#-sudden post that puts my brain on overdrive-

[elegyofthemoon]

actually i should stop spoiling myself otherwise i put two and two together and then i send myself into anguish

[theflagscene]

The hand rubbing scene is the gayest sex scene GMMtv has ever had on screen, allow me to explain to you why.

Gifs by @wanderlust-in-my-soul 

Now I can’t speak as someone who is completely blind (obviously) but I can speak as someone who has been progressively losing their sight for the past 15 years - ironically enough from a car accident. Why hello Day, I see you! (pun intended) But I’m also a person who grew up HoH (hard of hearing) from the age of two years old onward, I had tubes put in my ears, wore hearing aids, the whole shebang. The chances of me actually regaining my ability to hear completely was very very slim, the fact that I did actually end up regaining some - not all - of my hearing by my late twenties was a damn shock to us all. The point being, when you are a person who’s lost one of your senses that you are used to having, your body starts to overcompensate.

Most everyone has heard/read/seen things about how removing one sense can lead to your other ones becoming stronger. There’s even been studies that show people born deaf or deafened at a very young age, that their brain starts to rewire itself to allow them to experience sound in a visual way, via touch. It’s sort of like how blind people learn to read braille in a way, the touch creates a picture in your mind allowing you to see the way that word looks and sounds and feels. Theres a whole bit in Scientific America you can check out if you want that breaks it down in layman terms without the writing acting like you’re stupid, which is always nice when it comes to medical jargon lol.

So my point that to Day, his sense of touch is not only in overdrive because it like much of the rest of his senses - smell seems to be a big one they’re leading with - are scambling to try and overcompensate for the sudden lack of sight that is getting worse as time passes. But because he had pulled away from basically the entire world post blindness setting in, spending the last year of his life in his room hardly interacting with anyone, his own mother and brother barely being allowed to touch him. That for Day, his sense of touch is absolutely frantic. Which is why it’s so important for Mhok to constantly place his hands on him, not only to help lead him back into the world but to allow Day to recognize him by touch alone. And it’s being shown that he is, Day already knows Mhok’s voice and it’s touched a bit on the way he smells (ciggs) but this last episode is really starting to show how the touch of people is starting to fully affect Day, especially when he’s out of the house and how Mhok is instantly recognized even though he always follows up his touch with a vocal confirmation that it is in fact him that is touching Day.

So that hand stroking scene, the way Mhok runs the pads of his fingers gently up the centre of Day’s palm, how he strokes the back of his hand like it’s a kitten. That right there could genuinely feel like sex to Day, if not sexual in manner at the very least. The fuzzy look Day gets in his eyes, going from blank, to blissful to bashful and then finally awkward. It wasn’t just because of the fact that the dude he lowkey is starting to have a crush on is rubbing his hand in what I’m seeing being called a ‘weirdly intimate way’. It’s because Day’s body and brain is reacting to that touch in a way that people with all five senses might not completely comprehend, imagine your most intense erogenous zone (btw the palms of the hands are occasionally considered one) now imagine if that intensity was ramped up by ten, or twenty or even fifty and then imagine that that erogenous zone was suddenly everywhere. The most innocuous part of your body could bring you the most incredible sensations, both sexual and emotional, that’s what Day is feeling.

Mhok, now Mhok, he’s not stupid. Far from it in fact, he’s clued in on that not only is Day queer but also that he has a bit of a crush on him. Mhok has also quickly adapted to how he needs to teach Day to see the world in a new way, hence all the touching and smelling and reinforcement that Day can in fact do things for himself, including asking for help when he needs it. So Mhok knew exactly what he was doing with the hand rubbing, sort of. Did he know the sensation would be heightened, my best bet is totally. But did he expect to have his reaction to it go beyond that of teasing? Given his own bashfulness, doubtful. When you’re dating someone with a loss of one or many senses, you tend to change your own preconceived notions of what intimacy with your partner is. For some people offering a foot rub to their partner is a clear come on, an offer for something to lead to more. But for a blind person, especially a newly blind person like Day. They use their hands to navigate their entire world - you literally read with your fingers - so a blind persons hands are basically their most important tools in a lot of ways. To have someone touch your hands with such care, such reverence, it’s not just intimate, it’s full on foreplay.

Mhok wasn’t just touching Day, he was touching Day. It was meant to be seen as intimate because it was intimate, so intimate, in a way I don’t think either Mhok nor Day were expecting it to be because neither had ever experienced something like that before. That scene was truly the beginning of their relationship shifting, that hand scene was kind of like their first kiss.

Gifs by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

[adracat]

yes, hello. I’d like to attack you with unrelenting happiness for the next few minutes of your time. it’s a feedback loop originating from and re-projecting back to you.

first of all, seeing your deconstructions after stumbling upon your ao3 makes me regret missing out on the live updates from you and the community here (aniwave comments are dogshit)

thank you for your posts. they let me think critically about and appreciate g-witch that much more from novel analysis perspectives. reading back a bit, especially to your take on scenes such as ep10’s communication clear up, and seeing these pieces given the gravity and respect they deserve, is taking the bite off of the series’ conclusion.

speaking of treating the sulemio shaped hole in the networks from now on, a red tempest is the kind of fic one wishes they could distill and take intravenously at maximum drip.

it won’t be for everyone, and you think law of causality is your best (haven’t read it yet), but it feels like you’re writing professional grade work just for me with how it seemingly doesn’t miss or waste a line. you present a tight ship regardless of whether that’s how you run it. the story feels compact and layer woven yet flows along seamlessly and with that wonderful sense of OC unlimited potential, dropping shadows here and there but keeping me fully on my toes. still in the rising action, but hopefully multiple full arcs…? (worth!)

the spots of canon that you spun into a universe feel weighted, alive with the way your voice gives an inherent gravitas even to small supporting details, and nothing is more alive than your characters.

you do them so well, it’s impossible to stress enough. regardless of where they’re going in the future, where you’ve had them come from and be is so genuine and, in most cases, compliant/paying close homage in their personalities. your dialogue is a breath of life. eri and chuchu particularly, and prospera especially.

there are small things that are subtle like suletta being a bit less anxious at the start, and there are larger things that are less subtle like all of prospera— yours of whom I love— but everything’s working believably and in sync as you craft this beautiful story. my only complaint is that I think the next release is gonna be a sulemio heavy chapter during the job’s sudden distress, and it isn’t this weekend’s release date yet.

there’s a lot else, like the many juxtapositions, the slow burn, and other emotional/literary devices, but while I’ve already spent too long trying to put just this much of a review/praise bomb together, I’ve gotta jaw on a bit more about your fantastic perspective work with clear voices for each heroine. it’s so exciting getting into the younger couple’s heads when it comes to each other. you’re probably going to slaughter me with elnora and notrette, but ch11’s suletta and mio are already doing it with their pining.

thank you. it’s a joy and a pleasure. I hope to read you for a long time to come. I’d ask to share some of your brain chemicals, but reading the product makes mine just as happy. I hope that means we share a brain cell; then I could rise and meet the caliber. o7

That’s so sweet of you! And absolutely; sending you spiritual braincells 🤗 I put a wealth of thought into all my works but something about Sulemio and Prospera✨ sends my brain into overdrive. Law of Causality and A Red Tempest are passion driven works that I’m happy to share with likeminded people. If you ever do decide to give AASB and its sister works a try you may find interesting connections. ART is a bit of a spiritual sequel in a way. Though admittedly ART Prospera may be a rascally devil but is intentionally more likable than LoC ‘Prospera’. I decided to make her pathetic in ART for funsies 👏

Thanks so much for the kind words ❤️Encouragement gives me wings to confidently move forward—just like our merry cast!

[no1rengokufan]

Suki's Entrapment

I never post on here 😞😞 but. I have an old tidbit from my Satosugu love child, so.. here.

Idk what tw this count as — maybe gore?? I dunno and don't really care !!

"Prison realm. Open."

It was late in the day in Shibuya— there was a cold breeze, the sun hidden by several clouds. Though, the chill in the air was not even close to being Suki's largest problem.

Suguru Getō stood before his son, or at least the husk of what used to be Suguru Getō. A cold sneer spread across his face, his eyes dull with a sheen of malice.

"I do apologize. It's a shame to seal away a child as young as you, Suki. Perhaps I will release you in a few millennia... then you'll be willing to cooperate, hm?" The man spoke calmly and clearly, but he sounded nothing like Getō. Getō wouldn't talk to Suki like that. No, he couldn't.

If Suki wasn't struggling against the fleshy grips of the Prison Realm, he might've jumped on Getō and hugged him so hard that he broke a rib or two. Alas, the child couldn't, he was stuck on his knees, his entire body slowly being consumed by the mass.

"No, no no no, please no." Suki begged, shaking his head from side to side. His sunglasses fell and shattered into pieces, and he let out a quiet sob. Those sunglasses— he got them from his other father for his birthday. His birthday last week, actually—

"Oh, no no. Stop struggling. You're wasting your energy." Getō tutted, wagging his finger. The prison realm continued to slowly shrink, inch by inch consuming the teenager.

"Dad, please!"

Both Suki and Getō froze at the cry that escaped Suki's mouth. Dad? How..peculiar. Getō's smile dropped for a moment, only to return with an even harsher grin.

"Dad?" He asked, stepping forward and placing a finger under the teens chin, making him look up. "I am not your father, child. He's long dead."

Suki shook his head vigorously, tears escaping all six of his eyes. "Uh-uh! Uh-uh, uh-uh, uh-uh!"

Getō tsked, parting his bang and undoing the stitches on his forehead. He lifted up the top half of his head, exposing a brain with a..strange, rectangular mouth on it. A clear liquid began to drip from where his brain was exposed, trailing down his face and even entering his mouth. He had a psychotic expression on his face, clearly enjoying taunting the child.

"My name is Kenjaku, foolish one. Your 'dad' is no more. I have no use for this conversation. Goodnight, Suki." Getō— no, not Getō. Kenjaku droned, snapping.

"Prison Realm. Close."

Suki let out a cry, his flesh stretching and tearing as he was forced into a cube similar in size to a building block.

"No, wai—" His voice was cut off as the Prison Realm fully engulfed him. He opened his eyes to find himself in a dark void— nothing on any side of him. Not even a floor. He was just free-floating in the abyss.

He put his head in his hands and brought his knees to his chest, sobs freely escaping him. Being there was painful, and Suki wanted nothing more than to be out of this hell. Internally, he knew he wouldn't get out. He knew it could be millions of years before he was released or died.

And so, the child merely sobbed for his father. Suki longed for the feeling of Gojō's arms around him— the feeling of safety. Deep down, the child in him still called for his daddies. For the men that had created and raised him.

He had an eternity to beg for the release of death. It had already felt like hundreds of years had passed as Suki cried, though it had only been a few days at most.

Clang.

What?

Clang.

What was going on?

CLANG.

What is that godforsaken noise?

Thump.

Suki, curled up into the fetal position, fell from the prison realm, hitting the ground with a thump. All of the sudden, every single sensation of the real world flooded his senses, sending his brain into overdrive. Suki could hear the blood pumping in his veins, the chattering of hundreds of people as they questioned him, the tweeting of the birds, the wind blowing softly in his ears. He could smell every little thing, from his own tears to the shampoo of everybody present. He could feel the sun beating down on him, the wind blowing against his torn clothing, his self administered wounds reopening from the sudden movement.

Worst of all, he could see. Suki could see the sun, blindingly bright after 6 months in the prison realm. Everything blurred together, from the white hair of his father to the pink hair of Yuuji. He could've sworn that there was a voice calling his name, but who knows? Maybe he'd finally snapped inside of the prison realm.

"Suki."

He ignored it, hoping the voices would go away if he ignored them.

"Suki."

Yet, the voice persisted. More tears dripped from Suki's eyes.. of course, his brain had to make it sound like Yuuji.

"Suki!"

He finally opened an eye when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Oh, gods, you're alive." Satoru pulled his son into a tight hug, Yuuji joining it seconds later. Suki remained completely still. Was his mind still playing tricks? Was this real? No, no it couldn't be. The prison realm was inescapable. Right?

All of the teens eyes finally opened, his six eyes observing the area around him. There was a large crowd, maybe 50 people? All of the Jujutsu Higher-ups were there. Instead of this making him believe it was real, he just slouched into himself. Of course. He was reliving his best and worst memories.

Suki's vibrant irises were covered by his eyelids once more, and three words fell from his lips. They were dull, monotone, like he knew it was a fact but wished it wasn't.

"You're not real."

For Satoru, time seemed to stop. Had he been too late? was this his child anymore? Where did.. where did the shine in his eyes go? The joy?

For Yuuji, everything began racing. How could he convince Suki this was real? Would he ever be able to get Suki back? Had his boyfriend entered a state of no return.

Satoru and Yuuji spoke in unison, though Satoru spoke like he couldn't believe it and Yuuji spoke like it was consuming his every waking thought. "Suki, this is real."

The boy shook his head. He felt like a shell of what he used to be— how could anything be real when he felt this.. horrid.

Rather randomly, a large, white dog pounced on Suki and began licking his face, slobbering all over the teen. He opened his eyes, pushing Miko away, who promptly hit him. He yelped, pulling his hand away.

"Miko! Bad!" He scolded, and the big dog rested his head on Suki's lap.

A flash of white blinded the boy, and Suki found himself sitting in a room next to his father. When he tried to get his attention, he was ignored.

"We need to get him out of there soon."

"How? The prison realm is inescapable, even for Suki. Even for me!"

"I can do it."

Another flash of light, and he found himself face to face with an angel.

"Child." She spoke, reaching out a hand to the boy. "You're free of the realm. Greet your family."

Another flash, and Suki found himself back where he'd started, on the hard concrete, held tightly in Satoru and Yuuji's arms. Finally, he raised his own and wrapped them around his dad and lover.

"I missed you." He whispered, breaking into tears. For the first time in six months, they were happy.

THATS ALL THANKS !! I have more stuff for my. Various other OCS but I might talk about them later

[bandzboy]

kehlani is a great example - she was openly pro-palestine (even though they've stopped posting as much) but she's signed to a zionist label. and i'm boycotting the music officially but to a certain extent it's like these artists livelihood IS threatened if they leave their label (if they're not dropped first). do these artists' pro-palestine views get erased because zionism is so insidious and has grown roots in literally every aspect of the western music industry and they happen to be signed to these labels (which at this point all have a zionist connection)?? the creative community for peace (responsible for justin bieber becoming a zionist all of a sudden) has probably invested so much money and time to make sure it's established and unavoidable. knowing this about the western industry, it's hard to be so hard on kpop idols because they are also largely being taken advantage of by these companies. it's like, we see western artists being openly pro-israel but aside from like a few idols no idol has been openly pro-israel. idk my brain is working in overdrive lately it's such a shitty situation we're forced to be in when we just want to enjoy music and our favorite artists

yeah that's why when i know all of these things i respect the artists that show their support knowing they could get dropped by these labels SO MUCH because they are putting their career on the line and they know that, especially small artists, need labels to support them and it's essentially a deal breaker. i know for a fact that there are probably a lot of artists who get threatened behind the scenes to not say anything and they probably start saying "if you say this we will drop you and make your life a living hell" i mean... a lot of these people in the industry are so powerful that they can blacklist someone just like that and it's terrifying! what is annoying to me is how there are big artists that have a lot of money atp and are so well loved that it's hard for them to lose anything not so say anything! some of these people could start their own label and everything and choose not to say a thing and to me it's disappointing in that sense! but it's always the smaller-ish (saying this because some of them aren't that small and i don't offend anyone lmao) that speak out and put everything on the line. that's why i hate this aspect of the industry, how much these artists are exploited and obligated to do things they don't exactly want to but because they have these big music executives waving their contracts in front of them are probably threatening to just throw it in the trash if they don't comply! a lot of them use that to their own advantage and it's something that is unfortunately very common! that's why if an artist is dropped from a label for speaking out they should be supported and i respect those people so much because even tho they lost opportunities they stood up for what they believed in and what i am hoping that these boycotts do over time is for us to make a better space for artists and even incentivize unions in the industry etc because having no freedom of speech because of a contract or wtv is it's absurd and personally, i could not stand living like that!

[bullshxtvixen]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Pairing: Bokuto x Reader

Word Count: 5.1k

Song: Put It On Me - Matt Maeson 

Warnings: 18+, Coercion(dubcon themes), size kink, cream pie, virginity kink, corruption kink, rough sex, spitting, spanking, light choking, light assplay(I couldn’t help myself), dom!bokuto(he’s kind of an ass oops).

A/N: So uh, it’s finally here…My first fic in two months and i’m ngl, i’ve been dreading posting for so long, but i tried to give you guys something good for my return, so please let me know what you think and go easy on me, i’m a little rusty sksks. However, this is a gift for @thekraziesreside because she drew me them most amazing Kenma x Me icon and i needed to pay her back somehow!!

Shoutout to my amazing friends @deathcab4daddy​, @dymphnasprose​ and @spicykzumeknma​, who i’m sure are sick of beta reading this by now and having me freaking out about posting it. Thank you for all your grammar corrections that I will probably never learn from, I love you all

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“I-I’m a virgin.”

The words slip from your tongue before you can stop them.

The large hands that had been tracing the contours of your body stilled. You had to stop yourself from flinching when his intense golden stare shot to your face.

“What…” He let the word trail off, a well-practised mask of surprise coming into place on his features.

It was second nature to him now, letting his face morph into whatever expression he needed it to at a moments notice. No one ever suspected the friendly Ace of being anything other than a good guy, and really, he wasn’t a bad guy. No, he just relished in taking the innocence of unsuspecting women who easily fell into his trap.

Like you.

“I’m a virgin, Kou.” Even though you were straddling him, you still had to look up to meet his eyes. 

With the tips of your ears burning, you moved to get off of his lap as if you could escape from your embarrassing confession. You couldn’t believe you’d openly admitted you were an inexperienced virgin to the guy you’d only just met a week ago.  A mutual friend had introduced the two of you, and you’d quickly fallen for his ‘nice guy’ act.

You hadn’t even put a foot on the floor before you were pulled back and thrown into the pillows. The weight of Bokuto’s body was quick to settle on top of you, pressing you down into the plush mattress. 

“What are y-” before you could finish your sentence, your wrists were pinned above your head, rendering your arms useless in his firm grip. The muscles in your abdomen tightened at his rough treatment, and you couldn’t stop the small gasp that fell from your lip. Turning your head to the side, you tried in vain to hide your flustered expression.

Bokuto felt his cock twitch in the grey sweats that hung low on his hips.

The innocent ones were always the most responsive. He fought off a grin as the thought crossed his mind.

“Did you really think I was going to let you get away after telling me something like that?” He growled, warm breath ghosting over your face and across your neck. He watched with a glint in his eyes as you shivered under him. 

Oh, he was going to enjoy this.

“Do you know what that means, little bird?”

Your heart raced at the nickname.

Could he make you sing for him?

Certain he could hear your heartbeat fluttering like a hummingbird's wings in your chest, you silently prayed for the ground to open up and swallow you whole. The mortification you felt was palpable in the space between you.

Bokuto thought it was cute how bashful you were, so unsure and unwilling to show him your real feelings, even though your body told him everything he needed to know. Still, he’d have you voicing your innermost desires sooner or later- it was only a matter of time.

“Well?” He pressed, not allowing you to dwell on your thoughts any longer. He didn’t want to have to put in too much effort to break you.

Your voice was small and unsure when you answered him, eyes looking anywhere but his direction, “No.” 

He was so close, closer than any man had ever been before. The proximity made it hard to think straight as the warmth of his body seeped into your bones, and his masculine scent invaded your senses. 

It was almost stifling.

His tongue darted out, licking a wet strip up the side of your exposed neck before pressing a soft kiss just below your ear. He felt you shiver beneath him before pulling back and watching a deep blush journey down to your chest. It was so pure...He couldn’t wait to be the one to defile your virtue.

Gently grasping your chin between his thumb and index finger, he turned your face until you had no option but to meet his simmering gaze. 

Begrudgingly, you looked up at the man looming over you and found he was already observing your flustered expression. He stared so openly and without shame that you began to squirm under him.

Bokuto saw your blush deepen further and wondered what you’d look like when he eased his cock inside your virgin hole.

Would your eyes roll into the back of your head? Would your nails imbed themselves in his back? Or maybe you’d simply cry out in pain and pleasure as he ripped through your innocence?

All kinds of scenarios whirled around in his brain, sending his mind into overdrive. 

Unconsciously, he ground the head of his cock against your clothed slit and was rewarded when he heard your sharp intake of breath. 

Heat pooled in his groin. 

It was such a pretty sound. He wanted more, and he didn’t need to feel the slick collecting in the crotch of your underwear to know your feelings mirrored his.

His smile was predatory as he answered.

“It means that I’ll be the first person to fill your tight little pussy up with cum. I’ll stretch your walls around my cock and pump you so full that it’ll be dripping out of you for days.” 

The lewd words fell from his mouth with ease, and you found yourself shifting as your body all of a sudden became too warm as if the temperature in the room had spiked, but you knew it was his words alone that had caused your reaction.

You hated how easily he affected you.

“I bet you want me to corrupt your sweet little body, don’t you?” He already knew the answer.

Your body responded of its own accord, turning into putty beneath him. Your hips rolled against his as your back arched off the bed at the feeling of his cock nudging against your clit. The knot in your stomach tightened. 

The grip on your wrists tightened. Bokuto took a few steadying breaths, struggling to hold himself back. You seemed so tiny and fragile as you lay beneath his brawny form, and he was scared he would break you if he gave in to his own desires too soon.

Maybe that’s what you wanted. The sadistic voice in the back of his mind purred. 

“I- I don’t know.” Your voice wavered as you answered him honestly. Doubt had begun to gnaw at your gut. Waiting didn’t seem like the worst idea- there was no rush, after all.

He closed his eyes for a split second to hide the annoyance that no doubt flickered through them. When he reopened them, he became the personification of a bird of prey, and you were his next meal.

Your mouth became dry as you lied entrapped by his stare.

“Come on, I can make you feel good.” As if he was digging his talons in to prevent your escape, he rolled his hips against yours once more, making sure that his cock rubbed firmly over your swelling clit. The side of his mouth quirked up when a tentative moan left your parted lips. 

“That’s it, you like that, don’t you? You want me to make you feel good, don’t you, little bird?” another roll of his hips, and he watched the doubt dissolve away for now.

“Koutarou...please.” Your voice was small, uncertain as you begged. 

You didn’t know what you were begging for, you just knew he could give it to you, whatever it was.

Golden eyes flashed at the way your voice was saturated with need. For a moment he thought that maybe you weren’t a virgin, but instead, a succubus, come to steal his soul. 

He would let you.

The weight of his body left yours, and in seconds, you were stripped of all of your clothing, which was thrown haphazardly around the room. His soon followed.

Eager eyes drank in the sight of your naked body before him. Your skin was so beautiful and unmarred by another person, so enticing and begging for his touch. Soon you would be littered in his marks as he lay claim to your body, inside and out.

Growing self-conscious under his prolonged stare, you tried in vain to cover your most intimate parts.

“There’s no use trying to hide from me. I’m going to become well-acquainted with your body by the time I’m done with you.”

A gasp escaped your lips when his fingers reached down and ghosted over your folds. A groan left him when he felt just how wet you were.

“Well, looks like someone’s already dripping at the thought of being ruined by my cock- isn’t that cute?” Though his tone was mocking, his words still sent excitement trickling down your spine.

Spreading your lips, he circled a thick finger around your twitching entrance, smiling devilishly when you whined for him. Through heavy-lidded eyes, he witnessed your jaw go slack as he eased the first finger past the slick opening, surprised when he was met with little resistance. 

