#Normalizing fringe kinks and sexuality

[bisexual-horror-fan]

I'm sorry if this is overstepping a boundary but I want to get someone who's more experienced with kink opinion on this. I'm 19 and AFAB (trans man if it matters) and I've seen people talking about how kinks aren't something 'innate' and that it comes from consuming too much porn. I've seen people talking about how AFAB people are having kinks forced on them by men and in general shaming kink any and all kinks.

I've known to an extent I've been into more kinky things since I was young and now I feel like I'm a bad person for being into kink. I'm still a virgin and I've never had sexual encounters with other people but after seeing so much of people talking about how kink isn't 'innate' and it's just pornsick men forcing it onto AFAB people I feel really bad for wanting to try kink when I'm ready. I have consumed some porn before and now I feel like the only reason I'm into this is because I viewed those things.

I feel really bad for being into kink because of what these people have been saying about it. I'm not sure if this even makes any sense or if you'll understand where I'm coming from but I just want advice on if kink is something 'innate' or if it's just something 'pornsick' people enjoy. Sorry this is so long but thank you for reading this anyway.

-🪻

You aren't overstepping at all. This is very much what I deal with, super in my wheelhouse.

So, the people who are having kink forced upon then by others? Terrible. Awful. I hate that happens to anyone. It shouldn't happen to anyone.

But I hate the idea of kink shaming. Kinks are not for everyone, I understand that. But if you practice them safely, sanely, consenually with your partners then that shouldn't be anyone else's concern.

I don't think kinks come solely from being "pornsick" (wow I hate that term) could it fit some? Sure. But human sexuality is vast and complex, many kinks existed and we have evidence of such before porn on tape was ever a thing.

Humans love to fuck, humans love pleasure, humans will seek ways to improve their sexual experience and have since forever, pretending that isn't the case seems sex negative, ignorant, ignoress history and reads as foolish to me.

Discuss with your partners when you get them, engage with kink how you like, have fun and be unapologetic about it too! Don't let some lame ass kinkshamer rain on your parade when you've done nothing wrong. You aren't wrong, dirty or broken Anon.

[threadsun]

🎃 Anon Asks: "UGH! And this is why I love you! I can’t even imagine the stress you and countless others involved with sex work have to go through daily because of how people are. Between this game and a couple of others (DoL is one that can be mentally f someone up but at the same time be hot) and how those people are, it can be scary how quickly people turn aggressive or vicious, but knowing that it’s basically the fringe of sex work makes it completely unimaginable at how distressing and taxing sex work can be. It’s giving “Show and Tell” by Melanie Martinez vibes. It really can be easy though to just step away from things if they don’t mesh and I don’t understand why people don’t do it if it’s not harmful to others or themselves. Maybe it’s because they created the soft fluffy boyfriend image in their head and don’t want to let it go which I can totally understand, but like how the one anon on here said, Jack is a manipulator and extremely dangerous. As someone who deals with REAL ghosts, I know how dangerous they can be since they are still people after all. If they were bad alive, then they’re still bad when dead (unless they actually put in the work to change, but lies are still a thing.) So with Jack not only having normal ghosty qualities but some other powers that are very questionable to him being a ghost and maybe something more, putting a halo on his head might not be the best move here. Sure, we can put on our rose glasses here for fun, but for those who take it more seriously and don’t truly see any issues with his grooming behaviors, I’d be more concerned for the individual based off my own personal experiences of when I acted that way as a teen. I put myself in dangerous situations because of mindsets like that and I’m afraid of others acting the same way with REAL people. Ironically, it’s because I repressed my sexuality and kinks for the longest that it came out in some damaging ways, just as you’ve mentioned. So that’s why I’m thankful that your blog exists because it delves into sex and kink positivity, sex education, and healthy views of a variety of kinks. (Like the fuck-or-die kink with Joesph. I didn’t know the want of urgency in sex had an official kink name, but did it open new doors for me? Hell yeah it did! Lol) Even the normal headcannons you do for characters portray healthy versions of even the most filthiest of kinks and what a person should look for when establishing a healthy relationship with their kinks. Compared to how many sites portray unrealistic views of sex (*coughmainstreampornCOUGH*), it’s nice to have someone who is more reliable source to discuss about sex and kinks. Now if Jack wasn’t such a manipulative, dangerous guy and had a more healthy relationship with himself and others, I’d totally go for IRL. Oh, and of course it’d be nice if he was alive too lol. But as of now, I’m just going to continue indulging in such a toxic relationship through the game and fics. In any case, I’m glad you liked my rambling on what I think certain aspects would be played out with Jack sexually! I always love reading your headcanons and the responses you give to other people’s takes so seeing how you saw mine was pretty awesome! Lol but I can DEFINITELY see Jack acting like that being a sadist. It’s like he wants his sunshine to feel just as desperate and needy for him as he does for you. Almost like it’s subconscious payback for how PAINFUL it was to wait for his sunshine to FINALLY give into him sexually, how frustrated and uncomfortable he was hearing his sunshine shower without him in there, seeing their lips wrap around the fork of the pancakes he worked so hard on for them instead of around his throbbing cock. His sunshine should be moaning in delight from how his cum tastes inside their mouth, not from the blueberries bursting on their tongue. It’s almost like there’s a part of him crying out for a reward like how he’s always cried out for love and affection not only from us internally, but from his time as Joesph too.

Jack is loved by all, so why isn’t his sunshine giving into his loving efforts? Sure, he’s more than willing to make sure they’re healthy and happy expecting nothing in return, but doesn’t his sunshine just how CRAZY it drives him to know your beautiful body is right there for him to touch and hold, but can’t? How much it physically ACHES not only his body, but his heart as well? So all in all, seeing them physically uncomfortable with a desperate need for them is just a taste what he’s gone through, but he’s not cruel so he’ll only give a sliver of his burden. No, he’s a clean man now and giving them more would be something Joesph would do, but not him. But again, he wouldn’t actively think like this the entire time since he doesn’t focus on his needs and ambitions during sex, he only focuses on his sunshine first, he can come afterwards. (That can be a pun I think lol). I’m sorry with how long these are! I usually don’t type this much but I think my brain is thankful I’m finally setting them loose instead of holding back like I usually do. I promise that they’ll be a lot shorter in the future! Anyway, DRINK WATER!"

Yeah, content creation in general is rough, but as soon as you get into sex territory it becomes even worse. So like my heart goes out to 18+ content creators having to deal with entitled fans. I've had my fair share of them, and they're really tough to handle mentally. It wears you down and makes you feel like your content isn't good enough, like your art isn't worth making. Don't get me wrong, I love doing sex work and I wouldn't give it up for anything, but it's not easy. And people will treat you terribly because they don't see you as a real person.

I'm glad that my blog can be a little safe haven for people to indulge their kinks and not worry about judgement! I just want people to be safe and happy and engage in their sexual desires in a healthy way!

Also yeah, like I know I tend to lean more into the sweet himbo Joseph idea because of how he came across in the interview, but like I'm 100% aware that probably won't be what he's like in canon. And I won't be upset if/when he's not how I imagine him. But people can't seem to do that with Jack, which is ridiculous since we know more about him in canon than Joseph anyway.

But yes!!! Exactly, that's how I imagine his sadism!!! He almost uses it as a test of his Sunshine's devotion. As a way to see how dedicated they are to him, how much pain they're willing to endure for him. Because he's endured so much pain for them and he wants to see it reciprocated! That's also why he's into edging most likely, he's been essentially getting edged for so long that he needs to edge his Sunshine until they're begging for it, until they're half mad with desire. Until they understand what he's been through for them.

[psychotrenny]

Like to be serious here for a moment, I don't think any sort of individualist psychoanalysis is good or useful. I was making a point about how stupid and arbitrary it all is. That's not to say one's sexual proclivities are above any sort of question or criticism, or that they're some innate aspect unaffected by greater social context, but if you're going to analyse this stuff it has to be on a useful basis. Like it's one thing to talk about how sexuality is affected by various social structures and economic forces, but it's pretty stupid to try and find neat personal explanations for every deviation from sexual normalcy.

And that's the main problem; this sort of critique is mainly reserved for deviations from normality. While some people have apparently encountered my hypothetical "no-kink explanations" being forwarded unironically, that sort of behaviour is fringe obnoxiousness at worst. Ignorant and bad-faith questioning of why people have this or that kink is much more pervasive and impactful because it has the structural weight of hegemonic values behind it.

So much of the whole "do you really have x kink or are you just compensating for y personal misfortune" is predicated on the idea that if you have sexual interests outside what's considered "normal" then there must be something wrong with you as a person. These statements are rarely motivated by a genuine interest in the nuances of human sexuality, especially when the person making it doesn't even share the kink in question and just wants to make a mean-spirited joke. This sort of rhetoric mainly just asserts that non-normative sexuality is not something worth taking seriously and treating with any respect. Because if there are genuine and worthwhile forms of sexuality outside the norm, that threatens the very basis of there even being "normal sexuality" and on both a personal level and a structural one* many people aren't willing to even entertain such an idea

So yes, I do think both "normal" sex and "kinky" sex should be examined and questioned in similar ways. If you don't want your own sexuality being criticised in an invasive and disrespectful way, then extend that courtesy to other people. No matter how "weird" you think they are, there's a good chance they think the same of you

*so much of what we consider "normal sexuality" is heavily tied to the broader structures of "normal society" i.e. Patriarchy, Capitalism etc.

Enough psychoanalysing why people have kinks. We need to psycholanalyse why they don't. Like you don't enjoy getting tied up? Clearly your tumultuous upbringing has given you a patholgical need to be in control at all times. Don't like fauxcest? That's because your petite-bourgeois class background means you view the nuclear family as a pure and sacred institution, automatically reviling anything that undermines or subverts this. Not into piss? That's easy; you're scared of the piss gnomes

[wwpia]

NAME: Blake Alba

AGE: 45ish?

GENDER: Cis Female

RACE: Nagi, dark magic user

HEIGHT: 6’0” ish from head to approximate ‘feet’ height - she can actually transform herself to appear more human, legs and all. But it’s extremely painful/difficult. She also is pretty prideful about being a HPO. Obviously her tail portion is kind of massive/long.

COUNTRY OF ORIGIN: ((tba thinking about it))

ACCENT: ((also tba))

OCCUPATION: Mafia boss. Make no mistake, she has an extremely tight control of her own business and cartel. She’s one of those ‘extremely polite and reasonable’ type bosses until you cross her, in which case her attitude turns in an instant. She doesn’t really tend to lose her temper (although when she does, it’s fairly spectacularly terrifying), but she will kind of calmly go ‘Oh, so you choose death then?’.

She has successfully inserted an organised business model approach to the Nagi mafia - instead of the unending feudal chaos, it’s now a tightly knit co-operative model with stringent set of ethos and ways of doing things. (Actually, she is very similar in character to Gus Fring from Breaking Bad).

The government and WWPIA have a begrudging respect for her as a necessary evil to keep a lot of underground HPO (and human!) activities regulated.

She keeps said business very separate from Liza’s, although Liza didn’t need much encouragement to be ensconced in her own line of work.

FAVOURITE FOOD: Sushi.

FAVOURITE MUSIC: She doesn’t really like music - too much vibrations.

FAVOURITE MEMORY: I’d imagine she has fond memories of raising Liza and enjoyable a more innocent/familial side of life.

BIGGEST SECRET: The exactly nature of her and Liza’s bloodline, they are most definitely related but to what extent is ensure. Her family and humans most definitely co-existed but it’s all very hush hush.

When Liza very young, someone dared to question why on earth Blake would sort of ‘contaminate’ herself with a human - that person didn’t live very long. Any other instance of similar disrespect against Blake/Liza have been similarly dealt with. She does not play around, at all.

BIGGEST FEAR: Oof, something happening to Liza? (Ouch) Liza is pretty much Blake’s… I wouldn’t say moral compass (Liza’s morals aren’t exactly 100% good either, lol), but I suppose tentative hope for the world?

SCARS/TATTOOS/OTHER PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTES: She has her family Nagi insignia tattoo -which is extremely similar to the Cadeus symbol of medicine, however it’s a winged sword piercing two snake heads at once.

STRENGTHS: She’s actually a pretty ‘fair’ person when it comes down to it. She is cool under pressure to the extreme, I think you could be dangling her over an active volcano and she’d be carrying on a normal conversation.

She’s is extremely talented at reading other people’s intentions (Helps she’s a snake based HPO - she literally can sense heart rate, taste heat/CO2 output/sweat production. All those snake sense, she’s a natural lie detector.)

WEAKNESSES: She’s a HUGE stickler for keeping one’s word - herself included. Meaning if she ‘owes’ a favour, she’s pretty much going to follow up on it - hell or high water. Or possibly even death.

She’s also very caring/protective of those she trusts - of which there are only a few people.

FAMILY RELATIONSHIP: Liza Meng’s older sister figure (possibly aunt? Their exact relationship is a little mysterious) and the person who pretty much brought Liza up. It’s extremely heavily implied that Liza’s parents were very violently murdered - possibly by Blake herself.

