honey, that is amazing. I am so happy for you.’ She stands up from the table and walks over to me. I give her a hug and she whispers: ‘You’ll be a fantastic mom.’ She pulls back and squeals something about becoming a grandmother. She places her hand on my stomach. ‘Oh my, a little bump. Honey, this’ll go fantastic. I am sure you and Walter will become magnificent parents. That reminds me, Walter, give me a hug. You’re officially part of the family, now. Congratulations, sweetheart.’

Walter stands up and gives my mom a tight hug. Dad walks up to me and holds my face in his hands. ‘You’re gonna be an amazing mother,’ he says.

‘You think so?’

‘I don’t think so, I know so.’ He gives me a kiss on my forehead and says: ‘Is this also a right moment to tell me you quit school?’

My eyes enlarge. ‘How did you know?’

‘You can maybe fool your mom, but you can never fool me, sweetheart. You know, you focus on your pregnancy now. You can always go back to school.’

I let out a sigh of relief. Thankfully he is pretty cool about me just quitting. We’ll talk about eventually going to cosmetology school a little bit later on. ‘I love you, dad.’

‘I love you too.’

✎ ✎ ✎

That night, Walter and I are in my old room, squeezed in my two person bed (that is a little slimmer than the one back in the loft) and we reminisce about the evening. It went more than splendid, even when my mom forced me to take off my sweater so she could see the bump. She called at least ten friends to tell them she is gonna be a grandmother and that the child will be gorgeous and lovely, though they have yet to be born.

Walter turns to his side so he can look at me and says: ‘Okay, I have a proposition,’ he says, ‘and I want your honest opinion.’

‘Okay.’

‘How about, you and I move to Maryland?’

Is he serious? ‘Really?’

‘Really. I could see how happy your parents were with the pregnancy and maybe… Maybe they’d like it if you would be closer to them. Besides, I can arrange something and work in Maryland. It’s not like I’m bounded to New York. For that matter, I actually really want to leave that place, because if I see that slimy ass Fitzgerald one more time…’

While I start to laugh because of his personal vendetta against Fitzgerald, my hormones are also all over the place, because I bawl my eyes out only a second later.

‘Princess, don’t cry. This is good news.’ He presses kisses on my temple and cheek, kissing my tears away. ‘But I’ll take that as a yes?’

I nod. ‘I would love that, Walter. Thank you.’

#henry cavill #walter marshall #walter marshall fanfic #walter marshall x ofc #walter marshall x oc #walter marshall x asian ofc #walter marshall x penny townsend #asian ofc #penny townsend #but professor

[huihuiheart]

Claiming - Hybrid! San

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Ateez Masterlist

Pairing: Tiger Hybrid! San x Female Reader

Genre: Smut + Fluff

Summary: Part 2 of Obvious - San’s heat is coming to an end and he’s finally ready to hear your explanation for the events that brought it on in the first place. He also realizes though that some of those feelings he had during the week weren’t just his heat talking.

Warnings: The implied cheating from part 1 is explained, unprotected sex, marking, dom/sub themes, oral (f! receiving), degradation, dirty talk, cursing, soft and hard dom San, biting, claiming, blood, slapping (one to the thigh).

Word Count: 2,884

Note: This was finished and edited on breaks between my first day of a new job, with only three hours of sleep in my body, so it might be a mess. If you have concerns or things that seem like they need to be fixed please send me an ask or pm to resolve it.

“A-All yours! I’m your filthy fucking slut! Your kitten! S-San please!” You wonder if you’ve done enough as he only curls his tongue into you once before pulling away again. When he’s flipping you over though and placing your hips on the highest part of the armrest to show your ass off you already know what he’s planning, “F-Fuck yes! San please, please fuck me so good! Show everyone who owns this pussy!”

San laughs breathlessly as he strips behind you, playfully spanking your ass as he teases his tip through your fold before gripping your hips harshly and suddenly thrusting all the way into you. Leaning down with a smirk he kisses the shell of your ear before whispering.

“Oh, I will, kitten. You’ll be dripping my cum for days.”

You stirred by the feeling of fleeting kisses against the sensitive marks littering your neck. Your quiet whimper makes San slow his pace, being more gentle in the way his lips and tongue soothe at the marks he so harshly left behind over the last few days.

“Are you already ready for another round?” You whine softly, slumber still deep in your voice as you don’t even open your eyes yet. San was definitely built for weeks like this whereas you...not so much, despite how pleasant it was.

San chuckles deeply, “I mean I am, but that’s not why I woke you. I hadn’t intended to wake you at all. You’ve done so well for me this week, but you’re so exhausted now I just wanted to let you sleep.”

You hum softly with a small yawn, “You’re oddly soft right now, is your heat over already?”

“Not entirely, but it’s pretty much passed. I might get a sudden flash or two of heat today and tomorrow, the worst is over though. I’m at least coherent again.” San brushes the hair out of your face as your eyes finally flutter open to look up at him, before he kisses you softly, “Though eating you out might help with that a little bit too.”

You snicker knowing his statement was actually a request, “Go ahead then, you woke me up anyway and I’m too tired to stop you.”

San hums teasingly, “More like too enticed to stop me.”

You roll your eyes, making San laugh a little as he moves to hover over you, gently nudging your bare legs apart. You’re clothed in only a shirt and some panties knowing anything more wouldn’t have lasted during his heat anyways...not that these often did either. 

His hands ease up your thighs, inching closer and closer to your panties and the beginning of a wet spot that was forming. His thumb finding your clit through the thin fabric and rubbing slow circles onto it, easing your sensitive body into arousal once more. 

“Looks like I’m not the only one who’s ready to go again.” San teases, nuzzling up your thigh until he reaches your panties. His tongue giving slow laps over the wetness seeping through the material, a moan low in his throat at your taste. 

His heat is still spiking just slightly with you like this, so his hands are already moving to take your panties off. Going as slow as he can will with his heat making itself known still, not to tease for once though, simply to ensure your comfort after the last couple days of restless fucking. 

San’s rough tongue is slow and gentle in its movements between your folds. Watching your face closely to take in how you were feeling. When he determines that you’re feeling good and it’s not too much he places a soft kiss on your clit before giving it some attention. His lips around your clit shrouding your whole body in sweet bliss. His goal is just to bring you over the sweet edge once and to do so gently, letting your tensed worn-out body release and finally relax some. Only lapping your release up for a little bit, not wanting to overstimulate you, just to clean you up.

“So good for me, kitten. Such a good girl.” San praises softly and you buzz at the praise drawing him up for a brief kiss.

“Does this mean we can finally talk about what happened?” You inquire with a quiet voice not wanting to push anything, especially with San’s heat still lingering.

San hums, “We can, but not yet. First I’m going to draw you a nice bath to relax and clean up in and then I’m going to feed you some breakfast. We can talk once I’ve made sure you’ve had a chance to recover.” 

He kisses your forehead before going to do as he had said he was going to. Humming a soft tune as he goes, something that eases your worries about where you and he stood.

Leaning back in your seat after finishing a full meal without interruption for the first time in four days you were starting to feel much more recharged now. Thinking that San may have had a good point in wanting to clean up and eat properly first. 

Resting your chin in your palm you watch him as he finishes up his own food and it makes him chuckle, “That eager to talk about it?”

“I mean...I’ve been anxious about it so kind of ready to get it over with. I’m worried about what you think of me.” You admit, leaning into San’s touch when you feel him cupping your cheek.

“I know I get jealous easily, but I trust you, my love. I know whatever explanation you have will be reasonable.” San encourages brushing his thumb over your skin.

“My brother is visiting, so I went to spend some time with him. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him, so there was a lot of hugging involved.” You laugh a little when San’s brows furrowed in confusion knowing the scent wasn’t anything like yours or anyone in your family, “He was my foster brother. My family looked after him for a few years until someone adopted him...well before we were able to anyways. He comes and visits when he can, but it’s not super often. I was going to tell you about it, considering he wants to meet you, but it kind of triggered your heat, so we’ve not really got a chance to talk about that.”

San flushes a little rubbing the back of his neck, “Yeah...we have been a bit preoccupied...but of course, I’d want to meet him! Though I am curious as to why he wants to meet me.”

“He said it’s because you’re important to me...and he says he can tell from how happy I am that you’re the one. So he wants to come to see if you have any wedding plans or anything I guess.” You laugh a little but notice how his ears perk up at the mention of weddings.

“Oh? It’s interesting you bring that up...cause my heat got me thinking about somethings.” San admits, blushing a slightly deeper hue now. 

This time it’s you who reaches out to him, cupping his cheek in your palm and trying to calm him, “Well you can talk to me about it if you’re ready to. You know that.”

San nods softly, hand slipping over yours and turning his head to kiss your palm, “I just want to move too fast and scare you away or anything.” 

“If you’re moving too fast I’ll say so, but I seriously doubt you’ll ever scare me away at this point. If that was going to happen it would have happened a long time ago.” You joke with him, trying to lighten the mood some and put him more at ease.

