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heavenbarnes · 6 months ago

Text

I wanna make it (so badly)

Art Donaldson x Fem Reader

Warnings/Contains: reader is AFAB with she/her pronouns, swearing, inappropriate employer/employee relationship, dry-humping, a lot of heavy petting, implied age gap, effective-infidelity (reader tested, tashi approved), oral sex (f!receiving), art is a bit of a pervert and mega-pathetic (endearing), references to religion (worship).

Word Count: 5.8k

i white knuckled the steering wheel on the way home from this film thinking about art donaldson- this is, essentially, an ode to that

Youth tennis lessons, $20/h, call for details

Finding work was hard, keeping work was harder.

Cleaning, baby-sitting, pet-sitting, pet-walking. There was virtually nothing you hadn't tried.

Odd jobs, odd hours, and the occasional odd employer.

You'd played tennis for the last couple years of college. Nothing remotely competitive but you and your friends had looked cute in the skirts and they'd give you whole hours out of class to play.

You were above average with a good arm and better patience.

Another odd job to add to your growing list.

You'd been particular about where you'd posted the ads, the neighbourhoods you'd chosen. Only the ones with manicured lawns and white picket fences.

Tacking the paper to boards in upmarket cafes, fancy supermarkets, ladies-only gyms.

The kind of people that want their kids playing tennis and could find their way to increase your pay- if you did well.

You always did very well.

So your little car looked a little out of place in this neighbourhood, fingers holding the scribbled post-it note with the address. Your scrawling handwriting detailing the "Donaldson's" were enquiring within.

Pulling up outside the house, you had a quiet inkling that you might've been out of your depth. Whoever owned this house deserved more than an above-average-ex-college-student that only learnt the sport to spend time with friends.

But they'd requested you, you'd have to let them come to that conclusion on your own.

Your knuckles only hit the door once before it was being swung open by someone that looked destined to be a security guard, like he'd come out the womb with his future decided.

What the fuck had you gotten yourself into?

He'd left you in the "formal lounge" to sit smack-bang in the centre of a couch that wouldn't even fit in the lobby of your apartment building- let alone the apartment itself.

As you admired a painting on the wall that you'd only ever seen in books, high heels on the stone floors made you jump in your seat.

The most beautiful woman you might ever see in your life appeared before you and said your name in a way that had you standing from your seat.

Your face faltered just enough that you hoped she didn't notice. There was something about her that told you she noticed everything.

Fuck me, that's Tashi Duncan.

If you know a thing about tennis (or even just watched the news) you know exactly who this woman is. You remember her more from your childhood but you remember her all the same.

The woman that once held the world by the balls.

She apologised for her husband's absence, that he was busy. It wasn't lost on you that the "husband" she casually referred to was Art Donaldson, US Open champion.

The Donaldson's.

Ah fuck.

Tashi went on the explain that they were wanting to begin lessons for their daughter Lily. You assumed this was the one you could hear running circles around the informal lounge.

"With all due respect, am I not the least qualified person in this home for that?"

You watched a perfectly formed cheekbone lift in what was nearly a smile. Strangely enough, something in the pit of your chest was dying to make her do that again.

There was something about her that demanded to be impressed.

You were no exception to the rule.

"My husband and I have seen some of your matches, we liked what we saw."

How? Your 'matches'- if you can even call them that, were nothing of note. You don't even think faculty bothered to watch them. You weren't quite sure why they'd even recorded them.

A silly part of you began to wonder how they'd even got a hold of them- until you remembered who they were.

The Hermes and Peitho of tennis.

"You did? I always thought of myself as more of a casual player."

"And that's what we liked, we know better than anyone how brutal tennis can become. We want someone to help Lily enjoy the game."

Oh, okay then.

You'd made a quasi-college-career out of purely enjoying the game. You were sure you could foster the same spirit for the six-year-old performing the entire 'Encanto' soundtrack in the other room.

Tashi laid down a tight schedule, Monday to Friday, 3pm to 6pm. You would teach Lily the wonders of the game on the court behind their home.

Their home you'd come to find out was a luxury rental when you'd complemented Tashi on another of the art pieces that'd apparently come with the place.

You'd also come to find out they typically live in hotel rooms, but they'd settled in this area for the time being as Art had a good thing going with a regular playing schedule and a sporting-goods deal.

You nodded along like you could begin to understand a life like that.

As she showed you back to your car (the one you suddenly felt humiliated for her to see you own), she called your name one last time from the doorway.

"You undersell yourself, we'll give you eighty an hour."

She left you choking on your tongue with one foot in the car and the other on an Italian cobblestone.

You were never going to walk or sit another dog again.

Lily was going to win her first Grand Slam by ten if that's what they'd pay you.

As your peeled your car from their turn-around area, you watched a Jeep Wrangler slow as it passed you. You couldn't see through the tint but you just knew it was him.

And you knew he was watching you.

The minute you'd told your roommate the situation you'd come into, she'd called bullshit.

A few texts from Tashi's now saved icon and a weird little photo you'd taken from inside the guest bathroom, it'd been enough to convince her.

"Fucking hell, are you God's favourite or something?"

You'd argue you were quite the opposite, she of all people should know. She'd seen some of the states you'd come home in after your other random jobs.

Felt good to be the winner.

Even just once.

In the air of some girlish fascination, she brought up a Youtube video of "Tashi Duncan Career Highlights" courtesy of "tennisguy779."

You'd protested it, rolling your eyes while feigning disinterest. No use, the minute you caught her out the corner of your eye- you were captivated.

It was entirely possible to imagine she hovered above the court, like there was a greater force placing her exactly where she needed to be, exactly when she needed.

It was even easier to believe she was just that good.

As you watched her play, listened to the sounds the game could draw from her- you wondered if this was how she and Art had felt.

Had they curled up in their informal lounge like you were right now? Had Tashi studied your every move meticulously like you assume? Had Art passed comment on your form? Did he think you were any good?

Tennisguy779's lineup changed quickly to "Art Donaldson Career Highlights" and you felt your chest constrict. An inexplicable feeling washed over you.

Like you'd been caught with God's forbidden fruit.

Your roommate had tried to question why you'd effectively flown off the couch, only to be met with a muttered 'goodnight' as you shut the bedroom door behind you.

Thin walls meant you drifted off to sleep that night with the rhythmic sounds of Art, grunting his way through an ATP Challenger.

It was no surprise you dreamt of him.

The Donaldson's tennis court was down a steep set of stairs, set back into an oasis of lush greenery.

Perfect for a 6-year-old's first lessons.

You didn't know if it was the grand balcony that overlooked the court or the fact a well-manicured Tashi stood atop it, but you felt positively observed.

Lily was in the midst of showing you how she could do a cartwheel (she couldn't) when the voice in the back of your head started echoing a promise of $80/h.

"Alright, lets channel some of that into your elbow."

Give a six-year-old a racquet half the size of her and she's going to blow effective chunks, but at least she has the spirit. Maybe it's her energy, maybe it has been a while since you've been on the court-

The kid's running you ragged.

Coupled with her height, you're spending more time bent over than you are up straight and it's all going to your head. All you can hope is Tashi isn't up there watching you stumble after the ball.

But you're sure there are eyes on your back.

Lily is a quick learner and you work out a tradeoff of one tennis skill for one spinning heel kick (mandatory that you watch).

Roll on 6pm and she's dog-tired, however, she's managed to hit the ball at least twice. Surely that's earned your keep. She lays star-fished on the turf and murmurs something about a piggyback.

You know you're about to earn your keep.

By the top of the staircase, you're more than happy to hand over a Lily-shaped-sack-of-potatoes to Tashi's mother. As you emerge from behind an ornate gargoyle, your suspicions proved correct.

Art Donaldson had been watching your every move.

Left alone on the balcony with him, you're acutely aware of the fact he's standing between you and your exit, and he's just had a full show of you bent over and flitting about his tennis court.

That and you still haven't said so much as 'hello' to the man.

You dwell on it for a moment and then there's that feeling back in the pit of your stomach, like any minute you'll be caught with fruit in hand- in throat.

The Original Sin.

Luckily, Art made the decision for you, crossing the space to shake your hand. If he noticed the way your hand trembled, he didn't seem to mind.

"It's nice to finally meet you."

You wished you had more to say to him, or maybe something more intelligent. Something better than a quiet "and you."

He was the better conversationalist, thankfully. Head motioning to the court, he looked down his nose at you when he spoke.

It should've felt condescending. It didn't.

"How did she go out there?"

"Yeah, really good- not a Disney character I can't name now."

He laughed.

Really laughed, like the joke was better than it was.

Like there was a preening little flutter inside you that said "do it again!"

You shrugged your shoulders like making him happy came naturally as you squinted up at him, as if he was the sun.

"You were watching? You must've seen her picking it up?"

Because he was the expert. Because he is the champion.

He hummed as he nodded, eyes skywards like there might've been something more important behind the clouds.

"Must've been distracted."

Within an instant- his eyes flickered to your own and you were sure he watched them change. He must've seen something he liked, the corner of his lip quirked up before he spoke again.

"Come on, I'll sort your payment and then we'll let you get home."

And for whatever reason, his hand fit perfectly in the small of your back as he lead you inside.

And how quickly did you become a strange piece of furniture in the Donaldson's home- in their life?

An ottoman for Tashi to rest her tired feet on.

An abstract piece on the wall for Art to admire when he passes it.

A projection of constellations across the ceiling to keep Lily bright behind the eyes.

At least you belonged- there was no doubt that this was where you belonged.

That wasn't to say your tennis skill had improved any, lesson after lesson you still couldn't wrap your head around why they'd even signed you on, let alone kept you.

"Ok, don't watch that one either- maybe just do what I say and not what I do."

You hadn't nailed a single one, at this point you couldn't blame Lily for skipping around pretending her racquet was a horse.

Wasn't like she'd be learning anything if she was paying attention.

"Ok, here we go just- ok right, when your parents ask how today went, please be kind."

"Your elbow is too low."

It was a miracle you didn't scream.

Art entered the court with a swagger that you could only assume struck fear when he was your opponent.

Right now it struck pure embarrassment and Lily wasn't helping.

"Daddy, she didn't hit a single one!"

"Alright, I don't think daddy needs to know that-"

"Daddy knows, daddy's been watching."

Daddy really needs to stop calling himself that.

Lily and her racquet took off for another tour of The Grand National as Art approached you with quiet determination.

It was like waiting for impact, his eyes never wavered off his daughter as he made towards you. At the last moment, he snapped his attention in your direction- with a smile that should've felt condescending.

It wasn't.

"If your elbow is too low you lose topspin and power."

If you deserved the $80/h you were earning, you might've known that.

As Art stepped up to you, the turn of the planets on their axis slowed down and it could've been entirely possible to believe it was only you two.

And Lily upon her trusty steed.

The gallops of her tennis shoes thinned out as Art placed one hand around your elbow, lifting it higher. His other hand held your waist as he pulled your back flush to his chest.

"Lily, go find grandma."

Then it really was just you two.

Your heart hammered against the shell of your ribcage, blood rushing around your ears as you felt Art's chin perch at your shoulder.

"If your elbow is high enough," His hand lifted it up and you let it stay there. "And your hip is turned."

He didn't have to say it with the gravel in his voice, but he did. He didn't have to hold your hips as he moved them, but he did. He didn't have to stay without so much of an inch between the two of you, but he did.

With one hand in the curve of your waist, he tossed the ball into the air with the other- then he whistled.

Like the obedient thing you didn't know you were, you raised the racquet and sent the ball flying through the air without even blinking.

As the streak of green hit the court and rolled away, you found yourself lying in wait, as if you were waiting for something- your next command?

"Good girl."

There it was.

Under the all consuming effect that Art Donaldson just seemed to have on people, you'd entirely forgotten you were in a position you could be 'caught' in. By his all consuming wife, of all people.

So, you should've moved.

Quite honestly you should've straightened up and cleared your throat and thanked him and told him it was time for you to go home.

You should've moved.

But Art wasn't moving. If anything he was staying purposefully still at your backside.

Obedient thing you seem to be.

"Show me that again?"

So,

You teach Lily the bare basics of tennis for three hours and receive $80 on the hour.

Then Art spends three hours of his spare time teaching you to perfect your swing- in a way that couldn't ever vaguely resemble professional.

A simple transactional arrangement.

Your tennis improves on a slow but sure basis and he gets the most off-court action he's seen since college.

Even if it is just heavy petting on astro-turf.

A hand under the hem of a tennis skirt. A pressing hip against your own. A deep breath as your hair brushes past him.

You figure Art will take what he can get.

And it's never enough to raise alarm. Sure, there's that fluttering in your chest that warns you might get 'caught' but you're never quite sure what one might 'catch' if they found you out.

It's undoubted who that 'one' is though.

The one who holds the cards- holds the throat, maybe.

Tashi, who's presence precedes her perhaps more than her reputation. Even when she isn't there, she's there.

So, when Art's hand lingers too long on the outside of your thigh and you think you can feel it verging into the territory that'll change everything- it's Tashi on your mind.

You're beginning to think your conscience sounds a lot like Tashi.

Who are you if not obedient to the Donaldson's?

Chasing Lily around a court.

Adhering to Tashi's every request.

Being Art's fantasy.

Being Art's.

Most of the time, anyway. Three hours a week.

Something to keep him bright behind the eyes, maybe. Something to keep him happy. Something to keep him-

Winning?

He tells you he plays better with you around. The way he says it makes you giggle, a girlish little noise that sort of just slips out. He serves the ball with his eyes on you and, sure enough, it lands smack where he wanted it too.

Everything where he wants it. When he wants it.

Shy and inconsequential touches and glances shared just between you.

Until, well- until they weren't.

"Would you like a coffee?"

Tashi's mother had taken Lily off to bed, leaving you and Art separated by an island. Kitchen island.

He braced both palms against it as he watched you watch the door, wondering if you should cut and run, wondering if someone else might come through it.

Talking yourself out of it. Whatever it might be.

"Yes please."

Even he looked surprised, brows raising an inch as he turned to the Nespresso machine. You took the moment to watch his back, the muscles moving under the cool-dry fabric of his shirt.

You spent all your time pretending not to notice him that actually allowing yourself the chance to study him made you lightheaded.

Had he always looked this captivating?

He broke your focus with a coffee cup, sliding it towards you as he rounded the bench. His eyes didn't even waver off you as he took a sip of his own.

It wasn't lost on you that he managed to tongue foam off the tip of his nose.

This was the longest you'd stuck around after a tennis lesson, longest you'd allowed yourself to be in his presence. You weren't quite sure how big this thing could get.

Your mouth was opening before your brain had decided it was a good idea.

"Mr. Donaldson-"

"Art."

"Uh, Art- I really appreciate the help you've been giving me- uh, you know- with tennis."

He placed his coffee mug down, nodding as he did it. "My pleasure."

Naturally.

That brain of yours was still firing off at a mile a minute. There was a very tiny voice right at the back that said it was up to you how this night would end- you had a choice to make.

Placing your coffee mug beside his, you scanned his face to find him already looking at you. Perhaps the choice was already set.

Maybe it was fate.

All he said was your name, it could've been the way he said it- but your whole body was losing the rigidity it'd formed when he first asked you to stay longer. When he'd made the choice.

Crossing the small gap between you two, Art was careful to keep one hand on the kitchen bench as the other hovered beside you. Not touching you,

Yet.

One step closer and the tip of Art's nose was touching yours. You think you might've been able to smell the coffee off his breath.

It thinned out- leaving you with his sweat. Musk. Art.

A sudden surge of morals overcame you, your voice broke out as a gasp.

"What about Mrs. Donaldson?"

"Actually, it's still Duncan."

You screamed.

Right in his face.

Tashi's voice made you jump out of your skin.

However, Art didn't move. As you turned your head to gauge the way his wife stalked across the kitchen, you felt his nose brush against your cheek.

Tashi retrieved a tall bottle of Pellegrino from the fridge, taking a poignant sip as her eyes flitted between the two of you.

What a fucking sight.

Her husband, eyes shut and face pressed pathetically to their daughter's tennis instructor- his hands itching to close around your waist.

You, young and bleary eyed looking utterly caught. Staring up at her like she might decide your fate.

It took all your strength to find your words.

"I’m not here to teach tennis, am I?”

“No, of course not. You’re frankly terrible at tennis.”

There's the Tashi you were expecting.

Her words should've stung, but they didn't. They couldn't, not when her husband was laying his hands against your back and rubbing soothing circles down the length of your spine.

Not when his lips were mouthing wet kisses along your cheek.

Not when she was right. Spade's a spade.

"Why am I here?"

She snorted, a real dissatisfactory sound- like she hoped you were smarter than that. She was halfway to her bedroom before she cut you loose.

"Careful, he makes that sound before he cums."

And he had, just like she'd said.

Art had cum in his shorts, pressed up against your thigh with his face still smushed against your own.

And you'd taken it, obedience in spades.

You'd stood there and let him hump your leg like a bad dog and you'd even pat his head and whispered kind words in his ear after the mess he'd made.

Then you slipped out the front door to your car and you'd pretended not to notice that there were two bedroom lights on upstairs.

You hadn't even divulged the freaky details to your roommate when you got home.

But the showerhead knew all about them.

Visions of Art on the clouds of steam- replayed in your head the sounds he'd made right in your ear.

How he'd whimpered your name when he splashed his boxers like a fucking teenager.

It was no surprise you dreamt of him.

You even showed up next day, valiantly. You didn't run for the hills or even straight to a tabloid about how weird the Donaldson's really were.

And maybe that's why you hadn't told your roommate either.

Because telling someone what Tashi allowed? What Art liked?

That'd mean you'd have to admit your dirty little secret.

You loved it.

When you showed up, something was different. No usual chatter in the house, no shoes by the front door. You checked out the front window to see what you'd missed when you arrived.

Tashi's car was gone.

"She's taken her mom and Lily to the ballet."

At least you didn't scream this time.

You were lucky your back was to him, lest he see the self-righteous little smile that broke when the words settled.

"Oh, ok."

"I'll see you on the court."

Oh, ok.

Lest he see the disappointment that took over.

Following him close behind, you didn't know why you were effectively surprised that he still wanted to continue with your lessons. You'd half expected- hoped, he'd bend you over the kitchen island.

Tennis was fun too, you guess.

Thinking about it, something that bold didn't seem the style of the man who'd nearly blacked out rubbing up on you. Beckoning you onto the tennis court with two fingers and a wry smile did, however.

You fell into your usual position, hip turned and elbow curved on your side of the court. You waited for him to appear behind you, chest melding into the curve of your back.

It never came.

Art took long strides towards the net, vaulting it in one smooth motion. He ended up parallel to you, waiting with a ball and racquet in either hand.

The smile had left his face, a rather blank expression taking over as he sized you up. And there was that fear- knowing what it felt like to be on the wrong side of him.

This was going to hurt.

From the moment he pressed the ball to the neck of his racquet, it was all over. Your feet were never in one place for more than a second, your arms burned above you, your head permanently on a swivel.

Art didn't look like he'd broken more than a sweat.

You knew he had, you could see it in the neck of his shirt. But he didn't look it.

He looked calm, he looked in control, he looked-

Like he was enjoying himself.

For every rally that you managed, you thought you saw an inkling of pride set in his features.

For every serve that you missed, you knew you saw unbridled lust.

Not a point scored in your favour, you hit the ball towards him one last time before you collapsed to the turf. Flat on your back, reminiscent of your first lesson here.

You watched the clouds shift over your head, listening to your pulse thick and fast in your ears. Just underneath it, you could hear footfalls approaching.

No hurry, but impending.

Soon, the sun above you was eclipsed by Art Donaldson. His golden hair shone with the halo of light behind it.

Now this was God's favourite.

"You can't be giving up this easily?"

Forcing a laugh, you threw your arm up and over your eyes. "Wanna bet?"

Turns out he did- turns out Art struggled to do anything but win.

Somehow, you found it within yourself to stand back up. This time it was only a practice, you weren't brave enough to face off against him another round.

This was more your speed.

The hand that wasn't holding your elbow was curving around your front, the pleats of your tennis skirt lifting over his fingers. You felt a warm hand slowly moving across the front of your underwear.

Two fingers migrated south, pressing against the seam of you- he must've felt the pure heat radiating beneath his fingertips.

Turning your head even an inch, you found the curve of his nose pressing into your cheek.

"I didn't give up."

He hummed, the vibration rolled across your shoulders.

"Mmm, you didn't."

The hand sans-racquet dropped between your thighs to press his palm into your cunt. It was Art who flexed your fingers and cupped it.

"Where's my prize?"

There was no trophy, no podium, no medal.

But there was Art between your legs, slinging a knee over each shoulder like he might've been the real winner.

You'd never been inside the 'changing shed' behind the court, of course it was nicer than your actual home.

Your head made contact with the hard wood behind you, bench digging into your ass as you felt a hot mouth moving against the seat of your underwear.

Running your fingers through his hair, your gripped the ends of it- tugging him closer until you felt the flat of his tongue through the thin fabric.

Needy fingers tugged the ruined garment down your thighs, tucking him into the pocket of his shorts. You knew all too well that you'd never see them again.