Soon he was able to work himself knuckle-deep, and your walls fluttered around him in welcome.

Such a slutty pussy for someone so untouched. 

“You’re so tight, baby. Your pussy’s sucking my finger in so nicely; I bet you’re going to feel amazing when I stuff my cock inside.”

You groaned as his fingers started to move within your previously untainted walls. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling like you’d feared it would be- it was almost like a welcoming pressure had settled deep within you. 

“Kou… more.” 

A chuckle met your ears in line with his warm lips brushing against your pubic bone, “Your wish is my command.”

When the second finger was added, the discomfort became evident on your face. He didn’t pause his movements; instead, their pace increased as pain and pleasure fought for dominance at the apex of your thighs.

“That’s it, you can do it. The pain will stop soon,” At that moment he chose to curl his fingers and press them against the spongy spot deep within your sopping cunt. The pain dulled and was overshadowed by pleasure as he played with your body as if it were an instrument he was fine-tuning. 

“Ah- fuck, I-” Your breathing accelerated as the pressure in the pit of your stomach began to increase . Your hips started to buck up off the bed when his thumb joined his ministrations and began working tight circles against your clit. Sparks of excitement like nothing you’d felt before shot through your veins. Stringing thoughts together became almost impossible.

If this was what his fingers could do, you weren’t sure you’d be able to remain sane once his cock entered you.

“There it is,” he cooed, fingertips rubbing against the same spot, this time with a little more vigour, “God, you look so beautiful with my fingers inside you, you’re drenching them, baby.”

A thick fog came over your mind as they stroked and stretched your walls, creating a pressure in your abdomen that threatened to overflow at any second. It almost scared you, and yet, you couldn’t prevent your hips from desperately grinding down against his hand.

“More,” you cried, your breaths beginning to come out in pants.

The wet squelching sounds of your pussy filled the room as his hand became a blur between your thighs. The sound only added to your arousal.

When your legs began to quake, he lowered his head and added his mouth to the mix, suckling skillfully at your puffy clit. His lips were cool as they attached themselves to your heated skin, the difference in temperature causing a prolonged whine to leave you.

His tongue swirled around the sensitive nub, his fingers working your insides, coiling, stroking and stretching until the pressure that had been steadily rising in your stomach finally exploded within your body. It erupted from your core, spreading through you like wildfire.

Your hands found hair, pulling and twisting the soft locks as you came hard around his fingers. He moaned at the flash of pain in his scalp- causing his own desire to heighten. Your walls pulsed as he continued to curl his fingers against your g-spot. 

“Yes, yes, yes! Fuck, Kou, fuck, oh god, oh god!” Your cries of delight were music to Bokuto’s ears. It excited him so much that he couldn’t help but gently rut his hips into the mattress. His cock was painfully hard now, and precum leaked freely from his swelling tip. He needed to be inside you soon or he’d lose his mind.

Pulling his fingers from your pussy, you watched through half-lidded eyes as he brought them to his mouth and began to eagerly lap at them. 

“Koutarou…That was....” Your brain was still riding its high, unable to give you an end to your sentence.

He pulled his hand from his mouth, “I told you I’d make you feel good. Now, before I fuck your brains out, why don’t you see how good you taste?”

The musky smell of your arousal filled your nostrils as he brought his fingers to your lips.

“Open.” It wasn’t a request.

At your hesitance, he quirked a brow, “I promise you taste amazing. Now, open.”

You obeyed, still riding the endorphin high he’d pulled from your body. Because of this, you didn’t even notice that he’d reached over and pressed record on his phone that was propped up on the nightstand. He’d made sure to angle it so the camera pointed directly at your face.

He found people were much more...compliant... if he had video footage he could use against them in the event that they changed their minds.

With a grin, he placed the two fingers he’d had knuckle deep in your cunt against your tongue.

The tart taste of your release was quick to spread over your tastebuds. His eyes darkened when you began to swirl your tongue around his fingers, lightly sucking on them until they were completely clean of your arousal. 

It was so erotic that you found it hard to maintain eye contact. 

He released a shaky breath before pulling his fingers from your mouth with a satisfying ‘pop’.

“You’re a little minx, you know that?” He teased, allowing one of his hands to come to rest next to your head while the other reached between your bodies. Taking his length in his hand, he watched a mix of anticipation and fear come over your features when you looked down.

Your audible gulp was heard in the silence that followed.

You weren’t sure what you’d expected, but this was beyond anything your mind had come up with. Even though you’d never had sex before, you knew he was big. His cock was thick and heavy where it hung between his legs. Veins ran along the sides of his shaft, the largest one snaking directly down the centre before splitting in two near the swollen head. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what it would feel like having something so big inside your body.

“I don’t think I can do this.” Your voice wavered, doe-eyes shining with fear as they met his.

He acknowledged your fear with a condescending sneer, “Oh, little bird, you really think you have a choice?” he nodded towards the nightstand.

The blood in your veins turned icy, and your body began to tremble as you lay eyes on the phone, screen open and recording.

Breathing became difficult as panic rose in your chest. You’d been so naive. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“It’s been recording for the last couple of minutes. Now,” his rough fingers came to rest against the sides of your throat, squeezing lightly as he brought his face just inches from yours, “you can either behave, and this will feel amazing for both of us, or you can be a brat, and the only person this is going to be fun for is me. Not to mention, I’ll send the video around to every person you know, including your boss.” 

At the mention of your boss, your whole body deflated. He had you right where he wanted you. While the thought of your friends and family seeing the video was mortifying, you couldn’t risk losing your job. Your virginity was a small price to pay to make sure the video stayed hidden.

Anger bloomed in your chest as you leered up at the spiky-haired man, but you had no fight in you. It was useless to even try.

“If I do this, you’ll make it go away?” You tried to make your voice sound confident, but it cracked at the end.

He couldn’t stop the smile from creeping onto his face when he realised you were giving in, “Of course- no one else will ever see it.”

He watched the internal battle going on behind your mind before your eyes hardened.

“Fine, so be it. I’ll play your sick game.” You spat, what else did you have to lose?

Bokuto’s eyes widened when you reached down and removed his hand from his length before replacing it with your own. It was softer than you’d imagined, yet firm at the same time. Like steel encased in velvet. 

“You like the feeling of my cock, baby? It’ll feel even better when I'm balls deep inside you. You’ll be my little slut and take it all like a good girl, won’t you?”

The man above you let out a rumbling moan from deep within his chest when your fingers flexed around him, head falling against your chest. Your wavering hands felt so small as they struggled to circle his impressive girth. It again reminded him of the size difference between the two of you.

Your eyes darted between him and the phone. He took the hint and reached over, turning the phone off and laying it flat against the nightstand.

He turned back to you with a smug smirk. 

You wanted to slap the look right off his face, but violence would probably result in the video being circulated faster.

Resigning yourself to your fate, you dipped the head of the thick muscle between your folds. Your slick coated it instantly. Lining him up with your entrance, you waited for him to meet your gaze. When he did, he saw the hatred burning in them. It made his cock throb in your palm.

When he pressed his hips forward, all at once, the air left your body as heat flooded your core.

Bokuto studied your face intently, drinking in the way your pupils dilated and your mouth dropped open into a silent moan. If he could burn one image into his mind, it was your face at that moment as he stole the last remnants of your innocence from you.

“Hng-fuck...it feels...s-so-” Your hands blindly grasped at his broad shoulders, seeking some kind of anchor as the burning feeling of his cock threatening to split you open sent your mind into a frenzy.

“So what, baby?” He cooed, body tense above you. “How does it feel? Come on, little bird, use your words.”

Nails dug into his shoulder blades as he worked himself into you. Hissing out a breath, he savoured the way your lower muscles clenched around his girth before relaxing, only to repeat the motion moments later, pulling him deeper into your heated sheath.

“So full. So so full, so fucking good.” You whimpered, tears stinging the corners of your eyes. It was a fullness, unlike anything you’d ever felt before. Every nerve in your body had come to life, and a familiar heat began to pool in your lower body once again. Bokuto’s control began to slip, and he soon realised he was trembling above you in an effort to hold back. Heat was surging through his own body, clouding his mind and bringing him closer to his climax. If he didn’t move soon...

“Ah, fuck, I need…” He couldn’t finish the rest of his sentence, his mind was lost to the beast you’d unleashed inside of him. With a harsh snap of his hips, he sheathed the rest of his cock inside your wet heat.

A scream ripped from your throat as your poor cunt was suddenly filled to the brim with the Ace’s cock. His hips lay flush against yours as he bottomed out inside you, the plush head of his length kissing your cervix. He stretched your body in such a sinful way that for a second, you forgot how to breathe. 

Even though you never wanted anything to do with him and the thought of him being inside you made you feel sick, you couldn’t stop your body’s natural reaction to him.

On instinct, your legs wrapped around his hips, heels pressing against his ass. You didn’t know where your confidence had come from, and in your lust-driven craze, you didn’t care. In fact, it was almost as if a switch had been flicked in your mind. All you knew was that you craved him.

“Shit, you’re choking my cock with that sweet little pussy. Fuck.”

“Koutarou...move. Please.” You panted, cutting him off, “I need you to move, now.”

The heels of your feet dug into his ass while you simultaneously rolled your hips into his. The movement sent flares of desire straight to your core.

Bokuto didn’t need to be told twice.

The first few of his thrusts were short and practised as if he was testing whether or not your body could handle him. When he was met with mewls and whimpers, he couldn’t stop himself from picking up his pace and slamming mercilessly into your greedy pussy. 

The pressure you’d experienced before started to build once again, only this time it felt more intense, almost out of control as you writhed beneath him.

There were many ways you’d imagined losing your virginity; slow, soft, romantic sex with someone you’d known for years; gentle caresses and stolen kisses beneath a slither of moonlight as your lover whispered loving words into your ear.

This was nothing like that. 

Bokuto’s thrusts were bruising, unforgiving, and the power behind each one jolted your entire body. He was animalistic as he fucked into you.

This wasn’t love-making. This was rough, hard fucking, and you found yourself growing intoxicated as you were forced to drink in every sensation he was pulling from you. 

He’d been wrong before, you weren’t like the other girls at all. They’d all cried and begged for him to go easy. But you, you thrived on him using your body, even savoured the feeling of being fucked like a whore.

The realisation made his head spin. If you liked being fucked like a whore, he was happy to oblige.

A strangled cry echoed through the room when his teeth latched onto the sensitive skin of your nipple. His hot tongue swirled around the pebbled nub, sending bolts of desire splintering through you as the pressure inside you bubbled up and threatened to explode at any moment.

His mouth left you all too soon.

“Such a good girl. You’re taking my cock so well. Who knew a virgin could be such a dirty little slut? I bet you’re loving this, being used like a cocksleeve.” The words left his mouth in a rush as if he’d forget them if he didn’t get them out fast enough. 

Leaning back, he hooked his arms beneath your knees, still continuing his assault on your cunt. He couldn’t help but reach around and press a hand on your stomach. Desire stirred in his groin when he felt himself moving beneath his palm. 

“Fuck, that’s so hot. I’m practically in your stomach…” His words died off when he felt your walls begin to spasm.

“Kou, I’m- fuck- I’m going to cum.”

No, he wouldn’t let you cum just yet, it was too soon. He knew if he drew it out much longer, you’d be too sore for another round, but he wanted- no, he needed- to test just how far he could corrupt you.

Without thinking, he leant over your body and allowed a string of his saliva to slowly drip from his mouth. It gave you enough time to move if it was too much for you.

You didn’t move. No, instead you eagerly stuck your tongue out and waited for his spit to drip onto it, like a puppy begging for a treat.

When you swallowed it with a smirk on your face, he finally lost all semblance of control.

You weren’t entirely sure what happened next, but next thing you knew, you were stomach-down on the bed.

“Wha-”

The sound of impact as Bokuto’s hand met the supple flesh of your ass rang in your ears. You barely had time to register the searing heat blooming across your rear before he brought his hand down again on the opposite side.

“Get that fucking ass in the air.” 

Bringing your knees under you and sticking your ass out as much as you could, you waited for his next move as your orgasm began to dwindle.

Bokuto bit his lip as he watched you present yourself to him, puffy lips glistening in the dim light.

Gripping your hip with one hand, he used the other to give your ass a few slaps with his length before realigning himself with your entrance. You were so wet and stretched so well that with a harsh snap of his hips, his entire length was buried deep in you with no resistance.

“Fuck!” Your voice was hoarse as you cried out from being stuffed with his cock again.

The angle this new position set had his cock dragging along your walls, caressing them as he fucked into your heat. The new pace he set was brutal as he chased his own high.

Skin against skin became the only sound in the room as his weighty balls slapped against your clit- each time the coil in your stomach tightened.

Your body stiffened when you heard him spit, followed by the feel of moisture coming into contact at the top of your ass.

He’d been lost in his mind as he watched your puffy slit suck in his length, and when his eyes travelled up to the puckered hole just above, he couldn’t help himself.

“Don’t worry,” He spread the spit around your pucker with his thumb before gently applying pressure, “I’ll ruin this hole next time, little bird. But first, I want you to get an idea of just how good I can be to you.”

When his thumb slipped past the tight ring of muscle, your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

A sense of euphoria settled deep within you as you lay there and let the Ace pound into you with reckless abandon.

Bokuto became drunk on the cries he was sure you didn’t even realise were falling from your mouth as drool pooled beneath your cheek and turned the bedsheets a darker shade.

It wouldn’t be long now. He could feel his balls tightening as heat spread through his body. Not to mention, your legs had started to quiver with the first signs of your release.

“You ready to come for me again, baby?” His hips never faltered from the harsh pace he’d set.

“I can’t...too much...fuck.”

He found it almost endearing that you thought you had a choice. 

“Wrong answer.”

You didn’t think it was possible for him to fuck you any harder, but a last burst of energy had him pistoning his hips into you with such force that you had to reach above your head and press a shakey hand against the headboard to stop your body from jolting forward.

Your body couldn’t take much more stimulation and seconds later you cried out your release into the mattress.

Your first orgasm was nothing compared to the pure ecstasy you felt in those following moments as you came hard around the thick muscle still pumping into your aching walls.

Stars flashed across your vision as your toes curled, and your hands blindly clawed at the mattress. It was as if you’d been washed out to sea in an ocean of bliss, and you had no choice but to ride the waves crashing through you.

Bokuto’s thrust became sporadic until finally, his body went taut behind you, balls tightening as he emptied his seed into your spasming walls. 

His cum was warm as it splashed against your cervix, staining every inch of your insides with the thick fluid.

White noise rang in your ears as your body rode out its chemical high.

Bokuto pulled his thumb and cock from your holes once his balls were empty. Once removed, your body collapsed to the side, exhausted.

Bokuto’s own energy was about to run out, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from your twitching cunt. His cum had started to dribble out from between your swollen lips in a steady stream of white.

Instinct had him reaching out and pressing as much of it back into your body as he could. He ignored the weak cries that the action coaxed from your mouth as his fingers brushed against tender flesh.

He’d fucked you raw. 

You’d be sore for days after this. Hell, a dull ache had settled in his own muscles.

With a groan, he used the last of his energy to scoop your thoroughly fucked body off the bed and carry you the short distance to the bathroom. Placing you gingerly down into the toilet seat, he only let go when he was sure you weren’t going to fall face-first onto the cold tile floor.

Grabbing a small cloth, he made quick work of rubbing the musky smell of sex from your body before jumping into the shower and ridding himself of the thin layer of sweat sticking to him. The warm water felt amazing against his skin, and suddenly, tiredness came over him. All of his limbs felt heavy as if weights had been attached to them. He’d definitely been rougher than he meant to- fucking never usually took this much out of him.

You’d been so lost in your after-sex daze that he almost jumped out of his skin when you finally spoke.

“So...When can we go again?” Your voice was far more lucid than he’d expected. It seemed in your daze you’d forgotten your hatred towards him. He knew some gentle persuasion was all it would take to unlock your inner animal.

Raising a brow, he turned to see a sly smile creep onto your face as you sat naked on his toilet. 

You at least had the decency to blush at your request.

“I mean...that’s if you want to. Oh, and you’d better delete that video or I’ll rip your cock off and shove it down your throat.”

He thought you might just be a succubus after all.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

THERE IT IS!! LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK<3 Likes/Reblogs/Comments are always appreciated and mean more than you realise ^.^

You can add yourself to me taglist here 

[takamikeiigos]

Okay okay wait. I read ur post about how he just neglected/didn’t know how to reciprocate affection.. BUT what would happen if hawk’s s/o ended up getting kidnapped in the middle of a mission or smth 🤨🤨 and how would he be once his s/o is back and safe with him😩

so i feel like hawks kinda has a hard time coming out of his 'role' of being a hero / weapon / tool. like all his life he was told 'you don't have time to be distracted, you don't have time to process feelings, you need to be better'

so being able to really get attached to someone and experiencing genuine love and affection from them is kinda jarring? and sometimes things happen (like this for instance) and he gets put back on factory settings bc he doesn't know how to handle the worry and fear and anger for someone he cares about (that he's not supposed to care about bc he's not supposed to have distractions in the first place)

anyway. this is my shit. ty for this delicious ask 🤌🏼

• there's not many people hawks gets into a tizzy about. not many people that upset him - or irritate him - or really push him over the edge

• there's also not many people that push hawks to his emotional boundaries - make him feel such need to want, cherish, protect

• you just so happen to be one of them

• so when you're both on a mission together thats consisted of you two chasing leads for a couple days, he's definitely not expecting you to go missing with a ransom note left in your wake

• he's immediately tense with worry as he takes in the telltale sign of struggle, his thoughts in a whirl as he tries to process what could've happened in the hour that he was gone, and his brain kicks into overdrive

• he doesn't have time for this. doesn't have time for worry and panic. he needs to get you back. his objective is to get you back

• when he finally does find you after what seems like an eternity (only a few hours, really) of cat and mouse games, he's nearly unrecognizable with the cold and calculated expression he wears as he enters the room you're being held in, the villain's unconscious body left carelessly on the ground behind him

• he slices the rope that's binding you to the chair with a hardened feather and you limply fall into his arms, still weak and hazy from being tossed around in your earlier struggle

• he stiffens suddenly as you lean into him, your fingers grasping his jacket in a weak attempt to draw him closer for comfort, and finally your warmth snaps him out of his stupor and he wraps his arms around you

• he reports back to the agency and flies you out of there before backup even arrives

and hawks is still tense, still sitting on the edge of the bed where you left him (while you processed the past few hours in a warm bath) with his head in his hands

○○○

when you're both finally home you seem to be more lucid, sporting a nasty black eye and a split lip, but you're safe in your own home and thats what matters

"kei.." is all you could muster, the sight of him nearly deflated more painful than the bruises blossoming on your body

all hes ever known is using his quirk to defeat villains, protect civilians, and maintain his spot as a high-ranking hero. to carry out missions quickly and efficiently. to not be distracted by trivial things such as friends and desires and love

what he doesn't know is the absolute fear of losing someone that has managed to take up such a large part of his life. someone who has torn his walls down and made a nest somewhere deep in his chest. someone he loves.

he nuzzles into your touch when you gather his head into your hands, caressing it against your stomach with your fingers tangled in his hair

his wings deflate and rest easy against his back, and he draws in a stuttered breath against your skin as you hold him. hes learned as hes spent time with you to appreciate being showed affection, and to learn to accept it as well as reciprocate it

"fuck, y/n.."

"what is it baby-"

"- i can't lose you, kid.."

hes pressing his nose into your skin and you can feel that by the way that his face scrunches against you, that his brows are furrowed and there's a frown on his face

his hands rest on your hips and squeeze, as if to make sure you're real and safe in his arms

he hates when he gets like this. flayed open and vulnerable, fear and hurt and worry seeping through his being. he doesn't know how to deal with sudden onslaughts of emotion and his brain just shuts off. all he can do is start calculating the next steps so he doesn't drown himself

" 'm right here, baby. come back to me," you whisper, and he finally looks up at you, his eyes red and glasses over like he's fighting back tears

you brush his hair away from his face and lean forward, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. he closes his eyes and reaches up, pulling you back down until your lips meet

when you pull away he sighs, his head falling back against your stomach as you continue running your fingers through his hair

"it's okay, kei. i'm not going anywhere"

"promise me that, songbird. please" his voice is desperate

"i promise, bird-brain"

ngl i gave up on the bullet points halfway through bc instead of headcanons it was turning more into a lil fic lmao

at first i was gonna write more of 'hawks hesitantly attempting to doctor and care for y/n' but then i was like..

ya know what? hawks not being able to handle emotional overload is where its at and we need y/n bringing his ass back to earth

hope this was okay!!

♡ ky

[kiss4kazu]

ooh! can i request something spicy?? maybe headcanons of claude, dimitri, and felix’s kinks?

spicy hcs | dimitri, felix, claude

this is combo between just kink hcs and also how first times being freaky w these three go hahhahahahhahah screams. this is not safe for kiddos so proceed with caution folks 

felix <3 

whew, okay. sweats. um 

so the first time u and felix do the do was definitely not planned. things tend to escalate a lot with felix when it comes to intimacy. pecks goodnight lead up to make out sessions and all of a sudden his hand is down your pants and you’re honestly not complaining. 

felix is definitely more of a giver than a receiver, not because he liked giving, but because he liked being in control. he liked seeing you writhe beneath him and all that jazz. 

he’d definitely deny you from reaching your high multiple times, partially to draw out the activity since you tend to come quite quickly beneath his touch but also because hearing you whine his name helplessly was a really big fucking turn on and he always swelled with pride knowing he was the only person who can turn you into a sobbing mess. 

felix has 2 moods. his soft and pliant types of fucking, and his arrogant, i’m big bad felix fraldarius and my cock is 30inches long type of fucking. he knows hes hot, he knows he has a pretty dick, might as well utilize it.

he hates praise when it’s ingenuine, for things intangible that he hadn’t earned himself. when it’s people praising him for his title or the power of a fraldarius battalion. 

but praise when it comes from you? when it’s you letting him know just how amazing he feels inside of you, how with every thrust of his hips your brain short-circuits and your eyes water with unspilled tears? when it’s you not being able to even form coherent words anymore because felix fraldarius is throbbing inside of you... yeah, that kind of praise. it does wonders for him and his dick. 

he’s also into hair-pulling

and overstimulation

hes also rly rly easily jealous like if someone else was making eyes with you or perhaps you were giggling a little too loudly with some handsome noble he’d just yank you away and march u up the stairs to his dormitory before kissing you hard 

he’s the type to make u beg and be rly possessive he’d just fuck you so ruthlessly hair stuck to his skin, panting “you’re mine. mine. say it” and u would just cry bc why tf he so sexy hello-

as mentioned in my kissing post, felix sucks the life out of you when he kisses you so it’s only logical that he fucks the life out of you too.  

im kidding ofc!! not rly

although he’s on the giving end of things, it’s still completely self-indulgent, felix gets off just knowing he’s getting you off because he’s a sexy narcissist like that. 

but on some days, he really really wanted you to know he cared a lot about you. 

felix isn’t the best with words, but he was really good with his tongue, so things usually worked out okay. he’d kiss you, everywhere. every inch of you, leaving hickeys in even the most visible places because who fucking cares. you were his, he needed you to know that. he needed everyone to know that. 

he can be sensitive sometimes too, make love, if you will. 

he has to be rly emotional tho, so it’s probably after something eventful happens in his life. like when the kingdom takes back fhirdiad, or wins the war. or when he’s sleepy and tired and wakes up hard and is just too lazy to put on his big bad scary persona. 

sleepy felix is submissive felix, aka my favorite felix. sleepy horny felix is all whiny and blushy and just wanted to come and he absolutely despised himself for it

you were well aware of how much he hated himself for being soft and needy, but that made teasing him all the more fun.

so yes, some nights felix would fuck you brainless and soak in the sound of your voice crying out his name helplessly. but on other nights, felix would lay down, his hair splayed against the pillow, your fingers twirling his locks and tugging gently as your other hand jerked him off, lips pressed against his as you breathed in his whines and grunts.

hearing him whine was a really rare sight, but it did slip out occasionally, when you squeezed the base of his member unexpectedly or when you took him deep into your throat and swallowed around him. felix really likes fucking your mouth. 

yeah felix is an emotionally constipated sex god 

claude ! 

whew lord. 

ok so claude, my sweet, cheeky, little shit <3 

the first time probs wasnt even intentional with him either he was just teasing you a little too much and things got a bit carried away but it’s a great time nonetheless

doing the do with claude is probably a rollercoaster ride, he would literally never shut up and would just say the most stupid things and you’d hate yourself for still being so desperate for his touch because somehow in between his terrible jokes and merciless teasing he whispered complete filth into your ears.

he’s a master of dirty talk, chuckling against the shell of your ear at the sound of you choking out a sob at his words, tugging at your earlobe just to spur you on even further. 