“Well we haven’t really talked about it too much, so for starters...hybrids don’t usually have a wedding as you would have. I mean...I’m not opposed to it of course especially for you and your family. I know how special and meaningful that is for you...but we take that step differently typically.” San explains, noticing how your face scrunches in confusion. You had done a lot of research about hybrids having San around and wanting to be familiar with his needs and what to expect, yet you’d never seen anything that you could think he could be talking about now.

“Well then what do you usually do? I want to know. If we were to have a wedding for me, then I’d want to do the equivalent for you too.” You encourage and he takes your hands in his carefully.

“Why don’t you hear what it is before making that decision, my love. It might not be so pleasant for you...like my heat you’ll be okay to handle it, but you weren’t made for it either. So if you don’t want to do it I understand.” San leans forward brushing your hair back and kissing your forehead softly, “For hybrids, we do something a lot less public...and a lot more intimate. Usually, we get the urge to do it while in our heat, but unless we really want that it goes away after our heat...that desire isn’t going away for me this time. I want it still.” 

Your skin is a bit heated at the implications, but you still have so many unanswered questions, “Just tell me what happens San. It’s alright.”

“When a hybrid and the person who he wants to be with forever...to be his mate are...well...breeding. He claims her, right here...” San’s thumb brushes over the sensitive skin on your sweet spot, the very spot he loves to suckle his marks onto, “ It’s a bite simply put, meant to leave a lasting mark for anyone to see. It will hurt and it will bleed, but I promise it will make you feel good too and I’ll take care of you if you were to agree.” 

You hum, processing his explanation for a moment, “And you want to do that with me?”

San nods almost immediately, “I do. I really...really do, but I don’t want to hurt you or do anything that would make you upset or uncomfortable.”

“Well, I’ll agree...on one condition.” You finally voice your opinion and it has San looking at you intently, waiting to hear whatever it was your condition would me. Ready to do anything in a heartbeat, “I want to do this in some sort of order that makes sense to me too...so propose first and once we’re engaged you can claim me in every way you want San.”

“Oh fuck...I totally forgot about the whole engagement thing...I have to get a ring, don’t I? ...fuck, I don’t even know where to start.” San whines and it makes you giggle.

“Who says we have to have the ring in hand for you to propose? You can ask without it...besides I’m sure my family would love to help you pick something out later.” You smirk at him, watching as it takes a minute to understand what you mean before getting giddy once again.

San scrambles down onto one knee, giggling a little himself, “Well then...Y/N will you marry me? Will you be my one and only? Forever?”

“Yes San, I will.” You giggle back, cupping his cheeks and leaning down to kiss him. Something he easily returns as he stands and takes you into his arms. 

It doesn’t take long for the kiss to become more intense, San’s heat flashing through him again at your agreeing and touch. It being enough to spur on another wave of desire, one that was obvious even to you as a human. In part because you knew him and in part due to the fact that his skin burned under your touch, his arousal building beneath his pants and pressing against your hip.

“Well go on then...if you want it so badly I’m not going to stop you San. I want it too, to be yours for the whole world to see...claim me San.” Your pleads have San growling, nipping at your lips before capturing them passionately once more. His hands groping at any part of you that they could get to as he gets more desperate to feel you again. 

San’s hands move to grip your thighs, pressing against you before picking you up to carry you back to your bedroom. His tongue laving over your sweet spot, before giving it special attention with his lips, only breaking away to lay you back onto the bed. 

“How sore are you, kitten?” San asks, hands toying with the hem of the shirt you were wearing as he watches your face.

“Not enough that you should hold back.” You smirk, knowing what he was asking and he smacks your thigh playfully, barely leaving a sting.

“Don’t get cocky with me, just because I’m trying to take care of my kitten. Besides you’re going to be sore again after this.” San’s words sound more like a promise than anything else as his lips find your throat again, seemingly fixed on it right now. His hands working your shirt up at a slow pace, not ready to leave the sweet spot his mouth was focused on again yet. 

“I better be. I like having that constantly reminding me of you. Besides, the things that lead to me being so sore are the most fun anyway.” Your words make San smirk against your skin, before pulling back to pull your shirt off entirely.

“Oh is that so kitten? Does my girl like it rough?” San mocks leaning down to bite playfully at your nipple, “Want me to ruin you?” 

“Fuck, yes...I do. I want it so badly.” Your desperation is growing along with his and making you both restless. San’s chuckle turns into a growl as he smells your arousal in the air. 

San’s fingers slip down between your folds, seeing how wet you were before quickly pulling your panties down. His hand moves to return to your folds until you push it away, making his eyes snap up to your face sternly.

“Easy there tiger.” You snicker, “I’m not stopping you, it’s just...” 

San’s brows furrow at your hesitance thinking maybe you were reconsidering this for now, until he sees how flustered you are instead of regret on your face, “What is it kitten?”

“Please no teasing...I’m already ready for you again, no prep.” You admit and San licks his lips looking down at your soaked folds. 

“Oh, so that’s what it is hm? And here I thought I was the desperate one with my heat.” San taunts, making quick work of his pants and letting his hard cock slap against his abs. 

You nod, biting your lip. Though soon it won’t matter what you do, San will have you screaming. San’s tip running through your sodden folds as something, before pushing into you. The feeling only more familiar after the last few days, but no less blissful. His hands gripping your hips, thumbs rubbing at your skin, before his touch gets firmer, holding you in place. His thrusts start slow, but deep and forceful, hitting all the right spots. Enamored with the way your breasts bounce with each thrust, leaning down and teasingly flicking his tongue over one of your nipples. 

As his pace picks up his hands move to your thighs, pushing them open to give himself full access to your heat. His one hand moving up again, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing circles onto it. His other hand now gripping your jaw to make you look into his eyes. His lips moving in towards yours, growling against your lips.

“Fuck kitten, you’re so good for me. You’re going to take it, won’t you? You’ll cum and then take everything I give you like a good girl won’t you?” San’s questions are more of a demand knowing that you could, but there’s a desperation to them that lets you know he needs your answer too. 

Your palms pull his face in for a kiss before moving his face to your neck again, fingers tangling into his hair and tugging to a nip and another growl.

"I...I'm going to cum for you San..." You keen, San thrusting harder, his fingers putting more pressure on your clit. Trying to distract you from the initial pain you would soon feel as he bites down onto your sweet spot the second he feels you cumming around him. The pain soon bleeds into white-hot pleasure coursing through your whole body, riding you through your orgasm, the more intense you've had yet as he cums inside of you.

Once you've both started to come back to reality San leans down, gently lapping at the wound as blood trickles out and onto your skin. Before giving you a short, sweet kiss.

"I'm going to clean that up and get it taken care of and then I'll take care of the rest of you kitten." He promises, kissing your forehead, " You've done so good for me you can rest now."

His words of assurance are all your body needs for you to start drifting off again. Only slightly registering the feeling of him cleaning and dressing the wound for you before you're entirely swept away into your dreams...dreams of the future. Of your future, with San.

Tags: @foreveryouaremystar​

#san smut #san imagine #san x reader #ateez smut #ateez imagine #ateez x reader #fic:obvious

[elizabeethan]

Watch the Sunlight Fade: 14 / 17

Emma Swan finds out that her boyfriend has been hiding something from her: he’s in a gang and trying to get out. Reluctantly, she decides to support him, sticking it out with him until they have enough money to flee to Florida. All she has to do is wait and ignore that feeling in her gut that something is seriously wrong. With the help of a kind and handsome stranger, she just might make it out alive.

Or, alternate summary: I’m horrible at summaries, please just read it.

Something of a cross between a What Still Remains AU and a Sons of Anarchy AU.

A/N: Here comes the whump!! There's a good amount of violence in this chapter (well, not really, but it's more than I've ever written). As always, if you need more details you can message me!

Rated M

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~~~~

“Hello, hard worker,” she hears from the door as it creeps open. Looking up from the blank screen, she smiles at Tink. 

 “Hi,” she greets in return. “How are you?” 

 Tink gives her a smirk and chuckles. “Probably not as good as you are.” Emma’s eyes widen and her cheeks turn hot at the implication. She doesn’t even know what Tink is implying, but she does know that she’s pretty experienced in all things related to sex, so her assumtion probably has some backing. “I’m not gonna say anything,” she finally consoles. 

 “You know?”

 She moves into the room, the door already shut as she makes her way for the chair Killian usually sits in. “He didn’t tell me, if that’s what you’re worried about. But when he mentioned leaving, and when he mentioned getting you out, specifically… It was obvious.” 

 “Oh,” Emma nods, biting her bottom lip into her mouth. It’s sweet that the way he talks about her gives him away, but she can’t help but feel nervous about it. Could he be giving himself away to just anyone? 

“It’s also obvious that he loves you, just so you know. But only because we’ve been friends for so long.”

 She takes her words as consolation. They’ve been each other’s only friend for years, learning each other emotionally and physically, so it makes sense that Tink would figure it out before anyone else does. “Thanks,” she says with a smile.

 “And I don’t want you to worry. He ended things with me the night you came here. He and I are friends before anything else; I’m just happy that he’s so happy.” 