As dramatic as this sounds, due to the mafia nature of Blake/Liza’s families - it’s probable she did this to protect Liza or prevent some feud or… it was simply cross fire.

Either way, Blake is very much the protective older sister who has systematically tried to ensure Liza is kept out of the mafia aspect of the family whilst fostering Liza’s own interests.

SEXUALITY: Aromantic

KINKS(ooh la la!): Probably being in control/high predator/fear response.

[cryptosexologist]

this is no place of honor. nothing good is buried here. like, look at those tags, jesus fucking christ icansayithewasalsojewish there they are, i'm at fucking PEAK 2:11 in the morning brain and i got hooked on the discourse rod like two hours ago at this point? i've been rewriting the same sentence over and over again trying to come up with a way to insult most of the people on this site while excluding all the people i'd feel legit fucking terrible making feel bad (which. includes forseeably anybody reading this unless the grace of god does- AAAAAAAUGHGHGHGGG JUST PUBLISH THE FUCKING THING

yooo this post literally begins "as a trans woman" and is about "discourse", uncool fetish shit, and like. idfk if theres even word for that other thing. People That Are Not Trans Women Keep Your Mouths Shut On This. Maybe Nobody Should Reply At All Actually? i've reached paranoid moralizing stink-beast levels that i don't even really know what to logically do with like i SHOULD post something and this is like my fifth time trying but also it feels deeply unwholesome to either reject or welcome outside input.

being a a trans woman, (which is. fucking relevant because YES THIS SHIT GETS TUMLBRFIED ALONG DEMOGRAPHIC LINESSSSS I'M REWRITING A FOLLOW UP THAT MORE DIRECLTY MADE CLEAR IT WAS ABOUT TRANSMISOGYNISTIC REACTIONS TO THINGS-RANGING-FROM-COMPLETELY-INNOCUOUS-TO-FRINGE-CASE-PERVERT-SHIT-I.-JFC-I-CANT-EXPLAIN-IT-MORE-AGAIN-I'LL-COLLAPSE) one who is NOT immune to internet horny in all its forms ranging from innocuous to.... Less [private information/"backstory" expunged tldr the internet can fuck you up especially if you grow to view it as a place of refuge] and is ALSO extremely adamant that Hey I Think That People Should Face Repercussions For Publicly Saucing Up On "Gross" (don't. make me spell out the exact points at which i think the enjoyment of a particular subject can be morally justifiable we'd be here all week and we'd kill ourselves before the talk was done) Shit but ALSO also the moral phucking filosopher in me can't shake off the feeling that Even Kink Shaming For Legit "Dangerous" Shit (in. interpersonal and cultural normalization ways not "shoot your boyfriend in the pancreas" ways) Still Fucking Counts As Sexual Harassment*** and. ghahghhhh.

at least if i didn't have a moral backbone i could hang out with those smug pretentious fictional bullshit loving DOUCHEBAGS but no i guess i'd chose "foolhardy and can-have-their-sense-of-Innate-Morality-swayed-into-fascistic-tendencies yet barring those incidencees are still fundamentally deep down good" to "i have pleasured myself with uranium-27 every evening for the past three years and its everyone elses problem, radiation is a puritanical myth" (or for that matter "foolhardy and easily swayed into fascistic tendencies and pretending to be good but its mostly people getting mad at trans women for calling themselves dogs or being furries". i do not intend to equivocate The Bad Thing Thats Transmisogynist with my own fucking sad little adoptive poop house filled with people failing to actually make any progress in extricating 'that stuugh' from the contexts where its fucking dangerous but like hey we're trying and i guess thats better than worshipping the the fucking stuff)

*** just bc i call it that doesn't mean arguments can't be made as to why its necessary or for the public good bla bla bla i'm not strictly arguing against it its just. even entertaining that it might be a lesser of two evils opens up so many fucking unsanswerable questions and my feelings-of-personal-shame-and-guilt engines just start kicking in bc this shit can't even be framed as "rationally" or "concisely" as a fucking trolley problem i'm moral relativisming my way into absolutism somehow i pray for hell to be real so that the duty of judgement can be left to hands other than my own for I Too am imperfect (albeit not in a way that gets off to children, LOL, get fucked i do still have the moral highground, like not over YOU necessarily but over those *other* dipshits that neither of *us* like)

[olderthannetfic]

I get annoyed with people who were/are on the fringes of pro/antiship bullshit and come away with "proshippers are the problem! I never even seen someone with anti in their blog header!"

Like. What the fuck do you think the proshipper is there in the first place??? And I know people who say this are most likely ones who've come across a proshipper that's candid about their bad wrong kink. Or if it's the newer landscape, a Twitter discourse addled reactionary, that I doubt even knows what Tumblr is, punching shadows somehow with the wrong technique whilst having a bad wrong kink. Sidenote: Astounding to me how widespread the discourse is but still a untraversable niche degraded by time.

It's so bizarre because you would think the common topics the keep popping in the fandom arguments which are usually accusations of child predation or wanting to endanger a child or condoning sexual abuse of all kinds would automatically make a person go "Don't do that". But nope. The person with bad wrong kink talking on their blog about bad wrong kink is just as much wrong because... ? Make you Uncomfortable? Okay, but you saw the accusations that don't make sense right?

If I'm being ultra forgiving and think that these people on the fringes just want to keep the YA style criticism of "supporting abuse and toxic relationships and teens very very dumb How could you author" I still am annoyed. Because how can you see harassment to the level of cruel and unusual and not prioritize it? Especially if it's done by minors?? It's dangerous? Unhealthy?

Do they literally just see bad takes and an uppity proshipper who knows this is pointed bullshit ( and is usually right that it's pointed bullshit) and just think "Wow, that person was wrong but this one is being slightly rude about it,I bet they're into some weird stuff" and just never comment on bad take.

I'm so fucking annoyed.

--

It's because they aren't on the fringes: They're people who've been trained to see anti-kink assumptions about Bad Fiction Leads To Predators as normal. They believe the weak version and don't personally bully, so they don't think of themselves as antis.

[just-antithings]

the lack of sexual agency and dignity antis give teens is fucking absurd. Teens and kids experiencing attraction is normal. Sexual attraction and wanting to do something with it before you hit 18 is normal.

And even kids! like I'm sorry but I was way too interested in people getting tied up, forced on their knees, and subjected to violence as a kid for it not to have played a part in the development of my kinks. And I hang around FINR's dreamwidth sometimes and there's tons of other stories of people going "as a kid I was really into X for some reason I didn't quite get back then but now I know it was a kink thing" and I don't get what's wrong with acknowledging that (it's actually kinda reassuring). Sexuality develops at different rates and way for all of us, independent of what we consider "right" and we should just admit it so we can make the right decisions and laws that will keep people safe.

The only logic I can see is that acknowledging someone's sexuality is somehow the same as sexualizing and predating on them which... no it's not? Me acknowledging teens have sex or feel sexual attraction doesn't mean I think an adult can have sex with them because those are entirely different conversations around age of consent. If anything, refusing to acknowledge it is super fucking harmful for teens because then we force them to explore their sexuality on the fringes without resources or guidance. And with kids, my acknowledgement that hey sometimes sexual attraction or behaviour (or something non-sexual but adjacent) can start young doesn't mean I think they're ready for anything sexual. Like with teens, acknowledging it can be important to creating an environment where they're not shamed for doing behaviour we consider inappropriate without understanding why, but it's so far removed from the reasons CSA is actually bad. Even if some kid is having their sexual awakening a little early because they watched an episode of Totally Spies doesn't mean that they are in any way ready for sex, and to suggest or imply that it is is super victim-blamey.

I don't know, this weird way antis treat basic acknowledgment of sexual agency and development as the same as or enabling sexual abuse is so irresponsible because it doesn't just go away if you call it pedophilia enough. Sometimes teens have pants feels for other teens or adults. Sometimes even kids do. If we don't acknowledge that we aren't going to end up with anything but abstinence-only sex education and a bunch of people with an unhealthy relation to sex.

Maybe it's because antis base their morality on their personal reactions of disgust? So acknowledging teen sexuality somehow equals being attracted to teens in their mind and that triggers the "ew gross wrong" response?

👆👆👆👆

[snackhobi]

pairing: yoongi x reader // word count: 15.8k // genre: smut

summary: your idea of a good night certainly doesn't involve being stood up by yet another blind date and finding yourself alone in a fancy bar; fortunately for you, there's an attractive man playing the piano to keep you busy, instead.

warnings: sexually explicit content (NSFW), cursing, minor consumption of alcohol, oral (m and f receiving), protected sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, pet names, slight exhibitionism, slight praise kink, light dom/sub undertones if you squint ig (reader is kind of subby)

– –

Throughout the years of your life, you've learned a few things. Some of them are pretty obvious (buying suspiciously cheap sushi from a petrol station is like playing Russian Roulette with food poisoning and diarrhoea), some of them are less so (just because something is 'on sale' doesn't actually mean that it's cheaper if they'd increased the overall price beforehand), but one thing that you're only just starting to learn is that— for all that Jimin says otherwise— blind dates will always stand you up.

jiminnie is he there yet??

you to my entire lack of surprise, no. i'm starting to wonder if this 'hoseok-hyung' of yours even exists tbh i should have been suspicious from the second you called him a 'friend' bc that implies that you HAVE friends

jiminnie ok RUDE. we're friends??

you suddenly i can't read

The two of you had been outrageously drunk after a night out on the town, once, and Jungkook had come to collect his tipsy boyfriend, and you'd seen the fond way he'd watched Jimin despite his messy behaviour— how he'd given Jimin a piggyback even though it must have been hard with the way Jimin had been squirming and laughing and kicking his legs back and forth— and your heart had squeezed tight in your chest. (You'd been so drunk.)

It had honestly been a slip of the tongue when you'd revealed to Jimin that you were kind of maybe feeling somewhat lonely, a little bit, potentially. You'd had one night stands and short flings but it's been a long time since you've been in an actual relationship, a long time since you've really clicked with someone. Maybe part of you had been missing it, that connection with another person. Normally you're fine with being single, but Jungkook and Jimin are so in love that it spills out from them and you guess in the moment you'd wanted to feel that, too.

You blame the alcohol. You also blame your own loose lips. And Jimin, you blame him too, for persuading you to go clubbing in the first place. You don't even remember what you'd said, waking up with a headache the weight and size of a tectonic plate, groaning at the pain of the morning light stabbing into your eyes, but with no recollection of your admittance that maybe you were tired of being single. Your best friend, however— despite having drunk more than you— could recall the previous night with crystalline clarity, much to your horror and embarrassment. And, because Jimin is Jimin, he'd latched onto what you'd said with the tenacity of a dog with a bone.

Fast forward to where you're sitting now, on yet another arranged date that he's planned for you— and once again, you've been stood up.

you i'm starting to wonder if any of the people you've tried to set me up with are even real

jiminnie omg they ARE you had a nice time with lisa??

Okay, so you hadn't been stood up for every date. Lisa had been the only person who'd shown up, and she was cute and friendly and you got on like a house on fire, but you'd very quickly found out that she was actually head over heels for her best friend Jennie. You being you, your first date had rapidly turned into you giving your new friend a pep-talk and hyping her up— and suffice to say you've been having weekly girl's brunches with Lisa and her now-girlfriend Jennie ever since. So, yes, technically you haven't been stood up every time, but still.

you yes, my ideal first date involves telling the other person that their best friend is definitely in love with them too :))

jiminnie I'VE ALREADY SAID THAT I'M SORRY :(

you LMAO it's fine, it's always nice to make friends but seriously minnie, like,, if your friends are going to stand me up, could you at least have had the decency to organise the date somewhere less fancy? i spent ages getting ready and noah fence it kind of feels like i just wasted a bunch of my time,,

Jimin doesn't fuck around. From the outside the bar, Dionysus, exudes a quiet aura of exclusivity. Inside, however, it has a surprisingly understated atmosphere despite its namesake being the Grecian god of Getting Turnt, the sleek interior paired with soft lighting and stylish fixtures, elegant. 

Either way, it's the kind of place that warrants you actually pulling out the stops with your outfit and makeup; you rarely have a reason to doll yourself up like this and it makes a nice change of pace, but it seems like you shouldn't have bothered. What's the point in putting on a cute dress and nice heels, or doing your hair and opening your expensive Too Faced eyeshadow palette for the first time, if you're just going to be sitting alone at a bar all night? At least you don't stick out, which is good, you guess.

You are the only person who's alone, though. It's midweek and everyone else is seated around one of the tables, couples and groups that are engaged in quiet discussion or watching the show— there's a small stage where there's a quartet performing live music— but you're perched on one of the barstools, tapping away at your phone, alone. If anyone were to pay any attention it would be obvious that you've been stood up, but they're all too busy having an enjoyable evening to spare a glance at the girl sitting by herself at the bar.

The only person who's paying attention to you is the bartender. He's clearly good at his job, keeping an eye on you and making you feel welcome without seeming like he's hovering; he doesn't act like you're being an inconvenience, but you give him a hefty tip each time you order a new drink anyway. Hoseok might not be turning up tonight but if you've gone to the effort of dressing this nicely and getting a taxi here then goddamn you're going to make the most of it.