You were sure Art would be seeing a lot of them.

His tongue ran up the split, one long stroke before you felt the curve of his nose press to your clit. The ridge of it moved as his tongue retreated back to your entrance.

With everything he had.

Your eyes had been rolling back in your head as you arched your back, the moment you were able to find a semblance of control- your gaze fell before you.

Naturally, Art was already looking up at you. Two hands splayed across each side of your hips as he pulled back to wrap his lips around your clit.

You couldn't help the hazy little smile on your face as you watched his eyes.

Utterly devotional.

The more you tugged on his hair, the hungrier he seemed. Pulling from the root seemed to spur him on, seemed to tell him 'good job' and he was responsive.

His tongue flicked beneath your clit, pressing it to his upper lip as he brought two fingers to your entrance. He stroked a couple times, making your hips twitch against him, before he sunk in to the last knuckle.

Turns out Art had a style about him. One he brought to the tennis court and, seemingly, to the floor of his changing shed.

The style was calculated.

Every move he made was engineered to get something out of you- a reaction, a whimper, a twitch. He was doing what he did best.

Playing a game.

Art struggled to do anything but win.

"Fuck- Mr. Donaldson."

"Art."

Even muffled against your cunt, you were good at following his orders. Even more so when he was the decider of your imminent orgasm.

You threaded your fingers in the sides of his hair, pulling his face flush against you so you could ride his mouth. Taking every last thing from him you could.

It drew the most pathetic moan you'd ever heard, straight out of his chest and hit you straight at your core. The burning coil tight within your stomach was unraveling quickly.

You heard the murmurings of words, among the blood rushing in your ears. Easing up just enough, you let him pull back to speak.

"Tell me this feels good, please."

Your chest thumped, the sight of Art helpless between your legs was one thing. Hearing him beg?

You might black out.

"Art- you feel so fucking good," Dragging him right back where you needed him, the tip of his tongue drove against your clit. "You're gonna' make me cum."

He whined.

A heady drawn-out sound that quite literally sent you over the edge. Your hips lifted off the bench, the heel of your foot digging into his back and making his whine turn into a whimper.

Your orgasm broke you apart until it felt like white-hot flame licking up your sides. Of course, Art never relented, drinking in everything you could give him- literally.

The moment you felt the peak begin to subside, the urge was ramping right back up. Like he knew what he was doing, his eyes locked back onto yours as he sucked at your clit.

He was going for gold.

A quick second orgasm hit, seemingly out of nowhere. Your thighs clenched around Art's head, his hands coming to each of them.

You relaxed yourself a bit, feeling like it might be too much- until you felt him pressing your thighs even harder to either of his ears.

Oh, ok.

Art Donaldson knew what he liked.

You physically had to push him off you, watching him fall back on his outstretched palms as you let yourself breathe for what felt like the first time.

Wet eyes, wet chin, chest rising and falling like he'd run a marathon- Art sat sprawled out before you like he'd stumbled upon an alter (he had).

Breathless, you gestured towards him. Your hand dropped a little as your eyes fell between his legs, wordlessly offering a deal.

A deuce.

His cheeks flushed, more so than they already were. His eyes fell an infinitesimal amount before he spoke up.

"Uh- I already have."

Of course he had. He makes that sound before he cums.

Instead, you heard him shuffle back onto his knees as he all but crawled towards you. He draped his upper half into your lap, head resting against the soft cotton of your skirt.

Coming off the other side of a high, the reality of your situation began to settle for you. Why they'd really called you here- what purpose you really served.

All you could do was gently stroke a hand across Art's head, feeling him go limp against you. Boneless, but not spineless.

He must've known you were going to speak, he must've heard the intake of breath or just felt you shift. He cut you to the chase- beat you to the punchline.

Art nuzzled his face further into your lap as you felt him mumble against your thigh.

"I can't lose- you."

#art donaldson smut #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x reader fic #challengers fic #art donaldson fic #challengers smut #art donaldson x fem reader #art donaldson x fem!reader

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shinobicyrus · 7 months ago

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I've seen a lot of posts about Batman using his Bruce Wayne alter ego for the good of Gotham: job programs for felons released from prison, orphanages, charities, high wages for his employees, ethical business practices...the legendary post where Bruce Wayne goes to Wal-Mart.

Thus far I've never personally seen anybody really dig into the persona of Bruce Wayne the Billionaire Playboy. A handsome, rich, powerful man who always is seen at fancy galas, art openings, charity dinners, and wild parties with at least one beautiful woman on his arm.

We know Bruce Wayne is the mask, and its Batman who has a...complex love life, depending on the iteration we're talking about. Talia, Catwoman, sometimes Wonder Woman.

Bruce Wayne's dates, on the other hand, are all "normal" people. Maybe they're an aspiring actress, a supermodel, a prima ballerina, the occasional reporter...and every time there's that bit of nervousness at the start.

Sure everyone knows Bruce Wayne. Everyone knows the story with him. Sometimes his wilder parties make the news, but there's never really been anything nasty reported about him. Never...allegations. But he's a billionaire. He's one of the most powerful people in the whole city, nevermind the country. If he did have some skeletons in his closet. Well. Men with power have a way of making those kinds of stories go away, don't they?

As time goes on the Date's fears dissipate pretty quickly. Bruce Wayne is nothing but polite, kind, and at times charmingly awkward in an 'raised by his butler in a mansion' kind of way with his dates. Some of them can tell he's holding back, of course. Maybe the more perceptive Dates notice he's smarter than he lets on - playing the himbo or hamming up the "know-nothing rich boy" act to the cameras or some of his wealthy peers.

He also listens, is the thing. He's always listening to what they're saying, is interested in hearing about their careers, their hobbies, their lives. Really listens, too. Might refer to something a Date said weeks later off-hand. Buy out the whole museum for a private dinner date with a famous painting from an obscure artist they like, or a private performance with another's favorite band.

He has anecdotes and funny stories for days that somehow says very little about his personal life. The Dates know he has kids (it's practically a running gag in the news that Bruce Wayne has adopted yet another orphan) and maybe she might spot one of them at the mansion, but Bruce seems very keen to shelter them from any intense spotlight and scrutiny, and they all seem happy if a bit weird like him.

Eventually, there's drifting. He's a very busy man, with a very busy schedule. On more than on occasion his nice old butler will call and extend apologies that Mr. Wayne will not be able to make it this evening. Sometimes it's virtually impossible to get a hold of him over the phone. After a while they stop trying. None of them feel quite surprised by that. In the end, it just doesn't work. Sure, he's a little distant and doesn't make himself emotionally available...but he's not a bad person.

Especially when the so-called "exes" of Bruce Wayne start networking. Gotham isn't a small city, but the social circles Bruce Wayne travels in aren't as big. They don't quite gossip or complain about him. More like...who else would get it?

(I touched his side once and he winced...like he'd been hurt real bad there. He laughed and said it was tackle polo. How does that even-?)

(Somehow, after two dates, he saw right through me and listened while I told him what that casting director tried to do. He nodded, gave me the contact details of a law firm, and said not to worry about the legal fees.)

(I don't know for sure it was him, but it can't be a coincidence that my building got bought out from under my shitty landlord and we were all able to buy our apartments under market value.)

(He got my brother in the best rehab program in the city after his relapse. It probably saved his life. We'd stopped dating months ago, I still don't know how he found out.)

(He gave me a card with a phone number and told me that if I was ever in trouble to call it. Said one of his cars would come to pick me up, any time, any place, no questions asked. The one time I did have to use it after a bad party, it was Alfred.)

I think any tabloid reporter digging around for salacious stories or dirt about Bruce Wayne's love life would be completely and politely stonewalled when they try asking his former Dates. Even when money is offered. Every single one of them.

#I like to think Alfred is like...a mythological creature #to all of Bruce Wayne's exes #though lets be honest the kids too #Damien just feels like an intimidatingly intense kid who would ignore if outright avoid them #but would immediately talk to any of Bruce's dates if he spotted cat hair on their clothes #''I would like to see pictures of your American shorthair''#''Uh...hi. How did you know-?"#Bruce Wayne #Batman #Secret Identities #Headcanons

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headspace-hotel · 26 days ago

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Okay but like whenever europe and USA are compared in terms of ruins and artifacts it makes me think "oh but what about Native American artifacts and ruins" and it reminded me of another post I meant to make ages ago but forgot

A while back I went thru the library looking at all the books I could find on the history of Kentucky.

My textbooks and most "reliable" sources when I was a kid said that Kentucky was never actually home to Native Americans, it was just a "hunting ground." This is total bullshit, the living Shawnee whose ancestors lived here know it was bullshit, but how did we get there

A lot of the more recent books I found (from like the 1990's) repeated the "it was only just hunting grounds" thing

But heres the weird thing

When you go back further

The narrative is completely different

so here's the first page of a book published 1872, it's "History of Lexington Kentucky: Its Early Annals and Recent Progress" by George W. Ranck

Let the shock of this first paragraph settle in. Like, damn, this is a whole different picture being painted

now, this Rafinesque fellow he refers to, has been widely referred to as the originator of many claims about Kentucky, and an exaggerator and liar, outright dismissed and scorned by many historians.

Rafinesque is considered to be the source of many claims found in this chapter, and the pompous, flowery language used to state them makes them seem a bit unbelievable. But the claims themselves are not highly unrealistic. These are several of the claims found on pages 2-12 of the book

An artificially built stone well was found by settlers

Earliest settlers plowed up pottery fragments

Settlers dug into an old abandoned lead mine

"Stone sepulchers" were found containing human bones

A large earthen mound 6 feet high was found with pottery and burned wood

A stone mound was found containing human bones

An extensive cave used as a cemetery was found under Lexington, containing embalmed bodies

Flint arrowheads were found

Polished and worked fragments of iron ore were found

Sandstone and limestone tools perforated with holes were found

Rough ingots of copper were found

Stone walls were built defended by entrenchments

It is very important to note that this chapter is insistent that the inhabitants that built these ruins and left these artifacts were NOT Native Americans. Why? Because Native Americans didn't build stuff so advanced! Very circular reasoning.

It was a very common myth that there was some kind of "pre-native-american" race of people that existed in Kentucky. Sometimes this was a way of justifying colonization by saying that well, the Native Americans were just taking over land that wasn't theirs too, so it's okay for us to do it.

It seems to me that when it became clear that Native Americans were the first and only pre-European inhabitants, the stuff about an ancient city under Lexington and all that became dismissed as lies. But are they lies?

I tried to find out, and we know for certain that central Kentucky had many, many burial mounds (some of which I had seen the site of without knowing what I was seeing) and quite a few stone ruins. The builders of the stone ruins are referred to as the "Fort Ancient" people because the earliest settlers incorrectly assumed the stone structures they saw were forts for some defensive or military purpose.

The tools and artifacts being referenced are all known to exist, except I think there aren't any confirmed extant examples of pottery.

The most widely criticized claim in the chapter is the underground cave used as a tomb, but I don't see why—central Kentucky is a limestone karst region and EVERYWHERE has a cave under it. The embalming or mummifying of bodies could have been a flourish or rumor, but the essence of the claim is totally reasonable. Then again, it might not have been, since the area had access to sources of salt. The supposed "lead mine" probably wasn't that specifically, but it's known that Native Americans went inside, explored and used caves.

It was really interesting to me how so many later sources dismissed these claims despite most of them being plausible or just true, and how many of those sources repeated the idea of Native Americans using the land for hunting but not "inhabiting" it. It is two different ways of denying Native Americans were here.

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fuckyeahgoodomens · 11 months ago

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SFX Magazine Issue 372 - Designing Good Omens ❤ 😊

PRODUCTION DESIGNER MICHAEL RALPH REVEALS HOW THE SHOW’S CENTREPIECE SET, WHICKBER STREET, WAS GIVEN A DEVILISHLY CLEVER UPGRADE FOR THE SECOND SEASON

WORDS: DAVE GOLDER

Invisible Columns And Thin Walls “The new studio is Pyramid Studios in Bathgate – it used to be a furniture warehouse. And unfortunately – or fortunately, because I accept these things as not challenges but gifts – right down the middle of that studio are a series of upright columns. But you’ll never spot them on screen. I had to build them in and integrate them into the walls and still get the streets between them. And it worked.

“There’s all sorts of cheeky design values to those sets. Normally a set like this is double-skin. In other words, you do an interior wall and an exterior wall, with an airspace in between. But really, the only time a viewer notices that there’s that width is at the doors and the windows. So I cheated all that. I ended up with single walls everywhere. So the exterior wall is the interior wall, just painted. All I did was make the sash windows and entrances wider to give it some depth as you walked in.”

GOOD OMENS HAD A CHANGE of location for its second season, but hopefully you didn’t notice. Because Whickber Street in Soho upped sticks from an airfield in Hertfordshire to a furniture warehouse in Bathgate, Edinburgh. It’s the kind of nonsensical geographical shenanigans that could only make sense in the crazy world of film and TV, and production designer Michael Ralph was the man in charge of rebuilding and expanding the show’s vast central set. “I wish we could have built more in season one than we did,” says Ralph, whose previous work has included Primeval and Dickensian. “We built the ground floor of everything and the facades of all the shops. But we didn’t build anything higher than that, because we were out on an airfield in a very, very difficult terrain and weather conditions, so we really couldn’t go much higher. Visual effects created the upper levels.”

But with season two the set has gone to a whole other level… literally. “What happened was that the rest of the street became integrated into the series’s storyline,” explains Ralph. “So we needed a record shop, we needed a coffee shop that actually had an inside, we needed a magic shop, we needed the pub. To introduce those meant we had to change the street with a layout that works from a storylines point of view. In other words, things like someone standing at the counter in the record shop had to be able to eyeball somebody standing at the counter in the coffee shop. They had to be able to eyeball Aziraphale sitting in his office in the window of the bookshop. But the rest of it was a pleasure to do inside, because we could expand it and I could go up two storeys.”

For most of the set, which is around 80 metres long and 60 metres wide, the two storeys only applied to the shop frontages, but in the case of Aziraphale’s bookshop, it allowed Ralph to build the mezzanine level for real this time. According to Ralph it became one of the cast and crews’ favourite places to hang out during down time.

But while AZ Fell & Co has grown in height, it actually has a slightly smaller footprint because of the logistics of adapting it to the new studio.

“Everybody swore to me that no one would notice,” says Ralph wryly. “I walked onto it and instinctively knew there was a difference immediately, and they hated me for that. I have this innate sense about spatial awareness and an eye like a spirit level.

“It’s not a lot, though – I think we’ve lost maybe two and a half feet on the front wall internally. I think that there’s a couple of other smaller areas, but only I’d notice. So I can be really annoying to my guys, but only on those levels. Not on any other. They actually quite like me…”

Populating The Bookshop “The props in the new bookshop set were a flawless reproduction from the set decorator Bronwyn Franklin [who is also Ralph’s wife]. It was really the worst-case scenario after season one. She works off the concept art that I produce, but what she does is she adds so much more to the character of the set. She doesn’t buy anything she doesn’t love, or doesn’t fit the character.

“But the things she put a lot of work into finding for season one, they were pretty much one-offs. When we burnt the set down in the sixth episode, we lost a lot of props, many of which had been spotted and appreciated by the fans. So Bronwyn had to discover a new set decorating technique: forensic buying.

“She found it all – duplicates and replicas. It took ages. In that respect, the Covid delay was very helpful for Bron. There’s 7,000 books in there and there’s not one fake book. That’s mainly because… it’s a weird thing to say, but we wanted it to smell and feel like a bookshop to everybody that was in it, all the time.

“It affects everybody subliminally; it affects everybody’s performance – actors and crew – it raises the bar 15 to 20%. And the detail, you know… We love a lot of detail.”

(look at the description under this, they called him 'Azi' hehehehe :D <3)

Aziraphale’s Inspirational Correspondence “There’s not one single scrap of paper on Aziraphale’s desk that isn’t written specifically for Aziraphale. Every single piece is not just fodder that’s been shoved there, it has a purpose; it’s a letter of thanks, or an enquiry about a book or something.

“Michael Sheen is so submerged in his character he would get lost sitting at his own desk, reading his own correspondence between takes. I believe wholeheartedly that if you put that much care into every single piece of detail, on that desk and in that room, that everybody feels it, including the crew, and then they give that set the same respect it deserves.

“They also lift their game because they believe that they’re doing something of so much care and value. Really, it’s a domino effect of passion and care for what you’re producing.”

Alternative Music “My daughter Mickey is lead graphic designer [two of Ralph’s sons worked on the series too, one as a concept artist, the other in props]. They’re the ones that produced all of that handwritten work on the desk. She’s the one that took on the record shop and made up 80 band names so that we didn’t have to get copyright clearance from real bands. Then she produced records and sleeves that spanned 50, 60 years of their recordings, and all of the graphics on the walls.

“I remember Michael and Neil [Gaiman] getting lost following one band’s history on the wall, looking at their posters and albums desperately trying to find out whether they survived that emo period.”

It’s A Kind Of Magic One of the new shops in Whickber Street for season two was Will Goldstone’s Magic Shop, which is full of as many Easter eggs as off-the-shelf conjuring tricks, including a Matt Smith Doctor Who-style fez and a toy orang-utan that’s a nod to Discworld’s The Librarian. Ralph says that while the series is full of references to Gaiman, Pratchett and Doctor Who, Michael Sheen never complained about a lack of Masters Of Sex in-jokes. “He’d be the last person to make that sort of comment!”

Ralph also reveals that the magic shop counter was another one of his wife’s purchases, bought at a Glasgow reclamation yard.

The Anansi Boys Connection Ralph reveals that Good Omens season two used the state-of-the-art special effects tech Volume (famous for its use in The Mandalorian to create virtual backdrops) for just one sequence, but he will be using it extensively elsewhere on another Gaiman TV series being made for Prime Video.

“We used Volume on the opening sequence to create the creation of the universe. I was designing Anansi Boys in duality with this project, which seems an outrageously suicidal thing to do. But it was fantastic and Anansi Boys was all on Volume. So I designed for Volume on one show and not Volume on the other. The complexities and the psychology of both is different.”

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plumbheadsims · 4 months ago

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A THREAD IN CASE YOU NEED SOME INSPIRATION TO BUILD ACCURATE MEXICAN HOUSES FOR YOUR SIMS 4 LOVESTRUCK WORLD ❤️‍🔥🧵

the exteriors do NOT look like casita from Encanto, in fact, most of them are just big boxes with a little bit of color, also we don’t have open entryways, we usually have gates surrounding the main door.

we also don’t use the typical american mailboxes, we use the small metal ones like the ones from City Living and Snowy Escape.

and most of us have this metal things around the windows for safety reasons so if you want to add them it would make your builds more realistic

a tip for the interiors is that we don’t use carpet or wooden floors, we use tile floors in all the house, also the walls are usually plain white but of course some of us paint them to make it feel more like a home so you can also add that

here are some floorpans in case you need some inspiration, as you can see most of the houses are not that big, but of course you have freedom to make them bigger and also make your own floorplan.

now moving to the patio area, most of our houses don't even have patios but if we are lucky we will have a small one like these, don't forget the water heater, we also have lavaderos where we wash our clothes but I think the sims don't have any item similar to that one so you can just put a sink instead, you can also add a washing machine and instead of a dryer, you can add a clothes rack dryer like the one from Laundry Day

and if you don't want to add a patio you can do everything in the azotea (the rooftop), just add a small stair inside or outside the house that leads you to the roof, don’t forget to decorate and add life to the houses.

and to finish this thread I just wanted to say that this is not how ALL Mexican houses look like, we have so much diversity in our country, I just wanted to add the ones im familiar with, you can look up higher class Mexican houses, you can create ranchos, vecindades, haciendas, colonial houses etc, I hope this thread helps you <3

#ts4 #sims 4 #simblr #the sims 4 lovestruck #ts4 lovestruck #ts4 build #the sims 4 build

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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year ago

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Google’s enshittification memos

[Note, 9 October 2023: Google disputes the veracity of this claim, but has declined to provide the exhibits and testimony to support its claims. Read more about this here.]

When I think about how the old, good internet turned into the enshitternet, I imagine a series of small compromises, each seemingly reasonable at the time, each contributing to a cultural norm of making good things worse, and worse, and worse.

Think about Unity President Marc Whitten's nonpology for his company's disastrous rug-pull, in which they declared that everyone who had paid good money to use their tool to make a game would have to keep paying, every time someone downloaded that game:

The most fundamental thing that we’re trying to do is we’re building a sustainable business for Unity. And for us, that means that we do need to have a model that includes some sort of balancing change, including shared success.

https://www.wired.com/story/unity-walks-back-policies-lost-trust/

"Shared success" is code for, "If you use our tool to make money, we should make money too." This is bullshit. It's like saying, "We just want to find a way to share the success of the painters who use our brushes, so every time you sell a painting, we want to tax that sale." Or "Every time you sell a house, the company that made the hammer gets to wet its beak."

And note that they're not talking about shared risk here – no one at Unity is saying, "If you try to make a game with our tools and you lose a million bucks, we're on the hook for ten percent of your losses." This isn't partnership, it's extortion.