 “I wasn’t worried,” Emma says truthfully. “I trust him. And… and you.” 

 “Good,” she says pleasantly, her smile meaningful as she seems to understand Emma’s sentiment; her implication that they’ve become friends, too. “So I guess you’re just sitting here and wasting time until we can go, huh?” 

 “Yeah,” she laughs. She enjoys Tink’s company. It’s easy to laugh with her, her lightheartedness contagious despite them both knowing the danger they're in. Killian has been quietly planning their escape, and it’s almost time to go, so the danger is getting more and more real as the minutes tick on. 

 They sit for a while, joking and laughing together, and Emma reflects silently on how nice it is to have a friend. Killian’s been her friend from the moment they met, but she hasn’t felt this close to another girl in all of her life. She hasn’t felt supported and genuinely liked by another girl since she was a kid, before the runaways and the homelessness left her completely and utterly alone. 

 “You seem happier,” Tink reflects with a soft smile. “The first time we met… Just-- I’m sorry, Emma. I should have been nicer to you. I’m just glad things are starting to look up for you now.” 

 “Thank you,” she smiles. “It’s nice having a friend.” 

 “Yeah,” she laughs. “Elsa’s nice but… I don’t know.” 

 The conversation takes an unexpected turn, guiding Emma down a path she didn’t know was there. The inclusion of Elsa in their discussion of friendship should seem natural enough, but Tink’s suggestion is that she isn’t as good a friend as either of them are to each other. 

 “What?” she asks, easily letting her confusion be known.

 “Something about her,” she answers with a shrug. “I never trusted her. Killian does, though.” 

 “Well, she’s almost like his sister-in-law, right?”

 She rolls her eyes, shaking her head. “Yeah, I guess. Not like that seems to mean much to her. Her loyalty lies with her family.” 

 Emma’s eyes narrow suspiciously, wondering what on earth Tink is talking about, where she’s gotten this idea, and what she could possibly know that Killian doesn’t. Killian is Elsa's family. “What are you--” 

 “Hi,” Killian says as he pushes the door open. She bites down against the smile teasing at her lips. 

 “Hi,” she whispers back. “Everything okay?” 

 She wasn’t expecting to see him today, not in the middle of the day, at least. But his arrival is nothing short of a pleasant surprise. It’s not entirely unusual for him to pop in during the day and see how things are going for her, but they should be lying low to avoid stirring suspicion, especially after their risky meetup in the bathroom last night. 

 “Aye, just checking in,” he answers as he bends to plant a kiss to her forehead. “Morning, love,” he says to Tink.

 “Good morning, fearless leader. Everything all set for today?”

 “Yes, indeed,” he answers playfully. She hasn’t ever seen him this light and happy outside of his bed when they share it together. The prospect of finally, finally leaving is a weight lifted off of all of their shoulders, and it’s clear that his spirits are lifting the closer they get to implementing their escape. “Just taking care of some last minute details.”

 Tink nods knowingly, and Emma immediately wonders what he’s talking about. Without her having to ask, she turns to Emma and explains, “convincing Elsa to go will take a certain level of… finesse.” 

 “Not to worry,” Killian consoles gently, placing his hand on hers and giving her a soft and loving smile. It’s the one she knows he saves just for her-- the one she never saw until they started to get close. “I’ll take care of it. I’m about to go and talk to her now, I just couldn’t resist giving my lady love a kiss before I went.” 

 She giggles like someone who has never felt pain before and he bends towards her, planting a soft, slow kiss to her lips that leaves her craving more. She’ll always crave more. And soon, she won’t have to deny herself the pleasure of being with him

 ~~~~

 They’re almost ready. Robin and Killian just need a few more things, some food and clothes and weapons with which to defend themselves, before they're ready to depart. Emma has already shaken enough from Neal’s safe to last them, and she’s certain that he hasn’t noticed and likely won’t until long after they’re gone. The availability of Gold’s yacht is certainly convenient as well, but they must be careful to load their supplies at the last minute, just before they're ready to leave, to avoid being caught.  

 Really, all that’s left is to round each of them up. Tink is more than ready, the two of them dreaming of fleeing for years and finally ready to take action. Robin has been silently wishing his life to be different since he was born into the club. The only person he truly worries about is Elsa, because she’s been gaslighted and unfortunately hasn’t been able to see past their tactics. She spent most of her life here, her mother bringing her and her sister into this lifestyle when they were just children. Now, he has to go against decades of brainwashing to convince her that it’s dangerous here-- that it’s not worth the risk that comes with staying.

 He’s just stepping out of his apartment, having just dropped off some groceries, when it happens. He doesn't even see who does it. He isn’t sure who hits him and with what. But in the blink of an eye, his hopes are dashed as his world goes dark.

 ~~~~

 The blackness fades slowly, the buzzing around the edges of his vision dissolving as he comes to. He moves to scrub his hand over his eyes, but it doesn’t move, prevented by the rough material around his wrist. His other stays put as well, the same material keeping him still. 

 Of course, he thinks in the darkness of the muggy, dank room. Of course this is happening. They were so happy-- they were so close. Of course they’re found out just before they planned to leave.

 “Ah, he lives. Glad you didn’t knock him out too hard, Neal.” 

 “I want him to suffer some more before I do.” 

 He wants to roll his eyes, but when he tries, he’s met with innumerable pain. Neal must have done a number on him, his eye swollen and painful. With each breath, his ribs sting and he hisses. He mumbles, “Bloody hell,” but it’s probably a bad idea. 

 Another fist strikes the left side of his face, further damaging his skin and the bone and tissue underneath and making him cry out. “You’re in for it now, Hook,” Neal hisses. “Elsa told Peter what you did, and I'm gonna make you suffer for it.” 

 He lets out a pained groan, blood trickling from his cheek. He tries again to wipe it away, but the ropes stop him, burning the tender skin of his wrist. “Elsa?” he asks in confusion, still fighting against the haze that’s perpetuated by another strike, this time to his right cheek. His neck cracks in such a way that can’t be good news as his head is whipped to the side.

 “That’s right. Did you expect loyalty from your family? Good luck with that. Unlike you, she understands that we are her family.” 

 Something hard whacks against his shin, making him cry in pain again. It’s not a fist; more likely to be a metal rod or perhaps a plank of wood. “That’s right, Neal,” Peter praises. “We’re all family. Elsa doesn’t have loyalty to only one.” 

 “Because you’ve brainwashed her,” he argues, met with another strike against his already stinging ribs. 

 “We’ve enlightened her. She’s dedicated to her family.” He isn’t even sure which one of them speaks as Neal delivers another sharp blow to his chin. 

 His ears ring as Neal’s open palms meet them, clapping both sides of his head at once and making his eyes grow wide in breathless agony. He can barely make a sound in response, his jaw dropping but any noise in protest stuck in his throat. 

 As the fog in his brain clears after a few moments, Neal allowing him to recover slightly before continuing his torture, he finally speaks again. “She also told us how she found out. She overheard you in the bathroom. During Rufio’s funeral. You sick bastard.” 

 His hand finds Killian’s throat, squeezing firmly until one eye starts twitching and his lips begin to go numb. Then he squeezes harder. 

 “Tell him what she heard, Neal.” 

 “You murdered Rufio,” he accuses knowingly, and Killian realizes that any sense of privacy that he and Emma thought they had was false, even with the door locked. Elsa must’ve gone to use the bathroom they commandeered, and she must’ve been forced to tell Peter and Neal what she overheard when she was caught, too. 

 “And what else?”

 “She heard you attacking my girlfriend,” he hisses, throwing Killian back until his throat is released, although it’s at the expense of his back as the chair tips and he lands solidly against the concrete ground. “She heard you trying to take advantage of her!”

 He lets out a rasped, choking sound as Neal’s boot pushes against his throat, barely giving him time to recover from his last assault. He can’t breathe, the muscles in his neck protesting against the firm weight pressed to him. He isn’t sure if the back of his head hit the floor when he collided with it, but he knows that would be bad. 

 “You fucking bastard!” Neal screams, clearly not worried about their location or activities being given away by an excessive noise level. “You tried to ruin her? Why?!” 

 Neal’s question needs to be answered with finesse. He can’t say anything that will imply that Emma was in any way a willing participant in their activities. He can’t let Neal find out that their affair is two-sided-- that they love each other. That they plan to run away together. 

 Of course, the possibility of their plan actually going off at this point is slim. Honestly, Neal might kill him tonight, his derangement making it impossible for him to see that Emma wants out just as badly as he does. 

 “Answer me!” he finally screams again, removing his boot and driving it forcefully into Killian's ribs. He can’t even double over, or roll onto his side to ease the pain, because he’s still bound to his chair. “Did that whore let you soil her? Or did you force yourself on her?” 

 “She had noth-- nothing to do with it,” he gasps, barely able to speak, barely able to breathe. “It meant nothing; she means nothing to me. I just did it to piss you off.” 

 Neal kicks his broken ribs again and Killian sees white. His vision blurs in response to his torment, but he hopes he doesn’t pass out because he knows he might not wake up if he does. It would be so easy to give into the blackness that clouds the outer rim of his sight, but he can’t. 