“don’t tell me you’re clocking out already?” you’d just glare at him in frustration despite your flushed cheeks and he’d kiss you on the tip of your nose and laugh in amusement at your misery 

he’ll literally do everything but fuck you, covering every inch of your skin in love bites, especially your chest. he’d literally eat you out or suck you off until you were dizzy but if you want him inside of you, he’d definitely make you beg. 

if you ever tried to get smart with him… um, he’d uh .. p-punish you 

not like in a pain kink type of way he’d just pull out right before you could nut and would laugh maniacally in your face afterwards because that’s what you get for being a smart ass ! denying u from coming is basically how he punishes u so its a pretty long night but claude’s really really good with his tongue so you’re guaranteed to come like 3 times at minimum anyways

he’d devour you, all smirks and with eyes filled with mirth and he wouldn’t give in until you were absolutely wrecked under him. 

he’s very um… dominant, i would say

but not an aggressive dom, definitely a playful dom who enjoys edging and teasing a bit too much 

he’s also pretty experimental, i can see claude as a bit of an exhibitionist also, he’d probably fuck you in the cathedral just for shits and giggles 

but he is human and despite how much of  a little shit claude is he’s just as wrecked as you he’s just much better at hiding it 

he’d probs quit the teasing once he himself can’t handle it anymore

and wow uh thats when claude gets all sensual 

when claude’s kind of in overdrive and completely uncoordinated just messily thrusting over and over again to finally get you both to that place thats when he becomes all romantic and lovey 

would compliment you to no amounts end, call you all sorts of pet names like honey, sweetheart, baby, etc. 

his messy curls would stick to his skin, his forehead pressed firmly against yours, verdant eyes blown wide maintaining eye contact with you just for that extra level of intimacy because watching you when you’re like this really drives him over the edge. 

he’d pant against your lips, kiss you roughly and somehow find it in himself to even let out an amused laugh because he’s having sex and that’s kind of funny for some reason

claude’s pull-out game probably a1 but idk he’s possessive in less conventional ways so i feel like he’d  get off to the thought of releasing inside you and watching him drip down your thighs bc yea

claude is also the king of aftercare let it be known

he’d have so much energy after sex for some reason like he’d just hop right up clean your bodies, fetch you tea if you wanted some and curl up with you resting on his chest, running his fingers over the skin of your arms tenderly and smiling softly to himself when exhaustion takes over you and you slip into a warm slumber against his chest. 

i love him bye

dima 

ok so dimi is a busy busy boy and even when he does have free time he’s never entirely there his mind is always kind of somewhere else u know 

he’s always struggled w getting a proper night's rest and always overworks himself into hysteria

so, as his lovely s/o, you presume a nice session to destress will help loosen those knots in his muscles and all that chaos whirring around in his mind

you were thinking a nice trip to the sauna or something

but dimi had other ideas 

 he’d just look at you and his gaze would darken all of a sudden and with just a glance at him you already feel the wind being knocked out of you 

it would be rly sudden, like dimitri’s just rly needy all of a sudden and he’s taking whatever you’ll give rly he has so much pent up stress and needs some form of release and he’s so so emotional and touchy and won’t stop kissing you with so much fervor and desperation

dimi is 1000% a lovemaker im sorry u cannot convince me otherwise. unless he is feral. if he is feral then understandable have a good day. 

he’s all about pampering and kissing every inch of you and asks every five minutes is this okay? are you comfortable? does that hurt? are you sure? because he’s terrible with fragile things and if he ever hurt you he’d never forgive himself poor baby

part of you just wants to grab his face and say !!! im fine !!! you big idiot !! but you just pull him to your chest and nuzzle your face into his neck and breathe him in deeply, kissing his jaw gently before reassuring him i’m fine dimi, stop worrying 

he’d calm down instantly and focus back on the task at hand, pleasuring the love of his life hehe

BODY WORSHIPPING non stop praises just kissing everywhere his lips come across you’d love it but hate it at the same time bc part of you just wants him in u already and the other half of u is just so so enamoured by him and feels so warm and loved and appreciated

he’s more of a giver than a receiver as well though for opposite reasons compared to felix, he worries about your comfort so much to the extent where it distracts him from his own pleasure, and it isn’t until he’s inside of you that he remembers and is like oh wow fuck and yea things dont usually last very long for him since he always neglects his own pleasure in favor of yours. he gets so focused on making u feel good because he loves you so much and he needs you to know that so yeah he doesn’t remember to even touch himself lmao 

you’d probably come like twice before dimi even whips his schlong out 

at the peak of his pleasure tho dimi gets kinda rough ngl. he’s a person whos very emotionally driven so when everything gets to be a bit too much he’s just slamming into you with so much force your skin stings, grip so tight on your hips there’s sure to be bruises in the morning but despite how rough he is his eyes are nothing but gentle and so so loving 

probably says something like oh seiros when he’s about to come LMAOOO 

dimi is also a king with aftercare but he’d probably knock out like a log afterwards and it’d be like the best sleep he’d get tbh all warm and satiated and just content

dimi sex god 

[joontella]

achromatic.

Yandere!Kim Namjoon x Female Reader

Word Count: 11.1k

Genre(s):  Angst, Slight Fluff, (HORRIBLY WRITTEN) Smut

Trigger Warning(s): Mentions of religion or lack thereof, blood, murder, idk how the human body works, (unknown) consumption of blood, manipulation, stalking, male masturbation (again, horribly written), Namjoon is an asshole, and musical terms because i play music rip, minor character death, slight gore. it gets really shitty towards the end. i’m sorry

Merry Merry! It’s Peppermint! Your gift is finally here, @exhausted-joy​! I’m sorry for the wait. I had to make sure that it was perfect. This is my first time doing this, and I really wanted to give it my all. Please forgive me, and thank you for putting up with my antics in the server. I hope you enjoy it!

I also want to thank Saniya (@smeraldos-blog), Mari (@joheun-saram), Hannah (@spicykoreantatertots), Ley (@pars-ley​), Avery (@ksmuttherapy​), and everyone else who tolerated and/or helped me out! I love you all and thank you so much for the help and support! I’m so happy to have met you all!

ach·ro·mat·ic /akrəˈmadik/

adjective

without color.

“Damn. There goes my chance of starting my winter break with a passing grade.” One woman groaned.

“What the hell are you talking about? You have a solid ‘C’! I’m literally failing everything!” Her friend responded, as her arms waved in a cartoonish rendition of exasperation. “And whose fault is that?” “Not mine! This semester was nothing but a months-long depressive episode. How could I focus with everything that’s going on?”

He so desperately wishes that they would shut up, or at the very least, take their obnoxiously loud conversation elsewhere. Namjoon twirled the ink pen in his hand with a practiced precision only years of being hunched over paperwork could provide. However, those were nothing but pipe dreams as the two students turned their attention over to him. “There’s Kim Namjoon! He’s had the top spot for years now, way before he was enrolled here.” One began babbling quite loudly whilst pointing to the man in question. “I bet he came out of the womb with high marks. I heard that he scored in the 99th percentile for his newborn screening tests.” The other swooned in response to her own musings.

Obviously, these two were much more idiotic than he had originally thought. It didn’t take an expert to read his body language: the way that he twirled his pen faster, as if that could speed up the agonizing conversation he was being forced to bear witness to; the way his jaw clenched so tightly that it could easily break a metal wire; and the position his shoulders held, resembling an animal coiling in preparation to strike or flee. He pleaded to gods he didn’t even believe in for the duo to be quickly eradicated with a swift strike of lightning. According to the calculations he made swiftly in his head, the chances of something like that happening were infinitesimally small. How unfortunate.

Deciding that the best course of action to take would be to leave the two neanderthals to their devices, Namjoon did just that. He quickly snapped his book shut with one hand and a loud, meaningful clap as the pages suddenly collided with each other. If that didn’t make the nuisances jump in surprise, his words would.

“Although I’m a source of inspiration and wonder to many, it’s degrading to hear someone so openly refer to me in a way that one would to an exotic zoo animal,” He began. Namjoon’s tone was cool and even, carrying an air of regality all the while retaining a bitter edge of contempt and disdain for both the conversation and the mere existence of the two original party members. 

Finally, the two felt the brunt of the consequences their crimes on Namjoon’s ears had to offer. They both visibly wilted, reminding the tall man of his mother’s daisies being roasted and withering under the dry summer heat. Normally, this would have been more than enough to diffuse the situation and lift him of his auditory burden. However, his heart ached for more. His brain so desperately yearned for more stimulation and a rush of dopamine.

He decided to twist the knife, so to speak.

“Also, you too could rise to the top.” Namjoon said as he began to turn away.

Out of his peripheral vision, he could see the two wilted flowers gain new life and their faces brighten with newfound hope. The loudest of the two even had the audacity to whimper a pathetically optimistic, “Really?”

Twist. Twist. Twist!

“Of course~.” Namjoon purred, deciding to turn to face his victims’ satisfying demise. His heart threatened to beat in double time in anticipation.

Although their anxiously awaiting smiles made his stomach turn, he couldn’t deny the mirth swirling alongside the disgust in his belly.

“First off, instead of blaming your inadequacies solely on the tumultuous events of this year, take responsibility for your shortcomings. Only children avoid blaming themselves.”

He could hear the glass shattering as their faces fell in a tandem that most would find heartbreaking. He found it utterly amusing. Now, he would take his leave. After receiving the reaction he desired and more, Namjoon wanted nothing more than to leave the duo to stew in their humiliation. Yet, one last thing lingered. He had yet to land the finishing blow that would ensure that he wouldn’t be bothered by these two pieces of scum ever again.

Twist. Twist! TWIST!

“Before I forget, avoid talking so loudly. As you may or may not have noticed, I was trying to study. You know, one of the things that facilitates good grades? I don’t know if you’re aware of it, but your incessant bantering made it increasingly difficult to do so. Might I suggest that you follow my example and do the same? Maybe then, one day, you could take my place at the top.”

Namjoon wasn’t even facing them anymore. His back was to the two women, further solidifying his dismissal of them. With a simple and curt wave of his hand, he simply uttered,

“Ladies.”

And he was on his way.

“Exam results will be posted this afternoon. I trust that you all scored high enough marks to keep our university in high regard.” Your professor droned from the front of the lecture hall. “I know that many of you despise the fact that a standardized test is still administered in college, but so far, it is the only way to ensure that Mugunghwa National Academy is churning out bright students worthy enough to contribute to society!”

The students in question couldn’t care less about their scores or the school’s prestige. All they were worried about was getting the hell out of there after two hours of examination and stifling silence. They all stood from their seats and slung their bags across their bodies. A disgruntled murmur rang throughout. Quite frankly, you were no different.

As you hugged your notebook close to your body, your professor stopped you as you reached the lecture hall door.

“Ah, Miss (L/N). A word, please.”

Surprised, you let out a soft, “Sure.” and walked over to the podium where your professor started to neatly stack and organize his papers.

“As you know, Miss (L/N), you are one of the two best students we’ve had at this academy recently.”

You shifted your weight awkwardly at the sudden praise. You felt heat rise to your cheeks as you began to speak. “I mean, I guess? I wouldn’t go that far, but I suppose that records and the numbers do suggest that I’m performing quite well.” Your professor scowled at your response. You were a bright young woman. You deserved to flaunt it and soak up the praise every once in a while, right? He folded his arms and sighed deeply causing your brain to go into overdrive on how you could rectify the situation. “While pride does come short of a fall, you should learn to take compliments when they’re given, (Y/N). I promise you that you won’t become an egomaniac anytime soon as a result.” He said gently, causing your nerves to subside. Right. Maybe you should just accept compliments. A little self esteem boost never hurt anybody, right? “Thank you, professor, but may I ask why you’re telling me this?” You asked, trying to move the conversation along as politely as you could. You had an hour before you were due to go to the college’s radio station and prepare for this evening’s broadcast. Hopefully, your professor would get to the point so you could quickly grab a bite to eat before you started airing.

“Oh yes, of course! I’m sorry! I said all this to tell you that I have your exam results already. Seeing as how you are the brightest in your class, you finished early, giving me enough time to grade yours while your peers were working. I think that you’ll find the results to your liking, Miss (L/N).” He grinned, handing you a white manila envelope with the school’s insignia printed on the front.

You quirked a brow and opened it. You were then greeted by the name of the school, its motto, and yet another print of the school emblem on the header. Your (E/C) eyes scanned the page until you found what you were looking for:

𝑴𝒖𝒈𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒘𝒂 𝑵𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝑨𝒄𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒚 𝑨𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒖𝒅𝒆 𝑬𝒙𝒂𝒎 

𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆: (𝑳/𝑵), (𝒀/𝑵) 

𝑴𝒂𝒋𝒐𝒓: 𝑱𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒎 

𝑫𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝑬𝒙𝒂𝒎: 𝑵𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 21 

𝑺𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒆: 98/100 

𝑪𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒔 𝑹𝒂𝒏𝒌:

1 𝒐𝒇 300

You stood there, dumbfounded. The paper you once held gingerly and timidly was wrinkling and threatening to tear under your now iron grip. You were now number one. Somehow, some way, you managed to best Kim Namjoon. Mugunghwa’s already carefully balanced and fragile ecosystem was crumbling around you. What have you done?

“I take it that you’re in shock. I’ll leave you alone to celebrate.” Your professor said smoothly as he slung his coat over his shoulder. “Congratulations, (Y/N). Please enjoy the rest of your day.”

“Uh huh… Will do…” You uttered dumbly.

Mugunghwa National Academy ran on strict rules, but most of them were unspoken. For the sake of your sanity and that of the rest of the student body (and let’s face it, staff, too), you intended to follow those sacred and silent rules to the letter.

Rule Number One: Don’t look in the janitor’s closet near the athletics facilities. You may not come out the same way as you came in.

Rule Number Two: If the cafeteria serves meatloaf, avoid it at all costs. Only eat it if you want to get sick and purposely miss class.

Rule Number Three: Kim Namjoon is the best at everything. He is to be number one until Hell freezes over.

Rule Number Four: In order to keep peace and balance between the nations, (Y/N) (L/N) must always come in second. This is the natural order of things.

You were content with being in second place. To be frank, you preferred to leave the pomp and circumstance of being the top dog to Namjoon. He was more equipped to bear the burden, after all. Besides, it wasn’t like your future career was depending on you being the best. You could skate by with a silver medal and leave Namjoon with the gold. You preferred the look of silver, anyway.

Now look at what you've done. There’s no doubt that the records have been updated by now. Your professor did grade yours early, and it’s reasonable to assume that Namjoon’s was as well. You’d inadvertently torn a hole in the gossamer fabric that was Mugunghwa National Academy. With one exam, you signed the collective death certificate of every other person besides Kim Namjoon himself. 

May God have mercy on your wretched soul.

“Young Master, your father would like to have a word with you in his study.” The head butler of the Kim mansion stated simply.

For the second time that day, Namjoon clenched his jaw tightly. He shrugged off his coat and handed it to the older gentleman who was automatically waiting at his side to collect the article of clothing. He hadn’t even gotten through the door and already his father wanted to speak with him. This didn’t bode well.

“Seokjin, did he mention why he’d want to see me?” Namjoon asked dryly. Seokjin simply shook his head and hung his coat on the nearby rack. 

“He only mentioned that it was urgent, so I suggest that it would be in your best interest to make it there expeditiously.”

This certainly did not bode well. Kim Joonho was a man of few words. Most would say that he’s the very definition of “actions speak louder than words”. Whenever the CEO of Kim Industries did something, people watched in equal parts starstruck awe and fear. However, when the CEO of Kim Industries deemed something important enough to speak on, there was no choice in the matter. You either listened intently or you perished in more ways than one. This was no different for Joonho’s family. In fact, he was worse to them. Working under the guise of caring for his family, Joonho was more stoic to his wife and children.

Regardless of his debatably righteous intentions, it sent the Kim family into delicately managed dysfunction. Simply put, Kim Joonho never spoke to Namjoon out of wishing to connect with his son on a more personal level. Namjoon was the next heir to Kim Industries. Being his son was an unfortunate side effect.

“Sir, I know that I did implore you to hurry, but-”

“What?” Namjoon growled. His nerves were shot to shit today. Anything that impeded his meeting with his father and his goal to quickly get it over with was met with hostility.

Seeming to understand this, Seokjin cleared his throat and motioned a gloved hand towards the mansion’s threshold.

“You know better than to walk in the house with your shoes still on,” The Kim butler began smoothly as he made his way over to Namjoon to collect his shoes. “I do understand that you are upset, but you shouldn’t let your emotions cloud your judgement so drastically that you forget such basic cultural conventions.”

Namjoon sighed sharply and bit back a retort that was bubbling in his throat. Arguing with Seokjin was pointless. As per usual, he was correct. Engaging in such petty conflicts would only worsen things.

“Right. I suppose I was quite hasty. Thank you.” Namjoon sighed whilst peeling off his shoes.

“I do believe that an apology is in order, Young Master.”

Namjoon was already halfway across the foyer, about to ascend the grand staircase leading to the upper floors when Seokjin’s cheeky remark reached his ears. He felt his blood begin to simmer in his veins and his muscles stiffen.

“The fact that I haven’t fired you by now and ruined any chances of you gaining any further employment should be enough of an apology. You’re treading on thin ice, Seokjin. Remember your place in this world.”

With that, he continued his journey to the final boss room within the Kim family mansion: his father’s study. The last he heard of Seokjin was a sly chuckle and the clicking of his polished leather shoes against the floor. Staff were not guests. Therefore, they were not allowed the privilege of removing their shoes. They were expendable. They needn’t get too comfortable.

Despite how much he detested it, Namjoon couldn’t deny that cold chill of anxiety that frosted his entire body. His father never wanted to talk to him. Ever. He could count on his hands the times that Joonho requested his presence. He could count on only one hand how many times Joonho requested his presence to celebrate his son’s successes. Their relationship was solely professional. There was no love to be found, no matter how hard you read between the lines. Even in as high of a position as Namjoon is in, he is still subservient to his father.

That’s the natural order of things.

“Come in, Namjoon.” Joonho’s voice rang from behind the large mahogany doors.

Almost cartoonishly, the hinges squeaked like Namjoon was uncovering the entrance to a haunted crypt. Namjoon decided long ago that was an eerily apt way of describing his father’s study.

Naturally, Namjoon obeyed his father and entered the room. Dead center, there sat Kim Joonho on his throne. Sitting with perfect posture behind the large oak desk, Joonho stared his son down with cold eyes filled with disdain. How Namjoon desperately wished he could gouge them out with his father’s prized letter opener.

“Don’t waste my time. Have a seat. I don’t have all day.” Joonho snapped.

“Of course. How are you today, father?”

The CEO’s eyes narrowed at his son’s inquiry. “Spare me the niceties, boy. Sit down. We have business to discuss.”

Before Namjoon could interject, Joonho was already reaching into a drawer and produced a white manila envelope. Upon closer inspection, one could see Mugunghwa National Academy’s insignia emblazoned on the front. Once Namjoon was properly seated, he reached out and grabbed the parcel.

“May I ask what this is?” “You may not. You have eyes, boy. Read it for yourself.”

The frigid chill of anxiety was soon being replaced with the molten heat of fury. Some tiny part of Namjoon’s mind was concerned that he would develop a fever at the sudden and constant shifts in his body temperature. That wouldn’t do. He couldn’t afford for his health to decline. That would be another thing for his father to berate him for.

“Of course. My apologies, father.” Namjoon whispered as he undid the envelope’s fastening. Once he did so, he pulled the paper out with an air of nonchalance. Surely, it must have been another letter from the school to congratulate him on some academic achievement he didn’t even realize existed. However, in his eyes and in the eyes of his father, it was the exact opposite.

 𝑴𝒖𝒈𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒘𝒂 𝑵𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝑨𝒄𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒚 𝑨𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒖𝒅𝒆 𝑬𝒙𝒂𝒎 

 𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆: 𝑲𝒊𝒎, 𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒋𝒐𝒐𝒏 

 𝑴𝒂𝒋𝒐𝒓: 𝑩𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 

𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒐𝒓(𝒔): 𝑩𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒚, 𝑬𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉 

 𝑫𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝑬𝒙𝒂𝒎: 𝑵𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 21 

 𝑺𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒆: 96/100 

 𝑪𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒔 𝑹𝒂𝒏𝒌: 2 𝒐𝒇 300

For the first time in a long time, Kim Namjoon’s world fell apart before his very eyes. Suddenly the sturdy and imposing columns holding up the large study appeared to crumble around him. The fire that crackled in the fireplace was reduced to nothing but pathetic cinders. He felt the ground split beneath his feet and his father… His father grew to a monstrous size in comparison to his surroundings, suddenly hunched over his son in preparation to strike.

“This must be some mistake! The results must have gotten mixed up! I-”

“Enough!” Joonho boomed. He swiftly slammed his hand down on his desk, successfully frightening his son into silence. “Only children avoid blaming themselves. I thought I taught you to accept responsibility! How dare you blame your inadequacies on the people who made them apparent?!”

Namjoon clenched his fists tightly in his lap and pushed down the urge to go through on his original plan of plucking his father’s eyeballs out.

“Can’t you see? Whoever graded my exam was clearly incompetent. If they had a brain stem, they would know that I am only capable of producing top-class work! Just like you should not be blamed for one measly employee’s mistake, I should not be blamed for the mistake of someone beneath me!” Namjoon exclaimed. Once he finished his spiel, he found himself standing up, but he didn’t remember willing his muscles to do so.

“This entire conversation is pointless. It’s inefficient at best and mind-numbing at its worst! For someone who values time and money more than his own family, I find it quite curious that you’re willing to waste both so frivolously.”

Now, it was Joonho’s turn to clench his jaw and his fists. Despite the utter disdain he felt for the situation, the patriarch had to admit the merit in his son’s retort. His pride would never let him express the sliver of admiration that stirred within him at Namjoon’s courageous display.

Nobody dared talk back to Kim Joonho. That was the natural order of things.

“Regardless of who’s truly at fault, find this (Y/N) (L/N). She usurped your throne, Namjoon. She deserves to be punished for her transgression.”

“Of course. She’s public enemy number one, but she won’t be number one ever again.”

With that, the young master of the Kim household turned his back on the old master and shut the door to the crypt behind him.