How did a company like Unity – which became a market leader by making a tool that understood the needs of game developers and filled them – turn into a protection racket? One bad decision at a time. One rationalization and then another. Slowly, and then all at once.

When I think about this enshittification curve, I often think of Google, a company that had its users' backs for years, which created a genuinely innovative search engine that worked so well it seemed like *magic, a company whose employees often had their pick of jobs, but chose the "don't be evil" gig because that mattered to them.

People make fun of that "don't be evil" motto, but if your key employees took the gig because they didn't want to be evil, and then you ask them to be evil, they might just quit. Hell, they might make a stink on the way out the door, too:

https://theintercept.com/2018/09/13/google-china-search-engine-employee-resigns/

Google is a company whose founders started out by publishing a scientific paper describing their search methodology, in which they said, "Oh, and by the way, ads will inevitably turn your search engine into a pile of shit, so we're gonna stay the fuck away from them":

http://infolab.stanford.edu/pub/papers/google.pdf

Those same founders retained a controlling interest in the company after it went IPO, explaining to investors that they were going to run the business without having their elbows jostled by shortsighted Wall Street assholes, so they could keep it from turning into a pile of shit:

https://abc.xyz/investor/founders-letters/ipo-letter/

And yet, it's turned into a pile of shit. Google search is so bad you might as well ask Jeeves. The company's big plan to fix it? Replace links to webpages with florid paragraphs of chatbot nonsense filled with a supremely confident lies:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/14/googles-ai-hype-circle/

How did the company get this bad? In part, this is the "curse of bigness." The company can't grow by attracting new users. When you have 90%+ of the market, there are no new customers to sign up. Hypothetically, they could grow by going into new lines of business, but Google is incapable of making a successful product in-house and also kills most of the products it buys from other, more innovative companies:

https://killedbygoogle.com/

Theoretically, the company could pursue new lines of business in-house, and indeed, the current leaders of companies like Amazon, Microsoft and Apple are all execs who figured out how to get the whole company to do something new, and were elevated to the CEO's office, making each one a billionaire and sealing their place in history.

It is for this very reason that any exec at a large firm who tries to make a business-wide improvement gets immediately and repeatedly knifed by all their colleagues, who correctly reason that if someone else becomes CEO, then they won't become CEO. Machiavelli was an optimist:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/28/microincentives-and-enshittification/

With no growth from new customers, and no growth from new businesses, "growth" has to come from squeezing workers (say, laying off 12,000 engineers after a stock buyback that would have paid their salaries for the next 27 years), or business customers (say, by colluding with Facebook to rig the ad market with the Jedi Blue conspiracy), or end-users.

Now, in theory, we might never know exactly what led to the enshittification of Google. In theory, all of compromises, debates and plots could be lost to history. But tech is not an oral culture, it's a written one, and techies write everything down and nothing is ever truly deleted.

Time and again, Big Tech tells on itself. Think of FTX's main conspirators all hanging out in a group chat called "Wirefraud." Amazon naming its program targeting weak, small publishers the "Gazelle Project" ("approach these small publishers the way a cheetah would pursue a sickly gazelle”). Amazon documenting the fact that users were unknowingly signing up for Prime and getting pissed; then figuring out how to reduce accidental signups, then deciding not to do it because it liked the money too much. Think of Zuck emailing his CFO in the middle of the night to defend his outsized offer to buy Instagram on the basis that users like Insta better and Facebook couldn't compete with them on quality.

It's like every Big Tech schemer has a folder on their desktop called "Mens Rea" filled with files like "Copy_of_Premeditated_Murder.docx":

https://doctorow.medium.com/big-tech-cant-stop-telling-on-itself-f7f0eb6d215a?sk=351f8a54ab8e02d7340620e5eec5024d

Right now, Google's on trial for its sins against antitrust law. It's a hard case to make. To secure a win, the prosecutors at the DoJ Antitrust Division are going to have to prove what was going on in Google execs' minds when the took the actions that led to the company's dominance. They're going to have to show that the company deliberately undertook to harm its users and customers.

Of course, it helps that Google put it all in writing.

Last week, there was a huge kerfuffile over the DoJ's practice of posting its exhibits from the trial to a website each night. This is a totally normal thing to do – a practice that dates back to the Microsoft antitrust trial. But Google pitched a tantrum over this and said that the docs the DoJ were posting would be turned into "clickbait." Which is another way of saying, "the public would find these documents very interesting, and they would be damning to us and our case":

https://www.bigtechontrial.com/p/secrecy-is-systemic

After initially deferring to Google, Judge Amit Mehta finally gave the Justice Department the greenlight to post the document. It's up. It's wild:

https://www.justice.gov/d9/2023-09/416692.pdf

The document is described as "notes for a course on communication" that Google VP for Finance Michael Roszak prepared. Roszak says he can't remember whether he ever gave the presentation, but insists that the remit for the course required him to tell students "things I didn't believe," and that's why the document is "full of hyperbole and exaggeration."

OK.

But here's what the document says: "search advertising is one of the world's greatest business models ever created…illicit businesses (cigarettes or drugs) could rival these economics…[W]e can mostly ignore the demand side…(users and queries) and only focus on the supply side of advertisers, ad formats and sales."

It goes on to say that this might be changing, and proposes a way to balance the interests of the search and ads teams, which are at odds, with search worrying that ads are pushing them to produce "unnatural search experiences to chase revenue."

"Unnatural search experiences to chase revenue" is a thinly veiled euphemism for the prophetic warnings in that 1998 Pagerank paper: "The goals of the advertising business model do not always correspond to providing quality search to users." Or, more plainly, "ads will turn our search engine into a pile of shit."

And, as Roszak writes, Google is "able to ignore one of the fundamental laws of economics…supply and demand." That is, the company has become so dominant and cemented its position so thoroughly as the default search engine across every platforms and system that even if it makes its search terrible to goose revenues, users won't leave. As Lily Tomlin put it on SNL: "We don't have to care, we're the phone company."

In the enshittification cycle, companies first lure in users with surpluses – like providing the best search results rather than the most profitable ones – with an eye to locking them in. In Google's case, that lock-in has multiple facets, but the big one is spending billions of dollars – enough to buy a whole Twitter, every single year – to be the default search everywhere.

Google doesn't buy its way to dominance because it has the very best search results and it wants to shield you from inferior competitors. The economically rational case for buying default position is that preventing competition is more profitable than succeeding by outperforming competitors. The best reason to buy the default everywhere is that it lets you lower quality without losing business. You can "ignore the demand side, and only focus on advertisers."

For a lot of people, the analysis stops here. "If you're not paying for the product, you're the product." Google locks in users and sells them to advertisers, who are their co-conspirators in a scheme to screw the rest of us.

But that's not right. For one thing, paying for a product doesn't mean you won't be the product. Apple charges a thousand bucks for an iPhone and then nonconsensually spies on every iOS user in order to target ads to them (and lies about it):

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/14/luxury-surveillance/#liar-liar

John Deere charges six figures for its tractors, then runs a grift that blocks farmers from fixing their own machines, and then uses their control over repair to silence farmers who complain about it:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/05/31/dealers-choice/#be-a-shame-if-something-were-to-happen-to-it

Fair treatment from a corporation isn't a loyalty program that you earn by through sufficient spending. Companies that can sell you out, will sell you out, and then cry victim, insisting that they were only doing their fiduciary duty for their sacred shareholders. Companies are disciplined by fear of competition, regulation or – in the case of tech platforms – customers seizing the means of computation and installing ad-blockers, alternative clients, multiprotocol readers, etc:

https://doctorow.medium.com/an-audacious-plan-to-halt-the-internets-enshittification-and-throw-it-into-reverse-3cc01e7e4604?sk=85b3f5f7d051804521c3411711f0b554

Which is where the next stage of enshittification comes in: when the platform withdraws the surplus it had allocated to lure in – and then lock in – business customers (like advertisers) and reallocate it to the platform's shareholders.

For Google, there are several rackets that let it screw over advertisers as well as searchers (the advertisers are paying for the product, and they're also the product). Some of those rackets are well-known, like Jedi Blue, the market-rigging conspiracy that Google and Facebook colluded on:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jedi_Blue

But thanks to the antitrust trial, we're learning about more of these. Megan Gray – ex-FTC, ex-DuckDuckGo – was in the courtroom last week when evidence was presented on Google execs' panic over a decline in "ad generating searches" and the sleazy gimmick they came up with to address it: manipulating the "semantic matching" on user queries:

https://www.wired.com/story/google-antitrust-lawsuit-search-results/

When you send a query to Google, it expands that query with terms that are similar – for example, if you search on "Weds" it might also search for "Wednesday." In the slides shown in the Google trial, we learned about another kind of semantic matching that Google performed, this one intended to turn your search results into "a twisted shopping mall you can’t escape."

Here's how that worked: when you ran a query like "children's clothing," Google secretly appended the brand name of a kids' clothing manufacturer to the query. This, in turn, triggered a ton of ads – because rival brands will have bought ads against their competitors' name (like Pepsi buying ads that are shown over queries for Coke).

Here we see surpluses being taken away from both end-users and business customers – that is, searchers and advertisers. For searchers, it doesn't matter how much you refine your query, you're still going to get crummy search results because there's an unkillable, hidden search term stuck to your query, like a piece of shit that Google keeps sticking to the sole of your shoe.

But for advertisers, this is also a scam. They're paying to be matched to users who search on a brand name, and you didn't search on that brand name. It's especially bad for the company whose name has been appended to your search, because Google has a protection racket where the company that matches your search has to pay extra in order to show up overtop of rivals who are worse matches. Both the matching company and those rivals have given Google a credit-card that Google gets to bill every time a user searches on the company's name, and Google is just running fraudulent charges through those cards.

And, of course, Google put this in writing. I mean, of course they did. As we learned from the documentary The Incredibles, supervillains can't stop themselves from monologuing, and in big, sprawling monopolists, these monologues have to transmitted electronically – and often indelibly – to far-flung co-cabalists.

As Gray points out, this is an incredibly blunt enshittification technique: "it hadn’t even occurred to me that Google just flat out deletes queries and replaces them with ones that monetize better." We don't know how long Google did this for or how frequently this bait-and-switch was deployed.

But if this is a blunt way of Google smashing its fist down on the scales that balance search quality against ad revenues, there's plenty of subtler ways the company could sneak a thumb on there. A Google exec at the trial rhapsodized about his company's "contract with the user" to deliver an "honest results policy," but given how bad Google search is these days, we're left to either believe he's lying or that Google sucks at search.

The paper trail offers a tantalizing look at how a company went from doing something that was so good it felt like a magic trick to being "able to ignore one of the fundamental laws of economics…supply and demand," able to "ignore the demand side…(users and queries) and only focus on the supply side of advertisers."

What's more, this is a system where everyone loses (except for Google): this isn't a grift run by Google and advertisers on users – it's a grift Google runs on everyone.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/03/not-feeling-lucky/#fundamental-laws-of-economics

My next novel is The Lost Cause, a hopeful novel of the climate emergency. Amazon won't sell the audiobook, so I made my own and I'm pre-selling it on Kickstarter!

#pluralistic #enshittification #semantic matching #google #antitrust #trustbusting #transparency #fatfingers #serp #the algorithm #telling on yourself

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deadsetobsessions · 7 months ago

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REVERSE TROPE WRITING PROMPT BY @out-of-jams

ACCIDENTALLY KIDNAPPING A MAFIA BOSS

In Tucker's defense, he thought he was doing someone a favor. A life saving favor, in fact.

"What the fuck-!” The red helmeted guy yelped as a deceptively strong Tucker yanked him onto the bike and sped away. Before Tucker could explain, the GIW agents behind them got in a lucky shot and hit the helmeted liminal with a strong blast to the head.

Clearly, his gear wasn’t equipped with anti-ecto protections, because the guy slumped over on Tucker’s arms. This was bad, because Tucker now had to maneuver about 230 pounds of Gotham muscle while speeding away from government agents. He flicked on the jammer so they couldn’t track his and red helmets’s ecto signature.

“STOP!”

“Ah, shit.” Tucker cursed as he somehow managed to gather up red-helmet’s body and stabilize the bike. “C’mon, Tuck, you can do this.”

Blasts of anti-ecto tech slammed into buildings around him. Luckily, Gotham was used to this kind of shit so people just moved out of the way before going back to their day. Tucker wove around traffic, trying to lure the agents into slamming face first into some signposts.

“Stop damaging the local infrastructure!” Tucker yelled back at them, speeding up.

“WELL REIMBURSE THE PEOPLE AND THE CITY LATER! TELL US WHERE PHANTOM IS!!”

“Over my dead body, you jerks!” Tucker took a sharp right, catching red helmet before the man could slip off. He sped up and took the ramp downwards, heart beating loudly in his ears as he strained his senses to figure out- ah, they took the ramp upwards. Good. Now, all he has to do is bring red helmet back to home base.

“Oh my god. I kidnapped him,” Tucker groaned, slapping at his face before quickly placing his hands back on the handle bar once the bike teetered over with red helmet’s weight. “I’m a criminal. Oh my god.”

Then, as he found his way back, “…Well, it’s not like I wasn’t a criminal before, with the whole resisting arrest thing.”

——

Tucker dumped the red helmet liminal onto the couch of their shared apartment and went to take a shower. When he got out ten minutes later, he found Danny and Sam staring at the helmet guy. Tucker pushed up his glasses (after letting them defog from the shower) and greeted them.

“Hey, guys! I found him while I was running away from Agent L and J.”

“You okay?” Danny asked, eyes immediately flicking over Tucker for injuries.

“Yeah, I’m good. They’re horrible shots.”

“I thought Danny was the one who brought home strays but you…?” Sam commented, arms crossed and a purple painted nail tapping at her arm. “Wait. Isn’t this… that crime lord? What was his name?”

“Red Hood?” Danny offered, turning back to look at the guy on their couch.

Tucker paled. “Oh, no.”

Guns? Check.

Red Helmet? Check.

Bat-Symbol? Check.

Shit.

They collectively stared at the guy in silence.

“…Tucker,” Sam slowly said. “Did you accidentally kidnap a crime lord?”

“Hey, I didn’t want him to get killed! He’s liminal! Even more than us, except for Danny.” Tucker grumbled. “Man, this is why I leave the hero-ing to Danny. I do one good thing and suddenly I have a crime lord on my couch.”

“My couch,” Sam corrected, as she was the one that furnished their apartment.

“What do we do now?”

“Eat dinner,” Tucker said. “I’m famished.”

Sam nodded. “Wait for him to wake up and hope he doesn’t shoot us the moment he wakes up. Then, we explain.”

Danny grabbed all the visible guns he could see. Tucker went to start dinner. Sam supervised, because her boys were idiots and now she had a crime lord in her apartment.

——

Jason groaned, head swimming in a sea of dull throbbing pain as his eyes fluttered open.

Then he remembered he was abducted, and bolted up right. He paused as a series of quick observations made its way to his consciousness.

One. He’s not tied up. Weird, because everyone knows that he’s a weapon even without his weapons.

Two. His weapons were right there, just in reach.

Three. He was surrounded by teenagers and/or young adults who were all scrolling along on their phones.

“Oh, hey, he’s awake! Hi!” The Wayne bait said, electric blue eyes fixing itself on Jason. “Were you aware you died?”

Jason went rigid, hundreds of way to-

“Danny!” A scolding tone cut of Jason’s immediate panic. Two couch pillows slammed into Danny’s face, courtesy of goth girl and nerdy but strong.

“Dude, why do you start with that? Why are you like this?” His… possible kidnapper? asked, exasperatedly flinging his hands into the air as he rolled his eyes.

Goth girl scowled. “Boys. Crime lord, couch, remember?”

“Hey, in my defense, I died too!”

And that- as Jason remained dumbfounded in this circle of tomfoolery- was what snapped Jason out of his daze.

“You what?” He rasped out.

And when he saw them open their mouths at the same time, Jason just knew his headache was going worse.

——

Tucker, effortlessly plucking the actual red hood from the streets: and I whoop-

Jason, whose type is strong, nerdy, and tall: *heart eyes* *but not really because he’s unconscious*

——

Sam: “this is my boyfriend Danny and our other boyfriend Tucker.”

Jason enters chat:

Sam: “this is my boyfriend Danny and our other boyfriend Tucker and his boyfriend, the Red Hood.”

——

#writing prompt #DCxDP #Sam Mason #dpxdc #Danny Phantom #Tucker Foley #they share an apartment #so basically they’ve got the swankiest living space ever #bc Gotham rent is cheap #are they platonically or romantically living together?#no one knows #I sure as hell don’t either

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allurilove · 6 months ago

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Yandere Stalker x you

Rated 18 + — mature short content !

Includes: Stalking, blood, non con—he goes down on you without you knowing, fem reader, perverted and lewd behavior, again he’s weird and so delusional, mentions of violence against women.

*Happy Pride month!!! 🫶🏻This fic is influenced by You—specifically season one. I’m trying to give him a joe goldberg vibe. This is also part two, and check out part one and part three! Your stalker doesn't have a name, and this fic is in his point of view. This is purely fictional writing!*

Synopsis: Your stalker decides to celebrate one year of staking you by giving you a little visit.

What’s more dangerous than a lustful and starved man?

You wanna know what’s great about New York? That every apartment seemed to have a fire escape. Yours is tastefully decorated with a rug, and a small chair that has a plaid blanket draped over it. What's also so great about it is that it gives me access to you. You live on the fifth floor of this red-bricked building. It’s somewhat old but has a nice rustic charm. You seem to have an eye for knackered and worn-down things, as I’ve seen you pick up a used vanity and refurbished it. Inside, there’s a lobby with a doorman that is barely awake half of the time, he picks up a huge breakfast and clocks out after having a food coma. He's old, flabby, and not nearly ready to protect you like I am.

I seriously doubt he could jump over his desk and grab the throat of any danger coming your way. It's quite concerning, you know? You often sleep with your window open, and with the current rise in crime...you could get stabbed, kidnapped, bound and tied, and thrown into the back of a truck in a matter of seconds. Trust me, I have seen it happen before.

Don't get me wrong, it's understandable. It’s a hot spring day, and even if the moon gave the city a bit of a break from the sweltering heat, the lingering humidity continued to have a tight grip on everyone. Every crow resides in the trees for shade, every stray cat hiding in the alleyways, and even the rats seem content with steaming away in the sewers. The pavements are hot, the wind is hot, and you can see and smell the stench of people's BO in the air. I mean, c'mon... have they heard of deodorant?

June is just a month that comes before my favorite season.

Summer, and in other words: “An excuse to wear more revealing clothing.” There’s something amazing and titillating seeing you in tiny, tight tank tops, walking around in flip flops with freshly painted nails, and your hair up so I can see a bit of your neck.

And today marks one year since I first saw you. I know how you drink tea since coffee makes your head hurt, how you dance around your apartment after having a good day, and how you always leave your apartment at 12 p.m. for lunch.

I memorized the exact time you close your curtains for bed, just before I catch that perfect glimpse of you in your robe after a hot and steamy shower. I want to be your bath mat so badly. Step on my ribcage for all I care, and let droplets of water from your body fall onto my face. Let me see up your towel and gaze into what I consider to be the gates of heaven itself. Let me lift my head up so I can suck the remaining bathwater on you. Let me get all of my questions and prayers answered, and let me see all of you.

I have reached the top of the steps, my hand gripping onto the window to push it up higher, and I duck down to crawl into your bedroom. The floors seem to creak with every step I take, yet you haven't woken up. A heavy sleeper, are we?

My eyes adjust to the lack of lights. My pupils expand as I drink in your nude form. You look so serene with your soft snoring, your arms splattered, and my gaze traveled over the peaks of your tits rising and falling with your breathing. Your blanket was just thrown to the side, clearly disregarded with a bit of anger, and I could see the sheen of sweat on your forehead.

Your legs were already sprawled wide open-- a reward for my tremendous bravery. I lick my lips. I notice a white string sticking out from your underwear, and I reach out to gently tug on it. It looks stuck, and I wrap the string around my finger and give it an extra hard pull.

What could that be? I know you’re on your period, and I still have your pad that I grabbed from the trashcan earlier. I sort of understand what a period is, and all I really know is that the sight of your blood causes my head to spin. I pushed your panties to the side, and my curiosity piqued as I slowly removed the feminine product out of you.

I inspect the hygiene product I haven't really seen before. It looks different from a pad, and in my opinion it looks like a sperm— well the shape anyways. I put the tampon in my mouth, gently suckling it as if I were an infant. You taste salty, copper-like, and your plasma is warm. It's almost soothing. I then let the tampon fall out of my mouth. I tug on your underwear, pull it down from your legs, and stuff it into my pocket.

I rub my hands on your thighs, and I can feel the slight stubble on your legs. My fingers graze over your sex, and it follows the outline of your pussy. I put your legs on my shoulders, my head then leaning down so my tongue can lick stripes on your slit. The tip of my tongue touches the wet curls of your hair, and a frisson of pleasure runs down my spine. Your cunt is an eesome sight, the hair dampened by my saliva, and it covered your core like it was protecting the most precious jewel. And in a sense it was. I become more brazen, a single finger pushing inside you, and my jaw dropped at the sight of you sucking my finger in. You welcomed it so nicely, and there was a nice pressure of tightness.