 “You took advantage of her. She’s weak, she can’t defend herself. She doesn't know what’s best for her. How dare you?” 

 “Aye,” he agrees painfully. It hurts to admit this in falsity almost as much as it hurts when Neal’s heel drives into his stomach. 

 He hears Peter say something, but his voice is tinny in his ears and he can’t make out his words. He’s slipping under the blanket of unconsciousness, the numbness taking over far too intriguing as he lets his eyes fall shut and his mind go black.

 ~~~~

 “Bring him out,” Peter commands, his violent voice making Emma jump in her seat. She can’t help but notice that her chair has been placed suspiciously closer to Neal’s than it usually is. He sits beside her, his body still and rigid and his eyes staring straight ahead. His face is threatening and tense, his jaw locked. “I need everyone to see what happens when you betray this family.” 

 A family meeting was called unexpectedly, interrupting Emma's sham of dedication to her research. She and Tink stared at each other, terror written across both of their faces as they stood and followed the small crowd to the intimidating room, met with Peter looking absolutely irate at the head of the table. Neal’s knuckles are bruised and bloodied, she’s realized.

The door opens slowly, two men dragging along a limp and seemingly lifeless form before throwing him into a chair and laughing when he groans. 

 Killian. 

 Emma stiffens, her eyes stinging and filling with tears that she immediately works to blink away. She bites the inside of her cheek until she tastes blood. She can’t let anyone see her reaction to seeing him like this, but the fact is, she thinks she might be dying on the inside. 

 He’s so broken, so mutilated. The bruises on his face make him almost unrecognizable, the swelling of his eyes and chin and cheeks distorting his beautiful features painfully. He’s holding his arm over his middle, likely suffering from some injuries to his ribs. He looks like he can barely breathe. There are deep purple bruises painted around his neck, taking on the shape of someone’s angry fingers. 

 The same angry fingers grab for hers, and she knows immediately that Neal has done this to him. He’s hurt her endlessly, but now he’s battered the man she loves, and this cannot stand. 

 “Tell the men what you’ve done, Hook,” Peter insists. One of the men holding him upright in his chair, Walsh, snickers madly. 

 “I--” he starts, his voice rough and tattered. Walsh laughs as he pushes his hand against one of his bruises for sport, causing Killian to wince. “I killed Rufio.” 

 The men around the table gasp, each of them straightening and making as though they’re about to stand and hurt him even more.

 “And what else?” 

 “I tried to damage Neal’s property. I manipulated her; I told her lies to make her believe that I felt something for her.” 

 The words are rehearsed. They trained him in exactly what to say. But still, she feels a stab in her heart at him announcing that she means nothing to him. “And tell them why.” 

 “Because I’m mad. I wanted to cause Neal pain. And I--” he cries out again as Walsh pushes his finger against another angry bruise, laughing at his response. “I want to cause the club to suffer.”

 “He wants the club to suffer, and he’s succeeded. I want everyone to take a long, hard look at the man who used to be our brother. Killian Jones is a dead man. He’ll die at sunrise, but for now, he’s to act as a symbol to anyone considering betraying the club. We’re a family, and we will not be trifled with.”

 The crowd around the table cheers loudly in agreement, each of them getting riled up in response to Peter’s ostentatious speech. He continues, “As for the Kings of Elsinore, we’ll continue our plans of attack. I don’t know about you lot, but I’ve about had enough of people who want to see us suffer. No one messes with the Lost Boys and lives to tell the tale!” The men cheer, fists banging against the table and making Emma jump. “They Kings will be a symbol for any other club thinking of going up against us. We are the rulers here! Prepare for battle, men. At dawn, we raid the Kings’ clubhouse!” 

 She’s silent as the room empties slowly, everyone who walks past Killian giving him some form of further physical punishment as they make their way out the door. Soon, it’s just Robin who remains, staring angrily at Killian, and Neal by her side. 

 “Ems,” Neal says darkly, and her blood runs cold in sudden fear. She’s been so consumed with worry and anger for Killian that she hasn’t even considered the repercussions from Neal at them being discovered. 

 She turns to face him nervously, her fingers shaking as she grips the arms of the chair. “Yeah?” she nearly whispers. 

 He gives her a soft, if not terrifying smile that she thinks is an attempt at being comforting. “I forgive you.” 

 Her brows raise on her head, almost meeting her hairline, and she asks, “You… what?” 

 “I know this bastard manipulated you. I know you’re not… Well, I know you're naive and desperate for attention wherever you can get it. Hook trying to seduce you isn’t your fault. I forgive you.” 

 She nods weakly, feeling as though she's in a trance. In a moment of clarity and brilliance, she decides to go along with his thoughts and says, “Can I have a minute with him? I need to look into the eyes of the man who… who tried to hurt us.” She chooses her words carefully, saying exactly what she knows will coerce him into giving her what she truly wants.

 “I don’t know, baby,” he shakes his head, taking her hand and roughly dragging it towards his mouth. “That’s not your brightest idea.” 

 “Robin’s here,” she reasons. “Look at him-- he’s just as mad as we are that his friend betrayed our family. He’ll keep me safe.” 

 He gives her another leering smile that she’s sure he thinks is sweet and winks. “I guess you’re not so useless up here after all,” he concedes, tapping his finger against her temple. She forces herself not to flinch away. “Rob,” he barks as he stands, “keep her safe from this asshole.” 

 “‘Course, mate,” Robin answers, taking Neal’s hand and shaking it. “I’ll watch him like a hawk.” 

 Neal is out the door in an instant, not bothering to say anything more to Emma in favor of shoving against Killian’s shoulder on his way out. 

 She's still for a moment, taking in the grievous sight of him and barely able to move. It takes her just a second after he lets his eyes fall shut and a weak breath fall from his lips to hurry to him and take his hands. “Killian,” she pleads in a whisper. 

 His brows screw together in pain and she pulls back, but his grip on her hand tightens. “I’m sorry,” he struggles. 

 “No,” she cries, pressing her lips firmly to the top of his hand, the one part of him that hasn’t been battered violently. “Don’t say that, baby. It’s okay. You’re gonna be fine.” 

 “I didn’t mean it.” He opens his eyes, or tries to, one of them almost completely swollen shut. She’s met with his genuineness, and it breaks her heart. 

 “I know that,” she promises. “You didn’t have to take all of this punishment just to keep me safe.”

 “They’ll never hurt you,” he vows, and it’s like he's promising himself, too. She stands, bending at her knees so that she can look at him head on. His bottom lip is swollen and bloody, but she plants a kiss there anyway. 

 “I love you,” she tells him seriously. “I’m so sorry.” 

 He doesn’t respond-- she doesn’t think he can-- but she does feel him squeezing her hand once more and bumping his likely broken nose against hers.

 This is her fault. He wouldn’t be here if not for her. If not for her making stupid mistakes and getting caught up in ridiculously dangerous situations, she wouldn’t be here and he would be okay. He wouldn’t be bleeding and bruised and have cracked ribs, and she wouldn’t be worried about his lungs being punctured or his skull being fractured. She would be alone, she would be lost without ever knowing him, but at least he would be okay. 

 “We have to get him out,” she says to Rob after a few moments of thick and desperate silence. “He needs help; he needs a doctor.” 

 “I know,” he nods in agreement. 

 “No,” Killian begs weakly. “Just go. Leave me, please. Don’t risk getting caught--” he cuts himself off, gasping in pain as he tries to move in his chair. “Please.” 

 “Killian, no offense, but shut up,” Robin says. “We’re all planning to flee. There’s not a chance in hell we let you die while we walk free.”

 “Right,” Emma breathes, relieved to hear that his friend feels the same as she does. “It’s almost dark. Do you think anyone will be here much longer? Can we sneak him out?” 

 “Rob,” he practically whimpers, letting his head drop back as his breath catches against the pain in his throat. “Please. Don’t put her in any more danger. Please.” 

 The room falls silent again as Robin considers his friend’s pleas, looking between the two of them pensively. Honestly, she doesn't care how it’s done. She just needs to make sure that Killian is out of here and away from danger as soon as possible so that they can follow through with their plan. 

 “Alright,” Robin concedes. “Emma, you should go back with Neal. We still don’t want to tip anyone off to our plans. I’ll get him out since I’m supposed to be keeping watch anyway. But at that point, we’ll both be wanted by the club. Round up Tink and Elsa and meet us. You talked to them both, right?” he asks Killian. 

 He shakes his head. “You have to check on Elsa first,” he insists. “Leave me and make sure she’s alright. She told them--” He gasps again, and Emma rubs her thumbs over the tops of his hands. When he looks into her eyes, he says, “She’s how they found out.” 

 “What-- she what?” 

 Emma’s dumbfounded, shaking her head in thought, unable to wrap her mind around the betrayal. It isn’t until her conversation with Tink makes itself known in her memory that she realizes what she meant. 

 Elsa’s loyalty lies with her family.

 “Emma, please, check on her. They probably tortured it out of her.”  

 She nods, if only so that she doesn’t cause him any further distress as she figures out the truth. There isn’t much about this lifestyle that makes sense to her, but one thing that seems abundantly clear is the fact that Elsa has never been as loyal to her brother-in-law as he has to her. Emma doubts very much that Elsa was tortured at all, much more likely to have given up the information freely. 

 “I will,” she promises, kissing the top of his left hand. “I’ll meet you soon. I love you.” 

 “I love you,” he whispers, letting his eyes fall shut. 

 When she stands, she makes anxious eye contact with Robin and says, “Get him out of here. He needs to see a doctor.” 

 “I will. Grab Tink and Elsa and meet me at the docks when you can. I’ll wait a few hours before I start looking for you.” 

 She nods, making her way towards the door and making a silent vow to herself. She’ll grab Tink, and she’ll prove her own hunch about what Elsa has done to Killian. 