“Aaaaaand now, we’re back after our break!” Your co-host chirped from beside you.

The red on-air sign glowed warmly overhead, creating a sense of coziness and heat in the otherwise cold station. You wrapped your cardigan closer around you before adjusting your mic.

“And we’re about to go into our winter break soon. How fitting!” You posited, trying to match your co-host’s energy.

“That’s right! Mugunghwa exams are finally over, and the scores and ranks have already been updated for some! Care to talk about that, (Y/N)?” Taehyung, your co-host, wiggled his sharp eyebrows in his quest to prod for information.

Normally, his rectangular grin and bright eyes would warm your heart. Today, however, you wanted to punch that devilish smirk right off of him. You should have known that Tae would have suddenly caught wind of your latest academic achievement. He’s the university’s most involved (read: nosiest) student. 

“Not really… But you won’t shut up until I do, so…” You sighed as you spun around in your swivel chair. Once you stopped your cycle, you scooted closer to the microphone and cleared your throat. “I got a 98 on the exam. My professor stopped me after class and told me the news.”

Not that anyone but you and the sound director, Yoongi, would see it, but Taehyung’s impish smile turned into a disappointed pout. “Ah, listen to our (Y/N). Always dodging the important questions. Such a tease!”

You shoved him gently and laughed at his comment before shaking your head. “This guy… To everyone who dreams of dating him, work with him first. You’ll see how much of a horrible person he is.”

“Yah! That’s slander! Aren’t journalists supposed to avoid that?”

“I’ll kick your ass.” You licked your lips and began to answer the original question in further detail. “Yeah, so… Anyway, I got a 98 and I guess that warranted me becoming number one…?”

Both Taehyung and Yoongi’s faces dropped. From his booth, you could see Yoongi grimace and in your peripheral, you saw Tae stiffen.

“Up next is Still With You by our resident golden boy Jeon Jungkook. We’ll be back soon. Stay tuned.” 

Suddenly, the on-air sign was turned off. The song began to play and Taehyung immediately gripped your shoulders.

“You what?!” Taehyung nearly screeched. “(Y/N), do you have any idea what this means?!” “That I took Kim Namjoon’s place and sent the fragile society of Mugunghwa into ruin? Yeah, I do.” Tae blinked for a moment. “No… Although, that does make sense. That seems way more important than what I was gonna say. Huh.”

You were actually going to punch the shit out of him. “Dude, what?”

“Listen, this is your chance! You can finally get recognized as the top-tier person that you are! As long as you were under Kim’s big, goofy shadow, you were going to be pushed aside! Now you can show everyone here how cool you are!”

You felt your throat tighten. That all-too-familiar sensation of a goose egg being lodged in your esophagus rose. You were going to cry. How you desperately wished that you could view the world like Taehyung did. How you longed to see the silver lining of every situation just like he did. All you saw was destruction and despair. All you felt was guilt for damning the entire student body to some cruel fate that only Kim Namjoon could dish out.

“Tae, I love you, but you don’t fucking get it! I’m screwed! We’re all screwed! I broke two of the sacred rules of this school! Kim Namjoon must always be first! I must always be second! I just sentenced everyone to death!”

Taehyung raised a brow, as if what you were saying were the incoherent ramblings of a mad woman. “You describe my cousin like he’s some heinous demon.” Even the usually passive Yoongi had to straighten his spine and widen his eyes at this revelation.

“He’s your cousin?!”

Tae leaned back in his seat with yet another smirk. This time, you couldn’t put a finger on the emotion this specific lift of his lips held. “Isn’t the resemblance obvious? The Kim line has some strong genes. It’s been that way since the Joseon era, I’ve been told.”

Ignoring the historical implications for why such strong genes would still be present thousands of years later (assuming that Taehyung was actually serious), you hurried the conversation along. Jungkook’s silky voice had faded away a while ago, leaving the two of you with little to no time left before it was time to open the floor to callers. This was your last chance to get some useful information about Namjoon before you were dragged into what you knew was going to be a relentless storm of phone calls and incredulous screeches at the news.

Like you had said before, you’d damned everyone. Who wouldn’t want to yell at the person that had the audacity to send an entire population into ruin?

“Get to the point, Taehyung. You’re telling me that you’re related to Satan himself? And I’ve been your co-host for how long?!” You near screeched.

Tae’s ambiguous smirk was now replaced with a blank expression. “I didn’t think it mattered, (Y/N). Why does it even matter now? If there’s a bigger issue here, I think you’re dodging it.”

You froze. He was right. For as long as you knew him, Taehyung had this uncanny ability to pick people apart and leave them vulnerable in an instant. This was especially effective on you, you’ve come to realize. The funny thing was that you hadn’t realized that you were employing tactics to postpone the inevitable inundation of accusatory and furious phone calls being thrown your way. Deep down, you always hated confrontation. Until Taehyung uttered those words, you hadn’t realized how deep that hatred and aversion was ingrained.

“Damn. You’re...good… I guess I am avoiding things. Let’s just get this over with. If we hold it off any longer, things will get worse.” You muttered as you looked towards Yoongi’s booth, motioning for him to put you both back on air.

Taehyung placed a comforting hand on your shoulder and flashed his signature boxy smile. “You don’t even know what they’re going to say. Who knows? News of your latest accomplishment may have brought the (Y/N) (L/N) Official Fanclub out of hiding. I bet that there are going to be several callers professing their undying love for you!”

“Their what now?” You asked dumbly.

Taehyung placed a hand on his heart and slipped into a persona reminiscent of the male protagonist of one the many romance dramas that were plastered on television nowadays. His deep voice rumbled the soundproof padding on the walls and wrapped you in its velvety embrace.

“(Y/N), I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember. I’ve struggled with these emotions for so long, but news of your success has given me the courage to confess them. I can’t quite make heads or tails of them, but I want to explore them all with you…” Not that anyone but you and Yoongi could see the exchange, but Taehyung gently cupped your chin with his large hand and looked longingly into your eyes. “That is, if you’d let me.”

Silence. Then raucous laughter from you and Taehyung. (Yoongi was visibly cringing in his booth.) You expected nothing less from the theater major, but you couldn’t help the delicate fluttering that began in your stomach. Was this the fabled Taehyung Effect at work? The two of you turned to your microphones and opened the floor to callers, as per usual for this segment of your show. What was highly unusual, however, was the heartfelt “confession” that was unwittingly broadcasted to everyone tuned in. Unbeknownst to everyone, the red on-air sign shone above your heads, serving as a beacon or perhaps an unfortunately ignored warning. A warning that your lighthearted joke wasn’t going to be a joke to some.

A warning that the harbinger of doom himself was listening in… A warning that he had now collected leverage over his new enemy… A warning that he was going to destroy you, even if he had to use his own relative to do it. He would surely add this to his rapidly growing arsenal of schemes.

The next day, the very air at Mugunghwa was different. Somehow, despite being the enigmatic second-place student, everyone instinctively knew to distance themselves from you. Biologically speaking, humans were still animals, despite the staunch separation that was created over time. There was still a basal instinct to survive. In this case, that instinct screamed, “Get away from the brainlet that dared to tip the scales and anger Kim Namjoon.” You didn’t blame anyone for their decision. You couldn’t. You’d be the world’s biggest hypocrite if you did, and you didn’t want “hypocrite” to be engraved on your tombstone next to “cold-blooded killer”.

Everywhere you walked, people watched you intently with eyes filled with either fear, confusion, or disgust. You could hear thinly-veiled whispers as you passed your fellow students. 

“There she is.”

“She’s surprisingly pretty. I expected some ugly broad to be under Namjoon’s shadow.”

Ah, yes. You had forgotten your previously fairly secretive life before the shoe dropped. You were content with living under the radar. After all, it kept the vicious rumors of the poor girl who by hook or crook got her way into an elite university on a full-ride scholarship at bay. As long as you held the number two spot, nobody cared about you. News of your arrival and subsequent theories surrounding it were just a fad that most people shortly moved on from. The drastic and sudden change from peaceful irrelevance to hostile notoriety made you nauseous.

The cold air nipped at your flesh while you made your way to the library. Fresh snow made its satisfying crunching sound as you sped towards your destination. Wait. Sped? Only when you looked down at your feet did you realize that your steps were quicker than usual. Needless to say, you were confused at this revelation. Were things really this bad? Why was your body subconsciously hurrying you along when no danger was immediately present? Then, it hit you: If the Kim Taehyung Effect caused your insides to flutter and your heart melt with glee, the Kim Namjoon Effect caused everyone to cower and hide in pure horror. Maybe it ran in the family. After all, the two were related. How that crucial detail managed to slip past you was beyond human understanding.

Soon enough, you made your way into the campus library. Warmth enveloped you and thawed your chilled skin with each step into the large building. The tall bookshelves that towered over you and the other patrons made you feel safe. The walls of knowledge served as barriers from the predatory glares that were shot your way anywhere else. Here, while not entirely forbidden, hushed insults and remarks were more so. The library was your sanctuary when the dormitories weren’t, and with all the girls and even your RA avoiding you like the plague, it was safe to say that your dorm wasn’t very inviting right now.

Whatever it took, you needed to get your mind off of the Namjoon business. Sitting down in the warm silence served to do just that. You absentmindedly wandered through the various sections of the building. The nutty scent of someone’s morning brew filled your nostrils on your journey, easily putting you at ease in an instant. The rhythmic click-clack of someone's fingers against a computer keyboard kept your body grounded to the Earth. It served as a nice tether and protection from your thoughts that threatened to whisk you away into the stratosphere with every step you took.

Your feet took you past the reference section, the nonfiction section, and even the genealogy section before making its final stop at the fiction section. When you first started college, you found it odd that a library carried such books, but you soon came to realize that an escape into another world was appreciated by everyone. A love for fiction did not have an age limit.

You found yourself engrossed in a high fantasy novel by one Bang Sihyuk. (A very talented author, you decided. You made a note to look into some of his other works when you weren’t staring death in the face.) The sweet sound of yet another page turning and revealing more of the lore slowed your racing heart. The subtle smell of ink and glue softened your muscles, willing them to relax into the plush chair. The floor lamp next to you glowed softly and turned the usually stark clash of pitch black lettering against white pages into a mellow brown against cream parchment.

Even if you knew you had to face the wolves outside your sanctuary eventually, you still savored the solace you had in that moment. What you never considered was that those halcyon days were going to soon fall into utter ruin and despair with a singular human-shaped silhouette.

Everywhere Namjoon went, eyes followed. The air around him crackled with apprehension, but he couldn’t care less if he tried. This was natural. The pitiful prey animals around scrambled away for dear life, functioning solely on the fleeting notion that sticking around would spell their demise. Most of the people here were college students beginning their prime. They couldn’t afford to wither away… Not yet, at least… And certainly not here.

Stifled gasps laced with fear and admiration threatened to strangle the poor Kim heir. How he so desperately wished that they would all shut up! The constant buzzing murmur felt like mosquitoes tiptoeing across his skin during the hot and balmy summer months. It was highly annoying, to say the least.

His piercing mocha eyes landed on a target. A mousy figure was dwarfed by Namjoon’s taller and muscular frame. Pair the size difference with his steely and—arguably murderous—gaze fixed on the piteous male before him, both parties were surprised that the smaller student didn’t go into cardiac arrest.

“I would stay to chat, but I have important business to attend to,” Namjoon began. The timbre of his voice seeped into the small man’s bones and rattled them with each syllable. “You obviously know something, or else you wouldn’t be so pathetically fearful.”

The other male gulped audibly. His dull brown eyes stared into Namjoon’s vibrant cocoa ones. His pupils contracted as a cold sweat formed on his forehead and neck. Deep down, he knew that one wrong move would send him spiraling into horrors unimaginable. This was Kim Namjoon he was dealing with. He only had one chance. 

“I don’t know w-what you’re talking about…” He squeaked.

Namjoon narrowed his eyes with clear annoyance and disgust for the situation and the animal shivering before him. This caused the mousy man to gasp sharply.

“Tell me where (Y/N) (L/N) is. It’s a simple request. Even someone of your calibre should be capable of such a mundane task.” Namjoon stated simply. Disdain bled through his words into his tone and seeped into his prey’s already paper-thin psyche.

With a trembling arm, the rodent (as Namjoon decided to call him) pointed in the direction of the campus library. Of course you would be there. It made his blood boil to think that you’d already be in the library after receiving news of your latest feat. Anyone else would be a fool to risk losing such an honor. Studying was the only way to cement your new station as Mugunghwa’s new number one.

Without so much as a half-assed utter of thanks, Namjoon strode off in the direction of the large building. He was so hyper-focused on cutting you down and ensuring that you wouldn’t be a problem again that the signature thud of a body against snow missed his attention completely. The concerned and shocked gasps of onlookers didn’t affect him either.

Soon enough, he was at his destination. The same book-filled shelves and walls that greeted you greeted him at the entrance. Upon seeing his figure, the librarian at the circulation desk straightened in order to greet Namjoon properly. ‘At least one person here knew their place.’ He thought to himself.

“I’m looking for (Y/N) (L/N). It’d be in your best interest to point me in her direction as quickly as possible, Jimin.” Namjoon stated coolly with a tinge of nonchalance. Although he was painfully aware of the importance his little scouting mission served, his seemingly apathetic tone was the result of having said the same thing over and over like a broken record. The sooner he found you and got you to bend the knee, the sooner he could return home to his own studies.

The librarian, Jimin, nodded and swiftly pointed towards the fiction section. His mug of hazelnut coffee threatened to spill at the sudden and crisp motion. “She went that way, towards the fiction books.” He stated plainly. Namjoon couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto his features. Jimin was always such an attentive servant. 

Ever since that little incident before Mugunghwa’s annual recital, the dance major felt a deep sense of allegiance towards the older male. He had to. Namjoon was the only reason Park Jimin was able to continue his dream of becoming a world-class dancer, and it was made abundantly clear that what Kim Namjoon giveth, he can just as easily taketh away. Poor Jimin had no idea why you were being sought out by the most powerful student at the university, but he couldn’t help but suppress the gnawing sensation that he was leading you to a painful end.

Once again, forgoing a thank you, Namjoon began the final stretch of his arduous journey to find you and finally set things right in the world. The only issue was that he had no idea who he was looking for, exactly.

Oddly enough, despite your status, you had managed to keep a low profile. Very few people actually knew what you looked like. Hell, your student profile didn’t even have an image of you posted. In fact, the only way people outside of your direct circle of cohorts started to gather what you looked like was because the web connecting (Y/N) (L/N), radio show host and journalism major and (Y/N) (L/N), former number two was finally starting to weave itself. As far as most of the student body was concerned, you were nothing but a faceless placeholder image against a drab gray background. It wouldn’t have surprised Namjoon if you actually walked around with the words, “NO IMAGE AVAILABLE” permanently marked on your body. What he saw, however, was beyond his own comprehension.

There you were, his enemy, his prey. You sat idly in the large cushioned chair with your book nestled delicately in your hands. For the moment, you were blissfully unaware of the danger that loomed nearby. This was almost too easy. Almost as if your presence unlocked a vault to all his plans to destroy you, you looked at him.

And then his world changed. He almost felt sick at the sudden rush of sensory input his brain was forced to parse through. The previously unsaturated hall roared to life with colors he hadn’t even seen before. Warm browns, reds, and hues of every other name shot into Namjoon’s retinas upon gazing at your graceful form. This was (Y/N) (L/N)? This hidden gem? He was meant to demolish this?

He couldn’t. He shouldn’t. He wouldn’t. For the first time in a long time, Kim Namjoon was rendered speechless. His heart began to beat in double-time. If his biological functions were a musical piece, this specific section’s tempo marking would be prestissimo. Beyond vivace, beyond presto.

He couldn’t take it, so for the first time ever, Kim Namjoon ran away.

You didn’t dare move. Fear wrapped its spindly fingers around your heart and clutched it in its icy grasp. You didn’t have to move your eyes off of the page to see who the shadow cast onto it belonged to. Deep down, you knew. 

Goddamn it.

You just knew.

Just when you gathered the courage to face your doom head on, he was gone.

“What the fuck…?” You whispered. Your fantasy novel fell to the ground on its spine with a soft thud. Was this it? Were you officially losing it? Was stress causing you to hallucinate and see literal shadow people?! That was it.

Not wanting to have a literal breakdown in the middle of the library, you honed your senses in on the now cold-smelling coffee nearby. The faint hazelnut blend managed to at least tether you down to reality once more. You took a deep breath. Everything was now in focus. You had to leave, you decided. So that’s what you did.

If the library’s other patrons noticed the shocked, glazed over look in your eyes, nobody said anything. You had just come in contact with the menace. You were lucky to be alive. There’s no need to add insult to injury by inquiring about your current situation. Wordlessly, you ambled out of the library door. Jimin’s small eyes followed your every movement until you were finally out of his line of sight.

Soon enough, you made it to your dorm room. Oddly enough, it felt like you’d walked through a wormhole and warped to the private space. It appears that moving effortlessly through time and space was an eerily common theme that day. Not wishing to dwell on it any further, you plummeted onto your bed and let a dreamless sleep whisk you away from all your troubles.

A month had passed since your clandestine encounter with Namjoon. Surprisingly enough, after the first week or so of living in terror, the foreboding feeling of doom had all but disappeared. Like a colony of ants rebuilding their anthill after a sudden rainstorm, so too did Mugunghwa National Academy rebuild anew. As Thanksgiving rolled into Christmas, the student body had learned to accept that you were now at the top of the food chain. The status quo had shifted in your favor. Students that would previously mutter curses after you passed by would suddenly wave amicably once they noticed your presence.

While the sudden lack of hostility was appreciated, you couldn’t help but notice how shallow the whole situation was. A faint sense of disgust settled at the pit of your stomach. Or was it foreboding, after all? After your encounter with Namjoon’s shadow at the library, the Kim Industries heir had disappeared suddenly. He had disappeared without a trace. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. His scores were still updated regularly; his name was still in the mouths of every man, woman, and child that walked across campus; and you swore that you saw his tall figure slither like a snake behind buildings and shrubbery one time after class. While there was solid proof that he still (at the very least) resided within this plane of existence, Kim Namjoon had achieved cryptid status. Just a month ago, he was the dark overlord that ruled Mugunghwa with an iron fist. Now, he was merely a relic of the past, a name synonymous with the Boogeyman. Kim Namjoon was now used to scare freshmen like tales of a monster under one’s bed were used to frighten young children.

The truth, like all things are, was much more complicated than that. After he met you, his goddess, at the library, Namjoon spiraled out of control. Nothing was the same for him. At first, it was a fleeting rush of endorphins, he had decided. Perhaps the sense of victory he felt after finding his long lost rival caused his brain to go into overdrive with glee. With that in mind, he returned home to lick his wounds and rewrite his battle plans.

The next day, everything seemed normal enough. His world was in grayscale once more. Individuals who weren’t of direct importance to him retained their distorted, blob-like features. His senses were mostly dulled once again… Until you appeared. You walked across campus with grace that put the supermodels that his father regularly “worked with” to shame. To be honest, they looked like pitiful crows with snapped legs when put up against your stork-like elegance.

His previously unsaturated world regained its color. His heart rate increased, warmth filled his veins as a result. Everything was crisply in focus when it came to you. For the first time in a long time, Kim Namjoon was terrified… But that’s what intrigued him all the more. Once you left his sight, however, the blooming colors vanished. Everything was blurred again. The warmth had died and left him empty, hollow, and cold. After a few days of this occurrence, Namjoon made his biggest realization yet: he was in love with you.

He was quick to write it off as pure lust. After all, remaining at the top didn’t leave much time for him to indulge in more carnal pleasures. Hell, the only thing he could remember slamming on a table on doing all night long was homework, as old and pathetic as the joke was. Namjoon was a dashing, intelligent young man beginning to reach his prime. Abstaining from such a primal and basic need wasn’t good for him. With that in mind, he immediately began his conquest.

First, it started with the models his father would fuck behind his mother’s back. Despite how carefully manufactured their appearances were, they didn’t quench his thirst. In fact, they enraged Namjoon to the point where it wasn’t uncommon for the women to leave his bedroom bruised the next morning. This charade went on for much too long until he’d had enough.

No other woman could set his heart aflame without even trying. No other woman could bring life to his distorted and achromatic world like you could. So he tried a man. Several men, in fact. He got so desperate that not even his little Park Jimin was safe from his ravenous clutches.

Nothing. Nothing had worked.

Now, as the clock struck midnight in his grand bedroom, Namjoon sat in his bed with his hand wrapped around his cock. He’d been so on edge for the longest time, yet nothing he did could stir him. So, he did the only thing he knew how… Thoughts of you filled his mind as he ghosted a finger across his limp member. The warmth he felt was returning once more…

“Namjoon! There you are! I’ve been so lonely… Don’t you know that I’ve missed you?” 

There you were in the Kim manor’s living room. A black silk robe hugged your form perfectly as you bounded over to him. Golden sunlight filtered through the curtains and cast you in its heavenly warm glow. Your (E/C) eyes peered up at him with such admiration, lust, and most importantly, love. Before he could even properly process the scene, you had him enveloped in the warmest hug imaginable.

Namjoon felt a rush of lust and blood shoot straight to his dick.

“I know, darling… But I’m here now. We can be together. I’m all yours from now on.” He replied smoothly.

Namjoon didn’t even think it possible for your eyes to shine any brighter, but they did. And they were all for him. Your eyes, your beautiful eyes, for his eyes only… He gently caressed your cheek, careful not to mark it. The time for leaving marks and bruises would come later on… 

“Really?” You asked. Your entire face lit with hope and wonder. “You mean it? Please don’t tease me, baby~. I don’t know what I’d do if you had to go so soon…” 

You buried yourself into him, as if you knew that your home was within his embrace. He relished in it. He really did…

Namjoon felt feverish. His hands got to work immediately. Visions of you nestled against him, starlit eyes gazing into his, your form undulating beneath him as he pounded into you with everything he had. Your ecstatic moans and gasps filled his ears and mind, creating a carnal symphony only you could compose.

Sweat beaded on his temples, his arms beginning to burn with exhaustion as they continued to bring him to completion. Musical, “I love you, Namjoon”s and “Please! I’m so close, baby! Fuck me!”s began to crescendo rapidly. The world around him went from a gentle warmth to a blazing inferno. Colors reached their maximum saturation. Namjoon’s heart began to beat erratically. This was it. This was it! This is what he needed!

“Yes, (Y/N). You’re so good to me! Take it! Take it!!”

With an animalistic roar, Namjoon shot his seed. It coated his body and even his blanket that he pushed aside in his lustful fever. The fireworks came to a close. His jagged breaths began to even themselves out. The angels stopped singing. He was alone once more… But he wouldn’t be for long.

Tears filled Namjoon’s vision as he looked at his clock. Time wasn’t important anymore… But you were. He was going to have you, and he was going to become number one again. Kim Namjoon was going to be your number one.

Just like that, the year of terror had come and gone. Now, a new year was upon you and another December along with it. You stared up at your dorm room’s ceiling with a dumb smile etched on your face. After all, that was the only expression you could possibly muster, given the circumstances. 

“Damn… What the hell happened to me?” Was all you managed to say as you turned onto your side. Your phone in hand, you scrolled through your photo gallery almost absentmindedly until you reached one particular photo. There you were at a carnival with the Devil incarnate, Kim Namjoon. Your eyes bright with glee at the large plush you held in one arm as you posed with Namjoon for a selfie.

You chuckled and zoomed in on the image with a wistful smirk. While you stared ahead at the camera, Namjoon stared at you with an expression that you didn’t even know that he possessed: pure, unadulterated admiration. You were almost inclined to call it love.