It takes forty two minutes and three virgin cocktails before the handsome bartender speaks to you, saying something beyond the customary back and forth you've had so far as he hands you your next mocktail. 

"Are your friends usually this late?"

You let out a little huff of laughter. "Something like that." Normally you'd be more hesitant to speak to a stranger like this, but the bartender's eyes are warm and his smile seems genuine and from what you can tell, he's just making that sure you're okay. "Seems like it'll just be me for tonight."

"You're welcome to stay and wait as long as you like," he says, and you can't help but quirk a grin at him.

"I bet you say that to all the paying customers."

He laughs and raises his hands in surrender. "You got me." And then: "If you want another drink, just give me a shout. I'm Seokjin, but everyone calls me Jin."

"As in, Jin and tonic?" You smile. "Sure. I'll be sure to remember that. I'm Y/n."

"Nice to meet you, Y/n." Jin gives you a grin before disappearing down the other side of the bar to make drinks for some other customers. Your own smile slowly fades, and then turns into a frown, eyes landing on the clock on the wall; Hoseok is forty five minutes late at this point. (You know he's not going to show.) It's been so long that the musicians on the stage have finished their set and are leaving, a different performer about to step on, and you sigh. You'll finish this last drink and then you'll go.

You use your straw to stir the mint leaves and ice cubes around, muddling the flavours in your glass. You haven't really been paying attention to the music before now; you couldn't name the songs that have been performed so far, but they're common enough that you'd recognised the sound of them, the sort of music that most people could hum along to but probably wouldn't know the origin of. Easy listening. Pleasant, but nothing new. It's clearly more about setting a nice backdrop to the bar rather than music for music's sake. A background noise, rather than acting as the focal point of the bar.

You assume this is going to be the case for the next musician, and so you barely pay any mind as the he takes to the stage alone; you're looking down at your glass as he sits at the piano and puts his feet on the pedals and places his hands on the keys, but then, he starts to play.

Your eyes snap up. A chord hangs in the air, extended, haunting; a crescendo into a light melody; the chords dip, waters dark and deep while he weaves the higher notes with infinite softness, ebbing notes that fade into each other, his fingers dancing across the keys with grace and ease. You notice with a throb in your chest that he has no sheet music. He's pulling this music from inside him, his mind, entirely from his own memory.

His eyes are cast down as he watches his hands, but you can see how they slip shut whenever he tilts his head back, fringe hanging over them. His hair is bleached blond but he clearly hasn't been maintaining the look, with dark roots starting to show through. His posture is horrible, his spine a little curved as he slouches forward, and he's not dressed as sharply as the other musicians had been— there's no tie around his neck and he has a multitude of earrings in, rings on his fingers, changing his outfit into something a little messy and different and entirely unique.

He's fucking breathtaking.

Without realising, you've swivelled away from the bar to watch him. Your drink is still clutched in your hand but you pay it no mind, condensation gathering on the cold glass and dripping down your fingers the longer you sit there, ice cubes melting as he finishes his first song and moves onto the next. Same as the first, you don't recognise it, the melody echoing deep in your chest, speaking of some feeling that you can't put a name to, each sliding arpeggio and chord reaching inside you and hanging there, little glowing droplets that shine out like moonlight.

Each of his pieces are entirely different and yet they all feel like him, somehow. Strong and soft and lovely and aching. The water from your glass has pitter-pattered onto your lap, darkening the fabric of your dress in some nameless constellation, but you don't notice. Your world has narrowed down to: the sound of his music, the motions of his hands, the way he bends into the notes, him. 

Your eyes trace his profile, the cat-like eyes, the round of his nose, the pout of his lips, falling into the way he lifts his chin and tilts his head; thoughtless, gorgeous.

You don't realise that it's over until it's over. The final notes hang in the air, crystallising, and then they fade. He finishes with little fanfare, tilting a polite nod at the audience that claps for him, and then he slips off the stage and is gone just as quickly as he had come. You blink, coming back to yourself; you feel like you're rising out of deep water, motions slow and heavy, and you don't know how long you've been sitting there, entirely entranced. You'd been too distracted to clap. You'd just sat and watched in silence as he'd turned to leave, barely sparing the room a glance.

"Good, isn't he?"

Normally you would have startled at Jin's sudden appearance. Instead you just blink again, still trying to shake off the daze you've found yourself in. "Yeah." Your voice is hoarse. You clear your throat and suck in a breath and put your drink down, dripping wetness that leaves a ring on the smooth wood of the bar, and try to speak normally this time, willing your voice to be level. "Yes. He's very good."

"Yoongi is here at the same time every week," Jin supplies, tone conversational, like he's just having a regular chat. Yoongi. His name is Yoongi. You wonder if Jin can hear how your heart is pounding, the galloping hooves of a wild horse that tumble in your chest. You try to keep your expression stoic as you look at him, scared that he'll be able to read what's written across your face— but he's smiling at you in the same way as before. Just a barkeeper who's trying to get a return customer. (Although, you'd swear there was a glint in his eye for the briefest moment, but then it's gone.) "He changes the set each time, if you're interested in coming back to hear something new."

Your mouth feels dry and you swallow, trying to wet your lips. Dionysus is too fancy of a place to ask customers for tips for the musicians, but— "Can I buy him a drink?"

Jin cocks his head at you. "A drink? For Yoongi?"

"Yes," you say. You feel a little shy when you spot his expression, biting your lip. "I just really enjoyed the music, and I'd like to tip him somehow? Is that a normal thing that people do?"

Jin pauses, and then smiles. This smile is a little wider than the ones he's given you before, different, but he seems pleased. "Who cares about what's normal? I'll get a drink to him. What would you like?"

"Um, whatever he prefers," you say. You figure that Jin would have a better idea about what that is than you, which is proven true by his almost instantaneous reply.

"He likes red wine, or whisky, neat. I think tonight is a whisky kind of night." He's already going through the motions of putting the drink together, and you slide him money as he begins to pour. You know nothing about Yoongi but you can't help but feel like the drink suits him— simple, classic, masculine. "Do you want me to pass on a message for you?"

"Um, you can just say that it's from someone who enjoyed the music, I guess?" You giggle a little, feeling awkward and off balance. Jin is looking at you like he's expecting you to say something else, but you just want to express your enjoyment of Yoongi's music and nothing more. You don't— you don't want to be weird, you just like the sound of his piano playing.

Jin disappears into the back with the glass of whisky, and you finish the watery remnants of your drink before you leave, ice cubes completely melted in the— wow— forty minutes that Yoongi had been playing. It hadn't felt that long at all.

It's not until you're stepping through your front door that you realise you haven't looked at your phone since before the beginning of Yoongi's set. Jimin's messages have been changing from apologetic to concerned to downright frantic.

jiminnie Y/N BLINK TWICE IF YOU NEED HELP

you how many times should i blink if i don't need help?

jiminnie omg you're ALIVE where were you?? i was starting to get worried

you sorry i got distracted! but i'm fine, i'm at home hoseok never showed

jiminnie yeah i know :(( he messaged me saying he had an emergency and couldn't make it tonight but he's free this weekend??

you … remember when i said that this was the last blind date i was going to go on?

jiminnie it doesn't count as a date if hyung never turned up!!!

you that isn't true and you know it omg minnie… i appreciate what you're trying to do but pls bb. let it rest

jiminnie i just want you to be happy :((

you i don't have to be in a relationship to be happy

jiminnie you said you were lonely!

you omg i was DRUNK let it GO besides being stood up by multiple blind dates isn't going to help me feel less lonely lmao i get that you're happy in your relationship with kookie and you want to spread that happiness but you don't have to!! i'm fine!! yeah i get lonely sometimes but what single person doesn't?? i'm happy being by myself hhhhh

jiminnie fine :(( but if you change your mind, hobi-hyung would still love to meet you!

As you kick off your heels, humming a bar of Yoongi's music to yourself, you think that Hoseok probably shouldn't bother holding his breath.

(That night, when you sleep, you dream of dark eyes and the press of a sinfully perfect cupid's bow against your own lips, a pair of large hands drawing noises from you like a glissando, rings cool against your heated skin.)

–

Wednesday nights become a ritual of sorts. You get dressed, do your hair, match your makeup to your outfit and shoes, coordinating your look into something that doesn't look out of place in Dionysus before you hop into a taxi and make your way to the bar.

You're a firm regular by now. Your seat has become just that, your seat, the same one you'd been sitting in the first time you'd been there; it's towards the dimmer lights at the back and so you're sitting further away from the stage than you might like, but at least you can see the whole room from here. You turn up twenty minutes before Yoongi's set and Jin always greets you warmly when he sees you: you've quickly come to enjoy your chats. Jin is always unashamedly himself and the two of you joke and laugh as he works, but he always knows to leave you alone as soon as Yoongi steps onto the stage. 

For the next forty minutes the rest of the world fades away as you drink Yoongi and his music in, listen to the lilting notes he coaxes out of the piano, watch how his fingers rest on each key before he slides into his next piece, reverent.

You never ever explicitly mention Yoongi in your conversations with Jin, though. The bartender seems to bring the musician up anyway; he does it smoothly, in a way that's utterly casual, and he seems to know a surprising amount about someone who is, by all accounts, a very private person. (You're not complaining about the fact that you now know that Yoongi wears Kumamon slippers because his feet get cold easily— "he's cold blooded, like a lizard," apparently— but you do wonder how Jin knows that.)

The Yoongi that Jin describes is just as beautiful as the man you see on stage, but less mysterious, less distant— and yet he still intimidates you. 

Jin might be his friend but to you Yoongi is unapproachable. Untouchable. To him you're just a nameless face in the audience, nothing more. His eyes will slide across the room before he starts his performance, but he never seems to notice you; it's no surprise, sitting where you do, in an area of relative darkness in comparison to the rest of the bar, and once he sits down he only looks at the piano under his hands. He has no eyes for anything else. You're far enough away and his lashes are cast so low that even when his eyes are open it's hard for you to see where he's looking, and the shadow of his fringe hides how his pupils scan his hands as he plays, anyway.

Every week, when the set draws to a close, Jin is already pouring Yoongi's whisky or wine and you slide him the exact amount of change. Every week, Jin asks if you want to pass on a message, and every week, you say the same thing: that it's from someone who enjoyed the music. And that's that. Jin will disappear to give Yoongi his drink and you'll finish your own drink in quiet solitude before you slide off your barstool to go home.

(The only thing that's changed over the weeks is that the music Yoongi plays seems to be a little lighter and— dare you say— happier? He still looks down at the piano with the same intensity, still lays his hands on the keys with the same delicate pressing weight before he begins to play— but with some songs he seems to be teasing the music out, flirting with each note, eyelashes fluttering as he lifts his chin and moves his hands.

You're not a musician by any means, so you don't know how to describe it with any sort of accuracy or terminology, but to you it's like the deep waters of Yoongi's music have been cut through with light, beams of sun rippling through the dark blue. You don't know what's caused this change, the slow uplift in his mood throughout the weeks, but you hope he manages to keep hold of it, whatever it is.)

Between work and studying and volunteering and making time to see friends, you don't often have time entirely to yourself, and so Wednesday nights are a rare moment of peace during your otherwise busy week. That's why when Jimin says that he's had to rearrange your weekly film night to Wednesday— because he and Jungkook are going down to Busan to see each other's families this weekend— you decline. 

Jimin is rendered speechless and demands to know why.

"I'm busy," is your answer. Jimin doesn't buy it.

"You're never too busy for movie night," he says. "Wednesday is the only night we're all free."

"Well, I'm not free, Minnie. Sorry," you say. His head is in your lap, your fingers gently stroking his hair, and you can easily see the way his face contorts with disbelief as he stares up at you.

"Do you hear that, babe? Y/n is too busy for our weekly tradition." Jimin sounds scandalised.

Jimin is stretched out between the two of you— while his head is in your lap, his feet are in Jungkook's, the younger man idly massaging his boyfriend's ankles and feet. "Yes, babe, I heard," Jungkook says, indulgent.

"What's more important than movie night?" Jimin lifts one of his legs and Jungkook turns his attention to that one, digging his fingers into the arch of Jimin's foot. Jimin sighs in relief, but then turns the full force of his stare back at you. "We were going to watch Spirited Away. You love Spirited Away."

"I'm just busy," you say, and that had been your mistake. You should have had some sort of credible reason but you hadn't been prepared, and while he hadn't made it obvious at the time, Jimin had latched onto your vague excuse, sniffing out weakness like a shark with blood in the water. If you'd been paying attention you'd have noticed, but you hadn't paid attention and so you hadn't noticed. (Whoops.)

And so, Wednesday night that week is the same as always; Yoongi plays his music, you fall a little bit more in love, and pass your compliments to him with Jin as the mouthpiece. You go home, wash your makeup off, and arch into the touch of your own hand while imagining it's someone else's fingers sliding across your skin. Routine. Normal. Uninterrupted. Peaceful.

The next week, however, it all goes to shit.