I curl the single digit, intently staring at your face for any reactions towards my fingering. I use my thumb to circle your clit. I have read that some women can't come based on penetration alone. Hopefully, my tongue and fingers can help bring you to the brink of an orgasm.

I also hope that you never wake up. How else am I supposed to memorize your body? Would you even think that I am worthy of you? Or would you run away just by seeing my face alone? Would you think I'm crazy, or would you be flattered by the way I devour your cunt like it's my last meal? I hold your hips down firmly onto the bed, you're slowly squirming around and starting to gain consciousness.

It's like I'm drowning in a never-ending pool of crimson, and no matter how many times I swipe my tongue, it just oozes out of you so effortlessly. Your aroma is intoxicating, and it's like your body lured me--the prey-- into your little trap of ...

"Where are you going...?" I instinctively mutter as I miss the presence of your warmth against my mouth. You seem to crawl away, your limbs trying to save you from the repeated administrations of teasing.

My eyes shoot open as I realize that you're screaming. I immediately reel back, my ass landing onto the hard floor and I wince. "Shit-- I'm sorry!"

I scramble onto my feet and I try to duck every pillow you throw at me. I trip on my way out, and the wind gets knocked the fuck out of me as my bottom half got stuck in your window.

"This is literally my worst nightmare...!" I grunt as I try to wiggle my hips. I feel pain coming from my crotch, it's compressed against the window sill, and of course my dick had to be as hard as a rock.

You continue to hit whatever you see-- which means my ass. I yelp as you put your hands on my bottom, and you muster as much strength as you can to get me out of your house.

Why is this oddly arousing?

With one final shove I landed onto my face.

There's nothing dignifying about walking down the street with a clear boner and a bloody nose. I just look like a pervert that got punched after leering at someone. Wait.

No, that's not what I was doing. I'm not a pervert. I just have wandering eyes that are glued to whatever you're doing. I just happened to notice how your chest bounced around when you were running late and had to run out of the house. I happened to carry a tiny vial to collect any fluid and essences that dripped out of you after our encounter. My hand reached into my pocket, and I sighed in relief as I am comforted by the soft material of your panties and of the long plastic tube. I feel a sense of relief knowing that they didn't fall out as you kicked me out.

Am I crazy? No. Am I the only man you'll ever meet that has done this to you? Probably. I am one of a kind, after all.

Allure: Someone slap some sense into him.

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baby-yongbok · 6 months ago

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𝘗𝘪𝘯𝘬 + 𝘞𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘦

Hwang Hyunjin 𝗑 Afab!Reader

♡ Genre - Friends to Lovers

♡ CW - Explicit Sexual Content, Unprotected Sex, Nightmares, Alcohol usage by reader, Hyunjin calls reader rose as a nickname, One use of 'y/n'.

♡ Summary - Your avoidant tendencies have allowed the burn of pink and white to keep you Hyunjin at a safe distance until it all comes crashing down. Can the fire that kept you apart also be what brings you together?

♡ Word Count - 9.2k

♡ A/N - I went from not being sure if I liked this fic to being in love with it. I think that it's a very sweet fic and I loved writing it. I worked so hard on it and I'm so proud of it. The goal was for it to be 4k words.. then I almost posted it at 8k but now... yeah. I hope that you love this as much as I do!

♡ Playlist - Pink + White - Frank Ocean, Rainy Days - V, For Us - V, Beautiful Things - Benson Boone, Trajectories - Bruno Major

✧ Masterlist ✧

When you were six years old you punched a boy in the face on the playground. That was the first time that you ever felt the burn of genuine fear.

Your mom along with the many others came swirling around them. When your mother asked you what happened you cried. You clung to her running over to you and the crying brunette boy on the playground with a mix of emotions and explained the best you could through your tears that you didn’t like that he was chasing you, when you agreed to play tag you thought that you’d be the chaser not the one being chased.

That was the day that you learned two things about yourself, you have a habit of acting impulsively when you’re scared and you don’t like being chased. It's suffocating.

As you got older your friends described you as the avoidant type, especially in relationships. You developed a reputation for being an ice queen in your Sophomore year of university which led to you being one of the most sought after girls on campus.

You’ve lost friends because of this. Their boyfriends saw getting close to them as a gateway to meeting you. Many guys took dating you as a challenge with an end prize of overnight popularity. Unfortunately, some of your closest relationships have been destroyed because of it. You learned not to be sad about it, you’ve come to terms with it, this is just the way that it goes. Of course your other friends were all important to you but you always told yourself that you’re alright with losing them as long as you have your best friend by your side.

“More roses? Are you in love or something?” You weaved through the cluttered art studio that Hyunjin has claimed as his own. It’s on the dead side of campus on the second floor of a building that was abandoned last year. Your best friend refused to let the studio go when it was shut down, he says that it houses some of his fondest memories.

“Always in love, never loved back.” He quips, eyes still trained on the canvas. “You’re early.”

You jump up onto one of the few clear desks in the room, right behind his easel. “Chemistry ended early.” Hyunjin stands straight, eyeing his canvas for a second before looking over at you. He knows that you’re skipping class. Your last hook-up is in that class and you're trying to avoid his attempt at getting you in his bed again. If you’re being honest, the decision to sleep with him was impulsive. You blame the beer, all eight of them.

“I thought that we could go to the exhibition early.” He starts another brush stroke and silence swallows you both. “I’m excited about it and if I’m being honest I just wanna spend time with you. I’ve barely seen you for the past three days.”

Hyunjin’s steady hand wavers and he thanks his lucky stars that you didn’t see it. “Aw she misses me. She loves me so much.” The sound of your feet hitting the ground as you jump off of the desk echoes through the dusty room of stacked chairs and forgotten storage items.

Hyunjin stands and dips the paint brush covered in bright pink in the cup of water next to him. “You could’ve come to my place ya know.” You grab your stuff, swinging your bag onto your shoulder.

“Your brother is there, you know how he gets.” You scrunch your face at the thought of Hyunjin’s step brother, Jeongin. The two of you get along perfectly, almost as well as you and Hyunjin until Jeongin starts flirting. He confessed to you on New Years and you’ve been avoiding him ever since. He’s too sweet for you, you’d hate to hurt him. “I’m gonna go change, I’ll meet you by your car.”

“You brought a costume change for an art exhibit?” He asks as he starts cleaning his space.

“Of course, I need to look like art too.” You smile at him but he doesn’t smile back, he rolls his eyes and turns his attention back to the mess of paints and rags on the desk in front of him. He waits until he hears the door open and close behind you to finally let the corners of his mouth turn up. He chuckles to himself quietly while his mind comes up with responses that he’d never dare to utter out loud.

“This one looks like you, rose.” The year old nickname slips off of Hyunjin’s tongue like silk. You’ve never fully understood how the name stuck. You figured that it’s because roses are his favorite flower and he thought it was cute. You’ve never asked for its origin but you don’t mind the name. It’s sweet.

You turn to view the series of pink, white and green dots making up a bouquet of roses on the framed canvas in front of Hyunjin. He studies it with smiling eyes though the neutral look on his face could fool those who haven’t experienced him like you have.

“It’s pretty.” You mumble as you lean your head on his shoulder. You wrap your arm around his and the sleeve of the brown oversized flannel shirt that you picked out a year ago rides up his forearm a bit, he blames the chills running up his spine on the breeze against the newly exposed skin.

“I knew I’d see you here.” The voice of a woman next to Hyunjin startles you a bit. You stand straight and watch as Hyunjin smiles towards her. He’s cursing her in his head for interrupting the moment between the two of you but he learned a long time ago to just live in the moment when it comes to you.

“Of course, I had to see this exhibition.” He shakes her hand and you chalk it up to her being someone important though she doesn’t look much older than either of you. “You put it together beautifully.”

Ah, she owns the gallery. “Oh, please, it’s nothing. I just hope that you’re enjoying it. I actually thought about you when I put this piece up.” She motions towards the art in front of the two of you. The piece that Hyunjin says resembles you. “It looks like something you’d design. I’m still desperate to organize a local exhibition for you, ya know.”

Hyunjin laughs but it's stiff and polite. He’s being shy. He’s a very cautious person but he reaches a whole new level when it comes to his art. “I’m not quite on that level yet.”

“I disagree but I won’t bother you about it until you graduate. This is your final semester, right?” You can see her eyes smiling just like Hyunjin’s were a second ago as she checks him out. She’s shameless in her actions, the glint in her eyes is far from professional.

“Yes, just three months to go.” She nods, dragging her gaze up from his lips with a smile.

“Call me when you graduate, I’d love to have you working with us.” She pulls a business card out of her pocket and flashes one last smile before waving a reluctant goodbye towards your best friend.

Silence settles between the two of you for just a couple of seconds before you break it. “She wants to fuck you so badly that she didn’t even look at me.” Hyunjin scoffs at your whispered words as he slips the card into his pocket. “Don’t tell me that you didn’t notice. How old is she anyway? She looks a bit young to be in charge of this place.”

“Her father owns it.” He mumbles as he grabs your wrist and leads you over to the next piece of art.

“Oh, of course. She probably thought I was your girlfriend, ya know. She’s rude as hell for not even asking or looking at me. I know she saw me here, she’s clearly -” You’re pulled into Hyunjin’s side before you can finish your sentence. The sudden action cuts you off with a heavy thump of your heart and that painfully familiar burn rising in your chest.

“Look at this one.” Your eyes are on him but his are on the art. “This one looks like you too.” You pull your gaze away from him to view the piece. The thumping in your chest doubles once your gaze meets your own. It’s a mirror with pink and white abstract designs floating around and over the glass. The paint is so messy yet strategic. It leaves just enough room for your reflection.

“It’s messy yet elegant, don’t you think? You can’t help but to stare..” He’s visibly smiling now. The corners of his mouth turn up as he studies the art in front of him. As he studies you. “This one might be my favorite. It’ll be hard to beat it.”

“I don’t like it.” You mutter quickly, pulling away from Hyunjin and turning towards the next piece. You try your best to steady your breathing. You will your heart to calm down so that you can take a complete breath but it’s betraying you. “I’m gonna use the bathroom.”

You’re walking away before Hyunjin can reply. He watches you with that smile in his eyes as you disappear around the corner. He knew that what he pulled would be a risk but it was one that he was willing to take. He doesn’t call you beautiful nearly as much as he should or as much as he really wants to.

In the bathroom you’re slumped against the door of a stall while you try to catch your breath. You don’t like how Hyunjin’s words made that white hot burn in your chest kick up. You don’t like the way that his eyes being on you made you feel like you were the only two in the entire gallery. It’s suffocating.

When you step out of the stall your fingers are busy on your phone screen. You find your friend Isa’s number quickly and take a sigh of relief when she answers on the third ring. You bypass reciprocating her kind greeting and get right to the point.

“Get-together at yours tomorrow?”

You’re standing in the middle of the Pink and White art exhibition. Other viewers jumble together along the walls of the gallery and crowd the pieces. You can’t see anything but their blurred faces decorating the white walls. There’s a slow yet heavy beating in your ears but you’re comfortable. You’re alone in the middle of it all, watching everyone from a pleasant distance as you turn to study them all as if they’re the art on the walls.

The beating in your ears skips as you turn and come face to face with Hyunjin. He’s standing in front of you wearing that brown hat that you love and the oversized flannel that he bought just to share with you.

Suddenly the others in the room are quiet. All eyes are on you but Hyunjin’s gaze is the most piercing. His brown eyes are smiling at you with a softness that makes the flame in your chest burn brighter.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” You look around at everyone else but they’ve vanished along with the art on the walls. The beating in your ears picks up, it’s deafening but Hyunjin’s voice can be heard loud and clear over the noise.

“I like staring at you.” He takes a step towards you but you take two back. He frowns and steps forward again. You repeat the process until your back is against the wall. “Why do you do that?”

“I’m not doing anything.” You swallow hard as you try to push him away but he’s stronger than you. As strong as stone caging you against the stark white wall. “I can’t breathe.” You’re pushing as hard as you can but it’s no use. You’re stuck under him.

“Why do you do this?” He’s still staring down at you, a burning gaze setting your skin ablaze. “Why do you keep running?” The beating in your ears drowns out all sensible thoughts. You can feel your veins swelling with fear and the blinding white burning in your chest puffs up with the crushing pressure of having him so close. Too close.

“Back up.” You inhale the thick air, feeling dizzy. “Move.”

“Stop running.” You try to inhale but it gets stuck in your throat. You want to scream. You need to escape. You need to get out of here.

You lift your heavy arm the best you can and pull back enough to punch Hyunjin. You aim for his face but your fist goes through him just as your lungs start to burn, you take one last look at him before the wall behind you gives out and you’re falling backwards. Hyunjin watches you, his eyes are void of that sparkling smile and guilt consumes you right before you hit the ground.

You jump up with a gasp as your eyes frantically search the room around you. Your chest rises and falls heavily and sweat beads at your hairline.

It was a dream.

Friday is a late day for you with your last class ending at nine in the evening. Hyunjin always waits for you in the abandoned art studio, he waits for two hours just to walk you to your dorm across campus. It’s become a routine for the two of you but you told him not to wait up tonight. He was reluctant at first, he insisted on waiting for you but you were adamant about breaking your routine.

He agreed eventually but you could see the dejection in his eyes as he hugged you goodbye before your last class. He watched you walk away just like he always did but this time his heart was heavy in his chest. Did he do something wrong?

That question haunted him throughout the day. It was loud in his head as he collected his stuff and made his way to the abandoned studio. It echoed in his ears as he tried to finish the painting of his vibrant rose that he’s added notes of dusty pale pink to. But it was the loudest when Jeongin called him to ask if he was going to the get-together at Minho’s place tonight.

He knows that you and Minho’s girlfriend Isa are close so you have to know about this, hell, you might’ve even helped plan it and you kept it from him. You’re avoiding him.

You skipped your class to head to Minho and Isa’s place. They share a small apartment right off of campus that you often use as an escape. Isa is one of the few friends that you still have from sophomore year since her boyfriend has never once tried to get in your pants.

You sat on Isa’s bed clutching a bottle of soju that is not at all meant for one person while you laid your head in her lap. You loved being with her because there was never any pressure to fill the silence. She understands you in a way that other people just don’t. Not even Hyunjin.

“So, he called you pretty?” You’ve been telling her everything from what happened at the art gallery to the nightmare you had last night. “And now you’re avoiding him?”

“I’m not avoiding him.” You take a swig from the glass bottle and gulp hard to rush the alcohol into your system. “I’m just being careful.”

“You’re being careful by avoiding your best friend… because he called you pretty and you had a nightmare about it?” You sit up with a groan, lifting the bottle to your mouth again with a sigh. She’s not getting it.

“You didn’t see the way he looked at me. You didn’t feel the way he pulled me into him, his arm wrapped around my waist and he just stared at me with that smile in his eyes. You know the one that makes his eyes shine when he sees something pretty? He was looking at me like that and he told me that I looked elegant. Messy but elegant and that he couldn’t help but to stare. There was a softness in his voice, I swear, and he just wouldn’t take his eyes off of me. It’s like he was looking into me instead of at me it was… it was..”

“Sweet?” You tap the bottle in your hands with your nails.

“Suffocating. It was too much. It made my heart skip and it made me feel hot.”

“That usually means that you like him, ya know.” She takes the bottle from you, drinking from it a bit herself. “ You know that he’s a romantic and this isn’t the first time you’ve felt like this with him.” She hands the cold glass back to you while you think back to the other times that you’ve felt this. The latest being your birthday three months ago when Hyunjin whisked you away to the next city for a mini getaway.

You stayed in the same hotel room and on the night of your birthday you had a bit too much to drink. He carried you up to your room since you were too out of it to walk but you weren’t too far gone to forget the way that he handled you with such gentle care.

He brushed your hair out of your face when he laid you on your bed and took your make-up off with such a tender touch that it made you want to kiss him. You almost kissed him.

“I don’t like him like that.” You shrug and she sighs.

“Whatever you say, ice queen.” That damned nickname makes you cringe but Minho is bursting through the door before you can rebuttal.

“Jisung and Bin just got here, come on.” You stare at him with confused eyes and he crosses his arms as he stares back at you. “Well? Get up, you wanted to do this.”

“Do what?” You look over at Isa who’s already getting up from the bed.

“Did you not call her asking for a get-together? People are getting here so come on. I’m not hosting this by myself.” Your heart drops and you stare over at Isa who looks back at you with her own look of confusion until it all sinks in.

“You meant for it to be just us, didn’t you?”

Hyunjin is a cautious person, anyone who knows him knows that about him. He doesn’t like when things go wrong because of him. It eats him alive until he can fix it and if he can’t he lets the anxiety consume him until a part of him dies with the memory of it all.

His cautious nature is what prompted him to drive home after he got that call from Jeongin. It brought him right to his bedroom where he dropped his bag by the foot of his bed and laid back against the mattress with a death stare set on the dull ceiling. It stared back at him, reflecting his thoughts back to him for him to analyze.

His brother left for the get-together as soon as he walked through the door and Hyunjin was tempted to follow him down to Seungmin’s car.

He was tempted to drop his bag and turn on his heels and come straight to you but he knew better. He knew you better than you knew yourself. If he shows up at that get-together you’ll avoid him like the plague. You’ll feel trapped by his presence and any hope that he has of fixing this situation will die right in front of his eyes.

His cautious nature is what’s keeping him on his bed. It’s what’s grounding him to this spot and sating the burning desire to chase you. The problem is that the fire in his chest is bigger than he can handle. He’s seen how you treat the men you want to avoid on campus, he’s seen you take the long way home just to avoid a conversation and the thought of you doing that to him makes him wilt. He can’t let that happen.

His feet are carrying him across his room before he can even fully process it. He opens his closet and pulls out the brown flannel along with his brown beanie. They’ve become comfort items for the both of you at this point, especially the flannel. It feels like a thread connecting you to him and him to you. He needs to save that connection.

He sloppily throws on the items while he checks the clock. He’s nearly two hours late but there’s still time.

Hyunjin has never gotten a speeding ticket but he was nearly positive that he’d get one tonight. He made it to Minho’s place in record time but he’s panting when he knocks on the door like he’s ran there. His heart is hammering when Isa answers the door and the look on her face when she takes him in only makes his heart beat faster.

She forces a smile, inviting him in and telling him where everything is but he already knows all of that and she knows that he does. “She doesn’t want to see me does she?” Isa sighs, giving him a look that answers each and every one of his questions all at once.

“Thanks for letting me in.” He walks past her with a nervous huff, making his way into the small party and searching for you immediately. He finds Changbin and Chan before he can find you and the two quickly drag him into a conversation about gods know what while wedging a glass bottle of mystery liquid into his fist.

Hyunjin’s eyes wander in an attempt to find you as he ignores his friends' conversation. Luckily it didn’t take long for the sound of your loud laughter to echo through the room. His eyes were on you in an instant once he heard it. You’re right in front of him sitting in the truth or dare circle with a can of something strong in your hand. You’re always the loudest in the room but right now you seem to be the drunkest too, you shouldn’t be playing that game you’ll do something reckless.

He wants to go over and pull you up, he wants to tell you that you’re going home and that you need to sober up. He wants to get you to talk to him but he ignores everything he wants and watches you instead. He stays cautious and keeps his distance.

“Y/n, truth or dare.” One of your few girl friends, Harvey asks from across the circle. You answer ‘dare’ with a wide smile, it’s no surprise, you always pick that. The raven haired girl looks over to Mingi for assistance since she’s known for picking terrible dares. After a couple seconds of deliberation the blonde perks up with an idea.

“I dare you to kiss whoever this bottle lands on.” Mingi dares with a nonchalant smile and you shrug, the alcohol in your system is surely boosting your confidence but it’s not like you’ll remember any of this tomorrow so who cares, right?

He spins the bottle in the middle of the circle and everyone watches with quiet anticipation as it lands on the copper haired boy sitting three people away from you. It’s Jeongin.

He stops in the middle of sipping from his cup and flashes you a small innocent smile but what you return to him is nothing less than a look of raw seduction. You’re on your feet in an instant, making your way over to him with low and hazy eyes. You straddle him swiftly, getting comfortable in his lap like you’ve done this a hundred times.

“You sure about this, noona?” His hands rest on your thighs, he brushes his thumbs over the bareskin and you can feel a shiver down your spine. It almost reminds you of how Hyunjin touched you on your birthday.

“Do you not wanna kiss me?” You tease him with a slight slur to your voice. You know he wants to kiss you, everyone does except for Hyunjin, right?

Just as that thought passes your eyes flicker up and meet those of the very man on your mind. He’s watching you with an angry gaze as he fists the neck of the glass bottle in his hand. Your mouth goes dry as you take him in, when did he get here? You feel stuck staring at him, everything around you is suddenly muted and the people around you disappear. It’s only you and Hyunjin.

Both of your hearts are pounding in your chest.

Both of you feel like you can’t breathe.