The past year and some change was a whirlwind. Your earliest memory of it consisted of finally coming to terms with the ecosystem at Mugunghwa, only to be faced with Namjoon and your whole world coming down. Students and staff alike scurried away from the dining area, not wanting to be a witness to a crime. You had gained new friends over the course of these months. They simply couldn’t stand to see your last moments on this earth in complete agony.

However, your death never came. Namjoon stood proudly in the now empty cafeteria, as if he relished in the fact that he could clear a room without uttering a single word.

“(Y/N) (L/N). It’s so good to finally put a name to a face… And what a lovely face it is…”

If Namjoon wasn’t going to kill you, the water lodged in your windpipe at his words would. You sputtered, hands waving as you choked on your water. Suddenly, Namjoon came behind you and swiftly patted your back. Once you could breathe again, you wiped at your tear-filled eyes and peered up at him. “I’m sorry… What?”

Namjoon returned to his original position in front of you with a smirk. Pulling out a chair, he sat down with the practiced air of a businessman about to make a deal. “I called you beautiful. I do hope that wasn’t too forward.”

Now, you were suspicious. Satan himself had saved you from choking and was now calling you attractive? Were you dead? Did you imagine Namjoon helping you as a last-ditch effort to survive somehow? Was that the image your brain created as you slipped away into the world of the dead? But this was reality. Something deep down told you that you weren’t dying or dreaming.

“Forgive my skepticism, but I highly doubt that you came to exchange compliments. What do you want, Kim Namjoon?” You asked icily. The male in front of you visibly recoiled at your tone, as if he didn’t factor in the possibility that you could speak with such a tone. He quickly recovered, however, and he began his pitch.

“You’re half right, (Y/N). I didn’t come here to only compliment you, but I came here to have a discussion that is long overdue. At my core, I am a businessman. I make deals, I negotiate. That’s what I’m here to do.” Namjoon stated simply. Looking deeply into his eyes, he didn’t show any signs of insincerity, but that’s to be expected. He’s been trained his entire life to hiding his true intentions behind an amicable facade, regardless of how nefarious his plans may or may not be.

“I see… What is it that you wish to discuss? I’m afraid that I’m not as well-versed in business etiquette as you, so please forgive me for any mistakes or slip-ups that I may make. That being said, this is not an invitation to walk all over me. I may be inexperienced, but I am by no means an idiot.”

Could you be any more perfect for him? A beautiful face and body, poise and grace, and the courage to hold her own in a negotiation? Not to mention, the colors were swirling around you and blooming delicately in such a comforting fashion. He was absolutely smitten.

“I wouldn’t dare make the mistake of calling someone who replaced me as top dog an idiot. Give me some credit. I’m not as vile as the university’s tall tales make me out to be. I’m sure that my cousin, Taehyung, could vouch for me.”

You bristled at the mention of Taehyung. What had he done to him? Did something happen? No, that couldn’t be. You had just finished your show with Tae only a half hour ago. Surely, that isn’t enough time for him to get into any trouble, right?

“Calm down, (Y/N). Nothing’s happened to him. I can see the wheels turning in your head. My cousin is safe and sound. I can even call him up for you, if you don’t believe me.” Namjoon said smoothly, already fishing his phone out of his designer coat’s pocket.

“No, that’s fine…” You swallowed and regained your composure. Once you were calmed down, you returned Namjoon’s gaze. “I’m sure he’s alright. If anything, I’ll call him later. Right now, this is more important.”

Namjoon put his phone away and leaned back in his chair whilst giving a dismissive wave of his hand. Hopefully, the display of nonchalance would mask the sheer excitement and feverish nervousness he felt from being so close to you. Hearing your voice was like hearing the soothing melodies of birdsong in the morning. His heart soared at the mere act of being in your presence.

“Very well. I came here to apologize. You see, I’m well aware of the distress to you and everyone here at Mugunghwa that I’ve caused, and for that, I’m sorry.”

You could have died right there. Kim Namjoon? Apologizing? And apologizing to you, no less?! The infamous heir to Kim Industries, known for the downfall of any and everyone who dared impede his goals was apologizing to you?!

“Please, (Y/N). Forgive me. It’s just that losing to you has put my life into perspective. Yes, I was the head of our class, but what did that mean? Why was I fighting so hard to keep a title that in the long run, means so little? What was the point if I had no one to share it with?”

“What the hell are you getting at, Kim? I fail to see what this has to do with conducting business.”

As precious as you were to him, Namjoon despised your tone. If you were to be his, that sharp tongue would have to be dealt with. Besides, in that instant, you reminded him of his lowlife father. That certainly wouldn’t do. His queen should never adopt the mannerisms of Kim Joonho. Never. Ever. You were to whisper sweet nothings into his ear while he reciprocated. You were to never take such a tone with him ever again.

“I was rambling, so I’ll forgive that insolent remark of yours just this once. Make sure it doesn’t happen again.” Namjoon stated darkly.

Not wanting to push your luck, you relented. You were actually talking to Kim Namjoon. You couldn’t afford to ruin an opportunity like this.

“Right.” He resumed “The truth is that I’ve been watching you for quite some time. Honestly, that’s all I can ever do anymore. You’ve occupied every inch of my mind, and I just wanted to ask if you’d be mine, (Y/N).”

You sat there, slack-jawed. Was he serious?! What was happening?

“You’re joking… There’s no way that you could be serious. There’s no fucking way!”

“I am. I’ve done some soul-searching recently, and I’ve come to the conclusion that you are what I’ve been fighting for all this time. Not a damn class rank. I’ve been fighting for love, affection, understanding… And I believe that I can find all of that in you.”

“You… What…? I- How?”

“February 14, a dozen red roses were waiting for you on your desk in your dorm. With them, was a card addressed to you from a secret admirer. March 14, a diamond necklace was gifted to you for White Day by a secret admirer. And now, these.”

Namjoon produced a stack of envelopes bound by a black silk ribbon from his jacket pocket.

“These are from me. You’re a smart girl, (Y/N). Can you tell me who your secret admirer is?”

That was April. After a few talks with your co-host and having to sit through embarrassing stories of their childhoods, you finally took the leap and went out on a date with Namjoon… And you were the happiest you’ve ever been. The large stuffed animal that Namjoon had won you sat on a bookshelf, next to several other trinkets he had given you over the months you had dated.

You chuckled to yourself at the memory and closed your photos app. After which, you opened up your messaging app to shoot a quick text to Namjoon. That was until, you got a notification reading,

KIM INDUSTRIES CEO, KIM JOONHO FOUND DEAD IN HIS WINTER ESTATE.

Without thinking, you dialed Namjoon’s number and was greeted by a somber moan answering the phone.

“Namjoon, baby, I’m so sorry… I just saw the news.”

A sniff. “Hey. So the news outlets already published the story, huh? I should have known that it wouldn’t take long… They could at least have the common decency of letting his corpse grow cold first before they publicize it.” Namjoon chuckled humorlessly.

You didn’t know what to say. You couldn’t imagine going through the sudden shock of losing your parent, only to deal with the press soon afterward. You sensed that Namjoon needed some time to himself to grieve, and you were more than willing to give it to him.

“Yeah, it’s shitty what they’re doing. And to think that I’m going into that profession. It’s crazy.”

“It is what it is, (Y/N). Besides, I have faith that you’ll be one of the good journalists that don’t try to weave everything that they hear into lies and defamation.” He said earnestly.

Something about the way Namjoon spoke was unnerving. He didn’t sound like someone who was mourning their late father, but then again, he might have been in shock. His apathetic demeanor on the matter must have been a coping mechanism. After all, losing your father so suddenly is a lot to process.

All you could do is hum in response. “I’m glad you think so.”

“I know so, dear.”

A pregnant pause.

“Hey, (Y/N). I know this sounds horribly insensitive, but, can we still have our dinner date at my mansion? It’s just that I can’t bear to be alone right now, and you’re the only person I’ve been able to trust lately. It doesn’t have to be a date. I guess I just want you to come over.”

Your heart shattered into smithereens. He was alone and scared. Namjoon had no one to trust or turn to in his time of need, yet he found it within his heart to ask you. Who were you to refuse?

“Alright. I’ll go. Same time?”

He didn’t have to say a word, but you could hear his dimpled smile some out to play.

“Y-yes, yes, of course! Same time! Thank you so much, (Y/N). You don’t know how much this means to me. I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

“Alright, see you soon. Bye.”

You hung up the phone with a sigh and faced your closet. You had exactly two hours to get ready for dinner. You had two hours to prepare…

And so did Namjoon.

Once again, Namjoon was summoned to his father’s study. He was expecting it sooner or later. His class rank hadn’t improved since his father sent him to take his top spot back by any means necessary, but you were number one now. Namjoon wouldn’t dare dethrone his goddess from her rightful pedestal.

What he wasn’t expecting, however, was upon opening the large doors a swift slap coming across his face.

“You useless, useless brat! You can’t even eliminate a simple girl?! You can’t even reclaim your title?! How am I supposed to leave my estate and company in such incapable hands?!”

Joonho was fuming. His once pride and joy had betrayed him and disappointed him. How dare he? Namjoon sat on the floor, gingerly rubbing his cheek. He was sure his father’s handprint was burned into his flesh.

“I swear, you’re incompetent just like your brother! He disappointed me, and look at where he is now! I should have known that it was too good to be true.”

At the mention of his brother, Namjoon’s body stiffened.

“All of this. You’re ruining your life and your career all for some girl?! You’re willing to throw away what I’ve essentially bred you for, all for some lowlife pussy?!”

At the mention of you, Namjoon began to see red.

“I suppose I’ve been too lenient on you. I should have known that you would flounder. Maybe I’ll get rid of (Y/N) myself. It’s clear that she means a lot to you. Maybe you’ll get back in line once she perishes.”

That was the final straw. With pure rage fueling his every cell, Namjoon sprinted over to his father’s desk and grabbed his letter opener.

“Say it again, bastard! Say it again!”

Now, Joonho’s figure was dissolving into a crimson blob. All of his human like features were gone in a furious red haze. Kim Joonho wasn’t his father anymore. He wasn’t even human. 

He was the enemy.

Without giving his father a chance to speak, Namjoon plunged the letter opener into the older man’s eye sockets. After that, it was a blur. Hours had seemingly passed and Kim Joonho was nothing but a human pincushion. Stab wounds littered his body, and blood was oozing out of every one. With a satisfied grin, Namjoon stood and cupped a crimson hand to his face.

“Seokjin! Seokjin! Come down here!”

The head butler rushed in the study and into the carnage. The older male was mortified at the bloodbath before him, but he couldn’t help the relieved smile and tears of joy forming in his tear ducts.

“Brother, come help me clean up father. Unless, of course, you have some words for him?”

Seokjin carefully approached his father’s corpse and smiled wickedly. He placed a gloved hand on his eyeless face.

“You’ve disappointed me, Joonho. And now look where that’s brought you. My transgressions against you warranted that I were to be stripped of my place in the world as your son, only to become your servant. Your transgressions warranted your death at the hands of your prodigy. Isn’t that poetic justice? Sleep well, father.”

“Master Namjoon will be down in a moment.” A maid stated as she had you seated.

A white cloth napkin was folded and placed on your lap while you got comfortable in the antique dining chair. Staff hurried to and fro to finish preparing for your meal, and it was almost amusing seeing them rush around like busy worker bees instead of the esteemed staff of the Kim Manor.

A few moments ticked away before Namjoon made his appearance. He was elegantly clad in a designer Armani suit, giving a regal and princely appearance as he made his way over to you from the grand foyer.

“Please forgive me, dear. I had some business to attend to.”

Namjoon outstretched his arms, motioning for you to give him a hug. You happily obliged.

“Namjoon! There you are! I’ve been so lonely… Don’t you know that I’ve missed you?” You cheekily giggled. If you ignored the whole dead dad situation, the whole scene would appear wholesomely domestic. You decided to indulge in that notion.

Namjoon’s breath hitched.

“I’m sorry that I’ve kept you waiting. I hope that we can make up for lost time during dinner, yeah?”

You nodded and sat down in your chair. Namjoon was seated right beside you. As if on cue, the staff brought in your dishes. A classic Christmas dinner, consisting of turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes, ham, and vegetables was placed in front of you. On a small dish nearby, some cranberry jelly sat. You tried to hide the grimace at the red jelly. You were by no means a fan of the garnish, but you didn’t want to appear picky or ungrateful, especially considering the reason why you were having dinner with Namjoon in the first place.

Ever the attentive partner, Namjoon was keen on noticing your inner turmoil. “Is something not to your liking?”

“Uh, it’s just… I don’t really like cranberry jelly… That’s all.”

Namjoon looked utterly dumbfounded before letting out a joyful, booming laugh. “That’s all? Oh, (Y/N). You had me worried! I thought that I’d ruined the whole meal for you!”

His fork stabbed into a piece of turkey and he dipped the meat into the red gelatin.

“But, please do try the jelly. My brother and I, we made it for this occasion. I promise it’s nothing like the canned slop they sell in grocery stores.”

Namjoon made this? Now, this you had to try.

“Alright. Since you went through the effort of making it, I’ll give it a shot.”

You copied Namjoon’s actions of taking a slice of turkey and dipping it in the cranberry jelly. With the expression of a chef on Chopped, Namjoon eagerly watched as you placed the food in your mouth.

“Mmm! This is delicious! Namjoon, you should sell this! This is amazing!”

Another laugh came from Namjoon, although, this one had an arguably maniacal lilt. “Why, thank you, but I’m afraid that this specific batch is one of a kind. Besides, cranberry jelly isn’t the most profitable market out there.”

Little did you know that you had just ingested Kim Joonho’s coagulated blood. Perhaps that was why his cranberry jelly was one of a kind.

Merry Christmas.

[lady-divine-writes]

Kurtbastian one-shot - “Carolina in My Mind” (Rated PG)

Summary: Things get a little spicy when Sebastian decides that Kurt and Blaine are going to start doing TikTok challenges... in part to exact revenge on his boyfriend for covering him in glitter and posting photos on Instagram. (1845 words)

Notes: It's not as lurid as the summary makes it sound XD Makes a reference to an earlier quarantine one-shot 'All The Glitters'.

Part 67 of Outside Edge

Read on AO3.

"We're doing TikTok challenges now!?" Kurt groans, sliding to a halt in front of his boyfriend, arms crossed over his chest before he comes to a stop.

Sebastian beams, flashing Kurt his iPhone screen with the app already open. "Ah. I see you got my message." 

"Aren't we already living through hell? Do we have to add humiliation to the mix?"

"You're one to talk! If you get to cover us in makeup and glitter and post photos on Instagram, I get to do this!"

"But that performance makeup contest was hosted by the ISI," Blaine points out. "What merit does a TikTok challenge have?"

Sebastian watches Blaine glide to a stop beside his boyfriend and pulls a face. "Well, Doubty McDoubterson, tons of people join TikTok every day, including figure skaters. You two were worried about staying in the public eye during the pandemic. This will be great visibility for us within the skating community."

"A-ha." Kurt shares a skeptical side glance with Blaine. "Now, why don't you tell us why we're really doing this."

Sebastian gasps, stumbling back as if punched in the face. "Kurt! I'm wounded! Deeply wounded! I'm being completely honest here! I'm only thinking of you guys, working hard to keep your names in the mouths of... "

"Before you say another word," Kurt interrupts with a finger raised, "may I remind you that you have a five o'clock sesh riding on this answer."

Sebastian's mouth hangs open, caught around the next word. But a beat later, he snaps it shut. "Fine. We're doing this because we've been on lockdown for about ten years and I'm bored to tears!"

"Nice," Kurt says, "seeing as you've spent all of quarantine with us."

"Will you be partaking?" Blaine rushes in before Sebastian can shove his foot any further down his throat. He's not being entirely selfless, but he'd rather not admit out loud that Sebastian's plan is a decent one, ulterior motives aside. Blaine has a TikTok account and has wasted plenty of precious training time scrolling through clips. Sebastian is right - a lot of figure skaters post on there, even some big names in their sport. It's a better platform for it than Instagram. If they pull this off, they could become TikTok famous, and that wouldn't exactly hurt when they make their comebacks.

"I am." Sebastian wiggles his camera in front of their faces. "I'm the cameraman."

"Of course," Kurt mutters under his breath. "So what's the challenge?" he asks, eager to get this over with, hoping he doesn't regret it too much later. "It is a skating challenge, right?"

"Of course it's a skating challenge! In fact, you guys get to perform your routines... " Kurt stares at his grinning boyfriend, waiting for the shoe to drop. And it does when Sebastian picks up a small paper bag off the boards and holds it out to them "... after you've eaten this pepper. There's one in there for each of you."

"I guess it's too much to hope it's a bell pepper," Kurt remarks as Blaine takes the bag and opens the top. He reaches a hand in and pulls out a bright reddish-orange vegetable the size of his thumb. Kurt recognizes it right away, his eyes going wide at the Carolina Reaper pinched between Blaine's fingertips.

"A little bit, yeah," Blaine says.

"What th---? Aren't those things illegal?" Kurt asks, on the brink of turning and running, leaving his friend behind to suffer the consequences.

"Nope. They're perfectly legal," Sebastian says. "And they won't cause any permanent damage. I checked."

"That's so nice of you."

"Come on! This'll be fun!"

"For you! You're running the camera!"

"I've got you guys. Look! I brought you some milk for after," he says, producing the smallest, middle-school carton of two percent in existence. How he expects the both of them to share that, Kurt doesn't know. It's probably part of the schtick, Kurt thinks, to cap off the hilarity - the two of them fighting over seven ounces of milk with their mouths on fire. "Also... " Sebastian deliberates when he feels himself losing ground, running through options in his head he hopes Kurt might jump at so he can get his TikTok "... I'll let you pick the next challenge. Then you can be the cameraman."

A malicious grin spreads across Kurt's face, but Sebastian squashes it with the stipulation: "But remember - whatever you make me do, Blaine has to do, too."

"Don't I get any say in this?" Blaine asks.

"No," Sebastian answers without looking at him.

"Well, do I get a turn at choosing?"

"Maybe... provided Kurt agrees to my conditions."

Kurt glares at his manipulative ass of a boyfriend, putting him on the spot in the name of social media currency. But what the heck? This could be fun. Plus, turnabout is fair play. He'll get Sebastian back. 

Oh yes. He'll get him back.

Besides, Kurt isn't a stranger to spicy foods. His dad has put plenty of red and green gremlins, each residing on different ends of the Scoville scale, in that disastrous chili he makes every fourth of July. How much worse could eating this one raw be?

"Fine." Kurt snatches the pepper out of Blaine's hand but doesn't bring it anywhere near his mouth.

Blaine, on the other hand, goes all in, grabbing his pepper out of the bag, popping it into his mouth, chewing like crazy, and then swallowing, probably in the hopes that it would hurt less if he did it fast, like pulling off a Bandaid. Then he skates off.

His plan doesn't work too well though. Thirty seconds into his backward crossovers, his face scrunches. He puts a hand to his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut, cheeks flushing beet red before Kurt's eyes. "Jesus Christ! I can't see!"

Kurt fixes steely eyes on his boyfriend, filming and giggling like a fiend as Blaine attempts a triple Axel and singles it, arms flailing when he tries to fan his mouth at the same time. 

"I'm picturing a Speedo," Kurt says as he prepares to drop the Reaper into his mouth. "An embarrassingly tight Speedo, seven gallons of honey, an angry beehive... " He carefully places the pepper on his tongue. His salivary glands kick into overdrive when its waxy exterior makes contact, but he can't persuade his teeth to bite.

"Ooo," Sebastian coos, provoking him. "Blaine covered in bees? That's going to be hilarious! And I can't wait to see his face when he finds out it was your idea. But what are you going to make me do?"

That does it. 

Kurt's teeth clench inadvertently, catching the pepper as it rolls off his tongue and pummeling it to bits between his pearly whites. The burn washes through his mouth, spreading in an instant with the obliterated pepper sitting for too long on his tongue.

"Shit!" he yelps, swallowing what remains whole. He coughs violently, almost puking up his lunch. "Shit shit shit!" 

"Don't die," Sebastian teases. "Not for TikTok."

"Nice to see you have priorities," Kurt growls, overcome by a sudden urge to get as far away from his insufferable boyfriend as his skates can take him. 

Now he has to pull this off so he can rub it in Sebastian's face.

Remembering that Blaine has a head start on him, he forces his feet to move. A swiftly blossoming headache completely erases his new routine from his brain so he begins improvising, starting with the opening of his last Regionals piece. He opens with a pancake spin.

Big mistake.

Crouching low over his bent leg as he spins forces his mouth closed, everything from his gums to his cheeks aflame. 

"Nope!" he sputters. "Nope nope nope!" He ends his spin prematurely, hacking as he settles into backward crossovers. 

These are worse. 

Since he's pushing into the air with his back, none of it hits his face, depriving him of relief. He catches sight of Blaine skating as fast as he can with his mouth wide open, preparing to enter another jump. He performs a double toe loop, then another, then another. Kurt doesn't understand. Blaine doesn't perform doubles in his routine. He's beyond that. 

Then it hits him.

Blaine can do a row of doubles faster than he can perform consecutive triples. He's using rotational inertia to cool his face.

It's genius.

Kurt launches into the air, stringing together three of the most lopsided double Salchows he's ever landed. And he barely lands them at that, overestimating his edge and nicking his toepick. He gives up on his choreography altogether, performing whatever move he has to to shove ice-cold air into his mouth. Element by element, Kurt's routine devolves until his goal becomes keeping his mouth from bursting into flames. 

He can't remember the last time he flubbed up this badly. He and Blaine probably look like drooling dogs doing the most, but his throat burns so badly, he couldn't care less. Kurt's nose runs like a faucet, but nowhere near as much as his eyes, which he has the hardest time prying open. 

He decides to skate blind, praying he doesn't collide with Blaine, whose blades he can no longer identify on the ice. By the time Kurt strikes his final pose, he's puffy-eyed, sweating like no one's business, with his lower jaw hanging to his chest, wheezing as he sucks in mouthfuls of cold air. He can't hear much for the ringing in his ears, but he suspects Sebastian may be laughing his ass off. 

Why did he agree to this again? 

"How did I do?" he asks, skating back to his boyfriend, trying not to touch his tongue to his lips, or his lips to each other.

"Meh. You've done better," Sebastian replies, replaying the video over and over, snickering at choice scenes.

"Thanks, coach," Kurt seethes, wondering how well Sebastian would skate if Kurt shoved one of those peppers up his nose.

"At least you fared better than Blaine."

"Why?" Kurt pants, scanning the rink through the narrow slits of his swollen eyelids. "What happened to him?"

Sebastian jerks a thumb over his shoulder. "Took himself out of the running before his second Axel attempt, the poor schlub."

Kurt peeks over Sebastian's shoulder and spots Blaine, lying on his stomach, tongue pressed flat to the ice.

Kurt makes a face. He doesn't blame the guy, but still. 

Yuck. 

"Blaine? Honey? That's not a good idea."

"Yeah, weirdo. We have milk."

"I 'as saving da 'ilk for 'urt," Blaine explains, not moving his tongue while he does.

"Oh!" Kurt sighs, pressing a hand over his heart, overdoing the swoon because he knows how much it will irk Sebastian. The jerk deserves it. "That's so sweet!"

Blaine smiles. At least it looks like he does.

Sebastian grimaces. Great. Upstaged by a boy who looks like he just Frenched a patch of poison ivy. "Yeah, yeah. Cavity inducing. Get your ass up, Anderson. You're just making it worse. Besides, you're burning a hole through my ice."