Okay. Maybe that's a little dramatic. It's not as bad as all that. The night starts as normal: you're on your stool, and you have your drink, and you have ten minutes until Yoongi is due to play, shifting to get comfortable, crossing your legs.

But then: 

"Oh my God, you're wearing your come fuck me heels," comes Jimin's voice from behind you, and your blood turns to ice.

You turn on the barstool so fast you almost fall off it. You come face to face with Jimin who has an expression of what can only be described as sheer delight on his face. He's even dressed appropriately for the bar, a silk shirt tucked into his Very Tight jeans and a subtle smoky eye to top it off; Jungkook looks nice, too, but you have no doubt that he's only here under sufferance, if the infinitely apologetic look on his face is anything to go by.

"Jimin?" Your voice comes out as a hiss. If you were a cat your back would be up and your hackles would be raised and all your fur would be on end, your entire body going into fight mode. "What are you doing here?"

"I had to see for myself what was more important than movie night," Jimin says simply, like it's obvious. "So here we are."

"Sorry, Y/n," Jungkook apologises from over his boyfriend's shoulder. Jimin ignores him.

You can feel how your face is starting to flush, your skin crawling with embarrassment. You change your outfit every week and your friends have managed to turn up on the one week where you've cycled into what could probably be considered your most promiscuous one, the hem of your dress high and the cut of it low, along with shoes that Jimin had rightfully named as your Come Fuck Me heels. It wasn't because you were trying to seduce anyone but you only have so many items in your wardrobe that are appropriate for Dionysus. 

"How did you find me?"

"I have my ways," Jimin says mysteriously.

"He stalked your Bitmoji on Snapchat. Ow." Jungkook pouts as Jimin slaps his arm. "Sorry, again. I said we should leave you alone but Jimin said we should check in case you'd been kidnapped because you never willingly go into bars."

You're interrupted by Jin, who'd been busy serving someone when your idiot friends had turned up; he leans across the bar and touches your shoulder and fixes Jimin and Jungkook with the most intimidating look you've ever seen on his face. You know Jin as a light-hearted pun master, harmless and goofy and approachable, a great friend— but right now he looks like some sort of beautiful guardian angel, broad shouldered and narrow eyed and honestly, pretty menacing. 

"Are you alright?" He keeps his eyes on the other two men as he speaks. "Are these guys bothering you?"

Jimin, rather than looking cowed, looks like he's reached a stage of absolute euphoria, eyes darting between Jin's hand on your shoulder to your face. Jungkook's face, meanwhile, is doing that thing it does whenever someone issues him some kind of challenge, his sweetness abruptly being swallowed by his competitive side and his stubborn refusal to lose anything. You're the only person who has the power to save this situation before it goes absolutely tits up, and you swallow down a resigned sigh.

"I'm fine, thank you, Jin," you say, looking at him with a smile as you pat the hand on your shoulder. "Unfortunately these guys are my friends, much to my infinite suffering. Well, Jungkook's alright. Jimin is the one who's the pain."

"Hey," Jimin whines. Jungkook looks quietly pleased, but pretends to scowl when Jimin looks at him, offended on his boyfriend's behalf.

Jin still seems unhappy but pulls his hand back. "Alright," he says, but then he pitches his voice low so that only you can hear: "If you need any help, just ask me for a rum and soda, okay?"

You always order mocktails whenever you're here, wanting to stay completely sober so that you can enjoy Yoongi's playing with all the attention it deserves. You've never asked for anything alcoholic, least of all a rum and soda. Although you really are okay, you can't help but be warmed by Jin's concern for you and how he's offering you this careful, considerate lifeline in case you need it. "I will do. Thanks, Jinnie."

He smiles at you and then gives Jungkook and Jimin one final frown before going to deal with a gaggle of customers who've gathered at the other end of the bar. While Jungkook remains standing, taking in the interior of the bar with wide eyes, Jimin slides onto the stool next to yours.

"He's fucking hot," Jimin says with no preamble, eyeing Jin without shame as the bartender starts to pour and mix different drinks. Jungkook makes a disgruntled noise but settles when Jimin pats him fondly on the butt. "I'm not surprised you're wearing those heels. I would too if I were you."

"Oh my God, Jimin." You hide your face in your hands. "Jin is just a friend, please don't make this weird."

"Come on, Y/n, it's okay," Jimin says reassuringly as he pats your shoulder, replacing Jin's touch with his own. "The blind dates might not have worked out, but you've met someone nice so that's good! I mean, you did meet him because I organised the date here in the first place, but I'll let that slide. Also I can't believe you missed movie night because of a boy and you didn't tell me, but I'll let that slide too because I love you."

Park Jimin is your best friend. Park Jimin meddles in your life despite your protestations and isn't beyond being passive aggressive to get his way, but Park Jimin is also one of the nicest people you know and everything he does is because he loves you and will do whatever he thinks is necessary to reach his end goal of making you happy. He's magnanimous and kind and caring, and he also has absolutely the wrong idea right now, clearly under the impression that you're attracted to Seokjin and have been flirting with him for however many weeks it's been since you were meant to meet Hoseok here.

"No, seriously, Jimin, it's not Jin." You look at Jimin through the gaps in your fingers. "He's cute, yeah, but I don't come here because of him."

Your friend looks genuinely baffled, hand stilling on your shoulder. "Then why are you here?"

And, with perfect timing— as if your life is some badly written film or romantic drama— the clock ticks over to 8pm and Yoongi steps onto the stage. His hair is dark, blond replaced with black a few weeks ago, though it's still long enough that it hangs in his eyes; he looks a little ragged around the edges, a little messy, a little tired, and altogether beautiful. You want to touch the coolness of your fingertips to the dark circles under his eyes, want to press kisses across each of his bony knuckles, want to let your tongue settle in the hollow of his neck that shows each time he leans back and tilts his head up just so.

You hadn't even meant to but you'd turned away from Jimin the second you'd heard piano notes begin to play, drawn in by the sound like a moth to a flame. Jimin's hand falls off your shoulder and you hear him breathe out a quiet oh of realisation. You tear your eyes away from the sight of Yoongi at the piano and turn on your stool to face the bar again, gripping your glass with both hands, shoulders hunched.

"I like to watch him play," you say, and your voice is near a whisper, so as not to detract from the music.

"It's beautiful," Jungkook says, speaking before Jimin can say anything. His voice is quiet, too, not wanting to break over the sound of the piano. 

And so you hear with absolute clarity as Yoongi shifts mid-song into something different and it startles you. Yoongi always varies his music, always has something new, but you've been here often enough that you had recognised the opening song— it was one of your favourites— and you know that he's cut himself off before finishing, soft melody jumping into the opening bars of something different, sharper, a little angry, maybe sorrowful. Something that pulls at you and demands your attention.

Of course you give it to him. You swing your head away from your drink to watch him once more, watch how his motions have changed, the way he surges forward and presses his weight into his arms and down into his hands, his fingertips, the keys. You turn your entire body at this point, settling in your usual position for when you watch Yoongi; you see how his head tilts and he shifts from a minor into a major key, the same notes and chords transformed from something pensive into something joyful as he leans away from the heavier hands he'd been forcing the keys down with.

"How long does this go on for?" Jimin asks.

"About thirty or forty minutes," you answer. Though you turn your head back over your shoulder so that Jimin can hear you, you keep your eyes fixed on Yoongi. It's probably entirely coincidental, the sudden change in his music coinciding with when you turned away from him and when you looked back. He's not playing for you, he's playing for the whole bar, and besides, he's been looking down at the piano the whole time. He hasn't been looking at you.

And yet. The idea that Yoongi has noticed you and wants you to watch him has something hot settling low in your belly.

Jimin leans forward so that his chin is on your shoulder, talking directly into your ear as his hands wrap around your waist from behind. "This is the guy?"

Yoongi finishes the song and you watch in captivation as he swallows and runs a hand through his hair before he starts the next one. He's never done that before. Fuck. "Yes. Yoongi's the guy."

"Do you wait until he's finished so you can speak with him?" Jimin asks, ever curious.

You pause. "No," you admit. "No, I've never actually spoken to him."

Jimin doesn't ask why you've been coming back to see a guy you don't know and haven't talked to. He just hums gently. Jimin is pushy but he's also understanding and empathetic and knows what to say, when to press forward and when to hold back. It's one of the reasons you love him so much.

Jimin lapses into silence as Yoongi starts the next piece. It's one you haven't heard before and it's a little fiercer than most of Yoongi's recent songs. Rather than each note sliding into the next, he hammers them out separately, each note a statement that builds into something larger, a provocation. A storm gathering above Yoongi's waters, threatening to pull you in, pull you under.

Behind you, you hear Jungkook and Jimin briefly murmuring to each other, then Jimin's hands slide from off your waist and you hear the sound of him shifting so that Jungkook can sit down, Jimin using his boyfriend's lap as a chair instead. You have to wonder if the barstools can actually support that kind of weight, but Jin doesn't come over to tell them off, so you figure it must be okay.

On stage, Yoongi's hands pause, an uncharacteristic caesura that breaks the flow of the notes he'd been stringing together before he resumes playing as if this hiccup had never occurred. To anyone else, it would sound like that break was meant to be there, but you know better. You know Yoongi had faltered.

No way.

No way?

He's paying attention to you.

(Oh, shit.)

No way.

You're suddenly so overwhelmed that you actually feel nauseous. You've been consumed with thoughts of Yoongi for weeks, had images of him playing you just as easily as he does that piano, thoughts of him laying you out bare beneath him, but the idea that Yoongi actually knows who you are? Is aware of you on some level? Wants your eyes on him?

Fuck. 

It's too much. 

You're already off kilter from Jimin and Jungkook's arrival— as harmless as their appearance was meant to be— and this is the cherry on top. You don't know if you can keep your composure right now and you need to get away from Yoongi before you end up walking onto the stage and pulling him off that stupid piano stool to show him exactly how much you enjoy his music.

"Jimin? Jungkook? How about you say we go to a club and get absolutely shitfaced?"

You haven't looked away from Yoongi in the time that you've said this, but you can just feel the confusion emanating from the men behind you.

"But you—"

"I thought—"

"We're already dressed up, aren't we? Besides, I still owe you for film night, so drinks are on me."

There's little argument from them after that. For the first time since you've been coming here you leave before Yoongi's set is done, slipping out of the bar without noticing Jin's confused gaze on you. 

It's not until much later, once you've drunkenly fallen onto Jimin and Jungkook's couch, that the sober part of your brain whispers to you: you didn't buy Yoongi his drink.

(That night you dream of stormy skies and tattered sails and a capsizing ship. Once you wake, the memory of the dream quickly leaves you, and the last thing you remember is the sight of someone reaching towards you, pulling you out of the water, skin pale and head ringed with blond hair, a halo— and then you forget that too, slipping through your fingers like quicksand.)

–

Of course you go back to Dionysus the next week. You make Jimin promise that he won't turn up without warning again, and then you make Jungkook promise that he'll at least send you a heads-up message if Jimin changes his mind. Despite both these promises, after the debacle last week with your outfit, you've actually bought new clothes, so at least today you don't feel as scandalous. (You still look hot, though.)

You're grateful when Jin doesn't press you for details or ask why you left early last week. He just greets you like he normally does and predicts your order with his usual aptitude, and as you stir your drink with your straw, you have to wonder at what happened. You're probably overreacting, overthinking things, grasping at nothing; there is not a chance in hell that Min Yoongi, reclusive piano savant, has noticed you. No way. Nuh-uh.

He's probably only aware of your existence because of the repeated drinks you've had Jin foist on him. If anything he's probably annoyed at you after not tipping him with last week— he's probably come to expect them by now and you'd forced him to miss out. Maybe you'll get Jin to give him two drinks this week? Ooh, then again, maybe not. Is two shots of whisky a lot? People drink doubles, don't they. How strong is the wine he likes, anyway?

Yoongi's appearance on stage pulls you out of your thoughts. He makes his way up the steps, towards the piano, scans the room— and then for the first time since you've been coming here to watch him, he stops.

He stops because he's looking at you.

It's only for the briefest moment, eyes resting on you for maybe five seconds, and then you breathlessly watch as his mouth twists into something that can only be described as a smirk, pleased at the sight of you.

Oh, God.

He looks away and sits at the piano like he normally does, but you would swear that his back is a little straighter— something in his posture that reads as cockiness, even. He launches into a song that starts light but then almost immediately dances into something flirtatious, seductive, and tonight whenever Yoongi glances at you, he makes sure that you know. He turns his head just so, looks at you through the curve of his lashes, each touch of those dark eyes against your own sending little shivers through you, punching the breath out of your lungs.

You've always been entranced by Yoongi and tonight is no different. The minutes slide by as easy as water, liquid, music gliding over you like the rising tide, kissing your skin like the ebb and flow of the waves. It feels like he's barely started when his set is over and he's finished, standing up with as little ostentation as always before he vanishes off the stage.

You already have the money counted out before Jin has made his way over. You slide it towards him as he pours the whisky, but rather than asking if you have a message to pass to Yoongi, a look of consternation passes over his face.

"The price has gone up," Jin says, and you blink.

"Oh, that's no problem. How much is it now?" You're reaching for your purse to get more money out when Jin puts the whisky on the bar in front of you.