Both of you are about to do something that you shouldn’t.

“Kiss her already!” Ryujin instigates from across the circle and you snap out of your haze and blink down at Jeongin. You both share a smile, one more genuine than the other, before he’s leaning into you. His lips just barely brush against yours before you’re interrupted.

A firm grip on your shoulder startles you and the man under you. You both look up to meet the eyes of the angry Hyunjin above you.“Get up.” He practically growls with a slight tug on your arm. You stare up at him with glassy eyes though you are feeling a bit more sober now. “Get. Up.”

You’re being pulled up before you can process it. Your feet fight to keep up with him as you stumble towards the bedroom he’s leading you to. You can feel all eyes on you, you can feel the room getting smaller once he locks the bedroom door behind the two of you and pulls his flannel off to drape over your shoulders, something that he does to comfort you.

“What the fuck?” That’s all you can manage to get out of your mouth as you stare over at him. He stares back with his arms crossed and his chest rising and falling with what you perceive as anger but he would describe as anxiety. Pure fear.

“Do you understand what you were about to do?” Hyunjin tries to be mindful of his tone. He tries to limit the waver of his words and calm the frantic thoughts in his head. He’s trying. “Why would you kiss him?”

“I didn’t.” The alcohol in your system takes over again and you thank the ridiculous amount of soju you’ve consumed for coming to the rescue. You tug on the flannel resting over your shoulders, pretending that its warmth would protect you from the buzzing in your head and inevitable burning in your chest.

“You would’ve if I didn’t stop you. What happened to you not being into Jeongin? What happened to you not wanting to hurt him?”

You groan, stomping your foot like a child being scolded by their guardian. Like the little girl who punched the brunette boy in the face for chasing her. “Why don’t you mind your business?”

Hyunjin scoffs, his anxiety grows in his chest and he takes a step back. “You are my business.”

It’s silent for one, two, three heartbeats before the dizzying emotions burning in your chest fill in the silence for you. “Well maybe I shouldn’t be. You’re way too attached to me.”

Hyunjin feels frozen even though he’s stepping back from you. He’s creating more space between the two of you just like you seem to be doing. What do you mean by that? You’re rambling on before he can ask. “You do all of these things that make me feel like I can’t breathe. You call me pretty and you touch me softly and you hold me close and… and you just make me feel hot. You suffocate me.”

Hyunjin whispers through the bubbles forming in his throat. He’s gentle with the way he speaks, he is a cautious person after all, especially when it comes to his art. “Is this about what I said at the gallery?”

His question goes in one ear and right out the other. Your brain formulates words quicker than you can process them, creating a violent episode of word vomit that threatens to spill over your lips and onto the carpet but you swallow hard and condense it all into one simple yet seering sentence. “You keep making my heart race, it’s not fair. You need to go, just go.”

Hyunjin’s blood runs cold and his temples throb like you’ve hit him. Like you’ve punched him in the face. Anxiety bubbles in his veins and swells behind his eyes. It’s his turn to ramble, the word vomit seems to be contagious.

“I’m not leaving.” His gaze is frantic, cautious, scared. “I am too attached, you’re right. I have been for a while. I’ve loved you for a while and I tried to hide it but I shouldn’t have to. I shouldn’t be scared that I’ll lose my best friend if I tell her that she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

“No, you are not confessing to me right now. Don’t you dare do that.” You pace to the left then the right in a hurried attempt to escape his words before they could reach you. He can’t be doing this right now. You needed to get out of here.

“I am. I am confessing to you. I need you to hear me say that I love you because I do and it scares me just as much as it scares you but you are the reason that it’s scaring me. Losing you is the reason that I’m afraid and I need you to tell me that that isn’t going to happen.” His voice is shaky just like your hands. He watches you like a dog being dropped off at the pound as you physically try to escape him. He knew this would happen, this is what he was afraid of.

“Stop. Just stop it, Hyunjin. You’re doing it again, I can’t breathe when you’re this close to me.” He stares over at you from the other side of the room and you stare back at him. This doesn’t make any sense. He isn’t next to you but you still can’t breathe. It doesn’t make any sense. “I have to go - I have - just… just leave me alone.” You turn towards the bedroom door but he speaks up before you can make your escape.

“I’m not going to chase you.” Hyunjin is unmoving. His feet are still planted to the floor like a statue as he slips his fists into his pocket. “I don’t want to push you further away but don’t you dare go home and convince yourself that I don’t care just because I let you go.”

You listen to him over your hammering heart with your back turned to him and your unsteady gaze trained on the worn door knob. “I’m letting you go with the hope that you’ll come back. You know where to find me.”

Your feet threaten to betray you, they try to turn you around and drive you over to him but your heart is screaming. That white flame is burning in your chest and begging you to run. Run as fast as you can and find safety, but your safety is standing behind you. It’s watching you with teary eyes that are desperate to meet yours.

A tear slips down your cheek as you grab the doorknob and pull it with a quick twist. You follow your heart and rush out of the room with tears decorating your face and your hand over your mouth. You let the burning win again.

You rush past everyone, Isa tries to stop you and Minho even catches you for a minute but you fight him off of you and make your way to the front door. You don’t get too far before the last layer of your resolve snaps, You turn onto the next dark block and sink to the ground. Sobs rip through you as Hyunjin’s words hang in your head. He loves you. He wants you but you left him. You left everything you’ve ever wanted behind you.

A heavier sob escapes you as the truth of it all comes crashing down. You love him too, don’t you? You’ve loved him for so long. Since your birthday and beyond that but you’ve been avoiding it. You’ve avoided your feelings just like you have everything else. You’ve punched yourself in the face, you’ve chased yourself into a corner and now you might just lose everything you have left. You might lose your best friend.

The storms over the next two days swirl the skies into mysterious clouds of pink and white as rain soaks the grass the same way that you’ve soaked your pillow for hours. You’ve opted to stay in, avoiding anything or anyone that could remind you of Friday’s catastrophe.

You’ve debated texting Jeongin and apologizing for what you remember of the situation. You almost called Isa to spill the fears bubbling in your lungs to her so that she could help you sort through them but she can’t. This is up to you. You need to make a choice. Will you run away from the fire or towards it?

On the other side of campus Hyunjin sits in the abandoned studio with paint stained hands and dried tears on his cheeks. He’s left his previous painting incomplete. The bright blushing rose sits across the room with the others just like it while he touches his brush to the canvas and smears a smoky mauve to the pristine white flesh. His lines are messy and uncalculated. Far from cautious.

For a moment he considers that he was only ever careful because of you. Your lack of control over your emotions inspired him to fill in the blanks for you. Now there’s no need for caution without you.

The rain carried into Monday along with the emptiness in your chest. You’ve typed and deleted paragraphs to Hyunjin who has done the same as he sat on the studio floor.

He stayed in the dusty room until midnight each day that he was without you and you stayed up well past then. He poured himself into painting and you poured yourself onto the carpet of your dorm room. You made lists and mapped your emotions until it all started to make a bit more sense. Until the love that burned alongside your hot white fear was glowing pink in the mirror.

You skipped your classes on Monday, your feet drove you over to the dead side of campus through the violent rain. You stood in the hallway outside of Hyunjin’s studio. The worn copper doorknob stared back at you like it knew what you were here to do. Like it was daring you to go inside. You suck in a breath as you grab the metal, you’ve never been one to back down from a dare.

The studio is empty when you walk inside. The fading warm light of the lamps that you and Hyunjin bought and snuck in illuminate the space the best that they can given the dull pink skies. Your eyes catch on the new piece sitting up on his easel. It’s dark and runny, it’s raw and it feels like it’s calling your name.

“Hi.” Hyunjin’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts. His voice is small and surprised as he stares over at your frame clad in that famous brown flannel and sweatpants.

“Hi.” You whisper back. He looks like a mess. Brown hat, pulled too far over his head and his hair spilling from every exit it can find. “More roses?”

He stares passed you and over at the wilting petals on the canvas with a sad smile. “It’s like I’m in love or something.”

Your guilt tinged heart beats a bit faster when he steps further into the room and closes the door behind him. He drops his bag next to the door and stares at the dinghy tile with his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry. For everything, for the party and everything with your brother and for everything that I said.”

The word vomit is back. It spilled over your lips before you could attempt to swallow it back but you’re almost thankful for it. You have no clue how you’d get your words out otherwise. “You just made me feel… I just felt..” You kick at the cracked tile as if it holds the answers you’re looking for but Hyunjin beats you to it.

“Suffocated.” His eyes are on you now, they’re low and shadowed in a longing sadness. “I’ve seen this happen a million times to other guys and I thought that I was being careful enough to avoid it.”

“This is nothing like the other guys.” Your bag slumps off of your shoulder and you carelessly allow it to hit the floor. “Your confession just -” He cuts you off with a tight smile.

“I know. It ruined everything.” He sighs, sad eyes examining the space between the two of you. “I ruined everything and I’m sorry for that, rose. I really am.”

“It didn't. It didn’t ruin anything, it just scared me. I felt suffocated, yes, but not by you. It was by what I felt for you. That’s why this isn’t like what happened with any of the other guys. I never wanted them. Avoiding them was easy but you… avoiding you..” Hyunjin watches your heaving chest with the caution that he thought had abandoned him. He’s quiet, allowing you time to gather your thoughts. He doesn’t want to corner you, he just wants to hear you.

“Why do you call me that?” You whisper once your breathing has steadied. “Why did you start calling me rose?”

Suddenly he’s looking past you then down at the tile under his feet. He leans against the door behind him, a faint smile decorating his sad face. “You were wearing one in your hair on the day that I realized I love you.” He looks over to where his easel is set up. “We were sitting right there and you had a pale pink rose behind your left ear. You picked me one to match and I told you that it was my favorite flower because in that moment it was. It was beautiful but you…your beauty is hard to beat.”

Your heart is thumping in your ears, it’s a sound that you’ve grown comfortable with over the past few days. The clutter of the abandoned room almost seems to disappear as you process his words. The burning in your chest makes itself known along with the newly identified pink flame. The white walls of the studio almost seem brighter as you receive Hyunjin’s confession. You let it sink in and drown out the tension little by little. “So when you paint them…”

“I’m painting you. I’m always painting you.” The thumping is deafening but Hyunjin is clear over the noise. He has always been the only one who can cut through it all, even in your dreams.

You can feel yourself falling just like in your nightmare only it’s forwards. You’re falling forwards as your feet carry you to him. You run. You run to him and you fall into his arms that have been desperate to catch you for months. The burn in your chest is paralyzing, it’s seering and fighting the pink flame for dominance.

You cry into his chest, you sob as the pain of running into the fire engulfs you. It swallows you whole and you stand in it with him, you cling to him before you burn to ash and he holds you like he knows it all. He cradles the back of your head like he can feel the fire ripping your flesh apart.

You’re flush against him, tears soaking his shoulder and burning all over until he does what no one has done before. He puts it all out. A simple kiss to the top of your head dowses the flame and reduces it to a measly spark of fear overshadowed by an uncontainable pink and white glow of love in your chest.

You gasp at the cooling effect. Air rushes into your lungs and you can finally breathe, he’s the oxygen you needed. He’s everything you’ve needed but now you want to give your air away again. You want to give it all to him.

You pull away from his shoulder in one swift motion, your eyes are shut tight as your lips find his and you pull him into a hard and messy kiss. The sound that escapes you both is desperate and beautiful. His lips move with yours in an uncoordinated rhythm that makes your lungs burn comfortably. They burn the way that they’re supposed to.

Hyunjin cries into the kiss. Tears stream down his cheeks as he cradles you against him like you’d vanish if he didn’t. He drinks it all in, he allows himself to live in this moment that he’s been dying to have with you for what feels like an eternity before he reluctantly breaks the kiss.

His eyes are still closed when he pulls away. He whispers to you, careful not to crack the shell of this delicate moment. “I thought you -”

“I don’t want to keep running. I can’t, I need you. I can’t lose you.” Your eyes flutter open at the same time as his. He stares down at you with that smile in his eyes. That smile he has when he sees something beautiful, when he’s utterly enamored by the sight before him. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know how to do any of this, I only know that I want to do it with you.”

He’s quiet for a couple of seconds before a smile sneaks up on him. It fades just as quickly as it came and his eyebrows pinch together. “You want me?” You nod and the smile shows itself again.

“I want you.” He leans back in, cupping your cheek as he kisses you hard. His body pushes against yours and you move with him as he walks backwards towards one of the few empty desks and lifts you onto it.

His hands explore every inch of you that he can reach. He balls his fist over the baggy flannel hiding your body from him while your fingers tangle in his hair and scratch over his shoulders and up his arms.

He breaks the kiss to run his lips over the flushed flesh of your neck, he whispers into your skin between each kiss “Tell me to stop.” He pulls at the collar of the flannel to kiss the curve of your neck. “I’ve waited so long for this, please tell me to stop. Tell me to wait.”

You push his head further into the crook of your neck as you tilt your head further to give him better access. “I don’t want you to.” He sucks a mark into the skin right below your ear and you pull his tucked in shirt from his pants with an elated moan.

His clumsy fingers fight to unbutton the oversized flannel as yours attempt to unbutton his jeans. You reach your goal before he does and waste no time capitalizing on your victory. You dip your hand in just enough to fish his growing erection from his briefs and wrap your hand around it.

Hyunjin moans at the stimulation, leaning his forehead against yours and squeezing his eyes shut as you stroke him slowly. “Fuck, please don’t, I wont - I can’t last.”

You kiss his temple softly, whispering reassurance that you don’t care to have him last, you just want to have him. Once he’s centered himself again he continues his struggle to expose your body to him. The final button falls open like the curtain to a play and he stares down your scantily clad torso like an audience in awe.

His hand moves on its own as he admires you. It dips into the waistband of your sweatpants and swipes over your clothed clit.

Your head falls forward to rest on his shoulder with a quiet moan as he groans into the air. Your grip on his cock tightens a bit in response to the sensation and he hisses. “Please tell me I can feel you. Is it okay? Can I?”

He doesn't want your first time to be here but he wants you. He needs you.

Hyunjin hooks a finger into the damp gusset of your panties and pulls it to the side just enough to slip a finger into your waiting cunt. You pant in his ear, wanton moans bubble over the brim of your lips as his free hand cradles the side of your neck. “Look at me, please look at me, baby.”

He runs his thumb over your cheek, brushing over the path of your dried tears. “So pretty, this must be a dream.” You shake your head. Speaking between moans. “Not a dream, baby.”

He slips in another finger as you circle your palm over the head of his cock and you both moan. “Please tell me I can.” He leans his forehead against yours, his desperate eyes reflect the look in your own.

“You can. Please, I want you to.”

“Have you ever thought about it?” He’s asking before he can process it and you’re shaking your head before he can even finish his sentence. A shy glaze washes over your desperate gaze as you watch him undress you.

“You’re all I ever think about.” He whispers as he hooks his thumbs into the band of your pants. “You’re all I’ve wanted for the past year.”

“I’ve loved you since my birthday.” You blurt out, vulnerable eyes peering into his. “Maybe even before that.” He runs a finger over your clothed cunt and you shudder under the touch.

“I wanted to kiss you the night of your birthday. You looked so beautiful but you were wasted. You wouldn’t have remembered. I just stared at you, I took your make-up off and I brushed the hair from your face and you stared back at me. I was just dying to kiss you. I was dying to confess.” Your hand runs slowly up his shaft and he swears that he feels electric.

“I wanted to kiss you too.” He’s quiet, staring back at you with a smile. “That’s why I was staring”

“I kissed your forehead when you fell asleep.” He pulls your panties down your legs, allowing them to pool at his feet with your sweatpants. “I knelt by your bed and whispered my confession to you.”

His fingers are filling you again and you gasp while staring into his eyes. “I wanna hear it.” You whisper through a moan.

“You want to hear my confession?” You nod, your gently fucked out gaze stares into his like your hypnotized by the moment. He scissors his finger into you, stretching you out just a bit before you’re gasping from the stretch of him replacing his fingers with his length.

“Fuck, you’re inside of me.” Hyunjin stills with a groan. His forehead rests on your shoulder while he silently begs himself not to come undone just yet. He sucks in a breath before he recites all that he can remember.

“You’re everything that I thought it would be to fall in love.” He whispers as he pulls back, thrusting into you slowly. “You really snuck up on me, I don’t know what I expected though.” He lifts his head to look at you as he sinks back into you. “You became my world so quickly. So effortlessly.”

You cup his face with both of your hands as you bite back your moans. You want to hear him loud and clear. You want to remember every word. “I should’ve known that I’d fall in love when I first met you.” He picks up the pace, falling into a messy rhythm that’s accompanied by a fit of moans and grunts.

He struggles to keep his eyes on you. They flutter shut with each thrust as he feels himself float closer and closer to his climax. “Baby, I won’t last.” You wrap your arms around his neck and one of his wraps around your waist while the other rests on your thigh before creeping over to softly pinch and rub your clit.

“Hyune, you’re gonna make me - gonna -” He cuts you off with a sloppy kiss, his tongue brushes over your parted lips to request access before making room for itself against yours.

“If you tell me that you’re gonna cum I won’t last another second.” He whispers against your lips and you moan against his.

“What if I tell you that I love you.” Hyunjin’s eyebrows pinch at the confession. That’s way worse than telling him that you’re close. “I’ve loved you back for as long as - as long as you’ve loved me.”

“Rose, baby, you’re gonna -” It’s your turn to kiss him now, it’s a mess of teeth and tongue but you love it. You love him and him you.

You both pull away in tandem, twin moans ripping through your chests as you both announce yourself to the other.

“I’m cumming, I’m cumming.” Hyunjin pulls out of you, painting your thighs in his sticky white release while his fingers toy with your clit to ride you through your orgasm. It’s loud and messy and beautiful. A romantic elegance that you want to live in for as long as it’s available.

Once you’ve both come down from your high Hyunjin kisses your sweaty forehead and you kiss his. He pulls his bottoms up before grabbing the cleanest paint rag he has to clean you up. A comfortable silence settles around you as you ground yourself and take in the space.

“You didn’t finish that one.”

He follows your gaze over to the painting of the pale pink rose. The middle of the canvas contrasts the rest with nothing but dull line art to show the completed picture. It looks like a work in progress. “I know, but I think I like it like that.” He looks back over at you and you at him.

“It looks like you."

It’s been seven months. Graduation has come and gone in the middle of your blooming relationship with Hyunjin and you’ve dedicated each and every second of your budding love to taming the flame.

Each kiss from him has kept the spark of fear at bay and each touch has taught you how to stop running. It’s been a slow and cautious process that he is more than proud to be a part of. He takes pride in it. He takes pride in being with you.

The smooth breeze of late summer brushes against your skin as you step out of your car. The white dress that Hyunjin picked out for you sticks to you like paint on a canvas as you make your way up to the art gallery.

It’s buzzing inside, people stand and stare in awe at each piece while whispering and pointing to their favorite details. You stop and stand in the middle of it all, taking it all in with a slow spin on the balls of your feet. You take in every corner until you turn around completely and you’re met with the face of the artist himself.

“Hi.” Hyunjin smiles down at you, brown baggy flannel hanging from his shoulders.

“Hi.” You stare back at him with a gleaming smile in your eyes. You take in every inch of him, scanning him like he should be framed and hanging on the walls around you.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Hyunjin wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “I like staring at you.” Your response makes him beam a shy smile.

“You should be staring at the art. The artist might get sad if you don’t.” He kisses your forehead before letting you go. Some people around you stare over at the two of you with curious eyes. They’re eager to put a face to the muse of the showing artist.

You take his hand and lead him over to the piece that a couple is walking away from. You stand in front of it hand in hand as you study it for what feels like the millionth time. “This one is my favorite.” The incomplete pale pink rose stares back at you.

“And why is that?” Hyunjin has that smile in his eyes as he stares up with you. The memory of this piece's origin plays behind his eyes like a memorized movie.

“I’ve been told that it looks like me.” You lay your head on his shoulder and wrap your arm around his. A chill runs up his spine and he blames it on you. You and the love he feels glowing pink and white around you.

“There you are.” History repeats itself as the lady that you’ve come to know as Dalia interrupts the two of you. “I wanted to check in with you, how does it feel to finally have your own exhibition?”

Hyunjin smiles at her politely, turning towards her a bit with his fingers still threaded through yours. “It’s amazing. Thank you, you’ve done a wonderful job putting this together.”

“Oh, please, it’s nothing. This is all you.” You watch her as her eyes smile just as they always have. Her hand brushes over his arm in a carefully calculated move. She’s still shameless and unprofessional. “This piece is my favorite. The unfinished look is unique and raw. What inspired this one?”

You grin to yourself as you listen to her. She’s trying so hard that it’s difficult not to laugh.

“Actually.” Hyunjin pulls your hand a bit, leading you forward so that you’re right next to him. It’s impossible for Dalia to ignore you now. Her eyes scan you reluctantly and the smile on her face falters for a second before she pulls it together. Gosh, that's gratifying.

“My lovely rose here is the inspiration for it all.” Hyunjin looks over at you with a glow that is unmatched even by the largest of flames. “None of this would be possible without her.”