[pochapal]

rank every year of the 2010s from best to worst i want some pochapal lore

[warning for discussion of my fucked up mental health and my myriad traumas. we’re really opening the pandora’s box here gang]

ok time for me to overshare on the internet again! super long post because i can’t shut up and you asked for it. anyway, by objective ranking: 

#1: 2012 - halcyon era, my personal peak. spent the whole year writing hunger games oc fics with my deviantart fanfiction besties whom i still think about all the time and always hope are having the best possible day. if you were here for this era understand i still hold you so closely and dearly in my heart <3. 

#2: 2013 - god i was such a good example of a human being back then. was the year my writing like actually took off and i had a healthy balance between creative stuff and a social life (said social life consisting of spending lunchtimes at school breaking into classrooms and discussing fandom shit with five other people. reading homestuck updates in the music room on one person’s really shaky mobile data...legendary). highlight of the year and maybe my life was in the april of 2013 when i got out of failing to submit a hard deadline essay by telling my english teacher i wrote a whole novel over the two week break and then producing said novel. god i wish i had that level of like. fucking confidence back me back then knew what i wanted and how to get it. 

#3: 2010 - the last year of childhood. i was 12 and played pokemon all the time with my friends and went places and had a moderately successful youtube channel and it didn’t matter that i was bullied so badly at school because i was basically high off life. summer of 2010 was so good specifically. i’d used to get the bus with a friend and go see movies and break into historical sites and get into normal childhood mayhem and maxed out my pokewalkers twice a month and i was buzzed because i had two (2) whole friendship groups to choose from and that was such a huge deal to me the terminal social outcast. it was so simple and carefree and even though everything and everyone involved in this era grew up to suck except for one specific person i kinda really miss it.

#4: 2018 - this was the first year i wasn’t depressed to the point of nonfunctioning. it was 20gayteen, i was on antidepressants, i was as close to thriving as i got at uni (going into town with people once a week, attending art and culture events, getting good grades across the board), i started to write for fun again, i got my cat whom i love dearly, i was exhibited in my uni’s city’s literature festival, GOD i actually nearly attended a pride event that year can you imagine. this year was basically my life’s second peak. miss getting the 8am train and daintily sipping on a cherry coke to keep me from passing out. wish this time could have lasted longer.

#5: 2019 - kinda absolute middle of the road year not for lack of anything happening but because the overwhelming amount of good and bad things cancelled each other out. so like there’s the fact that i was at the top of my uni game this year, was basically making the first steps into a professional writing career (covid i will never forgive you for killing all that dead </3), finally saved up enough to buy myself a gaming pc, and the summer after the homestuck epilogues, but equally 2019 was the start of the Pochapal Gender Fiasco which is by far the most horrible thing i am still currently undergoing and i burnt myself out mentally about halfway through the year (being stuck overnight in a hospital for a panic attack absolutely horrible horrible irredeemable) and then got like super death plague flu that i was sick with for three months (literally recovered less than a month before rona hit. god’s cruel karma.). so like...it kind of averaged out? the good shit was good but not as great as other years and the bad shit was awful but nowhere near as terrible as it could have been. gotta give a shoutout to 90% of my current mutual cohort for following me in 2019...omelette route gang make some noise !!

#6: 2014 - oof. this year essentially marked the start of a four year long downward mental health spiral because everything fell into awful alignment. i’d just turned 16, finished secondary school, had all my friends up and ditch me at once, was home alone for a whole summer, and was hit with Sudden Intense Body Image Issues that i couldn’t explain until uh. after very recent developments lmao. this one goes out to the me of july 2014 who did nothing but lay in bed and listen to the same two marina albums on a loop because fuck i’m attracted to men and also my facial and body hair are really starting to come in and if i think about this for too long i will literally kill myself because oh god i can’t handle getting older which is clearly and definitely the issue going on here. my brain fucking broke super hardcore and it’s a miracle that an overeating disorder was like the worst thing i walked away with. 

#7: 2015 - downward spiral year two!! i was so volatile this year it was such a mess. i was totally socially isolated after a brief stint of falling in with a group of people at the start of my first year of sixth form until january where in quick succession a) it turned out every single one of these people was friends with the person who sexually assaulted me whom i obviously had a lot of complicated feelings towards and b) baby’s first crush came out as bisexual but in the “women and also trans women” kind of way which tore me up so terribly in ways i couldn’t begin to understand. no words for the experience of seeing a girl kiss a boy and crying so hard at night you threw up because you could never be her no matter how much you wanted it. actually kinda get the sense what was going on there was bigger than just some crush lmao. then after that i was so mentally ill i basically attended school less than half the time and it was the only year in my life i failed my exams. i ended up having to resit my entire set of first year a level exams because jesus christ was i in such a bad way it was a miracle i even showed up to them. all i did was either have anxiety attacks or enter bedbound depressive slumps for weeks at a time. but it’s okay because it gets worse.

#8: 2016 - downward spiral act iii: the spiralling. prefacing this by saying that i actually had two whole good months (april - may) in that i was functioning enough to do my exams and finish school with decent grades. the rest was super extra mega terrible. my school attendance for year 13 dipped below 65% and literally the only thing that kept me from being kicked out was the fact that i was naturally smart at the subjects i took and also because the school would have a lot to answer for after letting me get to that state despite having a hefty file on how damaged i was. keep in mind every single part of this was fully untreated btw - i was just floundering around and letting it all fester. i spent three solid weeks going to school but locking myself in the bathroom all day every day and having mental health episodes then going home like nothing else happened only to continue the breakdown that night. then things got kicked into fucked up overdrive when i moved out to uni and was cut off from what little support structures i did have. it was so bad all i did was cry all the time and never went anywhere to the point where three separate sources recommended me to the wellbeing and crisis counselling service that i stopped going to after two sessions because i was fucked up in ways cbt techniques could not even touch. at least i tried to make an effort for the first two months of uni which like. good for me?

#9: 2017 - what lieth at the base of the spiral. helltrench year. i was at literal rock bottom. i stopped going to class, i didn’t hand in a single piece of work. i lied to my parents and would book trains each day only to go back to my student flat and sit there and contemplate suicide. like i would just slump on the floor in a catatonic state and vividly contemplate one of four or so ways i could end my own life. i only didn’t because i wanted to wait until the summer to collect my last student loan and transfer it to my parents as an apology for my death which obviously didn’t end up happening. honestly i can’t remember much of the first half of 2017 that’s how bad it was. i remember taking a gender studies class and the teacher made it Weird that i was the Only Male Student in the room and then she sent me a scolding email after i walked out halfway through a class and never returned. apparently i got into a lot of online discourse in this year but i don’t remember anything other than being put on a blocklist by the milkfic author over ace discourse which is funny if you have the context. mostly i just baited terfs and weirdo freaks to get them to say horrible things to me as what i guess amounts to some kind of digital self harm. anyway breaking point came in late august when i got kicked out of university and then nobody could ignore it any more so there was no choice left but for me to seek out help and recover enough to function which luckily i did. i really Do Not remember 2017. you could tell me anything about that year and i’d probably believe you.

#10: 2011 - extra circle of hell for this little fucked up gem of a year. on the surface it wasn’t actually that terrible, until the Summer 2011 Domino Effect Of Bad Shit. up until like may/june it was a pretty all right year! i was 13 and had a surprisingly successful youtube channel uploading pokemon soundfont remixes to an audience of i think ~350-400 subscribers at my peak? anyway then i got hit with the early summer triple combo of childhood friends moving away, cute and quirky sexual assault at the hands of a person in my friend group, and then having some Really Great and Super Appropriate interactions with adults on deviantart. like obviously there’s the actual ptsd-inducing event which totally disrupted and killed the person i was right up until that moment and reshaped every facet of my life for better or worse (there’s an alternate timeline where that didn’t happen and i got into electronic music and/or coding instead) but really it’s the events that followed in its wake which were kind of more fucked up. so like all of a sudden i was super aware of my body and me growing my hair out and being mistaken for a girl in class suddenly became this Less Innocent thing and i ended up spending hours overnight going to transgender questioning forums and looking up hrt timeline videos and having the wikipedia article on tracheal shaving saved because it was a life raft to me whose voice was imminently gonna deepen and i was simultaneously reeling with constant trauma flashbacks and the whole thing was so so fucked up. then i was on deviantart and i don’t remember exactly how but a small group of furry guys ten to fifteen years older than me started messaging me and encouraging and requesting me to produce nonsexual fetish stuff for them and talking to me about stuff like if i’d ever thought about growing up to be gay and i didn’t think anything of it for a long while because they called me a very talented writer and it felt so good to have someone be nice to me after being so alone and isolated for months on end. anyway the only reason i got out of that before it got bad was because they invited me to one of the big furry sites and i was weirded out because i thought it was a porn site and thinking about sexual stuff was a huge trauma trigger so i just ended up blocking them all and pretending like it didn’t happen. at the time half this shit didn’t bother me but in retrospect holy fuck 2011 was such a damaging year. to think if like three events didn’t happen i wouldn’t be the fucked up mess you see before you today.

god fuck this turned out super long but i’m not apologising because this was a therapeutic exercise for me and also constitutes as one of the biggest pochapal lore dumps of all time. come get your food or whatever.

[goodnightkisseu]

Lee Hoseok - By My Side

→ pairing: lee hoseok (wonho) x reader

→ genre: fluff, guardian angel!au

→ word count: 3217

→ warnings: none~

→ summary: your parents always thought that Hoseok was the name of your imaginary friend. In reality, he was your guardian angel. However, sometimes... sometimes he was a bit... overprotective...

→ masterlist // guardian masterlist // monsta x masterlist

note: I reblogged the masterlist post about this yesterday, but I’m doing a mini-collab with @prettywordsyouleft​ and @this-song-thats-only-for-you​​! There was a ‘who is your monsta x guardian angel based on your sign’ post going around on twitter, so the members we’re writing for are based off our results from that! Admittedly, there’s a running joke amongst us that I always get Wonho in those, but I am not going to complain XD We’ll each be doing one post each and I’m the first one up! Please enjoy~! ^^

- ash <3

"Your daughter… she's got quite the… imagination. The entire time she was here, she couldn't stop talking about someone named Hoseok. Apparently, he's a good friend of hers," your neighbor relayed to your mother when she came to pick you up, the lightest giggle escaping the woman's lips. 

An apologetic look was plastered all over your mother's face, but you were too young to understand her concerns at the time. "I'm so sorry. Hoseok is… he's her imaginary friend. She talks about him a lot at home as well. I don't feel right about correcting her just yet. She's still so young…"

Your neighbor shook her head. "No, don't discourage her. It's good for her to have an imagination! It means that your daughter is creative. And honestly, it seemed like my Hyunwoo had a wonderful time playing with her and Hoseok. Let me know if you need me to watch her again, okay? She's always welcome here," she reassured your mother, and after another slew of 'thank you's, your mother took you home. 

As most children aged, they let go of their imaginary friends. It was a natural part of growing up. But for you, it wasn't so simple. Your parents had hoped that by the time that you turned seven that you would stop mentioning Hoseok altogether. They hoped that your friends at school would drive away the imaginary one in your mind, yet his name still left your lips. At first, you didn't quite understand why it was such a big deal to them. Hoseok felt very real to you, so the fact that they kept telling you he didn't really exist was… strange. You were young, so you didn't quite know how to voice to them that he felt very much alive, very much like a real person in your life. It wasn't until you were a little older when you understood why you could see him, feel him, but your parents couldn't.

Hoseok was your guardian angel.

To ease your parents' concerns, you never spoke his name out loud again, but Hoseok never disappeared. He was always by your side, helping you through each hardship that you faced. Every time you had a hard decision to make, Hoseok was there to help you navigate them. Whenever your emotions ran wild, he was there to calm you down, to talk you through your feelings. Every heartbreak, even though he tried to protect you from them as best he could, he was also there to pick up the broken pieces, mending that fragile heart back together. Whether others knew of his existence or not, Hoseok was indeed your closest friend. You almost could have gone as far as to say that there was nothing you would change about him. 

Almost. 

Hoseok was… overprotective. 

You figured that part of this was natural for a guardian angel. After all, he was obviously present in your life to assist you through tough situations that were thrown at you. This you understood, but with Hoseok, sometimes the smallest things sent him into overdrive. When you were little, he had a fit every time you got on a bicycle or tried to climb a tree. In your teens, it was your choice in friends. And now… well, it ranged from guys you dated to something as simple as the things you ate.

"Excuse me, what do you think you're doing?? You shouldn't be eating that!" Hoseok exclaimed once when you stood before him with a rather delicious looking slice of pie. 

"Hoseok, what are you talking about? It's a banana cream pie. You know that I'm mildly allergic to cherries and not bananas," you stated, your fork dipping into that small slice of heaven. You were about to take your first bite when quick footsteps approached, and the male took it right out of your hands.

"Did you also happen to forget that you were mildly allergic to something else? Almonds. There are almonds on top of that pie," he pointed out. The light-colored nuts garnished the top of the pie, sprinkled decoratively on the whipped cream.

A pout unconsciously formed on your lips as your brain tried to find a way to reason with him. "Okay, but it's only mildly. Hoseok, you know it's just a small tickle in my throat. I'll be just fine, so give me back the pie," you said, dismissing his concerns.

Unsurprisingly, your angel was not having any of this. "You say that it's just a mild reaction, but what if this is the one time it becomes more than that? You know that your allergies have gotten worse as you've gotten older. When you were younger, you weren't even allergic!" he countered, holding the delicious dessert just out of your reach. 

"The doctor advised me to take allergy medications if I feel any level of discomfort after eating something, and it should go away. I'm an adult, Hoseok. I can take care of a food allergy on my own."

"It's a no go," he replied firmly, standing his ground and hearing you sigh in defeat. He knew that you didn't have the energy to argue with him that day, and so, he won. Oh, and he ate the pie too.

Arguments like this were common with Hoseok. The two of you had been together since you were kids. It was natural to argue like this with someone you were close to. Even so, you had lost count of the number of arguments in which Hoseok usually used your own personal safety and wellbeing as the reason why you shouldn't do something. Yet, you knew why Hoseok was like this. When you were much younger… you almost met a terrible fate.

You were on vacation overseas with your parents. It was a lovely resort city, and on that particular day, your small family had ended their day at the beach. Your parents were walking along the shore, taking their time. In your overexcitement to explore your new environment, you ran ahead of them towards a small pier. You weren't sure how it happened, whether it was a weak and rotted piece of wood, or due to your own clumsiness, but somehow you fell right through and into the water below. You weren't a strong swimmer, you were barely able to doggy paddle at that age. Hoseok watched you frantically try to stay afloat, and his heart couldn't take it. Against every single one of his teachings, he leapt in to save you. He wasn't supposed to, there were consequences to his actions, of course, but Hoseok took each punishment without a single complaint because you were safe. And ever since, he never left your side… even if it was a bit overbearing at times.

But, if you were, to be honest, you didn't mind it most of the time. Hoseok's friendship and his comforting presence were enough to let you overlook this quirk of his. You never went longer than a couple hours without talking to each other. You never thought that anything could put the two of you on such different sides, shouting at each other like you were now. However, here you both were, red-faced and screaming. And it was all because of the overseas trip that your friends had planned.

At first, Hoseok was okay with the trip. It had been a while since you had done something with your friends. And if anything, it was going to be a good chance for all of you to catch up. You had always wanted to travel overseas together, and this was the one time when all of your lives aligned just perfectly. You had told Hoseok that your friend Jenna was the one planning the trip and that she wanted to keep it a surprise. Yet, the moment you told him the details, your guardian angel grew upset.

"You can't go to an island!" he exclaimed, the moment that you relayed to him that Jenna had found a fantastic package for an island getaway. "I mean, I'll be there with you to keep an eye on you, but don't you think going to a place surrounded by water is tempting fate?"

"Hoseok, can you calm down? Look, I tried to convince them to go somewhere else. I suggested big cities or even a pension somewhere, but they are all very adamant on this beach trip. They want to show off all of the hard work that they put into their bodies this winter. I tried really hard, but they weren't swayed. Look, I promise to be careful, to stay as far from the water as they'll allow, and like you said, you'll be with me. Please don't make such a big deal out of this," you tried to reason, but Hoseok's brow only furrowed deeper.

"Can you blame me from making a big deal out of it? This was how I almost lost you as a kid. If anything like that happens again, I can't do anything for you. I'm not allowed to," he shot back, watching as your own brow furrowed in reply. He wasn't backing down, but he could tell that you weren't either.

"All I can promise is that I'll stay away from the water, but the trip has already been decided. Jenna already booked the tickets."

"Well, in that case, you aren't going."

Hoseok's sudden decision caught you off guard. "Excuse you?"

"I said you aren't going."

You let out a quick breath, suddenly irritated by Hoseok's behavior. "You aren't my father, Hoseok. You can't just tell me what to do. I can make my own choice, and you can choose whether or not to come along."

 Hoseok scoffed in response, something you didn't often hear from him. "You're right. I'm not your father, but I am your guardian angel. Your safety is my priority, and if you aren't going to listen, I'm going to forbid you from going."

You could feel the anger rising within you. Hoseok had this habit of treating you like a child when he was trying to make a point about your safety, and you hated it. You knew he used this and your health as points in his argument because they were often hard for you to dispute. But this time, you had reached your breaking point. "You can't forbid me from doing anything."

 "I can. And I just did. Don't do it."

"No, no, you can't! You can make suggestions for what I should and shouldn't do. You can advocate for one thing over another. However, you have no control over my actual decisions, Hoseok!" you retorted, practically screaming at your angel. At this point, you could see his demeanor change, but you were riled up, and you couldn't stop yourself. 

"Look, I love you, I love you a lot. You're the one person in this world that I am the closest to. We've been through everything together, but you don't get to use my safety and my health against me every time you want to tell me what to do. I let you dictate a lot of things in my life. I let you choose the meals we eat, the paths that we take home from work. That's all fine. But this, this decision, you don't get to make. You can take your overbearing self elsewhere!"

The room grew silent, the air thick with each word that left your lips. It felt like it was suffocating you, and you could slowly feel the regret creeping in. You didn't mean to lash out at Hoseok like this, but you felt like it needed to be said. Even though you felt like you took it too far, nothing could have prepared you for Hoseok's reply. 

"I am your guardian angel. I understand that my actions can be read as too overprotective, but I do all of this because I care about you. Yet, you don't seem to understand that, do you," His words were low, and you felt a chill run down your spine as he spoke. This didn't sound like your Hoseok.

 "I care about you so much, and I always have. That didn't change even after I was punished for saving you. But you don't care about that now that you're alive, do you? But what if… what if that day…"

 Your eyes widened. You knew what your angel was implying, and you felt yourself grow cold. "Ho-hoseok, what are you saying??" you stuttered. 

 "I think I regret saving you. I'll save you the hassle of having to argue with me. Have fun on your trip." His words rolled off his lips with minimal effort, and within seconds, he was gone. 

 Just like that, you were alone, your words caught in your throat. You had never expected such behavior from Hoseok, nor did you expect his words to affect you as they did. They cut far deeper than any insult you had received. Suddenly, you felt numb, your heavy body trudging its way to your bed, no longer caring about this trip with your friends.

You didn't sleep well that evening, and part of you had hoped that Hoseok would return in the morning so that the two of you could talk about what happened. You wished to find him beside you, or maybe even out in the living room, watching the neighborhood cat that walked by every morning. But, much to your dismay, he wasn't there. There wasn't a single sign of him. You couldn't even feel his presence anymore. Your heart dropped when you realized the impact that your words had. He was gone, and you didn't know how to get him back. But your life had to go on, so you tried to focus on your work. 

The thing was, nothing about your day ever felt quite right. You felt uneasy proceeding through your rather uneventful life. You didn't even feel that same comfort that used to engulf you whenever you came to work. Though you tried to hide your dampened spirit, your coworkers still caught on. You played it off with excuses such as you hadn't slept well or that you just had a lot on your mind, not wanting to worry them, but you didn't know how well it worked. Because the truth was that you hurt. Your heart was in pain, and every night you came home to your empty apartment, you felt like another part of you was missing. Your energy was nonexistent, and by the end of the week, you didn't even have the willpower to eat. Instead, you collapsed onto your bed, letting sleep consume your exhausted body and spirit.

When you finally woke up, it was hard for you to discern how long you had been asleep. It was still dark out, so either you had only slept a handful of hours, or it had rolled over to the next day. Either way, you weren't sure how much you cared. Well, at least, until the aroma of food drifted past your senses. In particular, it smelled like one of your favorites.

For a moment, you wondered if you were still asleep. You definitely hadn't the energy to make your favorite dish, and there was no one else around to make it either. In your dream, anything could have been possible. Still, curiosity and hunger got the better of you, and you slowly got out of bed, hoping to get to the end of this mystery. Your feet made slow progress out of your room, and the moment they hit the cold hardwood floors made you regret forgetting your slippers. Your steps were tentative, particularly as they drew closer to the kitchen. You didn't know what to expect when you got there, but you proceded, the sizzling sound bringing you in. When the individual standing at the stove became clear to you, you almost gasped, though you stopped yourself from doing so. Still, even if you didn't make a noise, your presence to him was already known.

"You haven't been eating properly, and it seems like you lack energy. I thought making your favorite would help," the man stated evenly, not turning to face you.

You couldn't tell from his voice how he was feeling, and that almost made you hesitate in responding to him. "I… I didn't expect to see you again, Hoseok…" you murmured, choosing your words carefully. You fussed with your sweater sleeves to keep your hands warm, but it was also to distract yourself.

The slightest turn of his head signified that your response was not one he had been expecting. He let out a gentle sigh, realizing how on edge you must be with him in your presence again. "I'm… I'm your guardian angel. Whether I'm around you or not, I can tell how you're doing. I knew you were in pain, I could feel it. It made me realize how I blew this situation out of proportion. I made a mistake," he said sincerely. He turned off the stove and spun around to face you, the caution and concern evident on his face. "I'm really sorry."

His apology came far quicker than you had anticipated. His words made you realize that he also had a hard time being apart from you. Throwing caution to the wind, you slowly approached him. "I… I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have said those things about you…"

Hoseok shook his head. "They weren't wrong, though. You stated facts. I am far too overprotective of you. I worry about every little thing you do, but you're right. You're not a child anymore. You're an adult, an adult that can make her own decisions. If you want to go on this trip with your friends, then you should. I want you to be safe, but I also can't stop you from living. I'm just your angel. I'm only supposed to guide you, not run your life…"

"But you're also my best friend, Hoseok. I shouldn't have said that you were trying to run my life. I know that you care for me, and you're also important to me, just like the others are. Not having you here… I was so lonely, and I felt lost…"

Gently, Hoseok wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into the tightest hug. It was the type of embrace that brought you comfort. It was the type of hug that you associated with your best friend, and no one else. It was the warmth and safety that only Hoseok could provide. "I'm sorry for leaving your side. I won't do it again. And I promise I won't lose my temper like that again. And I'll go with you to make sure that you're okay on the trip," he promised.

"Thank you for coming back…" you said quietly, your face buried in his chest.

"I don't regret it. I don't regret saving you. And I promise you that from now on, I will always be here when you need me." 

From that moment on, Hoseok's priorities changed. It was no longer about keeping you out of harm's way. Instead, his new resolve was to guide you towards the most fulfilling life you could have… and you were happy to have him there... every step of the way…

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

Australia

Summary: Peter is tired. Too tired for school. Too tired to eat. Too tired to focus. His mind wanders to an old book that his uncle used to read to him. He can't seem to get it out of his head and soon he finds himself trying to incoherently explain it all to his confused yet decidedly understanding mentor.