"No, don't worry, I'll just go out back and get the right change for you," he says. He says it with such confidence that it takes you a beat too long to realise that what he's just said makes no sense— why is he getting you change if you haven't even given him enough money? Isn’t there change in the till?— but by this point he's already gone, the staff door swinging shut behind him. 

You tilt your head, beyond confused.

Someone chuckles from behind you, the sound quiet and low. "Ah, cute."

You twist in your seat to see who's talking and then freeze. Yoongi is standing right there, looking at you with his dark, dark eyes; it's the first time you've been subjected to the full intensity of his gaze, from this close, and your pulse picks up. He looks a little softer without the lights of the small stage throwing him into sharp relief but his aura is just as intense; your eyes dart across each feature of his face as you drink him in— the mess of his fringe hanging into his sharp eyes, the faintest freckle on his nose, his surprisingly cute cheeks, his pink mouth.

The mouth that's curving into a sly little smile, now, your eyes flying back up to meet his own.

"I'm guessing this is for me?" He points at the whisky. He takes it before you can answer, and there's something unfairly erotic about how he drinks it: the way he holds the glass, swirling the whisky over the chilled rocks inside; the way his mouth falls open as the tumbler touches his lips; the way his head tilts back as he lets the liquor flow into his mouth, adam's apple bobbing as he swallows.

You shamelessly watch him the whole time. He lowers the glass from his lips, still a little parted as he takes a breath in, and then he's looking back at you. You have to bite back a noise that's risen up in your throat, unbidden. Does he know how much he affects you? 

You adjust your position on the barstool, thoughtlessly uncrossing and recrossing your legs as you regain your balance. Yoongi's eyes fly down to watch the motion and you're close enough to him that you see how his pupils dilate at the movement. A breath escapes your mouth, a little pant of air that you desperately mask as a cough as you try to calm the racing of your heart, the flood of arousal that's pulsing through you.

"I'm glad you like the whisky," you say, your voice steady despite how your legs feel like they're about to give out. (Thank god you're sitting down.) "I'm sorry to have deprived you of it last week."

Yoongi's shifted so that he's leaning against the bar. He's standing while you're still sitting and you have to tilt your head back to look at him. "You did seem like you were in an awful hurry," he says, a teasing lilt to his tone, and yet his voice is still so low, deeper than you'd imagined.

Despite the levity in his words there's something heavy in his gaze. "Oh?" You can't help but react to it, helpless and unable to resist. "You noticed me leaving?"

Yoongi's eyes sharpen. Hooked. "Of course," he says. "You're the only thing I pay attention to when I'm here. You have been from the first night you walked in."

Your breath catches in your throat. You hadn't expected Yoongi to say something so forthright, to be so direct, more used to coy flirtation from the other people you've met in the past; it's like you've been dipped in cold water, a shock to the system, bracing and invigorating and refreshing.

"Oh," you say, at a loss with how to respond. Yoongi seems pleased to have gotten this reaction out of you, the corners of his lips curving upwards in a self satisfied smile.

"Besides," he adds, "I find it flattering that not only do you come here every week to watch me, you always make sure to make your appreciation known, too." He lifts the glass up and takes another drink, but this time he keeps his eyes locked on yours as he does, gaze unwavering as he finishes his drink. The rocks tumble over themselves as he sets the glass down on the bar, lower lip wet with a drop of whisky that lingers; his tongue sweeps across it and leaves a sheen, catching the light, shining. You can't tear your eyes away from the sight. "It would have been hard to ignore that even if I'd wanted to."

A shiver trickles down your spine. You'd really only ever meant it as a compliment, a quiet way to express your admiration about his craft, and you have to ask— "How long have you been playing the piano?"

This question seems to throw Yoongi off kilter. You see the way his lashes flutter as he blinks with surprise. "For as long as I can remember," he says, and then a small smile appears on his lips. "When I was young I had a toy piano that I constantly used to hammer at, so when I grew up a little, my parents bought the real thing so that I could learn how to play."

He sounds nostalgic and your heart squeezes in your chest. "You're self-taught, right?" You ask, remembering something Jin had told you before. 

Yoongi looks briefly startled. "Yes, I am," he says, and then his eyes narrow. "Did Jin tell you that?"

"Um, yeah." You squirm a little on the barstool. "Sorry, should I not have said anything about it?"

"No, no, you're okay. It's just that Jin says a lot of things, and I'm just wondering what else he said to you." Yoongi's tone is weirdly pained.

The concern is obvious on his face, and you wonder if Jin is to Yoongi what Jimin is to you— well-meaning but maybe a little overwhelming in their approach. 

"All good things, I promise. I love dogs, too." You smile up at Yoongi, who seems a little taken aback, and the smile starts to drop off your face. "Um. Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." For all that Yoongi was smirking earlier, he seems a little unsure now. You feel confused, waiting as Yoongi clearly turns some thoughts over in his head, and then he says: "What exactly has Jin told you?"

You smile. You recognise that tone, the nonchalance that hides a little worry— it's exactly how you sound whenever you find out that Jimin has been speaking to someone about you, even if it's always positively. "Oh, just bits and pieces," you say. Feeling bold, you pat the barstool next to you, tilting your head invitingly. "Why don't you tell me about yourself instead so we can see if Jin was lying to me?"

Yoongi looks genuinely startled, his eyes widening imperceptibly before the expression wipes off his face as if nothing had happened. "Why not," he says, as if in equal parts to himself and to you, before he takes a seat.

Here's what you learn about Yoongi: he's intense, yes, and soft spoken, but as you continue to talk, he begins to loosen up, bit by bit. When he laughs he smiles so wide that his eyes squeeze shut and you can see his gums and you're so fucking endeared at the sight. He's sharp and smart and witty and just so, so intriguing. 

You prop your elbow on the bar and rest your cheek in your hand as he talks, wanting to take everything in, and you rapidly realise that Min Yoongi is less of an enigma than you'd thought, but just as complex as you'd expected— and you want to unravel that complexity. If he'll let you.

You've been talking for so long that the bar has started to empty out, patrons trickling away, the two of you so engrossed with each other that you barely notice. You find out that Jin and Yoongi are actually roommates, best friends, and that Jin is as chaotic as you'd expect and is also very good at drawing Yoongi into his shenanigans; you throw your head back to laugh at one of his stories, and when you catch your breath you find Yoongi looking at you, watching you with an expression on his face that makes you pause. He's been watching you intently all night, listening quietly whenever you talk, but this expression, this is new. He swallows.

"Can I ask something?"

You blink. "Sure, go ahead."

"Why did you keep coming back?" Yoongi asks, and that's not a question you'd been expecting at all.

"Uh," you say eloquently. "Well. Honestly? I couldn't stay away, I guess. I'm not really a musician, and I don't know a lot about the piano, but there's something in your music and the way you play— every song makes me feel something different and new, or reminds me of something I haven't felt, places I haven't been to, but I feel like I know somehow. Like I'm nostalgic for something that I haven't experienced, that doesn't exist. It's almost like you're taking my hand and showing me around some hidden part of the world that only you can see— like you've made it into music because that's the only way you can communicate it. How could I not come back after that?" You pause. "Um. Does that make sense? I feel like it didn't. Sorry?"

Yoongi's been watching you as you've been talking, silent, and by the time you've finished his mouth has fallen open a little. He stares at you for a few moments longer, and then he says: "Holy shit." And then he says: "Oh my God." And then he says: "What the fuck."

"… I guess it didn't make sense, then?" Despite the ease of your earlier conversation you suddenly feel awkward, laughing a little as your legs uncross so that you can shuffle to the edge of your barstool. Ready to hop up and make a quick get away if you need to. Run away from the embarrassment. "Um."

"Y/n," Yoongi says, and you realise with a start that you haven't introduced yourself to him throughout your whole conversation— Jin must have told him your name— but then he keeps talking. "I thought you just— I don't know, that you just kept coming back because of me. Not the music. Then Jin kept talking about you and—" 

He makes a frustrated noise at the back of his throat and runs a hand through his hair; you stare at his bared forehead, and it says about how attracted you are to him that the sight of his forehead is enough to set your heart racing. "I thought that maybe if I let this happen just one time that it would be enough, but now I don't think it will."

"Yoongi." You're confused, unsure if you've correctly understood what he's just said. "Let what happen one time? What are you talking about?"

"Touching you," Yoongi says. "Fucking you." His voice is a rasp and the sound of it, the sound of his words, shoots straight through you and into your core. "I thought the drinks were— I don't know, an invitation. But they weren't, were they? You really meant it. You really like my music. And me."

Yoongi's voice is hoarse and you come to the realisation that he feels tense. Like he can accept that you want to have sex with him, but he's bowled over by the idea that you're attracted to the other parts, too, as few of those as you know. That you genuinely enjoy what he plays. That you think it's the most beautiful sound you've ever heard.

"Yoongi," you say, tone deceptively gentle. "I really, really like your music, and I think you're an incredibly talented musician, and I've been memorising everything Jin's been telling me about you because I think you're one of the most interesting people I've ever come across and I'd really like to get to know more about you. So I'm really glad to have had the opportunity to talk to you like this." You gesture between the two of you, sitting as you are, facing towards each other on your barstools. And then you brace yourself to take the leap, to throw yourself into uncharted waters. "However, I am also insanely attracted to you and I've spent the past I-don't-know-how-many weeks picturing you bending me over that piano and fucking me so hard that I can't walk straight."

Yoongi freezes in the middle of rubbing the back of his neck, a clearly nervous habit. Though your voice has kept steady while you've been talking, your heart has been thrumming in your chest the whole time, feeling as nervous as Yoongi looks. Something flickers across his face, and his hand drops away from his neck as he straightens, pushing himself off from where he's been leaning against the bar.

"Oh?" He leans towards you. Your legs unthinkingly part as he moves, the material of your dress hitching up as you spread your knees so that he can get closer. "So you do want me to fuck you?"

His nervousness seems to be entirely gone, emboldened by your words. One of his hands comes up to cup the back of your head, fingers sliding into your hair as he holds you in place, at his mercy. He's barely touched you but the feeling of contact makes you bite back a whimper. Even though it's darker here and you're away from the tables, away from the few remaining patrons of the bar, the two of you are in plain sight even under the dimmed lights; you're not doing anything illicit or inappropriate but a little thrill trickles down your spine at the idea.

"Yoongi," you breathe.

"What is it, babygirl?" He tips his head down as he moves closer, his nose brushing yours, each of his words a warm curl across your lips. "Tell me."

The pet name sends a shiver through you. Your hands rise from your lap, sliding over his chest to touch lightly at his neck, a little shy, a little bold. "I want you to kiss me."

"Oh?" Yoongi's mouth is so close to yours, and when you tilt forward to kiss him, he stays just out of your reach, leaving you wanting. "You think you deserve a kiss, do you?"

You can't help but make a little noise, a petulant whine at the back of your throat. He has you entirely at his mercy and he knows it. "Please," you say. "Please, Yoongi, wanna kiss you so bad."

The smile he gives you in reply is wicked. "How can I say no when you've asked so politely?"

Yoongi finally, finally dips his head down and then he's kissing you with such intensity it steals the breath out of you. It's open-mouthed and wet and dirty, his tongue sliding into your mouth in between taking your top and bottom lips between his own, alternating, sucking on them and lapping at them with his tongue. You chase after his mouth with your own, roll your tongues together, hands sliding over the smooth skin of his throat as they circle behind his neck, but then Yoongi pulls away; you bite that needy whine back again, kiss cut short far sooner than you would have liked.

Yoongi is taking the sight of you in, eyes lingering on your shining lips, and then he's rising to stand. You're shaken out of your kiss-induced haze when he does, a little confused, but he takes your hand in his and you let him lift up, pressing a surprisingly tender kiss to the back of your knuckles.

"Do you want to get out of here?" His voice is pitched low, deep with a promise of pleasure to come, and you shiver.

"God, I thought you'd never ask," you say in a rush, and he just laughs quietly at your obvious desperation.

"Come on, then." He helps you off the barstool, your hand still in his— god, his hands are so big and his touch is so warm. His eyes are dark as he watches the way you reach to rearrange the hem of your dress with your free hand, but he beats you to it, palm flattening the material against your legs; his fingers dance just under the edge as he straightens it, hand sliding over the skin of your inner thigh and lingering before he pulls away.

"You're shameless," you say, a little breathless, and Yoongi just smirks at you. Tease.

Your fingers remain tangled with his as he leads you behind the bar and through the staff door. Jin's out back, scrolling through something on his phone, but as soon as you walk in he abandons whatever he's doing and raises his eyebrows. He looks surprisingly severe. "Customers aren't allowed back here."

Your eyes widen, but then Jin's serious expression cracks and he starts to laugh. Although he's joking and clearly doesn't care, you feel a little guilty at breaking the rules and duck behind Yoongi, shy. Yoongi snorts and holds a middle finger up at the bartender.

Jin gasps theatrically, clutching his chest while looking askance. "I raise you from birth and this is the thanks I get?"

"You're one year older than me, hyung."