It’s like Dalia disappears once Hyunjin looks over at you. You’re the only two in the room as far as you’re concerned. “Oh, well that’s just - that’s wonderful.” Her staggered speech pulls you both out of your loving haze.

“Such a … sweet profession of love.” She glares over at you though you’re sure that in her head she’s doing a wonderful job at hiding her contempt. “I should make sure that everything is running smoothly. Please excuse me.”

She clears her throat awkwardly before she departs, you and Hyunjin both bid her smiling farewells before turning to each other with wide smiles. “Show off.” You push his shoulder playfully and he laughs.

“I didn’t do anything.” You roll your eyes as you both wander over to the next piece on the wall. You stare up at the two pink roses in a lone vase, a shadow of sunlight casts down on them both as they rise towards its shining glow.

A comfortable silence blankets the two of you while you listen to the soft buzz of the people around you. You squeeze his hand softly and he squeezes back just as you open your mouth to speak.

“She still wants to fuck you.” He smiles

“Shut up.”

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dwaekkicidal · 7 months ago

Text

Sharing is Caring[1: 3racha]

˚ʚ3racha x Fem!readerɞ˚

ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: After finding what Stray Kids' closest female friend really does with their leader behind closed doors, Jisung and Changbin decide they want in too.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: 6.1k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ warnings: fem!reader, slight angst before the first divider? But it gets resolved like immediately, fluff, nicknames used: 'baby girl, bunny, jagi(ya), and baby,' ot8✗reader mentions but smut is written for 3racha✗reader, Chan✗reader action, Changbin✗reader action, some m✗m action(Chan✗Jisung mentions), fingering, squirting, exhibitionism & vouyerism, rough sex, (1½) pvssy slaps, hair pulling, overstimulation (?), readers a brat for 2 seconds, Channie is referred to as “Daddy” and Changbin as “Sir”, p in v, creampie & no protection (don't be silly wrap ur willy also pee after sex pls), blowjobs, a handjob, I think thats it?

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ notes: an audio I heard a few weeks ago inspired this... I actually have no clue how this came out of that audio but you’re welcome (or I'm sorry)

Sharing is Caring Masterlist

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ PSA: Sorry if you find this annoying, but I put so much yapping talking that I was only comfortable posting this with color-coded dialogues: If you hate it let me know so that I don’t do it again, but it kinda worked out so I kept it in instead of adding a million more words for nothing

Chris | Binnie | Hannie | You

You’re currently sitting in Stray Kids’ studio at the JYP building. Chris sits beside you in the other office chair at the desk, while Changbin and Han sit on the couch. Both staring holes into your heads as yours stare on the floor in embarrassment. They just walked in on you and Chris fucking in the studio, right in the very chair Chris was sitting in.

Speaking of, you see in the corner of your eye as he rubs his hands all over his face in frustration, his ears a very bright red. “Listen.. Normally we wouldn’t be stupid enough to do that in a public setting.. But I didn’t know you two were coming today and we got carried away..”

You glance up to see Changbin frown at the older boy, his eyes full of anger. You look over and check on Jisung, his eyes glossy. You furrow your eyebrows and lift your head fully. “Hannie..” You start, but immediately give up on your sentence when you see Changbin’s eye snap his eyes to you, the anger still prominent.

“Okay well… I don’t think that's the problem here… Do what you want, hyung. It’s your life..” Han starts, staring at you for a moment before continuing with a deep breath. “But you know how both of us feel about her. Hell. How the entire group feels about her. You have to see this from our point of view.”

Chan fixes his posture at the sentence and you look between the boys with pure confusion on your face. “Huh??”

“In my defense, I didn’t know how you guys felt until we were already messing around. We had already agreed on this arrangement months prior to the first person saying anything.”

“Arrangement?” Binnie says with the most attitude you’ve ever seen come out of him.

“We’re not dating.. We’re just…. friends with benefits. Sex with no extra emotional strings attached.” Chan sighs loudly, rubbing the back of his neck and continuing. “In all honesty, me and her talked about including you guys but we were afraid it would ruin things. Ruin the group as a whole.”

You start to feel frustrated, they're talking as if you’re not even in the room and when that's mixed with the ruined orgasm you just had, you can't help but get annoyed. “Hello?? I’m still here by the way. Can one of you tell me what the fuck is going on before I leave.” You narrow your eyes at the three of them and cross your arms. They’re caught off guard at your tone, you’ve never spoken to them in any tone outside of a sugary sweet one with pretty doe eyes. Even Changbin’s demeanor falters before he cracks his own neck. “Bunny. You haven’t noticed anything odd? How Hyunjin paints you every chance he gets? How Yongbok gives you all kinds of sweets and says that he ‘baked too much’? Not even the princess treatment that SEUNGMIN of all people gives you?”

You furrow your eyebrows at him before sputtering out, “W-Well yes, but I thought that was just normal behavior.”

Han lets out a tense laugh at that, when you turn to him he decides to continue for Changbin. “Jagiya, we don’t even do these things with each other… all of us are pretty in love with you. We have been for a long time to be honest. Though.. some of us…” he pauses before stealing a glance at the timid boy beside him. “Some of us fell faster and harder than the others. At the end of the day, you have all 8 of us wrapped around your finger.”

All the attitude and anger in your body is suddenly flushed out, replaced with confusion and surprise, “Wait..” When you think back to what Changbin said, the pieces start to click together. All 3 boys watch your reaction nervously, and Changbin lets out a slight sigh of relief when he sees the gears turning in your head. “She actually had no clue.”

“I tried to not blatantly say anything about it once I found out. But I honestly thought you knew about some of the members, baby girl?”

“I had no clue… I’m so sorry Binnie, Hannie..” You hear Han let out a sigh as your eyes watch Changbin’s, they stare into you less angrily but it makes the hurt more evident. You frown sadly at him and let your head hang, not sure what to do with this situation.

“It’s okay, Jagi. Now that I know you were oblivious about our feelings, I don’t think I’m as upset. More so at Channie-hyung for getting to you before us. But I’ll get over that feeling soon.. I don’t know about him though.”

The man in question’s eyes never leave your form, but he takes Han’s words to heart and takes a few deep breaths. “I don’t know. I’m quite hurt but Han is right. It’s honestly our own faults for not being clear with you.”

His words hang in the air for a while before you fix your posture and look over at Chris, meeting his eyes. He tilts his head at you, but you quickly turn to look between the other boys. “What's going on in your head, pretty?”

“Mm.. Well Channie did already spill the beans on what we spoke about.” You say, looking up at each boy before being met with confusion on each of their pretty faces. You clear your throat before continuing, “About… me being with all of you guys..” You pause once more to gauge their reactions, when you don’t see any negativity you finish your thought: “If you guys are okay with sharing, I don’t think I would mind dating all of you. At the end of the day I have been loyal to you guys anyways... So if everyone is okay with it, it could work.”

Chris’ head snaps to the couch to try and read their expressions. He can see Changbin thinking deeply about it and the faint blush on Han’s cheeks more or less gives him an answer. “Only if you guys are okay with it. I told you already, even before I knew about everybody’s feelings I was easing her into the idea of being with us all, whether that be through dating or her being our mutual friend with benefits.”

Han nods and looks over at Changbin, nervously watching his reaction as he mumbles out an “I’m okay with it.. Only if Changbin-hyung is too.” At the mention of his name, Changbin blinks multiple times to bring himself back down to earth. Once he realizes the outcome of this is in his hands, he gulps and clears his throat. “I… I don’t know..”

“If you need time to think about it, I’ll give you as much time as you need. In the meantime, Chris and I will stop everything we do and we’ll go based on what you guys are okay with.” Changbin furrows his eyebrows and looks at his hyung, who nods in agreement with your promise. “I told you, we spoke about this before. Many times actually. If enough of you weren’t okay with it, we agreed to cut things off completely for the sake of our friendships being more important.”

Changbin slowly nods, “I… I need some time to think about it.” You and Chris nod before meeting each other’s eyes for a moment. “Okay well, we should head home then. The song can wait, we’ve all had a long night.”

Everyone silently agrees and one by one the studio empties. You were the last to leave, but you quickly caught up to Changbin, wanting to have a 1 on 1 chat with him. “Binnie. I really am sorry. If I had known earlier then I wouldn’t have let us do this for so long without involving you guys. I feel horrible.”

He smiles softly at you, placing a hand on your head and massaging your scalp with his fingertips. “I know, Bunny. I’m not really mad anymore, I just don’t know if I can handle sharing you. Jisung and I spoke about it a few times but we thought it wasn’t even on the table.”

You nod and shuffle on your feet. He thinks for a moment before looking at you nervously, “Can you answer a question I have truthfully?” When you nod eagerly he continues, “...If you would date us all, as in all 8 of us.. Could you actually see yourself loving us all equally?”

You bite your lip before laughing nervously, “That’s honestly not even a question to me… I already love you all equally. I wasn’t lying when I said I had been loyal to you guys ‘anyways’. I turned down so many idols and random people on the street because I knew I had you guys. I knew how much I loved you all and I knew wasting time with these people to get over my feelings wouldn’t be worth it. So I sat patiently and waited to see how things would go.”

He lets out a breath that he didn't realize he was holding, letting out a light laugh of relief. “Can I hug you, Bunny?”

“Please.” He smiles and pulls you into his arms, the two of you stay in the embrace until Changbin gets a call from Chan, telling him that the taxi is outside and they’re waiting for him. You say your goodbyes and go your separate ways.

Now we wait..

A few days pass as normal, and you almost forget about what happened in the studio. When you’re lounging on the couch scrolling through a streaming site, you hear your phone ding a few times and it makes your stomach drop. You drop the remote immediately and in seconds your phone is unlocked with your text messages open.

Your hand slaps over your mouth and you squeal, not being able to contain your excitement, and you spend the next few days excitedly preparing yourself for Friday night.

When the night comes, you walk into their dorm as if it was any other day. When you meet the eyes of the men sitting at the dining table, you hesitate. All three sets of eyes look up at you, the older boys hold soft smiles while the youngest is biting his lip with red cheeks.

After some time of the awkwardness in the air fading, the four of you talk boundaries. In summary, you all agreed on:

Changbin only wants to fuck you, Chan and Jisung are open to anybody but mainly want you, and you want all 3 of them.

Specific kinks were talked about, but everyone agreed on rougher play for the night, just nothing too extreme yet. Specifically yes to spanks, rough fucking, choking, and hair pulling.

Chris closes it out with a few statements: “If, at any point, you aren’t sure to keep going, we use the traffic light system. Just ask her what her color is and she’ll respond with ‘red’ for stop, ‘yellow’ for slow down, and ‘green’ for keep going. And aftercare is a MUST. You don’t give her aftercare, you don’t get her at all.” When the other men agree, he leads you guys to the dining room where the coffee table is already moved to the side.

Before you know it, you’re sitting on their dorm’s couch, shyly playing with the strings on your sweatpants. All 3 men are standing between you and the tv, thanking every god they know that Hyunjin is out of the country for the week. Chan warily looks over his members faces, looking for any sign of hesitation. Instead he’s met with both basically eye-fucking you and Jisung already hard as a rock through his jeans. He laughs to himself quietly before looking over at you, initially looking for an unsure reaction from you as well. But when he watches your eyes jump between the other 2 and you bite your lip, he takes a breath before speaking.

“Since this would be both of your first times with her, I’ll show you all the good spots and how to play with her properly.” You roll your eyes and frown up at him from your spot on the couch. He gives you an amused smile and you watch from the corner of your eye as Changbin grabs a chair from the dining room, placing it in front of the tv so that it faces the couch. Chris swiftly pulls you to your feet before taking a seat on the chair. He pulls you into his lap and makes you face the other 2 men, who are now seated on the couch patiently waiting for the scene in front of them to unfold.

“You ready, baby?” He asked into your neck, his thick lips already placing wet kisses and his hands already pulling at the elastic of your sweats. You make a scene to hold eye contact with both men on the couch before responding to the one below you, “Yes, Daddy.” When Changbin’s eyes widen before he closes them and lays his head back, you giggle to yourself and move your eyes over to Jisung. You hear him groan and class a hand over his mouth, and when he notices your eyes are staring into his wide boba ones you smile innocently and tilt your head at him.

By the time both men recover, Chris is already pulling your sweatpants and underwear from your ankles, then moving his hands to the base of your crop top. He finally breaks away from your neck to pull it off, unintentionally showing off the red marks all over your neck to the couch. As the shirt gets pulled above your head, you hear a gasp from the couch and Chris’ voice against your ear. “And no bra? Baby.. you’re gonna kill them haha..”

You bite your lip and smile before teasing, “If they let themselves die this easily then you can have me all to yourself again.” You almost miss the way Changbin’s eyes narrow with how focused you are on Jisung’s growing pout. You hear Jisung let out a “Hey..” before you laugh and stick your tongue out at both boys. Immediately after, you feel your legs get hooked over Chris’ wide stance.

He teases you by softly rubbing his hands against your inner thighs, nipping at your neck and ear as he does so. His left hand slowly trails up your stomach until he meets your chest and starts toying with your nipples. The hand still on your thigh trails up higher and higher until you feel him spreading your folds with his index and ring finger, using his middle finger to slide against your clit and down to your hole. You slump against him when you feel him slide two fingers in you, his thumb replacing his middle finger on your clit. You faintly hear Chris say something to the other boys about where they should try to angle their fingers. When he angles his hands the way he describes, it rips a desperate moan from your throat and your legs tighten against his.

Both boys on the couch adjust themselves in their pants at the sight of you spread so widely in front of them, Han nodding enthusiastically with each sentence that comes out of Chris’ mouth. With the fast pace his fingers set, it doesn’t take long for your orgasm to build up.

You feel yourself getting close and Chris catches on very fast. He pulls his fingers away and lands a smack to your inner thigh before grabbing your chin and raising an eyebrow at you. “Did I say you could come yet? You didn’t even ask permission.” You almost miss Jisung’s moan at the action, but quickly respond with a, “N-No, Daddy. I’m sorry Daddy.”

He tsks at you before softly running his hands along your thighs again, “Just because I’m showing the boys how to play with you doesn’t mean that our rules aren’t in place. Don’t be a bad girl and make me punish you in front of them already.”

“Yes, Daddy” you whine out as you nod feverishly, your orgasm fading away slowly. He hums before returning his hand to your cunt, playing with your folds as he gets lost in thought for a moment. You sigh and lean your head into his neck once releases your chin.

You almost say something about the lack of stimulation when Chris suddenly pushes you on your feet, keeping a hand on the small of your back as he quickly stands. He sits you on the chair but pulls you down so your ass is hanging off the chair, legs folded into each other as he puts you on display towards the couch. You feel butterflies in your stomach, remembering just exactly what Chris made you do the last time you both were in this position.

You shiver as his fingers softly caress your folds, he looks down at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Once he realizes that you knew what his plans were, he bites his lip and smirks down at you. When your lips open to say something, he suddenly returns the 2 fingers inside your hole to prevent words from forming. You guys hold eye contact for a moment, but once his fingers dig into your gummy spot roughly, your mouth opens in a gasp and your eyebrows raise. Your eyes threaten to close as you watch him meanly mimic your facial expression and rub against the spot harder.

Your legs already start to shake and you throw your head back against the chair with a whimper, closing your eyes when the stimulation is a little too much. A firm grip in your hair pulls your face to meet his, he places a gentle kiss to your lips before adding a third finger. He ruts them into your soppy cunt over and over again until you hear him laugh when your eyes slam shut again. You’re sure both boys can hear the wet noises coming from between your legs. You wish you could see their faces, but at this point you figure Chris is trying to put on a show for them so you don’t complain.

“F-Fuck!!! Daddyyy!! I-I can’t..” You cry out, one of your hands meets his and your nails dig into his wrist as your thighs clamp shut. He pulls his fingers out and pins both your hands against the top of the chair with his spare hand. He lands a slap on your cunt and doesn’t give you time to react before he slams three fingers back in and resumes his bullying pace.

He coos at you, pressing a kiss into your calf, “You can, baby girl…” He pauses before positioning his hand so that his palm could bully against your clit with the thrusts. His tone is much darker when he continues, “I won’t stop until you do. So you better give them a pretty view, yea?” You gush more around his fingers as and when you clench harshly, he leans down to push his lips against yours.

At this point, Han has caught on to what Chris is trying to do, and he finally can’t stand the tightness in his jeans so he removes them. He quickly pushes his boxers down and can’t stop himself from fisting his cock at the sight of your cunt and ass on display for them, your wet cunt dripping down your ass as Chris continues his pace. Changbin on the other hand, isn’t fully sure what is going on. But that doesn’t stop him from palming his bulge, biting into the pointer finger on his other hand to keep quiet.

The sounds coming from you somehow get louder and you pant into Chris’ mouth, moaning against his lips as you feel the knot snap in your stomach. Suddenly you squirt all over his arm, squealing into the kiss as Chris rides your high. He fingers into you roughly before giving you a second to squirt more, then forcing more out of you. He repeats this until you pull away from his lips and gasp desperately for air, and he finally slows his hand to almost a complete stop, letting you breathe. He softly slaps your cunt as he pulls away from you fully to admire the mess you made.

“I told you, baby girl.” He laughs, ghosting his hand over your inner thigh as he watches you glisten. He pulls away from you completely, pulling his shirt off in one go and using it to wipe your thighs down and throwing it onto the puddle you made on the floor. He pulls you back to your feet, and holds you up with both hands as your legs shake aggressively, before sitting back down and resuming the earlier position: you on his lap.

He showers your neck and your cheek in kisses as your legs stay glued shut, his thighs making sure of that as they stay against yours. One of his hands holds you against him while the other caresses your hip affectionately. He knows you’re not in this plane of existence from how quiet you are, so he tries his best to ground you with as much physical touch that he can offer.

After a short while, your soul finally returns to your body. You mumble something incoherent and he takes that as a sign that you’re still there. He giggles into your neck, trailing his kisses down to your shoulder. You feel his arms tighten around you before he’s whispering against your skin, “You alright, baby? What’s your color?”

You sigh into his hold and whisper back a “Yellow.. Just give me a minute.”

Once you deem yourself ready, you let him know. He reluctantly loosens his hold on you and clears his throat, placing a final kiss on your shoulder before looking up. “Now that she’s ready for you both.. who wants to play first?” Chris asks as he eyes dart between the boys you completely forgot about. The two in question glance at each other quickly before wordlessly deciding to keep quiet and let Chris choose. Chris nods in understanding before glancing over at the youngest and watching the way he’s slowly fisting his cock as he waits for the next move. Chris very quickly thinks back to the boundaries everybody set earlier and he smirks against your shoulder. He whispers something in your ear, just low enough so neither of the other men can hear it.

But when you smile and slide off Chris' lap, softly crawling towards Changbin on all fours, both boys on the couch suddenly fix their posture. Han almost whines at the thought of Changbin getting you first until he watches the oldest stand up and saunteer towards him. He gulps and looks up at the man, biting his lip when Chris leans down and grabs his chin to hold eye contact. “You still okay with us playing a little bit, Hannie?” Not fully trusting his voice, Jisung nods eagerly and allows Chris to take control, "Please..."

While the two boys to your right get lost in each other, you sit at Changbin’s feet and look up at him with puppy dog eyes. You even go as far as to tilt your head and rest your cheek against his knee. “Hi Binnie~” You whisper out, “Can you play with me? Pleasee?”

He curses under his breath and nods, “Y-Yeah.. Yeah we can play, Bunny.” You smile in response and bite your lip, undoing his jeans before pulling them off his legs. He pulls his shirt off as you leave soft kisses up his thighs. He shudders the closer to his crotch that you get, and breathes harshly when you place a kiss to his dick through his boxers. He sighs when you back away and pull his underwear down just enough so that his dick slaps against his tummy. You pause for a second to admire his width. He’s so hard and his tip has a mean red tint; you’re almost afraid of taking him.

Suddenly the man above you laughs and pulls you up onto his lap, letting his dick rest between you two. He quickly pulls you into a kiss, running his hands up and down your sides softly. Your own hands are running up and down his biceps and squeezing, finally relishing in the feeling of his muscles against your hands. When a hand of his slides down to your ass to squeeze, you smile into the kiss and angle your head so that you are making out even deeper. It’s very short lived however, because the hand that was squeezing your ass pulls back and lands a slap to your cheek.

You jump in against him and pull away from his lips, frowning at him. He laughs at you before landing another to your other cheek. “Those are for the little comment you made earlier about Chan getting you to himself after this.” You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest and snapping back, “Well soooomebody doesn’t know how to take a joke.” Changbin’s mouth opens slightly and his eyes narrow dangerously at you. If it wasn’t for the fire in your abdomen that grew from his stare, you would have been terrified and apologized right away.

You quickly think that should have been the case when a hand shoots forward and clamps around your neck, squeezing tightly right off the bat. You let out a gargled noise as his other hand lands 2 harsh slaps to your ass cheeks, massaging against them right after. “I’m sorry... What was that?”