 ~~~~

 Robin has just gotten to the docks, tucking his friend away safely on the boat they’ve pilfered, when he hears the footsteps. He got Killian to the bed, cleaned his wounds-- although he didn’t look much better when he was done with him-- and gave him some rum to help him sleep before he heard someone rustling above deck. Only it’s too soon for Emma to be back. As he steps out of the cabin, he sees a shadowy figure on the dock. 

 “You,” the figure calls, making their way towards their stolen boat. Robin nervously reaches for his gun and points it at the shadow. They reach for something as well, holding it up before themselves, and Robin cocks his gun in response. 

 “I’m armed,” he warns.

 “FBI.” 

~~~~

~~~~

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#Watch the Sunlight Fade #captain swan #captain swan fanfic #cs ff #sunlight ff #captain swan au #killian jones #whump #killian jones whump #captain swan angst #once upon a time #ouat ff

[hamliet]

The Girl Who Gets to Have It All: Buffy Summers

So with @linkspooky​‘s encouragement, I have binged Buffy the Vampire Slayer and relived my childhood culture. And, it's a 10/10 for me. Not that it doesn't have flaws, but it's genuinely one of the best stories I've seen, with consistent character arcs, powerful themes, and a beautiful message. It's also like... purportedly about vampires and demons and superpowered chosen ones, but it's actually all about humanity.

Buffy was able to be a teenage girl, allowed to like the things teen girls are scorned for (boys, shopping, etc), to be insecure about the thing teenage girls are insecure about (future careers, dating, school, parents), and to be a superhero with its good and its bad aspects. The story wasn’t afraid to call Buffy on her flaws (sometimes she got in a very ‘I am the righteous chosen one’ mode) and to respect and honor each of her desires (to be a good person, to be loved, and more). The story listened to what she wanted and respected her desires, giving her the challenges needed to overcome her flaws while also never teaching her a lesson about wanting bad boys or romance is silly or any manner of dark warnings stories like to throw at teenage girls. 

It respected teenage girls--nerdy girls like Willow, jocks like Buffy, lonely wallflowers with trauma like Dawn, and popular/snobby ones like Cordelia, girls gone wild like Faith. It never once reduced them to the stereotypes that were lurking right there: each character was fully rounded, human, flawed and yet with respected interests and goals. This is so rare for a story that I’m still in awe. 

The story as a whole follows Buffy from 15 to 21, of her as she grows from teenager to adult. She acts like a teenager and grows to act like a young adult, wrestling with loneliness and duty. The adults, like Giles, Joyce, and Jenny, are not perfect either, but neither are they “bad parents” or “bad mentors” necessarily. Joyce in particular says something terrible to Buffy, but she tries to do better, and it’s rare to see a parent in YA stories shown with such nuance. Basically, it wrote the long-lasting adult characters as human beings, too. 

Speaking of growing up, I appreciated how Buffy’s love interests mirrored this. Angel was someone Buffy loved and admired, wanted to be like, but who was always either extreme good or extreme bad, and combined with Buffy’s own tendencies towards black-white thinking, made for a beautiful relationship to help her grow, but didn’t necessarily form a foundation for a long-term partner. Spike, on the other hand... they both saw each other at their worst and were drawn to each other even then, and were inspired to become better because they couldn’t bear to be a person who treated the other person so wrongly. They pushed each other to become the best them they could be, and believed in each other. Also, Spuffy is an enemies to lovers ship for the ages. 

(Also, most of the other ships were well-done or at least can be understood. Riley was very obviously wrong for Buffy which paralleled Harmony and Spike in being 100% wrong for each other. Cordelia and Xander were a fun ship even if we all knew it would never last, and Willow and Oz were beautiful and cute. But Xander and Anya and Willow and Tara? OTPs. As were Giles and Jenny, the librarian and the computer teacher.) 

That said, it’s not a perfect series. No story is. All of the characters and ships had problematic aspects to them worthy of critique, and the writing is very 90s in a lot of ways. It’s a product of its time, and in many ways it’s good society has progressed beyond some of the tropes/metaphors used in the show. In other way, though, the show was ahead of its time, and in a good way it wasn’t bound by the fear of purity policing with its takes on redemption (many characters would never fly today). 

So, in order of seasons ranked from my very favorite to my “still enjoyed it very much” (no season was actually bad, imo), here’s my review. I’ll also review my top 10 villains in the show, because Buffy does villains very well in terms of the redeemable and irredeemable.  

Season 7:  Yep, the final season was my favorite. 

Overall Opinion: Buffy's finale is literally "f*ck them men, our power is ours" and while it seems cheesy it actually works (also, f*ck in both a literal and figurative sense). The series strongly hit all the themes: love as strength, and redemption. Buffy consistently shows love as her strength--*all* kinds of love. Friendship w Willow/Xander, familial with Joyce/Dawn, romantic with Spike/Angel. These types of love are also never pitted against each other as is so often the case in current-day media. It's beautiful. Also, Spike’s confrontation with Wood was so powerful in terms of exploring forgiveness, redemption, and reconciliation: where they overlap and where they don't, and what it means to move forward. 

Unpopular Opinion: I have seen a lot didn’t like the inclusion of Potential Slayers, and while I agree they could have been better incorporated/characterized, it was a great way to show Buffy’s final stage of growing up to be ending her chosen one status and projecting/multiplying her powers over the world. 

Biggest Critique: Kennedy was female Riley--the anti-Tara to Riley’s anti-Angel (by ‘anti’ I mean opposite in every way). Kennedy was annoying and immature. Her role, like Riley’s, was less about exploring her as a character and more about her just being stamped as “love interest: lesbian.” 

Favorite Episodes: Beneath You, Lies My Parents Told Me, Touched, Chosen

Season 6: 

Overall Opinion: I said this on Twitter, but I felt like this was Buffy’s The Last Jedi or Empire Strikes Back moment. It is polarizing and dark, deconstructing the tropes it stands on--but by digging to the core of these tropes, it actually makes what’s good about them shine brighter. Everyone’s enemy was the worst versions of themselves. Giles left Buffy, Willow's struggle to relate to the world led to her trying to destroy it, Buffy hurt everyone through her anger, Xander abandoned Anya at the altar, Spike... yeah. It ages well as an integral part of the story, and the Trio were eerily prophetic. 

Unpopular Opinion: Dawn is a great character with a good arc. A traumatized teen acting out and struggling to come to terms with loss and identity? She wasn’t whiny; she was realistic. 

Biggest Critique: Willow’s addiction coding (I’ll discuss this below) and Seeing Red as an episode. I see the argument for both of its controversial scenes from a narrative perspective: Willow starts the season not grieving Buffy but instead being determined to fix it with magic and needs to learn to grieve, but. Still. Bury your gays is not a good look. For the Spike scene... he conflates sex/passion and violence (”love is blood, children” is something he said way back in season 3), but like Tara’s death, it had more to do with Spike (as Tara’s death did for Willow) than with Buffy’s arc, and as for the actual execution... they really botched that. Did it like... have to go on that long or go that far? No. Also, the framing was good, but inconsistent with the rest of the series (Xander to Buffy in the hyena episode, Faith to Xander and to Riley, etc.) 

Favorite Episodes: Once More With Feeling, Smashed, Grave

Season 3 (tied with Season 5):

Overall Opinion: The opening continuity of Buffy meeting Lily/Anne after saving her life in Season 2 was sweet. The Witchhunt episode had really powerful subtext: stories of deaths that aren’t even true are actually demons that possess the town and convince them to turn against their children in the name of protecting the children. It’s a good commentary on, oh, everything in society. Faith’s character arc was fantastic, and her chemistry with Buffy was off the charts (look, I may be Spuffy all the way, but Fuffy has rights). The finale was satisfying in so many ways, seeing the entire graduating class unite to destroy the Mayor and the school with it, symbolizing Buffy et al’s readiness to move on to college. Oz's relationship with Willow was very sweet and meaningful for a first romance for Willow. 

Unpopular Opinion: I actually don’t really have one. Maybe that the miracle in Amends was earned? I think you can make a decent case that Season 3 is the best written of the seasons, but can only truly be thematically appreciated to its full potential in the light of subsequent seasons (which finish Faith’s arc and deconstruct Buffy’s).  

Biggest Critique: It forgot Buffy killed the hyena guy in Season 1, making her continual insistence that she can’t kill people very ????? 