"I carry you in my womb for nine months and birth you into this world and you— oh, okay, you technically shouldn't be doing that either," Jin says, stopping mid-sentence as Yoongi decides his hyung has been talking for too long and turns away from him to start kissing you again, shameless as he tugs you close to him and licks into your mouth; you immediately fall back into him, unable to resist. "Jesus Christ, Yoongi."

Once you part, you bury your head into Yoongi's chest as his arms come around you, hiding your embarrassment in Yoongi's dress shirt. "Sorry, Jinnie," you say, muffled.

"You are absolutely not to blame here, Y/n, you are an angel and a sweetheart." Jin's tone is soothing. "Yoongi, however, is a tiny evil gremlin who needs to learn how to control himself. Though I can't blame him, you are very cute."

"Hyung, I need the apartment tonight," Yoongi says without preamble. You wriggle in the circle of his arms. You're not normally this timid but Yoongi is just so direct and blasé with Jin that you can't help but feel a little shy, as hot and bothered as you are.

"I'll crash at Joon's," the bartender says. He’s obviously not surprised. You lift your head from Yoongi's chest to look at Jin and find that he's smiling at you. "If Yoongi starts to bother you, just whap him on the nose. I find a rolled up newspaper works best if you have one to hand."

"I'll kill you, Kim Seokjin," Yoongi says.

Jin just laughs as he waves the two of you off and you take the initiative to start pulling Yoongi towards the back door. He comes easily, but once the door has swung shut behind you he takes the lead again and guides you towards his car. He lets go of your hand so that he can unlock it, swinging the passenger door open for you, and he's unabashed in how he watches you step in and eyes the way your dress hitches up again as you slide into your seat; he leans against the car and just stares at you.

There's honestly nothing sexier when someone clearly wants you as much as you want them. It makes you feel bold, drunk on the way he looks at you. 

You glance up at him through your lashes. "The sooner we get to yours, the sooner you can have me," you say.

Yoongi curses under his breath. "You're going to be the death of me."

Surprisingly enough, though, he keeps his hands to himself when he gets behind the wheel. You can't help but feel a little surprised; you don't know how close Yoongi's home is to the bar, but you very rapidly tire of waiting to feel his hands on you again and so you lean over the centre console and press a fleeting kiss just behind his ear.

Yoongi doesn't outwardly react, continuing to stare at the road, so you take this as a challenge. You slide one of your hands onto his thigh— for balance, of course— and kiss behind his ear again, tug his lobe with your teeth, mindful of his piercings, and then proceed to trail little kisses down his neck and the little slither of his collarbone that you can reach without his shirt getting in the way. You finally get to lick your tongue in the hollow of his neck that you've been thinking about for weeks.

Yoongi's hands tighten on the steering wheel. Jackpot. 

"Y/n," he says, voice low, and you're so close to his throat that you can hear the rumble behind his words. You love it. "You should stop now, or we're not going to make it to my apartment."

You go still. Yoongi continues to look at the road but his knuckles are white with how hard he's gripping the wheel, and when you glance down you can see how much you've affected him, cock hardening in his slacks. It would be so easy to slide your hand up his thigh and finally touch him, have him pull over and wreck you, but you want something more than a quick fumble in the seat of a car. 

So you just press your lips lightly against the line of his jaw one last time. You let yourself breathe in the dark scent of his cologne— pinewood and pepper and something deeper— before you pull back, folding your hands in your lap demurely, trying to force yourself to be content with waiting.

"Good girl," Yoongi says. You can't help but preen; you don't normally respond to praise like this, but something about Yoongi just makes you want to please him, hear him compliment you again. Yoongi glances at you, a little flicker of realisation as he sees how you've just reacted to his words, and his eyes darken. "You like that, baby? Like being a good girl for me?"

Fuck. "Yes." Your pulse is rising. You've been craving Yoongi for weeks, but god, if he asked you to go home right now, sent you home without touching you, you'd go, just to hear him call you a good girl again. But you don't want him to leave you untouched, you don't want that at all. "I want you to touch me, Yoongi," you say. "I'll be a good girl, please just touch me."

"Fuck." Yoongi's foot presses down on the accelerator. He's never wanted to live closer to the bar before, but the sight of you staring at him from his passenger seat and rubbing your thighs together in a desperate attempt to give yourself some relief is making him rethink his housing location. "I will, baby. We'll be there soon."

Soon turns out to be less than five minutes, scarcely any time at all, though each second is torturous in how long it feels. Yoongi's careless in how he parks the car, wonky within the lines of his spot, but neither of you notice or care. You fumble with the buckle of your belt, climbing out of the car as quickly as you can and slamming the door shut with more power than you probably need to, noise loud in the quiet of the night.

Before you can react, however, Yoongi is rounding the car and grabbing you, pressing you against the metal and glass of the door. One of his hands slips under your thigh, lifting your leg and shoving the hem of your dress out of the way so that he can grind against you; you gasp at the feeling of his growing hardness against the dampness of your underwear, and Yoongi leans forward to swallow the sound into his mouth. 

The kiss is rushed and desperate, but you love the messiness of it. Yoongi pulls away to press his lips against the side of your mouth, your cheek, your jaw, your neck, mouthing at the jumping pulse he finds there. You start to make small ah-ah noises when he laves his tongue over it, one of your hands tangling in his hair as you tilt your head back, each of his touches fizzing like electricity on your skin.

"P-people could see," you stutter, struggling to catch your breath with how good his mouth feels on you.

Yoongi smirks against your skin. "I thought you wanted me to touch you," he says, but immediately relents, pulling away from you so he can lead you into the building. You miss the heat of his body against yours but he keeps hold of your hand as you follow him; it's late and the building seems quiet, so you're mindful of just how loud your high heels sound as they clack on the floor, though Yoongi doesn't seem to care.

When you step into the apartment you reach down for the straps on your shoes so you can kick them off but Yoongi stops you with a hand to your shoulder. It's a light touch but you stop immediately, glancing up from your feet to his face.

"Let me," he says, and a hot trickle of arousal runs down your spine at the tone of his voice. 

You straighten up and watch as Yoongi gets down on one knee, hands circling around your ankle and lifting your foot. You rest the toe of your shoe lightly on Yoongi's knee, watching as he undoes the strap around your ankle and slides the shoe off, setting it to one side, before he presses his lips to the inside of your knee. You shiver at the light touch and Yoongi smirks, letting your ankle go so you can move and he can take your other shoe off, too.

He barely takes his eyes off your face the whole time, only glancing down when he has to. His motions are slow and unhurried despite his earlier rush, carefully setting the second shoe next to the first, and you can't help but feel like he's teasing you— drawing out your reactions just because he can. Before you can say anything about it, though, his hands trail up from your calves to your thigh before he hitches your leg over his shoulder, one hand staying on your thigh as the other grips at your hip.

You bite back a gasp. From his angle Yoongi can see everything and he's looking up with hooded eyes, staring at the dark patch on your underwear, wet for him; his gaze trails across the lace of the lingerie you're wearing, the small colourful flowers blooming across the dark material. It was something you'd put on to complete your outfit, the matching panties and bra making you feel expensive and pretty— even if you hadn't expected anyone to see it.

"Look at you," he says, hand lowering from your hip to trace lightly across your slit; it's a barely-there touch, sensation dulled by the material in the way, but you still jolt at the feeling of it. "Did you wear this for me?"

"Of course," you confess. You've wanted his eyes on you for so long. "Always dress up pretty for you."

"Fuck." He sounds reverent. "You've always been such a good girl for me, haven't you?"

A needy noise rises unbidden at the back of your throat when Yoongi spreads your leg wider and leans forward to mouth at you through the lace of your panties. Your knees go weak and you have to lean back against the wall for balance, grateful at how close you are to it when Yoongi draws his tongue upwards, wetting the fabric, your toes curling.

"Yoongi." One of your hands is resting in his hair and you can't stop your grip from tightening. "Yoongi, please."

He gives you what you want, fingers hooking into your underwear and pulling it down; he lets your leg drop so that you can step out of them, but as soon as you've finished he throws the panties to one side, one hand splaying across your stomach as the other lifts your leg again so that you’re spread open for him, immediately pressing his mouth to your clit.

"Oh!" You gasp. Yoongi seems to have tired of his teasing and is eating you out like a man starved, the slick sound of his tongue and lips filling the apartment as he laves attention on your dripping pussy, staring up at you as he drinks your reactions in. He dips his tongue into you and your hips try to buck forwards but the hand on your stomach holds you in place, firm, and you let out an embarrassingly loud keen at how good it feels to be this powerless.

You slap your free hand across your mouth and try to swallow the noise down. Yoongi frowns and stops, leaning his head back as he looks at you; his mouth is shining with evidence of your arousal, opalescent. "I want to hear you."

You bite your lip, forcing your hand away from your mouth; you don't want to be too loud, too noisy, but you want to be a good girl for Yoongi. He wants to hear you so you'll give him what he wants.

"O-okay," you breathe, and Yoongi smirks up at you; it's filthy, how he's looking at you like that while his lips are wet with you. You tilt your hips towards him, desperate to have his mouth on you again, and he immediately complies.

He's lapping at your clit when the hand on your stomach moves and slides down. You watch as he takes his tongue off you so that he can curl it around his fingers instead, before running those fingers across your lower lips to gather the slick there, wetting them even further. You roll your hips into the sensation, loving the press of his slightly rough fingers against your silken folds, wanting more, eyes wide as you watch how Yoongi's hand trails between your legs.

He puts his mouth back on your clit at the same time as he presses one of those spit slick fingers into you. You're so turned on that the initial slide in is easy, but he still takes his time; he's distracting you with the way he's sucking at your small bundle of nerves but you still feel when he presses his second finger in, longer than yours, the sensation of it even better than you'd dreamed.

He crooks his fingers and you throw your head back against the wall, dull thud barely registering over the sensation of Yoongi inside you. He sees how you react and continues to move his fingers in the same way, thrusting his fingers in and curling them as he pulls out, watching as you writhe; the pleasure inside you has been growing, the feeling building, and if Yoongi keeps doing that then you're going to cum. "I'm close," you gasp.

Yoongi responds to this by pushing a third finger inside you, rubbing his fingertips directly over your sweet spot. The stretch burns, just a little, but God, you love it. He purses his lips over your clit and flicks his tongue over it at the same time as he curls his fingers again and it undoes you; your spine arches away from the wall as you cum, ripples of pleasure sparking through your body as you tighten around Yoongi's fingers, sobbing almost deliriously at how good it feels.

Yoongi watches you the whole time, keeps his mouth on you as you ride out your high. He only moves away when you start to jolt from oversensitivity, pulling his fingers out carefully as he does. You feel empty without them inside you and you can't wait for him to fill you up with something better instead.

Yoongi holds you steady, his grip firm as you slip your leg from his shoulder and shakily push yourself off the wall. Once you've gotten your balance he stands up— his knees must hurt but he doesn't complain, too busy watching you lift his fingers to your lips, sucking them into your mouth so you can lick the taste of yourself off him.

"Jesus Christ." Yoongi stares at the way you flick your tongue across his skin, glancing at him coquettishly through your lashes. You reach out for him, hands moving towards his belt, but he shakes his head. "Bedroom," he says.

Of course you follow him. At any other time you'd be taking in the details of the apartment, the glimpses you get into the other rooms, but you're too busy looking at Yoongi to have a mind for anything else. He's been hard for so long by now that it must be driving him crazy and you want to give him what he wants. What he needs.

He swings a door open and flicks a light on. Yoongi's room is what you'd expected: neat and organised, with dark furnishings, the only mess being a few scrunched up balls of paper that have overflowed the trash-bin by his desk, which has a pile of notepads next to his laptop and a set up of musical equipment that looks far too complex for you to make heads or tails of. 

You forget about this instantly, however, when Yoongi captures your lips in another kiss, a hand splaying across your jaw so that he can control the pace, crowding you towards the bed until the back of your knees make contact with it and you fall onto the mattress. Yoongi cages you in with his arms and keeps kissing you, though when you palm him through his slacks he hisses through his teeth.

"Want you, Yoongi." You use your hand to stroke over the hardness of him as you nip at his lower lip. "Please."

"Fuck, of course, babygirl." Yoongi leans back and you move with him, sitting up as he stands straight. He unbuttons his shirt and you help him slide it off his shoulders, using it as an excuse to run your hands over the pale skin he reveals to you, sliding your palms down his chest and over his stomach; you dip your head to kiss where your hands have traced, letting your tongue flick across his skin. You lick shamelessly at one of his nipples and feel drunk on the way he lets out a surprised little breath, turning your head to do the same to his other nipple as your hands finally reach their goal: his belt.

You deftly unbuckle it, fast enough that the leather makes a snapping noise when you pull it, and Yoongi bites back a laugh— under normal circumstances you might be embarrassed by how obvious you're being, but you're desperate to finally touch him, especially after he'd made you cum as hard as he had. You look up at him as you reach for his zipper but falter when you notice that he's staring at you with something akin to awe, lifting your lips off his skin.

"What?" You ask, suddenly feeling shy.