Jisung and Chris pull a few inches away from each other at the sound. Jisung’s hips buck up into Chris’ hand and he lets out a pathetic whine at the sight of your ass cheeks already turning a darker red. The man above him lets out an exasperated laugh before saying “Oh yeah, I should’ve warned you two that she can be a stupid brat sometimes. I would say I’d teach you how to deal with it, but it seems like you got it under control already. You know what to do, baby. Be a good girl for Binnie, or else I'll handle you myself.” Changbin steals a confused glance at his hyung before returning his gaze to you, loosening his grip on your neck to give you more breathing room. He watches your eyes meet Chan's and you gulp deeply before wresting your hands on his chest.

“‘M sorry Binnie. I’ll be good now I promise.” His hand completely loosens the grip on your neck but stays resting against your throat as Chris speaks up again. “Not ‘Binnie’ baby.” Your eyes meet Chris’ again and he smiles at you teasingly, his hands still stroking Jisung at a slow pace that has the boy whining into his hand. You bite your lip at the sight of Jisung looking fucked out already and turn back to Changbin and retry, “I’m sorry sir. I’ll behave now.” You watch Changbin swallow thickly before leaning his head sideways and letting out a curse.

“Atta girl, baby.” Chris says, before turning back to the squirming boy below him.

Changbin quickly mutters an ‘Up’ before you climb out of his lap to stand in front of him. He quickly swaps spots with you, making you sit on the couch as he stands above you, kneeling against the cough to ground himself. He strokes himself a few times, not bothering to prepare you any more than Chan did already. He pulls your legs up and holds them near your chest, and then he finally sinks himself into you. He keeps his eyes on your face the whole time, mainly watching for possible comfort changes in your expression. But when your jaw drops at the stretch and you take over his hold on your legs, he can’t help himself from staring for other reasons. While you’re busy hugging your legs into yourself, he trails a hand to your mouth and positions his thumb to press down on your tongue. With every inch of his duck entering you, you swear you lose another piece of your mind. And after what feels like forever, his hips finally meet the backs of your thighs

He lets out a shaky sigh and lightly thrusts into you, testing the waters before pulling out farther and setting a calm pace. For a while, he softly thrusts into you, just savoring the feeling and sight of your tight cunt around his dick. It’s not until you let out a whine that his eyes return to your face. His hips stutter and he watches in awe as he pulls his thumb from your drooly mouth. While that thumb moves down to draw circles onto your clit, you look up at him pleadingly before begging so sweetly. “Please, Sir. Please I promised I’d be good. Just fuck me hard, please please please.”

From the other side of the couch, Chris’ ears perk up at the sound of your begging. He chuckles breathlessly and it takes everything in him to keep his eyes on the pretty boy who’s on his knees below him. “F-Fuck. Bin I usually have to overstimulate her for her to beg like that. You must’ve fucked her stupid already.”

Changbin’s eyes roll to the back of his head at the sentence and he starts up a rough pace, pounding into you fast before responding, “Y-Yeah? You think so?”

You throw your head into the couch at the new rhythm, nails digging into your legs at the stimulation. After squirting like that earlier, you’re not sure you can last very long and that’s made even more true by the sloppy presses you feel on your clit. Not long after this pace was set, you feel yourself rapidly approaching your high.

You manage out a: “Binnie- S-Sir, can I cum please.. I want you to cum inside… I’ve b-been good, right?” and he groans in response, nodding his head and leaning into you, his fingers never leaving your cunt and his pace never faltering. “Yeah, baby. Don’t worry, Binnie’s got you.” His body weight on your legs gives you an uncomfortable stretch, but when his lips meet yours in a sloppy kiss, you can’t find it in you to complain. Almost immediately after that, his spare hand leaves a slap to your ass, and you cum on impact. Your lips detach from his as you let out desperate wails, trying to take deep breaths while he slows his pace to make slower but deeper thrusts into you. His gaze meets your teary eyes before he dips to your neck, biting and sucking marks onto the skin. He follows suit not long after, groaning and biting harder subconsciously as he rides out his high.

You lay against each other, catching your breaths before you let out a pained whine. “Binnieee… my legs..” His mind is still foggy from that strong of an orgasm, so it takes him a second to pull away. Once he does, he softly rests your legs against the couch and massages the muscles, already knowing which ones would be hurting. He watches your mixtures of cum ooze out of your cunt, and onto the couch. He would normally freak out at such a viscous substance getting the couch dirty, but his zips his mouth shut and watches in awe for a moment. You don’t fully notice when he walks away due to getting distracted by the other end of the couch.

Chris let out a few gasps that turn to groans, signaling that he’s dangerously close. You quickly turn your head to watch as Jisung deep throats him all the way, even gagging a few times. You whine out something along the lines of, “That’s so hot..” but it meets none of their ears as Jisung’s nails rake down Chris’ thighs, his hips buckling as he cums hard. He throws his head back and holds a firm grip on Jisung’s permed hair as he thrusts softly into his mouth, quickly angling his head back towards the boy to watch him swallow around his length. Slowly the grip on the younger’s hair loosens, and you and Chris watch the boy on the floor with lidded eyes. Jisung hollows his cheeks and slowly pulls off the eldest’s dick, he matches the older’s gaze and shows off the contents on his tongue before making a show of swallowing it, showing his empty tongue after. Chris throws a hand over his eyes and whines, resting his head against the back cushion as you sit there and laugh. You and Jisung meet each other’s eyes before you wink at the boy, blowing him a kiss with a fucked out smile on your face.

By now Changbin is returning to the living room with a warm cloth, wiping you down gently before throwing it onto the pile of your clothes. Chris disappears to his room to grab shirts of his for you and Jisung while Changbin throws the scattered clothes of yours into his own hamper, and Jisung’s into his hamper. While the two eldest members run around cleaning, and preparing blankets and snacks for a cuddle session, you and Jisung embrace each other on the couch. You rest your head against his shoulder as your breaths even out. You could fall asleep at this point, but you’re quickly distracted by the boy’s bulge in his underwear.

“Hannie… you’re still hard?” You laugh. His cheeks and ears turn red before he laughs too. “Yeah… I came in the beginning, but watching you and Changbin-hyung while watching Channie-hyung come undone got me hard again. It was all just too hot..” You laugh into his shoulder but trail one of your hands to the bulge, trailing a featherlight touch that has the boy’s thighs clamping together. “Can I help you then, Hannie? Me and you didn’t get to play. I can’t go another round but I’ll happily suck you off.”

You hear a shaky breath as his hips buck against your hand. “Fuck,, Yes please, baby.” Giggling, you drop down to your knees for a 2nd time tonight, pulling his boxers down just enough to free his cock. You take it in your hands and pump it, placing teasing kisses up and down his shaft. You smirk against him when you feel his hand slip into your hair, grabbing a tight but not painful grip as a warning to stop teasing. You hum and lick a long stripe until you reach his tip, placing a final kiss there before you take him all the way to the hilt. The grip in your hair tightens as you hum and hold your spot against his pubic bone, some of the hair there tickling your nose. You hollow your cheeks and swallow around him a few times before pulling away, stroking him while you rasp out, “You wanna fuck my mouth baby?"

You swear his eyes sparkle as he nods enthusiastically. His hands quickly move to rest against the back of your head, “Hit my thigh a few times if you need a break, ok?” You nod and smile up at him, happy that he still genuinely cares about your well being. Your smile fades as he moves your head against him, slowly fucking your mouth against his dick as he lets out a sigh. You hollow out your cheeks and feel the grip on your head get harder. He starts fucking himself into your throat, using all his will power to not do it as rough as he wanted to, ‘We can save that for another day’ he argues to himself. It doesn’t take long for him to reach his high, his thighs shaking as memories of what happened less than 10 minutes ago resurface to his mind.

He goes to pull you away as he cums, but you swat his hands away and take matters into your own hands, literally. One of your hands trails up his stomach, your nails ghosting around his chest as your other hand reaches up to fondle his balls. It’s all so sudden and he chokes on his own drool when he tries to warn you that he’s cumming, but regardless you swallow every last drop. Once his hips relax back into the couch, you pull back so that only the tip is in your mouth, sucking hard to get every last drop and he lets out the whiniest cry you’ve ever heard.

As the older boys return with blankets and snacks, you and Jisung pull away from each other. Eventually everybody is settled and a movie is chosen, the four of you cuddle up to each other and relax. Han is laying with his head against your chest when he suddenly lets out a laugh that startles your sleepy form. The three of you look down at him with different confused expressions before he chuckles to himself again.

“The others are missing out sooo bad.”

#sian’s writing #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids imagines #skz x reader #skz smut #skz imagines #3racha x reader #3racha smut #changbin x reader #changbin smut #chan x reader #chan smut #bang chan x reader #bang chan smut #han jisung x reader #han jisung smut

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the-travelling-witch · 10 months ago

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𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒

summary: having your period is already stressful enough and being in a magical all-boys school doesn't make it any better; luckily, your boyfriend is here to help

pairings: leona :: jade :: jamil x gn!reader

warnings: period comfort; mentions of periods and different symptoms (but gn pronouns), mentions of reader having hair in jade's part

twisted wonderland masterlist || similar writing: bloody hell [obey me]

𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐀 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑

It was decidedly too early for this.

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes as you walked through the hallways, head down to keep from making eye contact with the beastmen staring at you as you passed them. After tossing and turning all night, kept from finding sleep by painful cramps, being ogled at by students at an all boys school that could smell the blood on you was the last thing you needed.

And it wasn’t like you hadn’t tried to avoid this. When you had realised the predicament you would inevitably find yourself in, you had downright begged Crowley to let you stay at Ramshackle. After all, a certain Ignihyde dorm leader also never attended class in person. But, really, you should have known better. As if the headmage would let his number one therapist stay home for a few days each month or as he put it, he 'couldn’t rob a precious student like yourself of the opportunity to learn'.

At least Sam was an actual help and had magically procured just the stuff you needed.

So, with heavy eyes and burning cheeks you speed walked towards your first class of the day, dodging students at the last second on more than one occasion until you eventually ran straight into a sturdy chest. Looking up briefly to apologise, you blinked at the familiar emerald eyes sizing you up.

“Leona! What are you doing here?” Most people’s first reaction to seeing their boyfriend would probably not be bewilderment, but running into your boyfriend inside the school during class hours was as likely as Ace making it through a week without being collared by his housewarden.

“That’s funny, ‘cause I was about to ask you the same thing,” the lion drawled, ears flicking to help convey the incredulousness painted on his face. “So, what do you think you’re doing?”

As imposing as he was with his athletic build and the unimpressed expression, causing the students around you to serve around the two of you, you weren’t affected at all, used to his grumpy exterior.

“Uhm, going to class?” You deadpanned, putting your hand on your hip to mirror his stance. “Unlike someone else I know.”

“Yeah, you’re not doing that,” Leona stated matter of factly.

“Excuse you?” When he tried pulling you along by your arm, away from the direction of your classroom, you dug your heels into the ground. “I hate to sound like a broken record but what are you doing, Leona?”

“Making you get some rest, obviously.” You couldn’t see it from where you stood but you could practically hear the way he rolled his eyes.

“Listen I can’t just skip class, I talked to the headmage–”

“Crowley can solve his own problems for a day,” his voice rumbled low in his throat, almost sounding like a growl, “you know, like an actual adult. And don’t try to play dumb with me herbivore, it’s not a good look on you. I know you sleep like shit when you get your period and I also know that the people around you don’t take your health into account when they get up to some stupid idea.”

“Yeah but-”

You saw the annoyed flick of his tail before he turned around and braced his hands on your shoulders without ever applying any pressure. By now the last bell had rang and the corridor was deserted, leaving you to be the only people standing in the early morning light.

“Don’t give me this self-sacrificial nonsense,” Leona said, words harsh but you knew him well enough to read the protective feeling behind them. “We both know you need to rest. What good would it really do you to go to class in this state?”

As if to agree with him, a nasty cramp pulled at your lower stomach and the ill suppressed grimace on your face must have been all too apparent to your boyfriend. Giving your arm another light tug, Leona coaxed you towards the Hall of Mirrors again with a tempting ‘C’mon’ and this time you let him pull you along willingly, even handing him your backpack when he reached out for it.

Sometimes, it was hard to forget the kind of culture Leona grew up in, one where women held a high position of power in general, so really you shouldn’t be surprised by how… normal he was about all of this. Part of that was probably also because it was a very gentlemanly excuse to skip class in favour of a nap, if you were honest.

“If you’re that worried about missing class, Jack can give you his notes.” His offhand comment made you snort. Of course, he would offer someone else’s service to you before anything else.

“Or my third-year boyfriend could tutor me,” you teased, a playful lilt swinging in your voice.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” the lion shrugged. “Weren’t you just on my case about my attendance record?”

“Because the first-year curriculum is just too hard for someone who can turn an entire stadium into dust,” you jabbed.

“You’re yapping a lot for someone who’s this tired,” Leona grumbled, a large palm pushing your head down, careful not to hurt you. With a giggle you decided to drop the topic.

Crossing the Hall of Mirrors and stepping through the Savanclaw portal, you were greeted by the warm breeze of dry air typical for the dorm’s daytime. After the trek through the savanna past the spring in the common room and across the wooden bridges, you reached Leona’s room and you could already feel the tension seep from your body as you stepped into its comfortable familiarity.

When you unbuttoned your uniform’s blazer, you caught a glimpse of your stomach through your shirt, slightly extended further than usual due to the bloating. And rationally you knew it was a normal bodily reaction to your period but paired with the new bumps on your face and general exhaustion, logic wasn’t quite enough to calm your mind.

The clothes being plopped down on your head, however, certainly did rip you from your thoughts. Lifting the ends of the black material covering your eyes you threw your boyfriend a questioning glare.

“I can tell you’re thinking something stupid,” Leona offered as an explanation. “Just get changed and come to bed.”

Huffing under your breath, you stepped into his ensuite bathroom to do as he said, pulling on your boyfriend’s shirt and sweatpants. While you didn’t feel like agreeing with him quite yet, you had to admit, royal loungewear was a league of its own in comfort. And probably in price.

When you emerged, Leona had just tossed his phone on the nightstand before devoting all his attention to you. The ears on his head flicked as his gaze wandered from your head to toe and back up, a grin tugging at his lips and an appreciative glint in his green eyes.

Then, the second you came within reach, he’d already wrapped you in his strong arms and pulled you into bed with him, not without a surprised squeal from you. You could feel his deep chuckle as much as you heard it with your head resting on his chest and resigned yourself to merely sighing fondly.

With two firm hands stroking up and down the length of your back purposefully, their warmth spreading through your body, and his chest rising rhythmically underneath you, you finally allowed yourself to relax as you traced random patterns onto his biceps and pectorals and followed the movement with heavy-lidded eyes.

“You weren’t seriously looking down on yourself earlier, were you?” Leona mumbled, a serious care in his words he didn’t offer many people.

“Well, you can’t really help it when your body goes through this many changes, can you?” you drowsily replied, your eyes already falling closed with no conscious work of your own. “Besides, periods are not the time you feel generally great about yourself.”

“No matter how you might see yourself, I don’t want you to doubt for even a second that I like you the way you are.” At his heartfelt confession, you peeked one eye open to study his expression.

“You can be quite the romantic if you want to huh?” You meekly chuckled, not able to help yourself.

“Go to sleep, herbivore, you’re talking crazy.” Even as he put one of his hands on the back of your head to keep you cradled against him, you didn’t miss how his ears flicked or the fondness with which he looked down on you.

“Alright, alright. I appreciate it though, really.” With a big yawn you shifted to get comfortable, your cramps far from your mind as you sunk into your boyfriend’s natural warmth. “Love you.”

By the time you’d wake up, Ruggie would have dropped off lunch along with some other essential items. But for now, Leona was content to watch as your breath evened out and your chest rose and fell in the rhythm of his own, careful not to disturb you when he draped a soft blanket over you. With the rising sun peeking through the arches of his room, he truthfully answered you in a whisper.

“Love you, too.”

𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐂𝐇

Once Jade had taken an interest in you, he would seemingly appear out of thin air in your general vicinity a lot more often than it was usual to run into a fellow student. On your way to the school store, in line at the cafeteria or when you were carrying supplies for Professor Crewel, the moray would coincidentally round a corner to lend a hand.

So it really shouldn’t have come as a surprise that, as his courting became more serious and you had become aware of what was going on, even reciprocating the sentiment, you found the sophomore waiting for you before your classes started. Your time table was well-memorised so he could greet you with a serene smile each day and walk you to your first class of the morning.

Now, as a moray eel with naturally sharp senses, it was somewhat inevitable he’d pick up on the scent of blood once your period rolled around. In contrast to beastmen who were mostly mammals in their anatomy, however, the Octatrio did not grow up on land and periods weren’t exactly a thing for merfolk. Moreover, seeing as they had only been on land for roughly two years and were attending an all-boys school, it was not a phenomenon they were likely to run into.

So, having his dear pearl approach one morning, the smell of iron heavy in the air, paired with their already soured mood and his lack of knowledge on the societal stigma around the topic, misunderstandings were bound to happen.

“I really don’t think it wise to attend class in your state,” the moray had stated after greeting you, an eyebrow raised at your stubbornness to continue with your day even at what, in his mind, must have been a grave injury.

“I’m fine, Jade, I just want to get this day over with,” you had groaned, trying to push past the tall student and drop the topic, embarrassed enough that a sizable chunk of the student body would be aware of your predicament in the first place.

But who would he be to let a person he actually cared about go on their way with a bleeding wound?

“Prefect, I must insist you seek medical aid immediately.” You remembered the uncharacteristically genuine furrow of his brows as he had blocked your path. “Please, go to the school nurse or at least let me tend to your needs. I’m certain I could be of help if you share your problem with me.”

“If you want to hear me say it so desperately,” you had huffed, “I’m on my period. Happy now?”

“Your period?” Jade had echoed with wide eyes, unknowingly speeding up the burning of your shortened fuse with his lack of knowledge. “Yes, I’m aware we are to attend class but I fail to see–”

“Very funny,” you had deadpanned, pushing past him with a cold shoulder and leaving the moray to his own confusion. “Now if you excuse me, I have better things to do than stand here and humour your feigned ignorance today.”

Yes it wasn’t your proudest moment, you’d admit that. And when Jade approached you later that day with a genuine apology, explaining how he had researched the topic and was deeply ashamed of his uninformed remarks, you felt like the worst person on the planet and apologised more than he had. So in the end, you came to an apology truce, where you noted he shouldn’t have prodded further when you didn’t want to talk about it and you shouldn’t have exploded on him like you did.

Since the incident, however, Jade had been a dream to have around. Not to fall short again, he had done a fair amount of research, both on the biological aspect of what was happening to your body but also on the lived experience and its numerous complications. Then, doing what he did best, he observed your reactions, moods and symptoms to better cater to you specifically.

Every month he put both his cooking and alchemy skills to good use, whipping up whatever meal you desired and brewing a painkilling potion with just the right dosage for your current situation. Being Jade Leech, he could also assert his presence in any given situation with as little as a simple glare if you did not want to be bothered.

Your favourite part of the comfortable rhythm you two had fallen in, however, were the evenings where Grim was otherwise engaged and you had Ramshackle to yourselves. On those nights, soft music and fond laughter would mix with hushed whispers spilling from under your bathroom door.

A few months prior, Azul and Jade had sat down for a ‘pleasant chat’ with the Headmaster concerning the state of Ramshackle dorm and soon thereafter, funding had been provided to remodel vital parts of the dorm. No more caved-in roofs or stairs giving away under people’s shoes. Together with the money from the VDC, the old house had finally started feeling like an actual home; one you felt welcome and comfortable in.

It also meant you finally trusted your new bathtub enough to sit in it and actually also relax without any anxieties of whatever you could possibly contract from the exposure.

With his natural fondness of water, it hadn’t taken long for Jade to propose the idea of shared baths and you hadn’t regretted your decision to agree since. It wasn’t like he gave you any reason to either; it was the opposite, really. It didn’t take the moray long at all to figure out the perfect temperature or what fragrance you preferred, if any.

He also never made you feel inadequate or like you had to be ashamed of yourself, even when your body went through change throughout your cycle. Your skin tingled from his featherlight touches where his fingers traced your curves, never hiding the fact that he appreciated what he saw but always pairing it with a reverence that made you feel loved and desired, rather than ogled at. So when you sank into the water after him, cosying into his space to lean back against his chest, it was like sinking into a warm, secure embrace.

The water helped soothe your aches and washed away the tension which had built over the day and the easily flowing conversation with Jade let you focus on anything other than the thoughts in your mind, listening to his rich voice rather than the doubts trying to crawl to the surface.

When his hands massaged the shampoo into your hair, you always teetered on the edge of falling asleep right then and there. The atmosphere paired with his skilled fingers applying just the right amount of pressure as his nails gently scraped over your scalp banished any headaches you could have had and had you practically melting against him, a sight that tugged on his heartstrings more than it should have. But to see you put so much trust in him, someone who wasn’t exactly known for his benevolence, it stirred something fond in his heart and it made him want to work harder so you would keep showing him this blissful expression.