Favorite Episodes: Lovers Walk, Amends, Graduation Day Part 2 

Season 5, which ties with Season 3:

Overall Opinion: The entire season is about family and what it means, from Tara’s to Buffy’s to the Scoobies. I loved Glory aka Enoshima Junko as the Big Bad, I loved Dawn’s interesting meta commentary on retconning (like, the fact that she’s retconned in matters), and most of my ships are still alive. Joyce’s relationship with Spike is one of the most heartwarming aspects, and Spike’s arc’s desire is clearly highlighted: he wants to be seen as a person. The episodes after Joyce’s death are the most honest portrayals of grief I’ve ever seen, and absolutely brutal to watch. 

Unpopular Opinion: Buffy’s choice at the end seems a deliberate inversion of her choice at the end of Season 2 (sacrifice a loved one to save the world), but it actually isn’t: much like at the end of Season 2 where Buffy skips town because she’s devastated after killing Angel and doesn’t want to sort out being expelled, her mom knowing she’s the slayer, and her own trauma, Buffy’s sacrifice here was as much about her wanting the easy way out of relationships, family, college, etc. as it was about saving Dawn. Buffy’s death is coded as a suicide, which Season 6 emphasizes as well. 

Biggest Critique: Like Season 3, I don’t have a lot to critique here. I wish the suicidal coding had been a little more obvious in Season 5 itself, but also I’m not sure it could have been more obvious; it’s pretty apparent if you pay attention. Maybe also that Buffy and Riley’s relationship failing should have been more squarely blamed on Riley, you know, being insecure and cheating. 

Favorite Episodes: Family, Fool for Love, Intervention. 

Season 2:

Overall Opinion: Heartbreakingly tragic but exciting and revealing at the same time. It asked the viewer interesting questions about redemption and forgiveness and atonement through Angel being honest about his past, and then decided to show us his past now reenacted, challenging us. And still, we saw them save him in a parallel to saving Willow in Season 6 (but Season 2 was tragic because it wasn’t enough, while Season 6 was not). Jenny’s death was agonizing, and the scene were Angel watches Buffy, Willow, and Joyce get the news through the window was powerful. We didn’t have to hear them to get the grief. 

Unpopular Opinion: Jenny’s death isn’t a fridging; it works for her arc too when you consider her history. She worked to save the person whose life she was tasked to ruin, and it cost her her own--yet she still succeeded, because Jenny brought joy and wisdom to the show. Kendra’s death, on the other hand... was because they needed the stakes to be high--but we already knew that before she died. So, her death was useless. 

Biggest Critique: The subtext was Not It. It was essentially “do not have sex. Your older boyfriend will lose his soul, kill your friends, you’ll lose your family, your school, your home, and have to kill your true love or else hell will literally swallow earth.” 

Favorite Episodes: School Hard, Passion, Becoming Part 2.

Season 1:

Overall Opinion: I really liked it; it’s just lower on this list because the others are just better. It’s a great introduction to the series and to its characters, from Giles to Buffy to Willow to Jenny to Cordelia. It has great subtext a lot of the time (for example, Natalie French as She-Mantis is a literal predatory bug who engages in predatory behavior with students). Additionally, it subverts the typical YA trope of two guys and a girl, in which the girl is usually the least interesting character. Buffy and Willow were both fully fledged characters from the beginning with distinct strengths (even before Willow became a witch, as she wasn’t one in season 1 yet), while Xander was the more ordinary of the group. 

Unpopular Opinion/Biggest Critique: Xander’s arc showed its first flaws that unfortunately continued throughout the series: his writing was either very good or very indulgent in ways it never was for other characters.  (cough, the hyena episode, cough, in which he gets to skirt responsibility--and acknowledges that he is skirting it--for something the show will later hold others to account for). Xander’s just kind of inconsistent, which weakened his character over all. (Which is why both his love interests--Cordelia and then ultimately Anya--were good for him: they did not indulge him.) 

Favorite Episode: Witch, Nightmares. 

Season 4:

Overall Opinion: it’s still a good season. It’s a good portrayal of college and the growing pains of branching out, the strains of college growth on relationships (romantic and platonic). It shows us the first hints of Spuffy, giving us some serious Jungian symbolism between Spike and Buffy early on, and does well in establishing Xander/Anya and Willow/Tara as beautiful OTPs. Faith and Buffy’s foiling is fantastic. The Halloween episode was very fun as well. However, it suffers because its Big Bad, Adam, is not all that compelling thematically--yet, he could have been. See, the final battle pulls off the Power of Friendship in a really strong way but notably the season does not end there. Instead, it ends on dreams of each character’s worst fears, continuing what we saw in Nightmares in Season 1. Why? Because it shows us that the characters’ wars aren’t against monsters, but monsters of their own making: their flaws. Adam, as a literal Frankenstein, exemplifies this, but it wasn’t capitalized on as well as it could have been. 

Unpopular Opinion: Beer Bad isn’t a bad episode, at the very least because Buffy gets to punch Parker. It’s not one of the series’ best, obviously, but it does give Buffy an arc in that she gets her daydream of Parker begging her to come back, but she has overcome that desire and her desire for revenge. If we wanna talk about bad subtext in Season 4, Season 2′s Not It sex subtext continues in the Where the Wild Things Are episode in this season; it’s a powerful callout of abusive purity-culture churches, until the fact that the shame creates a literal curse undermines the progressive message it’s supposed to send. Also, the Thanksgiving episode (Pangs) is a nightmare of white guilt and Oh God Shut Up White People. 

Biggest Critique: Riley is awful. Like Kennedy, he had “love interest:normal” stamped on him and that was it. The thing is, he could have worked as an Angel foil, representative of the normal-life aspect of Buffy to Angel’s vampire/supernatural aspect, but the writers never explore this and seemed to even try to back away from that later on. They threw all the romantic cliches at the wall to see what sticks, from klutzy “I dropped my schoolbooks, that’s how we met” to cliché lines that had me rolling my eyes. Do you know how bad a romance has to be to make me dislike romantic tropes? 

Favorite Episodes: Fear Itself, Hush, Restless

Villain rankings: 

Dark Willow, the only villain to be truly sympathetic. While the addiction coding was insensitive and, while unsurprising for its time, aged extremely poorly. That said, Willow’s turn to the dark side after Tara’s death worked well for her character and the story: it was believable and paid off what had been building since Season 1's “Nightmares” episode (Willow’s inferiority complex). 

Glory managed to be genuinely terrifying, and humorous/enjoyable too. Her minions and their numerous nicknames for Glorificus were hilarious, as was her intense vanity. Her merging with Ben--a human being who genuinely wanted to be kind and good--added complexity and tragedy to her role. 

The First. A really good take on Satan. The seventh season as well as the First’s first appearance in season 3′s “Amends” had kind of blatant Christian symbolism, and so the First being essentially Satan works. Their disguising themselves as dead loved ones and the subtle manipulation they used to alienate people was really disturbing and well done. 

The Mayor, who was a terrible person but a truly good father. He provided an interesting contrast to the normal ‘bad dad’ bad guy character, in that he provided Faith exactly what the other characters refused to: he saw the best in her and offered her parental support, while the heroes didn’t and wound up pushing her away. 

The Trio, who were villains ahead of their time: whiny fanboy reddit dudebros, basically. The stakes seemed so much lower than fighting Glory, a literal god, the previous season. But that’s why they worked so well for Season 6′s human themes, and were especially disturbing because we all know people like them. I also appreciated the surprisingly sensitive takes on Jonathan and Andrew, who got to redeem themselves, but Warren did not, and I don’t think he should have either. 

Angelus + Drusilla. I’m ranking them below the Trio because Angelus was just sooooo different from Angel that it was difficult for me to feel the same way for him. He was still Angel, so it wasn’t possible to enjoy his villainy, but he also wasn’t nearly as sympathetic as Dark Willow, had no redeeming qualities like the Mayor, and wasn’t as disturbingly realistic as the Trio. However, the emotional stakes were excellently executed with him as the Big Bad, in that you were never quite sure how to feel and it just plain hurt. Also, Drusilla was a favorite recurring character. She was sympathetic and yet batsh*t enough to be enjoyable as a villain at the same time. 

The Master, who was just completely camp and really worked as an introductory villain. He was scary enough to believe he was a threat, and was funny enough to introduce the series’ humor as well. He was, like Glory, an enjoyable Big Bad. 

The Gentlemen, the one-off villains of Season 4′s Hush who were genuinely terrifying. It’s not as if they got a lot of explanation or any backstory, but they didn’t need it. 

Caleb, the misogynist priest. Fitting with the First’s Christian symbolism, Caleb serving as a spokesperson of all bad religious beliefs felt appropriate. He was also a good foil to Warren--being actually supernaturally powered instead of a wannabe--and to Tara’s family in being full-out evil. I despised him. 

Snyder. Okay Snyder is not a Big Bad like Adam is, but let’s face it: Adam is lame compared to the other villains. But Snyder as a principal? He was so irritating and yet really well used in the series to critique overly strict, hypocritical teachers. Like, we all know teachers like him. I loved to hate him, and his ending was so satisfying. 