Yoongi doesn't respond verbally. Instead, he quirks a little grin at you before he cups your face with both hands and bends down to kiss you again, deeper and slower than he has before. You match his pace, the two of you tilting your heads to get a little closer, but when you continue to pull Yoongi's zip down he laughs against your lips and you smile. He gets the hint, stepping back so he has room to kick his trousers and underwear off; he's not trying to be sensual about it, moving fast so he can get close to you again, but you're enraptured nonetheless.

You swallow at the sight of his cock when it’s finally freed. It's flushed red from neglect, fully hardened, curving up towards his stomach, and you can see how the head glistens with precum, slick and wet. Saliva floods your mouth. Yoongi looks briefly startled when you put your hands against his hips and lightly push him backwards, but then you slide off the bed and onto your knees in front of him and the shock immediately disappears from his face, tangling a hand in your hair as you settle in place.

He's so hard that you don't feel like teasing him. Instead, you take the precum that's gathered at the tip of his cock and rub it down his length, hand wrapping around and twisting as you dip forwards and take the flushed head into your mouth. You can't swallow him all the way down, thanks to your gag reflex, but you give it a damn good go— you relax your throat as much as you can as you lower your head, using your hand to touch the parts of his cock that aren't in your mouth. You tongue at the vein on the underside as you lift back up, using your free hand to cup his balls, and Yoongi curses, his hand tightening in your hair as he pulls you off.

You blink up at him in surprise, mouth still open after he's slid out of your mouth— you feel like you'd barely started— and you can see how his cock twitches as he drinks the sight of you in.

"That mouth of yours is downright sinful," he says, running his thumb over your lower lip. You go lax under his touch, which seems to please him. "As much as I'd like to cum down your throat, I think you want something else instead, don't you, babygirl?"

Your breath shudders out of you and you nod. You want Yoongi's cock inside you, itching for him to finally fuck you stupid, the way you've been yearning for so long. "God, yes, please."

Yoongi's lips twitch at your shameless desperation. "Stand up then, baby," he says, and you comply. "Turn around."

You turn towards the bed to show Yoongi your back, and he slowly unzips your dress; it slides off your shoulders easily, slipping down your body and pooling on the floor as Yoongi drags his hands over the revealed skin. You tremble under his touch, sensitive to each of his motions as he unclasps your bra, and finally you're entirely unclothed, lingerie carelessly tossed to one side before Yoongi pulls you close.

Your back is pressed to his chest, and you can feel the heat and hardness of his cock pressing against you, but you forget about that when his hands move to cup your breasts, rubbing his thumbs over your nipples. You tilt your head back against his shoulder and he takes the opportunity to kiss down your neck, using his tongue to lick down the bared length of it, and your breath hitches in your throat as he pinches one of your nipples between his fingers, the perfect mix of careful roughness.

"You're so fucking gorgeous," Yoongi breathes into the crook of your neck. You whimper and grind back against him, feeling the wetness of his cock as it slips against your skin, and he bites back a groan.

"Yoongi, I need you," you say, so close to finally getting what you've been craving for so long. "Please," you add, voice high with desperation.

You feel how Yoongi bares his teeth against your skin in a silent snarl before he's turning you around in his arms, and you squeal in surprise as he hitches you upwards onto the bed, your head falling onto the pillows. It wasn't a rough motion, Yoongi still careful even when he's clearly as hungry for you as you are for him, but you find yourself whimpering at how he's manhandled you, loving it. Seems like he's helping you discover things about yourself that you hadn't realised before now.

Yoongi settles between your legs, staring down at you, bare and helpless underneath him. You reach out your hand to touch his chest, sweeping your fingers down the line of his stomach and over the trail of dark hair that leads down to his weeping cock, still shining with your spit. He curses, leaning over you to paw at his nightstand drawer; he fumbles with the lube and condom when you wrap your fingers around his length again, stroking him hard and slow.

"Yoongi, please," you say again, practically begging, wanting him inside you as quickly as possible. He curses under his breath again but then wraps his fingers around yours, pulling your hand off his cock. You pout at him. "I've been a good girl, haven't I?"

"Good girls are patient." Yoongi leans back on his heels and you make a small whining noise, but you quieten when you watch him rip open the condom packet; you reach forward again to help him roll it down his cock, wanting to keep the feeling of his hardness and heat under your touch, but he fixes you with a stern gaze. "Hands."

You pause, wondering exactly what he means. You settle on pulling your hands away and stretch up to let them rest on the pillow above you. You must have done the right thing because Yoongi smiles, and you give a squirm of delight. He shifts closer and hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, turning his head to kiss your inner ankle.

"So perfect," he says, and you squirm again, pleased. He reaches for the bottle of lube and uncaps it with a quiet click, drizzling it directly onto his cock and biting back a noise at the coldness of it— but then he squirts more into his hands, warming it between his fingers. You make a small questioning sound, and Yoongi smiles before kissing your ankle again. "This is for you, baby."

Your eyebrows raise in quiet surprise. You're already so wet, dripping with a mix of your own cum and Yoongi's lingering spit, but he's still being this careful and considerate. He dips his slick fingers between your flushed lips and draws them upwards, making you arch your back as he grazes over your pearl of nerves, pleasure shooting directly into your core. 

"Oh, fuck," you gasp. "God, please, Yoongi, please."

"I've got you, babygirl," he murmurs, and you marvel at his self control, his restraint even now. He grips your leg with one hand and uses the other to guide himself into you. Finally. You moan as he sinks in, stretching you, slowly pushing in inch by inch; you can feel the way your walls stretch, parting for him, until he's bottomed out, and you feel so full.

"Holy shit, Yoongi." You've moved your hands and you're digging your nails into his back, trying to pull him closer even though it's not possible, Yoongi's cock so long that you can feel it filling you completely. "Oh, God."

Yoongi's fringe is hanging in his eyes but you can see how his pupils have almost swallowed the dark of his irises, the way he's drinking in the sight of you beneath him— your pupils are blown too, hair a messy halo against the pillows, nipples hard from arousal, chest heaving as you hiccup in air. He pulls out, just as slowly as he'd pushed in, the drag of his cock against your inner walls sending electricity shooting through your nerves; he stops before he's completely out, only the head of him still inside you, and you bite your lip in anticipation, waiting for the next slow thrust in.

You're completely blindsided when Yoongi snaps his hips forward suddenly, fucking sharply into you, and you choke on a surprised breath. He sets a brutal pace, the sound of his skin slapping against yours almost drowned out by the way you wail. Your hands fall away from his back and to the sheets, fingers gripping at them, twisting under your hands. His brows are drawn together with focus, but when you raise a hand up to touch his face he goes easily, letting your leg slip off his shoulder so he can kiss you.

His motions slow somewhat as you kiss each other, but he keeps the roll of his hips just as deep, and you end up all but panting against his mouth instead of kissing him; he swipes his tongue across your lips and you let them fall open so he can lick into your mouth, sloppy and wet. You can feel an orgasm building again, surprisingly fast— especially as he's not even touching your clit— and you clench around him, wanting to hit that peak again.

Yoongi stops kissing you to rest his forehead against yours, staring into your eyes as he slows his thrusts, grinding into you each time he pushes all the way in, hips flush with yours. "Such a good girl." His voice is a low rasp, dark and heavy. "So pretty for me."

Yes, yes, yes. "Wanna be your good girl," you breathe. "Make you feel as good as you make me feel."

Yoongi actually growls, wrapping his hands around your waist and pulling you up. You grab his shoulders for support, legs spreading so that your knees hit the mattress, his cock still inside you as you look down at him, both of you kneeling now. Your breasts are pressed against his chest, stomachs flush, and Yoongi grinds up into you. His hands slide from your waist, to your ass, fingers digging into your flesh as he pulls you up; the change of angle has the curve of his cock dragging right across your sweet spot and you gasp. "Oh, yes, there, just like that."

You press down as Yoongi's hips snap up, and you can feel how his motions are starting to get a little jerkier, staccato, the way he speeds up. With the drag of your nipples against his chest, and the way he's hitting your g-spot dead on each time, you're close to hitting your peak, pleasure riding up into a crescendo— and then Yoongi slides one of his hands between the two of you to rub at your clit and you're gone again, gasping and shaking as your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, all the air escaping your lungs in a drawn out, shuddering wail.

"Fuck, baby." Yoongi's motions grow a little more hurried and sloppy, thrusting up into you as your walls pulsate around him. You try to match his pace, drinking down the way his face twists as he chases his own release— and then his grip on you grows tight enough to bruise and he cums with a surprisingly quiet moan. He grinds upwards, his cock twitching inside you as he empties himself into the condom; you shiver at the sensation, squeezing your legs around his hips in an instinctive attempt to draw him as deeply into you as possible, as futile as that is.

Your legs are shaking. You remain tangled around each other, sweaty and panting, but then Yoongi is grasping your chin and tilting your head down so that he can kiss you. It's soft, and gentle, and you melt into it, going lax and boneless in his hold as you tighten your hands in his hair. 

You feel how he smiles tiredly against your lips, and when you pull back, he looks thoroughly fucked out; his hair is a mess from how you've been running your hands through it and lips are kiss swollen, parted so that he can suck air in and try to catch his breath. You must look similarly wrecked. You feel hazy, though Yoongi feels solid beneath you, grounding you as you slowly come back to yourself.

"I'm going to lean you back, beautiful," he says, and you entwine your fingers together behind his neck so that he can tilt you onto the mattress, careful and reverent. He slips his softening cock out of you and you let out a small sigh at the sudden feeling of emptiness, though as soon as he's done tying the condom off and throwing it in the bin he comes back to you, lightly kissing you as he draws a hand gently between the valley of your breasts. Despite the tenderness behind the motion you're suddenly struck with wondering if he's about to ask you to leave, but then he asks: "Do you want to come wash up?"

You pause. "Oh, God, my makeup," you say with sudden realisation as your fingers come up to touch under your eyes. Your eyeshadow and mascara must be a mess by now. You splay your hand across your face, as if trying to hide it— which you know is stupid, especially considering the fact the rest of your body is naked under Yoongi's gaze. He huffs out a laugh and takes your hands with his own, pulling them away. "Nooo," you whine. "Don't look at me."

One of Yoongi's eyebrows rises. "Why would I ever want to look away from you?"

You wriggle. "Yoongi," you whine again, equal parts pleased and embarrassed, but you let your hands go limp and Yoongi pulls you to your feet. "You're shameless."

"And you're gorgeous," he says, simply. "Come on, you'll get cold."

Yoongi lets you clean up first. It's weird how comfortable you are as you navigate your way around Yoongi and Jin's bathroom— you pilfer one of Jin's makeup wipes to clean your face— and how natural it feels to accept the shirt Yoongi gives you, an oversized, stretched-out old thing that's gone soft from years of wear. You're perched on the bathroom counter as you slide it on, glancing down at the design on the front, and you instantly perk up when you see what it is.

"You do love Kumamon," you say with delight. 

Yoongi stops in the middle of brushing his teeth, looking a little ridiculous with the minty froth around his lips but still just as kissable. He rinses his mouth and spits, wiping his lips with a towel before he makes a face at you.

"Jin told you about that, too?"

"I want to see your slippers," you say in reply and Yoongi groans. You can't help but giggle, feeling sleepy and soft and affectionate, and you touch your fingers under Yoongi's chin so that you can press a quick kiss to his lips. "I think it's cute."

By the time you've both finished your ablutions and you slide off the counter, you feel tired, what little energy you had after being fucked by Yoongi completely gone from you; you slide onto Yoongi's bed gratefully, glad to be off your feet. You hold your hands up and beckon for him to join you, but then let out a sharp laugh of surprise when he tugs his rumpled blanket off the bed from underneath you and lets it drop to the floor. "Yoongi!"

"I'll be right back," he says. While you wait, you decide to stretch, eyes slipping shut as you extend your limbs. You know you'll feel the ache between your legs tomorrow, a little thrill skating through you at the knowledge that Yoongi's touch has left a physical reminder, something only you can feel and no one else can see.

When your eyes flutter open again, you see Yoongi standing at the bottom of the bed, a different blanket gathered in his arms. He's staring at you, and you realise that the material of his shirt has moved as you've stretched, hitching up over your hips. Even though you're both tired, Yoongi's eyes still darken when you shift your legs, and you bask under his attention.

"A different blanket?" You ask, curious, and Yoongi's eyes slide away from your still-bare core back up to your face.

"It's Jin's," he says. "I wasn't about to let you sleep on sweaty sex sheets."

"I don't mind," you say, honestly, but Yoongi proceeds to lay Jin's blanket across the bed anyway. "Jin's not going to be happy about this," you add, but you say it with a laugh, instantly curling up into Yoongi when he lays down beside you.

"He'll live." Yoongi's arm comes around you, fingers trailing over your shoulder; you lapse into silence and let your eyes shut, focusing on Yoongi's movements. It feels like he’s pressing piano keys down and playing a silent song against your skin. You can't help but smile, starting to drift off, when Yoongi speaks again. "Let me take you out for breakfast."

"Hm?" Your eyes open and you blink away your sleepiness to look up at Yoongi, who's still watching you. "Breakfast?"