After scrubbing your bodies down, paying special attention to any sore spots, he helped you out of the tub, never failing to comment on how wrinkly your hands had gotten in comparison to his, which didn’t seem to be affected by the water exposure at all. Wrapping you up in a fluffy black towel he claimed was from Octavinelle -though you were fairly certain you’d only ever seen pale lilac ones there- he padded you dry and helped you into your clothes, mindful of the routines and products you had shown him previously.

Needless to say, you felt like a new person each time without fail as you lay snuggled up with your boyfriend in bed later on, listening to his breathing and the steady beating of his heart.

“Thank you so much for always doing this much for me, Jade,” you said, earnest gratitude and unspoken adoration lining your voice. “I’m really lucky to be with you, huh?”

“On the contrary, I am the one luck seems to favour seeing how you chose to be with me,” he chuckled and you didn’t miss how his strong arms pulled you closer against him even if it wasn’t physically possible. He’d be damned if he didn’t try. “And you needn’t feel conflicted about receiving my affection. Just know I enjoy doing these things for you and with you, pearl.”

“I stand by my earlier statement,” you smiled, making him laugh along with you. Looking into his heterochromic eyes, you traced the contours of his face with the same delicacy he showed you earlier. “Is it selfish to say that I feel happy about having this side of you all to myself?”

“Not at all. It is reserved for you only, dearest.” His gaze was heavy on yours as he loosely curled his fingers around your wrist and pressed a searing kiss against your palm. “After all, I do not intend to share this side of you with anyone else either.”

𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋 𝐕𝐈𝐏𝐄𝐑

There have certainly been times where Jamil lamented having to basically babysit his dorm leader. Well, pretty much all the time. But being unable to stay by your side while you were hurting was generally one of the most annoying parts of his duties to him, especially with the daily workload of being a student on top of it all.

Jamil being Jamil, however, he soon worked out a schedule consistent enough to let him visit you somewhat frequently.

You were lying on one of Ramshackle’s rickety couches, nursing your lower stomach with a -at this point already lukewarm- water bottle, when a familiar knocking pattern brought a smile to your face.

“Come in! It’s open,” you shouted across the hall, adding your sarcastic comment under your breath in order not to worry your boyfriend more than he already was. “Not like the lock’s ever doing its job in this place.”

“Hm? Did you say something?” Jamil made his way straight over to where you were sitting, his footsteps quieting down as he reached the carpeted floor.

“No,” you shook your head, smiling up at him as he leant over the back of the couch. Ignoring his raised eyebrow, you reached up, so you could cradle his cheek as you sat up to meet him for a sweet kiss. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” Seemingly appeased, your boyfriend mirrored your fond expression, tracing your face with his grey gaze while his hands moved to your shoulders, deft fingers working out any tension you might be having. “How are you feeling?”

“A lot better now that you’re here,” you laughed, though it wasn’t merely a sappy joke, as indicated by Jamil’s scoff behind you. “I mean it though. I’ve been feeling a lot better since I’ve been receiving your royal treatment.”

“It’s nothing that fancy,” Jamil assured, his eyes softening at the way you melted into his touch. “I’m just trying to take care of you.”

“I know you don’t think much of it but I really appreciate you taking time out of your busy schedule to look after me when I’m not even facing anything out of the ordinary,” you sighed, rehashing points you had raised in vain before.

“Oh hush,” your boyfriend playfully shushed you the way he had also done many times already when the topic came up. “Compared to what I usually deal with, this is like taking a vacation, especially since I get to spend time with you. Now speaking of my normal chores, I brought some leftover food.”

“Have I told you that I love you?” You swooned, causing both of you to laugh as Jamil headed over to your kitchen, one he was already familiar with. Not only because he often came over for some much needed peace and quiet but because Kalim was literally the reason you had it in the first place. A relationship-warming-gift of sorts for a relationship that wasn’t even his.

Besides, ever since courting and dating you, Jamil’s measuring skills when it came to meal prep seemed to have worsened because -coincidentally- he’d ended up with too much food and subsequent leftovers so often, you wondered why you even stocked your own fridge anymore.

What you had also noticed though was that, whenever you were on your period -something he seemed to track himself-, the food he brought over was a lot less spicy than usual and rather light. Something someone prone to a sensitive stomach, nausea, reduced appetite or a disturbed metabolism could still comfortably eat.

The phenomenon of suddenly appearing sticky notes had also made itself known, labelling new containers in your fridge, medication on the counter or your coffee machine with reminders like ‘Remember caffeine makes your cramps worse’ written on it in neat handwriting.

One or the other bar of dark chocolate and some of your favourite snacks had mysteriously found their way into your bags or onto a bowl in your kitchen as well though, making you smile at Jamil’s thoughtfulness when you caught a peek of them.

During the day, whenever his schedule allowed it, he’d also drop by to check in on you between classes or during lunch, something Kalim wholeheartedly supported. Normally, Jamil refused all of Kalim’s offers to take a break from his duty but when you were feeling under the weather, he took the white-haired student up on it when no imminent disaster was on the horizon waiting to happen.

When your plate was empty and made its trip to the sink, Jamil refilled your hot water bottle but unlike you earlier, he waved his magic pen over it, which you had realised significantly expanded the time in which the water actually stayed hot.

“Thank you,” you said for possibly the millionth time as you took the bottle from him, then gave him a mischievous grin. “You know what would make me feel soo much better though?”

At the tilt of his head, you scooted over to make space between you and the back of the couch. Getting the hint, Jamil settled in behind you and you got comfy again with your back to his chest. This too had become somewhat of a ritual of yours, one that wasn’t limited to while you were suffering from cramps.

After all the chore-y part of the late afternoon was taken care of, you liked to spend the evening snuggled up on your couch with the TV playing some show you liked to watch together, read: a show which you started and dragged Jamil into. Well, every now and then your boyfriend also made sure you didn’t fall behind on your studies, though he was more lenient when you were on your period.

“This is nice,” you mumbled, your eyelids heavy now that you had eaten and were surrounded by warmth and your loving boyfriend, whose hands stroked along your sides in a soothing, continuous motion, his chest vibrating underneath you with his affirming hum.

“I could stay like that forever,” he agreed.

“Well I certainly wouldn’t mind.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t.” The smile in his voice was auditory even if you couldn’t see his gorgeous face. You could, however, feel his soft lips on the crown of your head and his breath fanning over it and you reached to intertwine one of your hands with his before a yawn you couldn’t suppress any longer filled the air. “You should get some rest, I’m sure you’re tired.”

“But I wanna stay with you longer,” you protested, sleep clouding your tone.

“Don’t worry, I will be here when you wake up,” Jamil promised. And with that you drifted off, the warmth from around you settling cosily around your heart. A heart that wasn’t really yours alone anymore.

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ilovemitsuya · 17 days ago

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sylus x reader (fluffy,angsty?)

summary: “During a mission, I sustained serious injuries and was hospitalized. Though Sylus couldn’t visit me, he sent Mephisto in his place. When I was discharged, I wasn’t expecting him to be outside.”

“I’m not going to lie to you two.” Jenna said, folding her arms across her chest as she leaned back against her desk. “This mission isn’t like the others we’ve done. That facility is more unstable than we initially thought. The few teams we’ve sent to investigate before found nothing at all.”

Crossing my arms as I studied Captain Jenna’s face.

“So why send just the two of us, then?” I asked.

“Why not a full squad if it’s that dangerous?”

“Because we don’t know exactly what we’re dealing with. A bigger team could draw too much attention.“

“And if we find something… unexpected?” Tara asked.

“You report back immediately.” Jenna said, her tone firm. “Don’t try to take on anything alone if it’s beyond your capabilities. This isn’t about being heroes.”

There was a beat of silence before Jenna pushed off her desk and took a step closer to me and Tara. “But you’re not going in blind. We’ll have a team on standby if things get too hot. You need to trust your instincts and watch each other’s backs.”

Glancing at Tara, she gave me a reassuring nod.

Tara and I turned to leave, but Jenna’s voice stopped us just before we reached the door. “And remember.” she called out, “If things start to go sideways, you get out. Do you hear me?”

“Loud and clear.” I replied, glancing over my shoulder at her.

With that, Tara and I exited the office, both of us knowing that we were walking into something dangerous. But we had our orders.

———————————————————————

The facility loomed over us, the metal creaking with the weight of its own decay. Tara and I moved cautiously through the halls, weapons at the ready, our footsteps echoing against the cracked concrete.

Dust hung in the air like a fog, making each breath feel heavy. We’d been searching for signs of Wanderers for hours, but aside from a few ominous claw marks on the walls, there was nothing.

Tara walked a few paces ahead, her sharp eyes sweeping the darkened corners as she scanned for any signs of movement.

“This place gives me the creeps.”

“The readings are coming from this sector.” I confirmed. “It’s like there’s a cluster of energy sources in the storage area up ahead. Something’s definitely drawing them here.”

Tara nodded and pushed forward, keeping a steady pace as we approached the large metal door that led to the storage room. She placed a hand on the door’s surface, glancing back at me. “On three?” she whispered.

I tightened my grip on my gun and gave her a quick nod. “On three.”

“One… two… three!”

Tara shoved the door open, and we moved inside in a swift, coordinated motion. The room was just as the rest of the facility, old crates and equipment lay scattered across the floor, and the walls were covered in peeling paint.

I took a step forward, my eyes sweeping the room for any signs of movement. But then, there was a flicker of motion in the shadows, too quick to pinpoint at first.

I turned to Tara, but she had already seen it. Her eyes narrowed, and she raised her weapon in the direction of the disturbance.

“Stay sharp.” she said, voice tense. “I think we’ve got company.”

I reacted on instinct, surging forward to intercept it with a gunshot.

It swiped at me with one of its jagged claws, forcing me to block the strike with my forearm. Pain shot through my body as its claws tore through my sleeve and left deep gashes across my skin.

Before we could even do anything, the wanderer let out a loud roar and smashed its claws against the support beams around us. A low rumble vibrated through the building, and the ground beneath us trembled. Dust rained down from the ceiling, and a series of cracks split the concrete walls, spreading out in every direction.

“Get out of here, now!” Tara shouted, sprinting for the exit.

I turned to follow her, but the ground heaved under my feet, and a section of the ceiling gave way with a deafening crash. I stumbled and fell, barely managing to roll out of the way as a massive metal beam slammed down where I’d been standing. The room shuddered violently, and the walls seemed to cave inward.

“Tara!” I called out, but my voice was drowned out by the roar of collapsing debris. I saw her struggling to keep her footing near the exit, but then another tremor hit, and a cascade of rubble came crashing down, forcing us apart.

I fought to keep moving, dodging falling beams and lunging over shifting pieces of debris. But it was no use. The floor buckled beneath me, and I felt myself falling through the collapsing structure.

The impact knocked the wind from my lungs, and pain exploded through my side as I hit the ground hard. I tried to move, but my legs were pinned beneath a heavy chunk of concrete, and the darkness quickly closed in around me.

The last thing I saw before everything faded was the shattered remnants of the facility above, crumbling like a house of cards. Then, there was nothing.

———————————————————————

The steady beep of a heart monitor was the first thing I became aware of as I drifted back to consciousness.

The world came back in hazy fragments, a faint antiseptic smell, the dull ache radiating through my entire body, the blinding white light overhead. I blinked slowly, the ceiling tiles came into focus. I was in a hospital room, covered in bandages, and every muscle felt like it had been dragged through hell.

A groan escaped my lips as I tried to shift into a more comfortable position. The movement must have caught someone’s attention because I heard a chair scrape back and then footsteps rushing closer.

“Hey, hey, take it easy.” It was Tara’s voice, low and familiar, filled with a relief I hadn’t heard from her often. She came into view, her face creased with worry. Her eyes softened when she saw I was awake, and she let out a breath that sounded like she’d been holding it for a long time. “You’re finally awake. How are you feeling?”

I managed to lift my head just enough to give her a weary look. “Like I got hit by a train.” I rasped, my voice rough from disuse. “What happened to me?”

“You were inside when the building collapsed.” she explained, pulling a chair closer and sitting down beside me. “By the time we got a rescue team in there, you were unconscious and pinned under the debris.” Tara’s voice wavered slightly, and she quickly looked away, as if embarrassed to show how much the whole thing had shaken her.

“You’ve been out for a while.” Her tone was a little lighter now, a hint of humor breaking through. “Can’t believe you’d scare me like that. Do you know how annoying it was waiting around here?”

A faint chuckle escaped me, though it quickly turned into a wince.

“I should let the doctors know you’re awake. They’ll want to check you over.”

I gave a slow nod, already feeling exhaustion pulling at me again, but I didn’t want her to worry. “Go ahead.” I murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

As the door clicked shut behind her, the room fell silent again, and I found myself staring at the ceiling, fighting the familiar feeling of emptiness that came whenever I was alone. I closed my eyes and let out a slow breath.

I wished Sylus were here. There was no way he could just walk into a hospital like any normal person.

I was about to close my eyes again when I heard a soft tapping on the window. My eyes snapped open, and my heart skipped a beat as I turned toward the sound. There, perched on the narrow ledge just outside the window, was a black crow. Mephisto.

I struggled to sit up, limping a little as I reached out to unlock the window. It slid open with a creak, and Mephisto hopped inside, a small bundle of wildflowers clutched in his beak. They were ragged and windblown, a little wilted from the journey, but I could tell they’d been picked carefully.

I took the flowers gently from Mephisto’s beak, my hands trembling slightly. There was a small note tied around the stems with a piece of dark string. I untied it and read the familiar handwriting: “Since I can’t be there. Take care of yourself. – S.”

Sylus couldn’t come to see me himself, but he’d sent Mephisto instead. His way of saying he was there, still watching over me.

“Thank you.” I whispered

Mephisto tilted its head and gave a soft caw, as if acknowledging my words. Then, it took off out the window again.

I sank back against the pillows, holding the flowers close. It wasn’t the same as having Sylus here in person, but it was enough to know he was thinking of me.

———————————————————————

As I lay in the hospital bed, I reached for my phone on the side table and unlocked the screen. My fingers trembled slightly as I typed out a message to Sylus.

I hit send and waited, my heart beating a little faster than it should. The minutes dragged on, and I started to wonder if he'd even seen my message. But then, my device buzzed with his reply.

Typical Sylus.

The response came almost instantly, as though he'd been expecting my question.

I glanced back at the window, half expecting to see the crow still there. It made sense. Mephisto had always kept an eye on me, by Sylus’s command.

I stared at the screen, my chest tightening as I read his words.

There was a long pause before his next message arrived.

It was the closest thing to comfort I would get from him, even if he couldn't be here with me.

———————————————————————

The final paperwork was a blur, the nurse’s instructions fading in and out as I focused on keeping steady. I was bandaged up and aching from head to toe, but at least I was getting out of the hospital. They’d wanted to keep me a few days longer, but I’d insisted on leaving.

As soon as they handed me my things, I slipped into my jacket and headed outside.

When I pushed through the front doors, a figure was leaning casually against the side of the building, half hidden in the shadow cast by the streetlamp. Sylus. He looked up when he saw me.

“Sylus…” I said, managing a small smile as I walked over, but his expression was tense as he straightened up, his eyes quickly scanning over my injuries.

“You’re stubborn for a hunter.” he muttered, his tone flat, though I could tell by the way his eyes lingered on my face and my bandaged arm that he was probably worried.

“The hell are you doing out here so soon? You could barely stand a few hours ago.”

“They were going to keep me trapped in there another week,” I said, trying to sound lighter than I felt. “I couldn’t just stay there doing nothing.”

He gave me a sharp look, he slipped his arm around my shoulders, guiding me firmly to his car parked a few feet away.

“You’re barely out, and here you are, thinking you’re ready to run around already.”

I tilted my head, raising an eyebrow.

"Since when do you drive anything other than that death trap of yours?"

"Since I figured you might not be up for riding around on a motorcycle after getting half crushed under a building."

He helped me into the passenger seat, taking extra care to ensure I was settled in before closing the door. He didn’t say anything as he walked around and got in himself, but the silence felt heavy, like he was holding back from saying a thousand things.

We drove through the streets in silence until we reached the edge of the city. I realized where we were going the moment we turned onto a narrow road.

“Your place?” I asked, glancing over at him.

He kept his gaze on the road. “You’re not going home alone in that condition. Not happening.”

I knew better than to argue, so I just nodded.

When we finally arrived, he was already at my side, opening the car door before I could even move. I tried to slide out on my own, but he offered his hand, steady and warm, and before I could argue, he was lifting me out of the seat.

I groaned, shaking my head. “Sylus, I can walk. You don’t need to—”

“Too late, sweetie.” he smirked, his arms sliding under my legs as he pulled me up, holding me effortlessly in a bridal carry. “Just sit back and let me do this.”

I sighed, trying to hide the warmth creeping up my face. “I’m tough, you know.”

“I know you are.” He glanced down, a glint of amusement in his eyes as he carried me toward the door. “But you’re hurt, and besides,” he added, leaning closer, his voice softening, “sometimes, you need someone to take care of you.”

Inside, he led me to his room and gestured for me to sit on the bed. “Wait here. And don’t try moving around.”

I managed a small, sarcastic smile. “What, you think I’m going to run off?”

His gaze darkened. “You have a habit of being reckless.”

Before I could respond, he was already disappearing into the other room, returning moments later with a small first aid kit and a glass of water. He knelt beside me, unwrapping some of the bandages on my arm with practiced precision.

“I already saw the doctors for this.” I said, watching him closely. He ignored me, dabbing disinfectant on a fresh cut and glancing up with a glint of warning in his eyes.

“Clearly, they didn’t do a good enough job if you’re in this condition.” he replied, his tone clipped.

I sighed, not bothering to respond. Instead, I watched his hands move, careful but efficient, his expression focused as he replaced the bandages. He was so quiet, so steady, so… unlike his usual self. His eyes kept flicking up to meet mine, only for a second, before going back to my injuries.

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” I murmured, not sure if I was talking to him or to myself.

He paused, his hands stilling for a moment, before he looked up, his expression unreadable. “And if I don’t, who will?”

I watched him as he worked, watching how he gently wrapped fresh gauze around my arm, tightening it carefully.

His fingers lingered over the bandage, as if making sure it wasn't too tight.

"Is this too tight?" he murmured, his gaze flicking up to meet mine.

"No... it's fine." I whispered, feeling my heart hammering in my chest. My words were barely a breath, and I wasn't sure if he heard me, but he continued anyway, his focus unbreakable.

"You can tell me if it hurts." he said softly, his gaze locking onto mine.

"It doesn't hurt." I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. But the truth was, all I can think about is how his fingers felt against my skin.

“You could have been killed.” he suddenly said, the faintest tremor in his voice. “And you didn’t think to tell me, or anyone, what you were dealing with out there?”

I looked down, feeling that familiar pang of guilt again.

“Tell me next time before you go off on one of these suicide missions.” he snapped, his jaw tight. “Or better yet, stay out of places where buildings collapse on you.”

“I don’t get to pick and choose which missions are dangerous.” I replied.

“And I’m supposed to sit back and just watch you throw yourself into the line of fire?” His voice was low, but I could hear the worry simmering beneath it.

He was silent for a moment, his expression hardening as he reached over to brush a strand of hair from my face.

“And next time, you’re telling me about this kind of mission. I don’t care if you think it’s nothing.”

My expression softened as I looked up at him

“I’m okay now.” I whispered.

He stared at me for a moment before he gave a reluctant nod.

“Try to rest here. I’ll get you some fresh clothes.” he said, guiding her down gently. “I’m guessing you don’t want to stay in those all night.”

I took the bundle of soft, comfortable clothes he offered.

“Thank you, Sylus.”

His lips quirked into a gentle smile, running his fingers lightly through my hair, guiding me to lie back against the bed.

“Enough fighting it, sweetie.” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “You need to rest.”

I started to protest, but he pressed a finger gently to my lips, shaking his head. “No arguments,” he said softly. “Just close your eyes.”

He pulled a blanket over me, his hands lingering as he tucked it around my shoulders, and as my breathing slowed, I felt his fingers brush my cheek, tracing gentle patterns along my skin. The last thing I saw was him watching me, his expression filled with something I couldn’t quite place, a mix of worry, relief, and maybe… something else, something deeper.

“Sleep.” he whispered, his voice a barely audible murmur. “I’m not going anywhere.”

———————————————————————

The soft rise and fall of her breathing filled the room. Sylus sat beside her, one leg folded over the other, his arms crossed as he watched her sleep. In the dim light, she looked peaceful, a stark contrast to the worry that had been etched into her face earlier. He’d seen her like this before years ago.

He could still remember that night, when she’d slipped through his fingers.

He reached out almost instinctively, brushing his fingers against her cheek. She didn’t stir, but his touch softened, lingering there, feeling the warmth of her skin against his fingertips.

Unable to bear it, he slipped his arms around her, drawing her close, careful not to wake her. She was warm, her head resting against his chest, her body relaxed in his embrace. He pressed his cheek against her hair, letting himself take in her scent, the steady beat of her heart.

“You don’t get to do this to me again.” he whispered, his voice rough, barely audible even to himself. “Not this time. I won’t lose you. Not again.”

if you made it this far thank you sm for reading! I appreciate you feel free to request ♡

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