#buffy the vampire slayer #btvs #spuffy #buffy summers #dawn summers #spike #angel #cordelia chase #btvs giles #willow rosenberg #tillow #tara maclay #anya jenkins #xanya #xander harris #jenny calendar #kendra young #faith lehane #hamliet reviews

[the-darklings]

*kicks down your door* Can I get a whole alphabet with the psycho husband please?? (Not the sandy one thanks) 🤡

asking for lucien & trash-talking the elder? iconic behaviour. so this is for npfh!lucien/reader but the inbox still open for other characters/ships (or combos)

ADORABLE (what do they find especially endearing?)

endearing isn't a word often associated with Lucien but if there's one thing he might later down the line find somewhat amusing and kinda cute it's the willingness to oppose him, especially in a physical sense. there's little chance to win against him but deep down he might find that willingness to not back down cute/admirable, even if it's likely to come out as sardonic on his part

BARGAIN (how do they get their way?)

well, he's good at getting his way, lets just say that. towards others he's usually downright menacing but Lucien has a presence that's frightening on a good day, much less if he's actually angry. in a relationship he's def more maniable but not by much. usually if he sees something has to go one way, he's stuck in that mindset for a while, he's too individualistic for anything else which can def cause arguments/disagreements

COMMUNICATE (what is their love language?)

physical touch is a big one for him. because he allows very few lay hands on him after the kind of life he's had, so him taking pleasure from your touch is the biggest and surest way to know he cares and wants you. be it a gentle touch (rare but possible) or meaner more rough handling (careful enough not to hurt but only just), it's his secondary language of communication since he's not the talkative one especially about feelings

DEVOTED (how do they show they're serious?)

you know. just... trust me, you really know. Lucien makes no exceptions for anyone (except clara/v) so if you're his person the mere way he looks at you is different, the air around you for him is different. a massive cat that hates everyone else purring in your lap energy. there's also the fact that he actually seeks you out while he usually very much prefers to be completely alone.

ENCHANTED (what first caught their eye?)

it's unlikely the first impression was a positive either from his side or yours, or both. he doesn't really see or take note of others often. people are more background noise for him after being locked up for so long so he's still learning in that regard. but one thing you would def need with Lucien is perseverance and patience, so that dedication not to give up on him despite the prickly edges is likely the first thing he would take note of. physically you can be as beautiful as you want, he won't care about that. lust for him is nothing more than an itch. you could try and wear him down and get him to fuck you but don't expect it to mean anything to him or for him to come back for seconds, he doesn't operate that way.

FLIRTY (how do they flirt?)

his flirting is honestly more sly, mean-edged wordplay. he's not the flirty type to begin with so don't expect anything flustering (unless you're more into the rough-spoken/meaner wordplay) but you being clingy after he returns from a long period away would certainly prompt a few comments.

GENTLE (how do they provide comfort?)

again, not particularly amazing with words, and even worse with comfort. he's not the mopey type and will not sit around handing you tissues. if someone hurt you? they're dead, simple as. but if it's being upset by some outside factor, he would likely have a hard time wrapping his mind around it (more so a consequence of his lifestyle/upbringing) so the more likely course of action would be a distraction. whether this is physical or activity-based is up to you.

HOT (what is their favourite look on their partner?)

something easy for him to rip off your body, also enjoys you naked in nothing but his shirts. he's really tall (like the man is 6.1 1/5) so anything of his usually hangs down to your tighs. he also likes the easy access : )

INTIMATE (what kind of date do they like?)

he's not really the dating type. spending time together in silence or murmurs of quiet conversation is usually as close you come to a date. sometimes, if needed for a job for the pit, you might tag along if he needs to go pay a visit at a club etc. then maybe some dancing. he's not half bad at it, either. but he def enjoys watching you if you dance, his eyes are unlikely to slip away once.

JEALOUS (how jealous are they? how do they show it?)

oh, he gets jealous alright. if you're the exception, you're the exception. he won't share you with anyone except clara but that's a topic for another time. he's not about to go alpha male type but the air around him is chilling. he trusts you (if you managed to wear him down enough to be with him, he knows you're not some flimsy wet wipe who's easily swayed) but the other party can def get into trouble. also most certainly expect some rough sex that evening, he's far greedier but equally so more attentive.

KARMA (how do they apologize?)

he has a hard time apologising. not because he can't accept the fact that he's done something wrong/is prideful but mainly because things people do get upset about often seem so trivial to him. again, more so a byproduct of the life he's had opposed to any actual unwillingness to say sorry. actual words would likely only leave his lips if something major has happened.

LUST (favourite thing about their partner?)

willingness to stick by him because he knows full well he's not the easiest crayon in the box to colour your life with. physically, likely laugh and durability : )

MEMORY (what's their favourite memory together?)

likely the first kiss but for different reasons. for you, it's a victory and confirmation you're feelings are not once sided after a sizable struggle to get closer to him while for him it's likely the first time in years he's felt a physical draw that goes beyond just wanting to scratch an itch. also, first person besides clara he felt anything other than indifference or hatred towards. the memory itself is a searing thing infused with passion so it's certainly one to remember.

NORMAL (what does a normal day look like for them?)

there's no such thing as "normal" with him. Lucien isn't around often (at least not initially or for a while) so time together is savoured. Lucien tends to wake up early (he doesn't sleep much in general) and does long morning workouts to burn off the edge of violence constantly swimming in his blood. the most likely way to wake up in the mornings if he's around is to feel his mouth and hand on your or hear the shower start. he's not opposed to you joining him.

OBVIOUS (how do they show they're together?)

while Lucien is not the most PDA-friendly person, he would eventually get used to someone's presence at his side and, as such, not move away from any physical touch outright. nor does he mind - and even prefers - to touch you occasionally in public. these displays are usually only limited to when you're home at the pit of vipers, however, as there's still safety and prying eyes to consider.

PEACE (how do they relax together?)

usually in his room, regardless of the actual activity. Lucien enjoys fresh air though (old lingering unease about being trapped between walls) so expect to spend a fair amount of time upon the Pit of Viper's roof terrace and surrounded by clara's plants, flowers and herbs. there's bustling sounds of the city around you but it's like a small corner of paradise that's almost kissing the skyline.

QUIET (what can they do together without talking?)

Lucien enjoys training a fair amount to help himself focus and burn energy off, so he would be happy for you to join in or simply watch. in the same vein, he doesn't enjoy silences (despite not being very talkative himself) so he does listen to a fair amount of music; anything to fill the quiet. he would be happy to try some of your hobbies eventually too, as long as they're not too irritating.

ROMANTIC (what kind of gifts do they give?)

once more not typical boyfriend material where you can be expected to be pampered and showered with gifts. presents from lucien are few and far in between (and pretty much non-existent during initial paces of relationship) he doesn't believe loyalty can be expressed in presence, and loyalty is higher for him on the scale than love. that being said, eventually, you can def expect one or two things down the line. they're more like to be meaningful and have meaning. likely a show that though he's not the most chatty-cat out there, he always listens and nothing escapes his notice, especially when it's you.

SLEEP (how do they sleep together?)

with you likely tucked under his chin or his arm an iron band around your waist holding you to him. this does take a while to fully bloom into effect though since initially he can be a bit callous in this regard.

THOUGHTFUL (what small things do they do for each other?)

the big one Lucien appreciates more than most is the ability to recognise when he needs space because his mindset is in a dark place. for you, it's the smaller things like finding covers pulled up over your naked body although the other side of the bed is long since cool. or how despite you both knowing he needs to leave, the ever-building sense that he lingers for as long as he can each time, as if some part of him isn't happy to be leaving as it once was.

UNITY (what would their wedding be like?)

not the marrying type. just straight up. again believes loyalty is expressed in a different sense and his devotion is concrete, so he sees little reason to attach any labels or papers on what you have.

VIBRANT (what always makes them smile?)

very little does. with what he's been through his smiles are elusive and incredibly hard to come back (unless they're more insincere/sarcastic things because then they're more common) but way down the line there might be few instances when you feel his mouth stretching against one side of your head if you rush to greet him after one of his returns. they're private and tucked away from anyone's eyes, however.

WHISPER (what pet names and compliments do they use?)

"pretty girl" : )

XOXO (how do they kiss?)

except bruising and hard, very intense. lip bites. few chances to draw breath because he's on you at once. he very much enjoys it if its intensity returned. scratch those nails down his neck, rip at his hair - he welcomes all of it.

YEARN (what do they do when they're apart?)

you likely have plenty to do around the Pit even if not officially one of the Vipers, and he's away making sure no enemies can blindside the Pit which more often than not means murder. minds mutually wonder towards each other often though.

ZOOM (what's their favourite picture together?)

most likely a picture either Step or Noah managed to grab of you together in a little Pit gathering/dinner. Lucien is likely facing away from the camera, unimpressed by whatever is happening, and you're caught mid-laugh. casual at first glance until you look closer and note how you're leaning into him and his head is lowered towards you, his arm half curled around you.