Warnings: None            Rated: G

Tags: Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parkers Parental Figure, Anxious Peter Parker, Platonic Cuddling...  ...

Word Count: 3527

Link To Post on AO3 [2019-09-11]  Australia-happyaspie

Was re-reading this fic today and realized that I need a Tony...  

  As Peter sat in his third Period class he was watching the number on the clock.  There was still twenty minutes until they broke off for lunch and he wasn't sure he was going to be able to sit in his chair that long without one of two things happening. Either his eyes closing or his heart racing.  There didn't seem to be an in between at the moment.  He'd woken up in the middle of the night to a nightmare that he couldn't even remember but even without the lingering details, the unease was still there.  Even after all of the hours that had passed his chest was still tight and his body tingling with anxiety.  Not in the same way his spider-sense warned him of things, this was different.  He felt on edge for no good reason and the unnecessary worry was making even the smallest task feel daunting.  Then again, he wasn't really certain that the feeling was stemming from the nightmare.  It could have just as easily been from the complete lack of sleep.  Going to bed at midnight only to be awake for the day by two was enough to make anyone on edge, he supposed.

 Sitting at his desk completely zoned out, he vaguely remembered a story that his uncle used to read him when he was small.  It was about a young boy having a terrible day.  In the story, the boy had been certain that moving to Australia would solve all of his problems.  At the moment, he could sympathize because even if horribly, bad... or tiredly, anxious kinds of days could still happen in Australia, surely they wouldn't seem less so there. As he sat, his brain began to drift further and further away from the classroom.  He was soon staring off into space, imaging what a day in Australia would be like and how it would definitely be better when he was abruptly pulled from his thoughts.

 "Mr. Parker!", the teacher shouted again, in an attempt to get him to turn his head away from the clock and back to the front of the room.  "The bell rang.  You need to get to lunch."

 Nodding his head, Peter sluggishly shuffled his way down the hall and quickly put a lunch together.  He hadn't even begun to start eating yet when Ned sat down beside him.  "Dude, what's up with you today.  I didn't see your take one singular note during history class this morning and then you didn't meet me at my locker before lunch.", the boy complained as he set his tray onto the table.  

 "Sorry, Ned.  It's been a weird day.", Peter tried to explain.  He'd never really talked to Ned about the majority of his nighttime struggles nor the anxiety that sometimes lingered.  He wasn't sure if it was normal or not and he really didn't want his friend to think he was crazy.

 "weird how?  Like Spider-man weird or like, Peter weird", Ned asked in a low voice causing Peter to roll his eyes.

 "It's an... off day.", Peter finally decided to explain after some quiet thought. He really wanted to say more, in hopes of calming his nerves, yet he opted to remain vague.   "I can't shake the feeling that something bad's going to happen and my brain keeps wandering. I'm probably just tired.  I didn't sleep much.", he said, leaving out the part about the nightmare.  Though the omittance seemed to be for not seeing as Ned's eyes were now filled with nothing but concern.

 While thankful that Ned wasn't looking at him like he was crazy the apprehensive look he was receiving was nearly as bad.  He didn't say anything and neither did Ned for quite a while.  When Ned did speak up again Peter could hear the unease coating his voice despite his casual posture.

 Eventually, it became clear enough to Ned that nothing he could say or do was going to be able to pull his friend back to the present.  He'd barely looked at his lunch, let alone eaten any of it and any time he'd tried to point that out, Peter'd just nodded his head and went back to staring out the window.  "Maybe you should go home...", he eventually suggested trying to sound less bothered than he actually felt.

 "Because May needs to work and I'm not sick.  I just feel... weird...anxious.", Peter rapidly explained just before the bell rang to end lunch.  Realizing he hadn't taken a singular bite he sighed.   "Maybe I should go home.  ...but that makes me feel anxious too."

 Shoving the last few bites of his own food into his mouth, Ned stood to return his now empty tray.  "You could always call Mr. Stark."

 "Why would I call Tony?", Peter asked in confusion. Sure he was hanging out with the man all the time now and he spent the night at his house most weekends but it's not like he was his parent or anything.  

 "I don't know.", Ned said with another shrug of his shoulders.  "You just always seem happier after you talk to him.  Maybe it would help."

 Taking a moment to contemplate if that was true or not, Peter didn't realize he'd once again allowed his mind to drift but this time it was to Tony's lab.  He was happiest there.  Maybe that was his Australia...  Maybe Tony would take him to actual Australia if he asked...  Just as he was starting to picture himself and Tony exiting a private jet and walking into the Sydney Opera House he was once again startled from his thoughts.  

 "Peter!", Ned called urgently in his direction.  "We've got to go!  Just leave your tray there."

 Having decided that school was not the place to be that day, the first thing Peter did when he made it back to class was to ask the teacher for a chance to use the restroom.  He'd been somewhat worried that the man was going to deny him, seeing as they'd just come from lunch but he didn't.  He seemed to know something was wrong and was looking at him with the same concern that had crossed Ned's face earlier, as he handed over the laminated hall pass.

 Once safely behind the bathroom door, Peter took his phone out of his pocket and allowed his finger to hover over Tony's name.  As he did so, a brand new wave anxiety began to bloom in his chest, telling him that if he didn't hold his breath and make the call right then, that he was never going to.  So, he took in a breath and held it as he waited to see if the man would answer his phone or not.

 "Pete?  It's eleven-forty-five... aren't you in school?", Tony asked without greeting the moment the two lines connected.  

 Finally letting out the breath he's been holding Peter tried to come up with a good reason for him to be calling in the middle of the day. The truth didn't sound like a good enough excuse and he'd not taken the time to come up with an alternative.  "I am at school.  I, I was... I needed to ask you something.", rapidly spat out without considering that he'd now locked himself into coming up with a relevant question. 

 "Okay...", Tony replied in confusion.  "Well, I'm in a meeting so you're going to need to make it quick."

 Suddenly feeling more anxious than he ever had before in his life, Peter was back to holding his breath.  He'd interrupted Tony at work.  Of course, he did.  He was a busy man.  Between owning a company and being an Avenger, he had meetings all the time and calling him had probably been a bad idea. "I'm sorry, Mr. Stark!", he spouted out all at once when his lungs could no longer hold the air he'd taken in.

 Taken aback by the sudden reappearance of his formal title, Tony excused himself from the conference room, he'd been seated in.  "Kid?  Why are you calling me Mr. Stark?  You haven't called me that in months.  What's going on?"

 Peter knew he needed to say something.  You don't get asked a question by Tony stark and not answer it but his brain was running on overdrive and he couldn't find any words.  He could literally feel the seconds ticking by while simultaneously feeling as if it were standing still.  Like a clock with a broken second hand and as he was trying to decide if time was actually passing or not, he heard Tony in his ear again.

 "Pete.  Do I need to come and get you?", he asked because the boy had never been so quiet.  It made him worry, maybe more than it should have but something definitely wasn't right.  

 Having felt vulnerable since abruptly waking up well before dawn, Peter took a shaky breath and closed his eyes.  "Yes.", he whispered out despite the fact that the majority of his brain was begging him to remain silent.  

 "Are you safe?  Where are you, kid?", Tony asked with concern, already exiting towards his vehicle.  He'd never picked Peter up from school before, not like this and he wasn't even sure what that process looked like... or if the school would even let him check the kid out but something in him was demanding that he get to his kid immediately.

 "School bathroom.", Peter answered simply whilst continuing to wish he was in Australia where he was sure that off days would feel less... off.  He was just starting to try and decide if he'd meant Australia as in the lab or actual Australia when he heard Tony talking to him again.

 Having switched the call over to speaker once he'd entered the car, Tony raised his voice to be heard over the roar of the engine.  "Think you can collect your stuff and meet me in the office?"

 Peter nodded his head a few times without considering that no one could see him.  Because of that, Tony prompted him again.  After which he was able to give another soft 'yes.' before the call ended and he was wanding back to his classroom to retrieve his bag and then up towards the office.  It didn't take much longer for Tony to suddenly appear at the front desk.  Peter could see him looking his way.  His jaw was clenched and his brow was knit together with creases or worry, making Peter feel small as if he were going to be in trouble despite the fact he'd done nothing really wrong.  'Except pull him from an important meeting', his brain unhelpfully supplied.

 As it turned out, May'd had the foresight to add Tony's name to his contacts list and Tony signing Peter out had been an easy task.  He was soon waving Peter forward and wrapping an arm around his shoulders, guiding him out the door, towards the waiting car. Even after they were both seated inside, Tony made no move to put the car into gear.  Instead, he continued to study Peter who was sitting subdued beside him.  "Pete.", he finally said softly, though Peter remained silent and somewhat fidgety beside him.  "What's going on in that head of your's right now, huh?"

 Blowing a long breath out of his nose, Peter turned slightly towards the man beside him.  "It's been a weird day, Tony... and I wish I was in Australia.", he said realizing too late that he'd made no sense. 

 Nodding his head even though he was feeling completely lost, Tony reached out a hand and brushed over the boy's forehead.  When he didn't feel exceptionally warm he sighed.  "Weird how Buddy?"

 Instead of answering the question, Peter felt compelled to explain the latter part of his earlier reply.  "There's a book.  A kid's book about a boy who has a bad day and he wants to move to Australia.  His mom tells him that bad days happen there too but I don't think they do."

 Having gone from feeling lost to thoroughly confused, Tony reached a hand across the center console and placed it on Peter's lightly shaking knee.  "Are you having a bad day?", he asked, trying desperately to grasp at whatever the kid was trying to tell him.  

 Peter felt automatically more relaxed at his mentor's touch and absentmindedly placed his own hand on top of Tony's grasping it gently.  "Not like in the book.   Nothing bad has happened.  I just feel... off... like something bad is going to happen."

 Suddenly feeling a bit alarmed, Tony's eyes went wide.  "Your spider-senses?"

 "Not like that, no.  This is different, I'm not sure.  It doesn't make sense.", Peter attempted to explain.  He knew he wasn't doing a good job of it but they were still sitting outside of the school and he was acutely aware that the people from the office were still staring at them through the window.  "Can we go home, now?"

 That request made Tony smile because he knew that in this case, Peter was referring to his home and not the apartment that he shared with his aunt.  "Yeah, Buddy.  We can go home."

 "Can we get something to eat?  I, I might have missed lunch.", Peter sheepishly added, embarrassed at himself for being so out of it that he'd literally forgotten to eat.  Though, at this point, his stomach wasn't willing to allow him to forget it again.  It was relentlessly cramping with emptiness.

 "We can do that too.", Tony replied with a smile as he pulled into the fast food place on the corner.  "What do you want?"

 "Anything.  I don't care.", Peter replied in earnest. Nothing sounded good.  His only real goal was to mollify his complaining stomach.

 Tony didn't say anything else and proceeded to order the kid a large meal and hand it over.  Peter nodded in thanks and Tony continued to worry over the near silence but didn't address it.  Not until they were inside of the penthouse.  "Alright, kid.  We're home and you've got food in you.  Think you can tell me what's going on now?  You're scaring me a little bit, Buddy.", Tony admitted while ushering Peter towards the couch.  He'd never known Peter to be so quiet but then again, he looked exhausted and maybe that was it.

 "I feel... wrong, Tony.  Like, nervous or something.", Peter again tried to explain while gnawing on his bottom lip.  It wasn't unusual for him to feel anxious from time to time and nightmares like his would make anyone feel a little on edge but he'd never carried the feeling for this long before.  Usually, it would fade as the morning passed and he wasn't clear why it hadn't this time.  Maybe it was because he'd been out patrolling entirely too late all week long.  Maybe it was because he'd never gone back to sleep the night before.  Maybe it was a combination of the two.  

 Smiling softly at the boy beside him, Tony asked, "What would help?"

 Peter considered answering that because he knew exactly what would help.  He wanted someone to hold him tight and tell him things were going to be fine.   Deciding that saying that out loud sounded childish, he tried to shake the thoughts from his head. "I don't know.  I wish-- never mind."

 "...that you were in Australia?", Tony suggested with a smile.  He still didn't understand what the kid had been talking about but he threw it out there anyway.  If nothing else but to prove he'd been listening.  

 "No.  ...well, maybe a little bit but that's not what I was going to say.", Peter replied with a smile.  He didn't know why his mind kept going there or why he'd felt the need to mention it to Tony.  It had slipped off of his tongue without thought, really.  

 "What were you going to say?", Tony asked softly.  He wanted to know.  He needed to know.  Every fiber of his being was screaming for him to make this kid feel better and he was willing to do whatever that took.   "What do you wish, Pete?"

 Sighing because he couldn't bring himself to tell his mentor that what he wished for was physical reassurance, he swallowed and wrapped his arms around his own torso.  "It's not important."

 Just because Tony was considered emotionally stunted didn't mean that he was oblivious to the feelings of others.  He could read social cues just fine and Peter's posture was screaming 'comfort me'.  So, he turned his body and opened his arms in invitation.  "Come here.", he said, preparing himself to take on the weight of a teenaged boy and all of the troubles that were following him.

 There was no hesitation.  Peter fell into his mentor's arms with a breath of relief.  The tighter the man held him the more his body relaxed.  The pressure was something to focus on.  It kept his mind in the present and made him feel safe enough to let the worry go.  "I'm so tired, Tony.  I didn't get much sleep last night.", Peter mumbled into the man's shirt after several minutes of basking in the affection he was being offered.  

  Already aware of the graphic nightmares that had occasionally plagued the kid for years, he didn't even question it. "Couldn't get back to sleep, huh?"

 "I've been anxious ever since.  I don't even know what I dreamed about."

 "Maybe you need a nap, kid.", Tony suggested before giving the boy one last squeeze and relinquishing his hold.  "Come on, let's get you in bed.", Tony said but Peter made no effort to stand.  Rather he continued to lean onto Tony with his head resting comfortably by the man's shoulder.  From there, Tony's arm wrapped naturally around the boy, pulling him in more closely.

 "Can, can we stay like this for a little while, Tony", Peter asked hesitantly.  He wasn't ready to give up the comfortable position he was in.  Here he felt safe and the anxiety couldn't touch him but he also knew that Tony more than likely needed to get back to his meetings.  "I mean unless you need to get back to work.  I know you're always busy."

 "That can wait.  All of that can wait", Tony said honestly.  He'd hired Pepper for that very reason.  Well, sort of.  The goal had been to free up his time.  To allow him to focus on other things.  Of course, when he'd done so, he'd never imagined that he'd eventually spend a decent amount of that time, encouraging and consoling a teenaged boy.  In fact, had anyone ever tried to tell him such, he would have laughed in their face and sent them off for a mental evaluation.   "I'd rather be with you anyway."

 "Are you sure?", Peter asked with guarded hope.

 "Very sure.", Tony confirmed before leaning in to kiss the boy right on top of his head.  When that caused Peter to relax further he smiled to himself.  "Are you feeling any better, kiddo?"

 Feeling contented and perfectly at ease for the first time that day Peter hummed in satisfaction. "Yeah, actually I am."  

 "Still wish you were in Australia?", Tony questioned with a small laugh.

 Smiling in return, Peter reached around Tony's body to hug him as best he could without moving around too much.  "No. I'm good right, here, Tony.  With you.", he said with a stifled yawn.  The lack of sleep was starting to catch up with him.

 "Why don't you close your eyes.", Tony suggested.  He already knew that Peter was tired and he really hoped he wouldn't resist sleep for much longer.  Mostly because he was sure that once the boy was no longer completely exhausted he would more than likely feel less antsy and as much as he was enjoying the cuddling... he missed his hyperactive and talkative kid.

 "Will you stay with me?", Peter asked as he pulled a blanket off of the back of the couch and settled his head on Tony's Thigh, relishing in the way the man, in turn, began to run his hand up and down his arm and occasionally through is hair.

 "I can't think of anywhere else I would rather be, Pete.", he replied without a moment's hesitation.  

 Yawning again, Peter looked up at Tony with a tired smile.  "Not even Australia?"

 "Not unless you're coming with me."

 Peter nodded and rolled back onto his side, tucking the blanket he'd retrieved tightly under his chin.  "Hmm... Maybe after I take a nap."

 "Sure, kid.  After you take a nap.", Tony laughed.  Australia was somewhere he'd never even considered visiting but it was suddenly at the top of his list of places to go.  With Peter... with May's permission.  He needed a vacation anyway.  Maybe Peter did too and with summer right around the corner, he could make that happen.  He found himself getting genuinely excited by the prospect and was already planning it all out in his head when Peter breathing evened out in a deep sleep.  Looking down at his kid, Tony smiled and whispered, mostly to himself, "Australia, it is."

[x--daughters-of-darkness--x]

Myrkur: the strange and surreal journey of Amalie Bruun

From hanging out with Martin Scorsese and Billy Corgan to appearing in a Michael Bolton video, Myrkur's Amalie Bruun is a black metal star like no other

An old painting hangs on the wall of the compact, one-storey house an hour’s drive out of Copenhagen that Amalie Bruun calls home. It depicts a blonde girl lost in reverie as she walks a grass path high above a fjord: a scene that’s elemental and ethereal at the same time.

The picture, by noted Norwegian landscape artist Hans Dahl, belonged to Amalie’s late grandmother, a refined woman who smoked cigarettes from an ivory holder and drank gin and tonic on a Friday morning. Amalie’s mother used to say that it was Amalie in the painting. It’s not hard to see why.

“I had a connection to it from before I can remember,” says Amalie today, as we sit at a dining table in a living room that’s one part uncluttered Scandinavian stylishness, one part hygge-style cosiness. “The album sounds like the painting looks.”

The album she’s referring to is Folkesange, her third as Myrkur, the one-woman  project she founded in the mists of the early 2010s.

Where Myrkur’s past releases have bridged worlds – black metal, post-rock, blackgaze, classical – Folkesange is different. This is traditional Scandinavian music played on traditional Scandinavian instruments, sung predominantly in Danish. There are some covers, some originals, though there’s not a trace of metal in the music or the vocals. It’s all there in the title: Folkesange. Folk Songs.

That Amalie Bruun is releasing an album of sometimes beautiful, sometimes melancholic Scandinavian folk music really shouldn’t surprise anyone who has followed her journey. Partly because that aspect of who she is has always been present in Myrkur’s music – all she’s doing with Folkesange is separating it out.

But mainly because Amalie Bruun has lived more lives than most other people. That, as much as anything, is what puts her out there on her own.

Two life-changing things have happened since Myrkur’s last album, 2017’s expansive and brilliant Mareridt, both inextricably linked.

One: Amalie Bruun got married. Her husband, Keith Abrami, is a fitness instructor and drummer with American death metal band Artificial Brain. The pair became romantically involved after Keith began playing as Myrkur’s touring drummer.

Keith is around, though he stays in the back bedroom today. This is because he is attending to the second life-changing thing that has happened to Amalie recently: the couple’s nine-week old son, Otto.

If Mareridt was the product of the vivid nightmares its creator endured before making it, Folkesange was defined by pregnancy and the impending birth of her first child.

She describes motherhood as joyous, though in her case the elation is edged with sadness. She discovered she was pregnant soon after she started writing the new album. “But I miscarried,” she says simply.

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We ask if she’s OK talking about this. She nods, and explains that the miscarriage pushed her deeper into making Folkesange. A few days after entering the studio with producer (and Heilung co-founder) Christopher Juul, she discovered she was pregnant again. And that’s when the emotion really hit her.

“I was totally out of it, but in a beautiful way,” she says. “I wasn’t my normal human self. I become something else.” She laughs. “Very nauseated.”

She noticed that her vocals were different. “I never felt so in tune with singing as I did then. I had this power and this clarity, which was crazy. But it was the exact place to be, recording folk vocals with this new life growing in you.”

There were worries, of course, as well as other emotions. One of the songs on the new album, Gudernes Viljie (English translation: ‘The Will Of The Gods’) is about the miscarriage. “There were conflicted feelings, dealing with both this new life and this guilt feeling of this other life that never happened,” Amalie explains. “It was never a heartbeat, but you still feel like a mother. It was very intense.”

Amalie Bruun grew up listening to Scandinavian folk music. It resonated with her on a different level. “With my spirit,” she says. “It’s like in England: you have that singer-songwriter folk tradition, it’s historically ingrained. It shapes who you are, even if you don’t know it. Because it’s folk music, it’s told by people for people. So it’s inherited into the spirit of a population.”

Half of Folkesange’s 12 tracks are her versions of songs that she grew up listening to, while the others are her originals, though you’d be hard pushed to tell which is which. “This is a record that I wish had existed when I was young,” she says. “And it doesn’t exist, so I wanted to make it.”

Music, folk or otherwise, is in her blood. Her father, Michael Bruun, is a retired musician. He was semi-famous as a pop singer-songwriter in Denmark in the early 80s. “But he was not interested in fame,” says Amalie. “He’s shy and misanthropic.” Does she take after him? She smiles. “I do. Sometimes I wish I didn’t but I do.”

Her mother, by contrast, was a Jungian psychologist. “She tried her best not to bring her work home, but she did. You get analysed every day.”

As well as folk music, Amalie loved classical music as a child. She learned piano as a toddler, took up violin at five, and eventually attended music college as a teenager. “I wasn’t pushed into anything. It was all my choice. I was never interested in anything else.”

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The first metal record Amalie Bruun fell in love with was Transilvanian Hunger, Darkthrone’s sub-lo-fi black metal masterpiece. Before that she’d listened to the stuff teenagers listen to: Nirvana, Björk, that kind of thing. Aside from her older brother’s Metallica and Judas Priest records, she’d never listened to much metal.

“Usually that transition takes years, right?” she says. “But all of a sudden I hear Transilvanian Hunger. It reminded me of classical music.”

“The Starter Pack” is how she jokingly describes Transilvanian Hunger today. “If you like that, a lot other black metal sounds really pleasant. A lot easier on the ear.”

When she was 22 years old, Amalie Bruun bought herself a one-way plane ticket to New York and started another life. It was the city’s rich and romantic musical history that drew her there: the poets, the punks, the freaks, the superstars. She arrived with no cellphone and nowhere to stay.  “I didn’t know what I was doing,” she says. “But that’s what New York is. You just go there and see what happens.”

She found a place to stay with friends of friends from back in Denmark, and walked all over the city, giving her demo CD to venues. “Just piano music,” is how she describes what she was doing. “Me singing little melodies.”

She played anywhere that would have her, in front of whatever crowds were there. “Oh, it wasn’t the cool people,” she says. “It was definitely uncool. But it was never about fame. I just wanted to go out and earn my stripes a little bit.”

In the early 2010s, she met guitarist and co-vocalist Brian Harding, and they put together Ex Cops. Based in oh-so-trendy Brooklyn and playing shoegaze-inflected alt-pop, they basically screamed ‘hipster’.

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She recoils at the suggestion. “I fucking hate that,” she says vehemently. “I hate the whole hipster thing.”

Ex Cops were ultimately small fish in a big indie rock pond – their main claim to fame was that their second album was executive-produced by Smashing Pumpkins major domo Billy Corgan. Amalie liked being in Ex Cops, but she liked the music industry a lot less. Or at least the part of it she where she found herself.

“I would be in the studio, working on ideas I had written and people would say, ‘Let’s just let Amalie get it out of her system,’” she says. “I was so offended by that. There were comments on what I would wear, whether or not I could have armpit hair in photos. It takes away your agency as a musician and as a woman.”

There were two Amalie Bruuns while she was living in New York. Or rather, there was one living two separate lives.