#oc x reader #oc character hdcs #oc writing #ahh he #c: lucien #v: npfh #asks #eileen

[bisluthq]

Could you explain to me why Dress has gay connotations? I just don’t see it, and it’s been years now.

Yes I can, because that was the song that lead me down this path of sin and insanity. The year was 2017. With more marbles and brain cells and far less COVID, I sat down to listen to the album Reputation. Perhaps I poured a glass of wine first. I don’t recall. I was but a more or less normal, very casual fan who had for many years enjoyed mocking Taylor for her messy ass personal life, supposed hyperconfessionalism and regular PR kerfuffles. One of my best friends and then roommate used to, as I’ve told y’all before, blast Blank Space as a chaos anthem every time we went out. Fundamentally, though I was too cool for Taylor Swift. I was listening for like... general pop culture knowledge because my brain is a treasure trove of entertainment tidbits and gossip. I got through almost the whole album and then I heard the song Dress and I said, “what the fuck did I just listen to?” And I replayed it and I went, “Damn Blank Space. That was gay.”

And that was the fateful day I came to believe in 2+ muses, Gaylor and, I guess, Kaylor as well because my (albeit surface level but even if I’d dug) Googling brought me mostly to supermodel Karlie Kloss’s door.

So why is this song so gay? I’m not even gonna give y’all the Kaylor reading today we’re literally gonna time capsule to 2017 before I knew any of this shit and when the only thing I knew was THIS SONG WAS GAY.

Our secret moments

In a crowded room

They got no idea

About me and you

Okay so they’re out and about. What secret moments? Like looks and stuff? I mean bold of her to assume nobody knows it’s pretty easy to convince people hets are fucking especially if they’re giving each other meaningful looks and shit. Idk like people whisper and gossip about hets just looking at one another all the time. This seems like she’s a bit overconfident in their sneakiness.

There is an indentation

In the shape of you

Made your mark on me

A golden tattoo

Right so whatever is happening between the speaker and the subject of the song has had an impact on her. This isn’t a thirst anthem. Like the secret moments aren’t because they’re just... looking at one another respectfully and kinda doing that “your place or mine” telepathic conversation. No, Tay’s body has a mark, an indentation from the shape of her lover’s body and the whole thing is a golden tattoo - temporary and removable, presumably, shiny and glittery, but visible to the naked eye. So shit’s already gone down. Friends with benefits maybe?

All of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation

My hands are shaking from holding back from you (ah, ah, ah)

All of this silence and patience, pining and desperately waiting

My hands are shaking from all this (ha, ha, ha, ha)

Nah, not simply friends with benefits. This is forbidden, right? Taylor can’t touch her lover. All they have are these secret stolen looks in the crowded room that absolutely nobody can tell mean anything. That... sounds like “gal pals” to lil gay me. Like she can’t touch her lover because it’ll be too obvious but as long as they don’t touch it won’t seem sexual at all. It’s not just that they’re friends and nobody knows there’s more going on, because why can’t they be friendly then? Why are they sharing secret moments but they can’t come close to the point where her hands are literally shaking from staying away? Why can’t she do that good old link arms with her good guy friend especially if they’re out and tipsy? And then it ends off with orgasm noises because... it’s this song so of course it does.

Say my name and everything just stops

I don't want you like a best friend

Only bought this dress so you could take it off, take it off (ha, ha, ha)

More nails in the coffin of “friends with benefits” and people just don’t know. This person saying her name makes her world stop. This ties into the forbidden vibe but it’s also so innocuous that it does fuck with the “we’re just friends with benefits but I want more” interpretation that a hetsplanation would require. Like this is clearly a lot more. It’s already a lot more. It’s not that she just wants more, this girlie is gone.

And then we get to my gayest line: “I don’t want you like a best friend.” Now I get saying you don’t want to be “just friends” with a guy. I also do get being best friends with a guy. One of my irl besties is Blank Space Chaos Anthem girlie and the other is a (mostly) straight dude. I also have other straight dude friends like my mate who I was trying to rescue from accidentally having to marry a converting girl a few years back. I’m like a (woke) straight dude whisperer tbh because being friends with me is a big win for their woke credibility and let’s be real I’m 1) irreverent and great fun and 2) give great advice on girls.

Now I can guarantee you my proposition to fucking any of my dude friends from besties to casuals would not be “I don’t want you like a best friend.” They’d be like, “my bitch wut? Are you with Pothead YouTube Ex again? Tell her BE GONE WITCH!” And sure, maybe that’s just me. But if was already fucking a dude I can guarantee you the words “I don’t want you like a best friend” would not exit my mouth. It’s not “I don’t want to be friends” or “I don’t only want to be friends” she says “I don’t want you like a best friend.” The implication is there’s an appropriate way to “want” a friend and the way she wants the person she’s speaking to is not like that. It’s a similie, she’s comparing the subject of the song to a best friend and saying this is not like that. Now, explain to me why that level of clarification is important in a fwb setup? You’re trying to make it more serious, I get it. You don’t want to be “just” friends with benefits (and we know they’re already fucking) I get that too. But why the similie?

Why would a dude you’re fucking ever misunderstand and think you want him like a best friend?

Carve your name into my bedpost

Cause I don't want you like a best friend

Only bought this dress so you could take it off, take it off (ha, ha, ha)

I mean again, if we needed clarity on why this is a sex anthem it’s the first line of this song. And she’s saying “have sex with me because I don’t want you like a best friend” again, they’ve already fucked that was established in the first verse. Why would this be stuff you clarify with a dude? Why would a man who is fucking you get the wrong impression and assume you want to be best friends? Not friends. Best friends. Why would he think that?

And then we get the dress line. Now, I know some people are like “I dress up for my boyfriend!” and sure. But let’s all be honest. 85%+ of the time girls of any sexual orientation wear outfits out - and we established this is an out type situation - it’s for other girls to notice their fashion. Come on, you’re not expecting your dude friend to be like, “nice dress, where’d you buy it?” “Oh, this? Hahaha it’s just Zara, they were having a sale. If you hurry you might get one too!” Like there’s something inherently sapphic/feminine about discussions of buying clothing. And come on, fellow queer ladies, clothes is a great way to get a chat going.

In this song, Taylor draws attention to this feminine article of clothing she bought to wear on the night in question and instead of saying “it’s Zara” she goes “I only bought it so you could take it off” - I’m doing an eyebrow wiggle but you can’t see because I’m just text on your screen. Why would you say that to a guy? Like if you did, if you’re that girl why are you holding back from him? Y’all are fucking and you have a massive thing for him. Surely he should know by now? Why is this dress even featuring in the conversation? Like I say bringing up a dress you bought in a conversation about sex feels pretty fucking gay. It’s either a really bizarre and kinda desperate flex which doesn’t really match the sexiness of the song or... it’s gay.

Inescapable

I'm not even going to try

Girl you’ve fucked why is there a point of trying at this stage? Unless you... can’t do this or it feels in some way wrong?

And if I get burned, at least we were electrified

Why the I/we split? Like why is only one of them burned if they were electrified? Sure maybe it’s a fwb thing and he can turn her down for more than sex and friendship but it sounds more like - given the best friends - this is her female friend and she’s maybe uncertain of the other woman’s feelings. This feels - and again we’re not doing a Tay’s personal life reading here - like one of them can be fully destroyed by this but despite that reality they are both lit up and hurt in the process.

I'm spilling wine in the bathtub

You kiss my face and we're both drunk

I mean this isn’t inherently gay it’s just sexy, get it Tay. This sounds hot.

Everyone thinks that they know us

But they know nothing about

All of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation

What do they know about you? Like again we’re not doing the Tay reading thing but like what’s the sekrit? She’s fucking her friend? Why don’t they know anything about this? Surely they can imagine it’s a possibility? Like however unlikely, why does nobody know anything about this?

The next chorus is the same as the one above and I still have no hetsplanation for it. Like especially in the broader context of this, again, very gay song.

Then we get a very straight bridge. It’s like it’s from a different song or was written much later:

Flashback when you met me

Your buzz cut and my hair bleached

Even in my worst times, you could see the best of me

Flashback to my mistakes

My rebounds, my earthquakes

Even in my worst lies, you saw the truth in me

And I woke up just in time

Now I wake up by your side

My one and only, my lifeline

I woke up just in time

Now I wake up by your side

My hands shake, I can't explain this

Aha, ha, ha, ha

Okay but this is a completely different vibe to the... entire song. The rest of the song was about the other person not being sure and that being the issue. “I don’t want you like a best friend.” So why: “I woke up just in time”? Like “if I get burned at least we were electrified” but then... “I woke up just in time” - is the rest of the song like a weird nightmare? That’s not, to me, enough of an explanation. She spends the whole song in sexy anxiety pining after someone who cares about where and why she bought her dress and then she’s like “you’re everything to me” - it doesn’t make sense.

The rest of the song is the chorus again. As I’ve said, I don’t see a hetsplanation for it.

This is a gay song. The bridge isn’t and the line about the bathtub isn’t inherently. But the rest of this song is gay af.

#sapphic themes in tay’s music