There was one Amalie Bruun who was making music with Ex Cops and dipping her toes into the world of modelling – she appeared, raven-haired, in a Chanel advert directed by the legendary Martin Scorsese – and, even more bizarrely, alongside 90s crooner Michael Bolton dressed as Forrest Gump in a video by spoof R’n’B group The Lonely Island (Bolton was dressed as Forrest Gump, not her).

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Then there was Amalie Bruun the black metal fan. She mentioned her love of the genre in Ex Cops interviews, even if she sounded almost apologetic about it. “I was,” she concedes. “People thought it was too weird.”

Few people picked up on the references anyway, let alone knew that she was quietly working on a project of her own in the shadows: Myrkur.

She had been writing folk melodies on the violin for years. Gradually she added more and more metal elements. Once in a while she dared play it to other people.

Eventually word reached underground metal stronghold Relapse Records, who released her self-titled debut mini-album in 2014. Back then her identity was a mystery: she was as much apparition as musician. “I wanted the music to speak for itself,” she says of her anonymity, as if it’s the most obvious thing ever.

But mysteries don’t stay mysterious for long these days. When someone joined the dots and uncovered her other life as one half of a trendy Brooklyn indie-pop band, the keyboard warriors went into swivel-eyed overdrive. She was a fake. A poser. Worse, a woman – one who’d dared gatecrash the testosterone-heavy sausage party that is the black metal scene.

“I was blissfully unaware of it,” she says of the negative attention she initially attracted. “Then it was, like, ‘Why am I being hated by people who don’t know me at all. At least get to know me.’” She shrugs. “It didn’t affect me much. I was there to play music, not fuck around with all that stuff.”

She has a theory: that people objected to the fact that she’d worked with Kris ‘Garm’ Rygg, frontman with former black metal avant-gardists Ulver. “Honestly, what really pissed off a lot of people in the beginning was that I did work with some of the Scandinavian black metal artists that they look up to. I think that was very annoying and provocative to that crowd.”

Not that she was a woman? She thinks carefully.

“I think it’s the fact that I didn’t follow the rules of how women in metal should behave. I’m not the first woman in metal, I just did it a little bit more my own way.”

Anyway, she says with a faint smile, she wasn’t above a little button-pushing herself.

“I was never deliberately provocative,” she begins. “But when I realised how little it took I did take a bit of pleasure in it. I knew that if you post a picture with Attila from Mayhem, then they’re just going to go off. But it’s not like I did that just to piss people off...”

If Mareridt silenced the haters, or some of them at least, then Folksange, with its absence of volume, will probably fire them up again. Amalie Bruun couldn’t care less if it does. She has more important concerns. Such as her new life, as the mother of Otto.

She’s not pretending that motherhood won’t impact on how she approaches her career. There will be no big world tours around Folkesange, for one. “You can’t pretend it doesn’t play into it as a woman. Maybe as a man, it’s different. I know a lot of metal musicians, they have kids and they continue the same life. That’s cool, but when you’re a mother you can’t do that. I want the two sides of my life to co-exist.”

Has she worked out how that will work?

“I don’t know yet how that works.”

Is she looking forward to it?

“It’s nerve-wracking.”

Is she worried?

“No, I’m not worried. I’m in control. It will be how I plan it to be.”

With perfect timing, the sound of a baby crying drifts from the back room. Amalie gets up and returns a few seconds later holding Otto, a tiny bundle of nine-week-old humanity.

It’s only then that you realise how unique Amalie Bruun, and Myrkur, is: not just a woman operating in such a male-dominated field, but a mother as well.

Before we leave her and her family, she says that she’s looking forward to following up Folksange with “another metal-style record with distorted guitars”. But for now that’s in the future. Another chapter, another life.

[gwentoryfics]

hyunggu what was your reaction when you saw the mc in the elevator?

Hot for Teacher, Part 5.5.

Genre | College Student x College Professor Smut AU

Pairing | Hongseok x Reader x Hyunggu (Kino)

Words | 1.5k

Summary | You never realized how much one drunken night could color the rest of your college experience until you discover that the handsome stranger from your cousin’s wedding is also the new professor at your university.

Warnings | None

Parts | 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 5.5 • 6 • More Coming Soon

Note | Basically I planned this scene for Part 6, but this seemed like a great opportunity to re-write it from Kino’s point of view. Enjoy 🤗

The elevator slows to a halt, only one floor away from Kino’s destination - the sixth floor, where his dorm is situated. After stopping by the vending machines on the eleventh floor, his hands are now full of Doritos (his favorite late-night snack). He’s ready to binge-watch a few more episodes of Forensic Files and nothing can stop him.

Except her.

The doors slide open to reveal her image, and he’s taken aback for more than one reason. Not only is it unusual that he would see her in this dorm building (and well past midnight), but there’s clearly something wrong. He can tell from her disheveled hair and dripping wet dress.

“_____?” He murmurs her name, and she looks up at him, clearly just as surprised as he.

“Kino…” She sounds weak, defeated.

This isn’t right. He’s never seen her so distraught. Frowning worriedly, he offers, “Do you want to come over?” No matter what put her in this state, he needs to be there for her. She’s one of Kino’s best friends; of course he wants to take care of her.

With a gentle nod, she steps onto the elevator. She seems a little wobbly, and she smells faintly of liquor. Kino is about to reach out and steady her when she leans back against the wall of the elevator, supporting herself.

Kino suddenly remembers his last encounter with her drunken self - that explicit voicemail she left when she thought she had dialed someone else. Even though she made it clear that the message wasn’t meant for him, he has to wonder how things could be different if it had been his.

What if she had meant everything she said in that voicemail, and she was as hopelessly attracted to him as the voicemail made her sound? How would he have responded then?

He doesn’t know.

She’s certainly cute. That much is undeniable. And she’s incredibly easy to get along with. Kino had so much fun with her at karaoke, and she’s definitely one of the better friends he’s made at university.

But when it comes to more than friendship, he’s just not sure what he would want. He hasn’t really thought about it too much because he doesn’t want to risk losing her friendship.

Kino lets her into the dorm, quietly letting her know that his roommate is asleep in their shared bedroom. “You don’t have to whisper, though. He’s a heavy sleeper, and you can’t hear much in there when the door is closed.”

She just nods, slipping out of her heels. “Can I use your bathroom?”

“Of course,” Kino immediately responds, but then he holds up a finger. “Actually, hold on a sec.”

He slips into the bedroom for a moment and digs around in the pitch black for a t-shirt and shorts. Her dress is completely wet and can’t possibly be comfortable, so the least he can do is give her something else to wear.

She gratefully accepts his clothing, and she’s in the bathroom just long enough to make him worry if she’s doing alright. But just as he’s about to check in on her, she reemerges.

“Kinooooo…” She groans as she comes into the living room, plopping down on the couch next to him. She leans over, resting her head on his shoulder and tucking her legs up onto the couch. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have cancelled our plans.”

Is that what’s bothering her? “It’s okay. I know that stuff comes up.” He doesn’t know exactly why she cancelled, but that doesn’t really matter. She hadn’t said much, just that she needed a raincheck for tonight.

Suddenly she sits up and looks right at him. “It was a shit night, Kino, and we would have had fun. We would have had so much fun, and I just want to eat barbecue - God I could go for some barbecue right now…”

Kino frowns. So something else is wrong. “What happened? Do you want to talk about it?”

Dramatically, she collapses back onto the couch. “I made out with Wooseok.”

What?

The sudden confession catches him entirely off guard. He’s aware that she’s been tutoring him, but he didn’t realize that they were close. Or that she was into him.

The most confusing part of it all, though, is the fact that he feels distinctly disappointed.

“You did?” He tries to sound unfazed, but he’s not sure if he’s convincing. “I… didn’t realize you liked him.”

“I don’t know if I do.” She sighs. “I don’t know what to think. It was sort of an accident.”

Kino’s caring-mode goes into overdrive. “Did he force himself on you?”

“No! No. It’s… I wanted to. I just… ugh I’m so tired. Can I stay over?”

He doesn’t hesitate to nod. “Yeah, of course you can stay. But I need you to drink some water before you go to sleep, okay?” She doesn’t seem out-of-her-wits drunk, but he needs to make sure that he’s at least somewhat hydrated so she doesn’t feel like death in the morning.

“What about some more tequila?” She giggles, grabbing his arm playfully.

“No.” He laughs, unable to be stern with her. “You need water.”

“Ugh, I knowww… That’s why my dress is wet.”

Kino gets up from the couch to fetch her some water. “What happened with that, anyway?”

“I did the same thing you’re doing now.” She padded behind him, following him into the kitchen, watching him fill the glass. “I told Wooseok we needed some water, but neither one of us finished, and so we just put the cups on the counter, and then he put me on the counter, and then he took off my underwear and-”

“Whoa! I don’t need all the details.” Kino interrupts her, not really wanting to hear any more of her ramblings about Wooseok and what he did or didn’t do to her tonight. He holds out the water to her. “Drink.”

She gulped it down way too fast, handing back the empty cup. “There. I did it.”

“I’m proud of you.” Kino places the cup in the sink to be washed at a later time, and then he grabs his collection of Doritos from the counter. “I know it’s not barbecue, but do you want some chips?”

“Hell yeah I want some chips.” Like a vulture, she swoops in, grabbing one of the snack-size bags from Kino’s hands. “Why do you have so many?”

Shrugging, Kino leads the way back to the couch. “I just like them.”

Mid-crunch, she blabs, “They’re goooood.” Without any sort of prompting, she reclines across the couch, resting the back of her head on Kino’s thigh.

He just chuckles. “Please, make yourself at home.”

She gives him a stupid smile and shoves another chip in her mouth. “Hey, Kino… Have you had your heart broken before?”

The question catches him off guard, but he thinks for a moment. “Yeah, but it wasn’t really a big deal. It just felt like the worst thing in the world at the time. But that was years ago, so…”

“What happened?”

He looks down at her, innocently munching on her cheesy chips. “I had a crush in high school, and when I confessed they just laughed at me.”

She frowns. “That wasn’t very nice of them.”

“It’s whatever. I went on to have other relationships and it wasn’t really a big deal.”

“You’re probably too good for them, anyway. You’re so fun. And talented. And clever. They probably had zero personality and a poo brain.”

Kino laughs warmly. “A poo brain?”

“You heard me.”

“That’s very sweet of you.”

Without thinking, Kino’s non-cheesy hand comes to rest on his lap, his fingers gently stroking her hair. He just feels so comfortable being close with her that he doesn’t even realize it might be a weird gesture.

“Mm.” She hums softly, closing her eyes. “That’s nice.”

“You like it?” He drags his fingers across her scalp.

“Mhm.” Her whole face relaxes for just a moment, and then she frowns slightly. “I think he has a girlfriend.”

“Who does?”

“The guy I like. Liked. I don’t know.”

“…The guy from the voicemail?”

She nods, eyes finally coming open. “I saw him tonight and it was awful.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, it’s a secret.”

Kino’s hand passes over her hair one more time, enjoying the feel of it. “I’m sorry that it was so awful. You’re probably too good for him, too. Clearly he’s got a severe case of poo brain if he picked someone else over you.”

Her laughter is sweet and bright, and it warms him. He’s always glad when he can make her laugh and lift her spirits. She murmurs, “Yeah, Professor Poo Brain.”

“Professor?” His hand pauses. She couldn’t mean that literally… right?

“Yeah he teaches his little poo brain class, he doesn’t even know how to add…”

What the hell is she talking about? “You’re not making any sense.”

She waves her hands, brushing him off. “It’s okay. It’s a secret. I want to sleep now.”

Kino desperately hopes that it’s just the alcohol making her spew nonsense. There’s no way she could be wrapped up in something with a professor…

Post Script | Thank you for reading! Please stay tuned for Part 6.

Update | Read Part 6 here!

All Rights Reserved © gwentoryfics. No translations, reposting, and/or modifying of the material is allowed without my direct permission.

[hayjeon]

Drain (m) ft. Jimin

→ sonofPoseidon!Jimin x succubus!reader  → 2.4k words, fantasy drabble m.list 

a/n: woke up to so many sweet messages, thank you, here’s a treat for ya’ll. 

Jimin’s breath stutters as his torso shudders and his body feels that weightlessness that signifies the next part. 

Everything gets dark, and even though he knows his eyes are closed and everything is as black as can be, the room considerably dims, sucking every light fissure out from beneath his lids and depleting them into the energy of the darkness. His breath becomes even more ragged as the darkness becomes so heavy and thick that it weighs down on his chest, almost akin to the pressure he feels when he swims a bit too deep. 

And then, he hears it. 

Your voice is almost like a siren’s, but it’s not singing. You whisper, tender whispers and temptations into his ear, the syllables dragging with a hiss at the end, arching and curling up in tendrils up inside him until he’s twisting in anticipation and desire. 

You whisper sweet nothings to him, taunting him at the fact that he can’t move, giggling lightly at the way his body becomes rigid at the sound of your voice and trembles with each sentence. 

“Jimin,” you giggle, the voice lingering near his ear, although he can’t see anything. Are his eyes open or closed? He can’t tell. 

“Did you miss me?” Your voice has a taunting pout in it, torturing him in the way he can’t move a single muscle, just strain against the invisible bonds that hold him to his bed. “Awww, sweetie,” you coo, and the bed dips like you’re sitting on it. All of his senses are on highest alert, now that his sight is obstructed by whatever darkness it is that you summon. 

He can smell you. You smell of pomegranate wine, the sweet and dark nectar a match for the way your presence is absolutely breathtaking and addicting. It surrounds him, lingers in his nose and his lips. 

He can taste the way the air shifts, becoming heavier and denser, lingering on his skin along with the sweat that breaks out along his neck and back. 

He can feel you, feel the way you bring about a darkness he’s never experienced before, one that’s addicting and makes him feel like he’s drowning or floating, he can’t figure out which one. Often you’ll sit on his side of the bed, the mattress dipping slightly, and his muddled brain registering the light jostle. 

You run a cold finger up his abdomen, tsking as his muscles ripple under your touch. When you reach his pectoral, your fingers splay as you press your entire hand over where his heart is. Jimin huskily exhales, the air escaping in a shuddering rasp, that although his vocal chords are rendered useless, you snicker at the way even his breathing reflects his arousal. He feels the bed dip as a weight settles over his hips and around his torso. You’re kneeling over him. 

His breath releases in a sudden whoosh when you lean down and tongue a stripe up from the base of his neck to his jawline, your voice cooing, “Aw you did miss me, look at how tense you are.” Your hips settle over his, resting your weight on his hardened length, and a hoarse cry breaks free from his lips when you begin rocking against him steadily, dragging your hot and wet core over his clothed length. 

He can’t reach up to feel you, he can’t see you, but he knows that you’re naked, knows that there’s no way he can feel so much wetness and warmth this fast without you already being bare. The thought makes him harden even more, as he tries to buck up and speed you up, but you just let out a little chuckle, “ah ah ah,” you tut, slowing down significantly and tweaking his nipple, “bad Jimminie, no moving allowed.” 

Jimin relents, letting the darkness drag him under that weight of motionlessness, and lets you take the reigns of the pleasure all over again. If he could move, he would reach up and throw you onto the bed and pound you like the way you deserved after weeks of teasing him during his sleep. He would ravish you like one of his lovers, tease and overwhelm your body within his until you couldn’t tell where each ended. He would chain you to the bed, tie up your arms and legs to each post of his bed and fuck you for hours. The next day he would prevent you from cumming, bringing you to the cusp of orgasm a million times until you were sobbing and promised to never put him through sexual torture again without his permission. Then the next day he would give you what you wanted, dragging you through orgasm and heady pleasure until you didn’t even know anything but his name. 

But you don’t care. 

You come at night, when the moon is at its dimmest, and steal through his dreams, cloaking his empty room in complete darkness that’s almost addicting, making him feel like he’s drunk. You always do this, whispering sweet promises and cooing comforts into his ear as you do unspeakable things to his body. And then...

You murmur into his ear, and he distinctively feels a pair of lips slide across his jaw and a hand tangle into his locks. “This is why I keep coming back, Jimminie,” you coo, a slight melancholy in your words, “you’re just so exquisite, one of the finest specimens I’ve ever tasted. You taste so damn good,” you moan, burying your face in his neck as your hips speed up, rocking yourself against him. Jimin practically feels the way you clench and tremble above him, and although he’d literally run all the way to Mount Olympus and back just to feel you unobstructed in all your glory, he still clenches his jaw through the haze and lets out a moan at the way he feels your hips messily rub yourself and himself to completion. 

“Oh gods,” you sigh, the other hand carding down his abdomen over his stomach, tracing the lines there, “your body is to die for, I want to spend all my life getting to know each. and. every. single. inch,” you punctuate, rasping against his ear. Jimin is so close. 

“And your length,” you groan, “One of the sweetest things I’ve ever seen in my life.” 

Your twists are getting absolutely messy, but he can’t bring himself to care because he’s seconds away from losing it. 

“Fuck, Jimin,” you rasp, “C’mon, cum for me. Give me your sweet sweet nectar, cum on my pretty little pussy, you can do it,” the hand in his hair tightens, and Jimin cries out as he arches, breaking through the haze of your torture to finally be able to move a bit as he spills into your hips, “you’re so good,” you coo, hips not stilling until he’s trembling from overstimulation. 

Jimin knows what you are. He’s read about you in his Monsters and Demons class, read about the way your kind steals into men’s lives in the dark, sexually seducing them into release and sucking the life force out of them. One kiss on the lips, from a creature like you, and he would die, everything sucked away from him in a moment as the rest of him is discarded into the Underworld. He knows that’s why he’s been waking up feeling like he’s run fifty miles and sweating like he’s fought a thousand minotaurs, his shorts always ruined with a ridiculous and almost embarrassing amount of cum. He knows that’s why there are questionable scratch marks and hickeys and bruises littered across his abdomen. He knows that if he leaves a light on before he sleeps, you won’t come. 

But he wants it. 

He desires it, not just from his loins, but his entire being calls and sings out for your faceless and nameless presence. His entire body goes into anticipation mode, trembling with excitement and expectation the moment the darkness begins to dim, and the lights behind his lids fade to nothingness. His heart begins to beat in overdrive, filling his head with endorphins that add on to the addicting pleasure of the strongest orgasms he’d had in years. 

So instead of doing the smart thing, and telling the counselors about it, or asking anyone from the House of Hades to do something about it, or leaving a light on before he goes to bed, or asking one of his friends to stay the night, Jimin politely declines any sleepovers. He smiles politely at the children of Hades, sparing them nothing more than just the normal greetings, and assures his counselors that his recent performance issue in the arena games are merely due to the pressure of winning for his House. He makes sure to blow out his lantern every time he lays his shirtless body horizontally on the bed, making sure not to turn sideways because it makes it harder for you to sit on him. 

And you always come. You recognize the signs and you come to him like a moth drawn to a flame. And he knows that it’ll be the same thing, yet more deliciously addictive than the last: you’ll come, you’ll make him have an orgasm, and then...you’ll leave. 

Jimin gasps as he sits up in his bed, the sticky cum dripping down his upper thighs as his chest heaves and he wipes the sweat off his brow. He gives himself a moment to catch his breath back to normal before he reaches over to his nightstand to light the lantern again so he can pad over to the restroom and change his boxers. He sighs as he looks at himself in the mirror. 

His dark circles are horrible. His hair is a mess, and his frame is getting a bit smaller, he realizes, as he loses all the hard sinews of muscle that he’d usually gain easily from all the sword fighting training. The lines of some muscles are there, but he knows deep down he’d probably not be able to lift the same swords he used to. 

But across his face, is the largest and most satisfied grin he’s ever seen on himself, and he can’t help but chuckle as he pads back to the bed and plops down on the sheets. 

He was so screwed.

“Oh gosh, kid, you look horrible,” Seokjin cringes at Jimin when he emerges into the dining room. Hoseok turns from his plate to look at what the eldest is talking about, and widens his eyes, nodding slowly. “Yeah,” he chirps, “Are you okay?” 

“Oh gosh, look at those dark circles,” Seokjin shakes his head, “And did you even brush your hair this morning? And your cheeks are sunken in. What happened to your cute little chubby cheeks?” 

Hoseok shushes him as Jimin responds. “Thanks hyung,” he laughs, “But I’m fine. Just not really getting any good rest though.” 

Jungkook concernedly looks over while slurping down his cereal breakfast probably enough to feed three tinier demigods. “Do you want me to cash in my favor for Yoongi hyung?” 

Jimin laughs, sipping his juice. The son of Hypnos was notorious for his bad attitude and grumpy behavior, and usually never helped anyone, for any reason. But somehow Jungkook had helped Yoongi create a new mattress of some sorts, using his powers as the son of Zeus to summon the best clouds there were to help Yoongi sleep better. “No thanks,” he shakes his head, although the offer is enticing. “I’m okay. I think asking Yoongi hyung for help is even scarier than not getting any sleep at all.” 

Taehyung frowns, running a hand through his hair. “We’re just worried for you. Your sister is always asking us how you’re doing. Coach too.” 

Jimin laughs good naturedly and finishes his cereal. “Relax, guys, I’m fine. It’ll be completely, totally fine.” 

He stands, and excuses himself, taking his tray so that he can stock up on some better foods and a couple more cups of coffee. He stands in line boredly, waiting until all the kids have finished filling their cups to the brim with the bitter black liquid and stirred in all their sugars and creams. He’s filling his second cup with the spout when suddenly a figure clad in all black appears next to him. 

“Holy shit, Yoongi hyung,” Jimin breathes, “Warn a brother next time.”

The smaller male huffs, tiredly rubbing his eyes. “Give me that,” he mutters, reaching over Jimin’s tray to grab his first cup of coffee. Jimin sighs but relents nonetheless. Yoongi watches as Jimin grabs another cup to make up for the one that he stole, silently sipping his drink as he watches the second cup get filled slowly to the brim. 

Jimin feels his eyes. 

“So...” Yoongi drawls, and Jimin knows its coming. Children of hypnos were like sleep doctors, knowing everything and anything there was about sleep. Naturally, Yoongi was sensitive to something like Jimin’s case. 

“Succubi huh?” 

Jimin almost drops his cup nonetheless and glances around at the other tired demigods before dragging Yoongi to the side. “Don’t say it out loud!” He hisses, making sure no one heard. 

Yoongi finishes off the coffee with a swig, reaching over and grabbing Jimin’s next cup. “Dude, I can practically smell her on you. You need to get her removed, or she’ll drain you completely and kill you.” 

Jimin sighs, fiddling with the last cup. He never used to like coffee, really. 

Yoongi notices the hesitation. “You like her?” 

Sheepishly, Jimin nods, staring into the onyx liquid in his cup. “I...I can’t bring myself to stop. She-” his voice cracks, “She’s like an addiction. She drains me but I don’t hate it. I can’t hate it.” 

Blinking tiredly, Yoongi just watches him. 

Jimin pleads with the older demigod. “Please, please don’t tell anyone,” he begs, and Yoongi huffs, torn between the loyalty to his friend who actually put up with his grumpy antics, or between doing what was probably right for someone who was clearly an addict. To what though? Being tortured by a sexual temptress? 

Yoongi shakes his head, rolling his eyes. “Ugh, fine. But you need to make sure to do three things: one. You can’t kiss her. Once her lips touch yours out of your own volition, you’re basically signing away the rights to your life away, and she can do whatever she wants with you. Bad. Two. You need to give yourself time to regenerate the energy and life force between each of her visits. If not, you’ll eventually die and wither away. Three,” Yoongi turns to Jimin, locking the younger demigod down with a cold stare. “You cannot, absolutely cannot, fall in love with her.”