"Yes." Yoongi's fingers still on your shoulder, and then he slides his hand down to tangle your fingers with his. "Or lunch. Or dinner. Whichever you prefer." He pauses. "Unless you don't want to," he says, and though his voice stays steady, you see a flicker of nervousness in his eyes. He's worried that you've gotten what you want and now you'll be done with him.

"You're so silly," you say softly, and you can see how Yoongi's face twists with confusion, unsure about how to react to being called silly— you can't imagine many people have said that to him, as outwardly intimidating as he can be. You squeeze his hand. "Of course I want to. But how about we plan it tomorrow? I don't know how long it's going to take me to be comfortable with walking in a straight line, so breakfast might be off the cards for now."

After a moment, Yoongi's face takes on a satisfied expression. "That's what you said you wanted," he says, and you huff out an amused breath.

"I technically said I wanted you to bend me over a piano, actually," you point out, letting your head settle in the crook of his neck again, and Yoongi brushes his lips against your forehead.

"There's a piano in the living room," he states casually, and you can't help the shiver that runs through you, even as your eyes start to fall shut again.

"I'll keep that in mind."

–

jiminnie y/n!! tae said you called in sick for work? are you okay??

you i'm good! just a lil busy

jiminnie with what?

you [image attached]

jiminnie … why have you sent me a photo of a piano?

you yoongi's gonna fuck me on it omg on that note i've gtg BYE LOVE YOU MINNIE xoxoxo

jiminnie WHAT??? OMG??? GET THAT DICK QUEEN!!!

[anti-porn-unicorn]

Sex work has always been dehumanizing towards people, but porn makes it even worse.

Before the internet, someone would have to go a brothel to find someone to have sex with, now anyone old enough to type can watch a prostitute online. Before the internet, sexual violence “kinks” existed but were still reserved for sadists. Now, nearly every porn watcher enjoys some form of sexual violence. Before the internet, children learned about sex through their parents magazines. Not great, but still better than now, when they learn about sex through violent rape porn. Before the internet, porn movies were stigmatized. Now, it’s celebrated.

And that’s the scary thing about porn. It is so accessible, so normalized. It’s no longer a fringe thing, it’s mainstream and children regularly access it.

[anxiouslyfred]

Lockets and Emo’s

Summary: Virgil can guess a lot about their soulmate from the knife locket they were drawn too, and the portrait within, but they’ll wait for them to visit the shop he works in.

/\/\

People always talked about how accurate the portraits in their lockets were, and that they'd never have been able to find their soulmate if not for the picture held inside. Frankly, people talked a lot of nonsense and no matter how accurate a painting was, it was still limited by the paint, the artist and the amount of space available in how detailed it could be. Even photographs suffered that limitation.

When Virgil first got their locket, they had been far more interested in the process of the caravan, being blindfolded in the room with the lockets until one called his hands to them, and afterwards sitting with the soul artist as though for their own portrait but actually so they could get their energy to reveal the image of their soulmate. They'd been lucky enough that the locket in their hands filled them, providing more space for the image to appear in. That gave him more details to look for in the faces of others alongside the reflections of who their soulmate is in the design of the locket.

Remus hadn't cared when he was taken to get his locket. It wasn't that he didn't want to meet them, but that he'd spent the week reading about the soulmates who didn't work out, and just wanted to discuss with all the workers there if there's anyway to know how soulmates will actually react to each other. After all, even in fiction there were soulmates like Heathcliffe and Cathy who were perfect to destroy each other, as well as political ones, where the soulmates might try to be romantic, or friends, but their connection really only grows when they work together as colleagues and nothing more. Surely the different types of soulmates had been studied and the people in the caravan should know if he could tell just what he was heading to having.

He had kept asking those questions while blindfolded and being led from the room with a rather bland looking lockets and even while sitting with the artist as the tiny thing had his soulmate painted inside it. None of the staff replied or even spoke to him beyond gentle words to guide him through the process, no matter how many times Remus insisted they could throw him through the areas if they wanted to.

It wasn't until a week later than Remus looked at his locket and found the spider webs and checked patterns engraved into the locket, only visible in some lights. It at least made him more interested in the soulmate that was supposed to be portrayed within it, with dark eyeshadow showing from beneath a long fringe. At least it wasn't any of the emos he'd been through school with, none of them had worn eyeshadow underneath their eyes and almost all of them hated his rebellious punk style.

Virgil wasn't going to go out socialising to try and find the guy with a wild smile, a fringe bleached white and green-brown eyes, but they could just about cope with a retail job, so long as the shop was small and wouldn't insist he speaks to people as they enter. That would at least give them a change to people watch in case someone similar to their portrait wandered through.

Well, that and they could hopefully watch for anyone causing a scene because whomever the locket represented definitely would grab attention quickly. Virgil wasn't quite sure what they were most amused by when looking at the locket, just how gaudy it was or how intricately made  it was. The main body seemed to be made out of a dagger, cut in half width ways and blunted just enough to be safe to wear, although still functional if they wished to stab someone. There was even a hilt instead of a normal ring to attach it to the chain.

Remus had tried visiting all the normal areas he'd heard of emo's hanging out in, making a scene and sometimes getting into fights at all of them. They might agree that the police needed to be shut down and capitalism was a burden but apparently got very protective over the bands they claimed. It wasn't Remus's fault he sometimes was looking for something with a bit more of a dancable beat to it.

He only decided to try to shops in local towns that emos might visit on a whim, or rather after Roman had gone on a long speech about “It's not merely fashion Remus, any fool could follow that, it's about aesthetic and truly reflecting the prince within me.” All he had asked was just why his brother was dragging them around shops that seemed to sell mostly steampunk accessories when his brother usually preferred swords, leather and ruby jewellery.

Seriously, Remus could and would make anything his style within a day of climbing around in it. A few tears, a bit of dirt and perhaps some thorns from the bushed he scrambled through and the jobs done, but it definitely made sense that someone who's locket reflection hid the details probably wouldn't be out around the town regularly.

When he first entered an out of the way shop, Remus had been torn between making a scene and just trying to steal a couple of the spiked piercing they had in a display case. It was always more fun to steal things that were locked to normal shoppers, but he actually knew the words to the song that was playing so obviously had to make a display table his stage and sing along. Checking the staff out for patchwork clothes or under the eye eyeshadow could wait a while.

He made it halfway through the song before someone caught his arm and essentially through him to the floor as they yanked him down. “If you're going to dance on the merchandise you had better get to cleaning it up right the hell now, Maniac!” The store assistant who'd yanked him down demanded, glaring and waving a hand at where he'd been dancing a second before.

Remus would have argued, except he could recognise that long fringe anywhere. They eyeshadow just underneath them only cemented that his was his soulmate, and the shaking in their hands was probably because they were realising the same thing.

“Hi, I'm Remus, he/him, and sure thing. You gonna give me instructions on what to do, Spiderpatch?” He asked instead, bouncing up, as close as he could to the other, pouting a little when he was still looking up at them.

“Virgil, they/them, and if that's what it takes then yes, but I think you're smart enough to figure it out yourself.” They growled out.

Mentally Virgil was still freaking out. Usually when people started making a scene to that degree they would actually wait until they finished and then clean up after them. This was way too close to a confrontation for them to be comfortable with, but the man was more accurate to his mental image of his soulmate than anyone they'd ever seen and it at least gave them something to say without bringing that up.

“Smart enough, sure, willing to do it without my soulmate or some kind of threat to motivate me, yeah, I don't wanna.” Remus teased, not expecting a knife to be pulled from Virgil's hoodie and held up towards him.

Virgil smirked at the blink that flickered between their face and their hands. “Well I've got both thanks to your locket, so how about you get folding?” They asked, gesturing once again to the ruined display, although thankfully there were no footprints on any of the tops. Glancing around they saw why as Remus had apparently thrown his shoes across the room while climbing onto the table.

“It's a knife locket? Oh my god, I have the most awesome reflection in locket form ever! I'm in love with this locket even if you're making me fold shirts to get a date with you.” Remus was bouncing even as he finally turned to start tidying up the display, already rattling of other thoughts and well aware Virgil was stood watching him.

“So what's mine like then, if you're so enamoured with the one for you?” They hadn't decided about going out with Remus yet so decided to ignore the offer when they finally spoke up again.

Remus barely paused, grabbing the locket from his pocket to shove into their hands. “Really interesting. The best light to look at it in is like night club strobe lights. They bring out the designs on it perfectly. I bet in here you can barely make out there's even any pattern on there. Seriously, date? Hang out as friends? Phone number? Can I have something to say I'm seeing you again? Hell if you'd prefer just to make me work here I'm down for it.”

Virgil snickered at the ideas but shook their head playfully horrified when Remus mentioned them working together. “I'm not giving you more chances to damage the merchandise. How about we text for a while, get to know each other and see what we'd like from there?”

“Phone number then.” Remus turned around pulling his phone out only to pout and exaggeratedly deflate when his realised they were no longer holding the knife locket out at all. “Come on, I liked having you ready to cut me. A bit of pain is brilliant.”

“Not what I meant when I said getting to know you, but noted, if we ever get to a sexual relationship, you have a pain kink.” Virgil remarked, quickly typing in their number before waving towards the staff area. “I can't have my phone out on shift since I got too grouchy with my co-workers so text me and I'll reply when I get out of here.”

Remus took his phone back with a grin, “Sure, I'll go and see what mischief I can get into before I come to walk you home.”

“Didn't agree to that.” Virgil tried to call after him, but Remus had already turned to race out of the store.

[etirabys]

The solution to “the lesbians I read about aren’t horrible enough” is, of course, to roll your own. Here’s what I’ve been dreaming up recently (warning: this story idea was simply formed by throwing together every lesbian fiction nutrient I currently feel deprived of, I have not designed it to be ‘good’ at all):

Frances Hareva is a military strategist for the ruling planet of an interplanetary civilization, Mars Delta. Actually, she’s not the military strategist – Zlanna is. Zlanna is the AI who takes input from a massive interplanetary surveillance network and provides most of the brainpower for the job. But the values and core decisionmaking is provided by a human hooked up to Zlanna, who is constantly trained for alignment with the collective will of her planet. Some three years into this extremely demanding job that's damaging her brain in certain ways, Frances orders a hit on a ruling family of a rebellious colony planet, Ftam Quedir. She leaves alive the adoptive daughter, Safi.

Safi is a product of heavy genetic engineering, and Frances predicts she will become an influential moderate representative of pro-gene-engineering, an ethical and material issue that's promising to be divisive enough to lead to interplanetary war. Frances has had very little meaningful human contact for several years, and while doing a job that involves spying on millions of people, some of the people she watches have drifted into the friend-shaped hole. Something that is not quite apparent to her superiors, or to Frances herself until she recommends/orders the assassination, is that she’s become very fond of Safi while surveilling the Quediram clan, and has clouded judgment about her.

Soon after making that call, Frances has a nervous breakdown that impedes her relationship with the AI, and is quietly shipped off to a university to spend all her efforts getting an art degree under a false name, which her superiors figure is a humane way of getting rid of her in a way that doesn't embarrass them.

Safi had an ambiguous relationship with her family, who took her in and gave her a very good life, but also were terrible in some ways. Several months into growing into an interplanetary activist of the exact type that Frances expected her to be, Safi realizes that someone meant to set her on this life path by killing her family, rage quits, and disappears from the public eye. She spends time tracking down everyone involved in the hit so she can ruin their lives. She's 18 and a hothead, more than Frances knew.

Frances is on the top of the hit list, so Safi enrolls in the university she's hiding out at as an undergrad (thereby, yes, making this a college fic – look, I've always wanted to write one), also in disguise. She manages to make contact with Frances by enrolling in a class with her. Frances obviously recognizes her but has no idea what Safi is doing here; Safi's first layer of disguise to almost everyone is "normal vaguely foreign student", her second layer of disguise to Frances specifically is "Safi, but she wants a normal life for a while and an education on the ruling planet, and has no idea who Frances is".

There's some dancing around for a while where Safi befriends Frances, maybe roping her into some intensive and actually interesting school project. Safi spends these months trying to ruin Frances's life in RELATIVELY MUNDANE, PETTY WAYS like guilt-tripping her, getting her apartment burgled, and outing her in a planetary culture where being a lesbian is mildly to moderately stigmatized because it's strongly associated with the semi-fringe monarchist movement, all while observing her to design a coup de grace optimized to make Frances as miserable as possible. Meanwhile, in normal life, they are forming a surprisingly strong connection. (They may make out a bit at this point, Safi arranging it so that Frances immediately turns her down but gets flustered and guilty about it, because Safi is playing a sexually inexperienced undergrad who'll be crushed if the first gay contact she tries to make goes badly.)

Safi quickly figures out that, after all that work tracking down her nemesis, Frances is a total wreck of a person who isn't at all satisfying to ruin because she’s already a huge mess. Lots of rage sloshing around with nowhere to go. Also by this point they definitely want to bang each other and are horrified by it. There's a big confrontation where they shed their secret identities, where Safi really lays it in and then leaves. Frances, in the aftermath, decides that her redemption lies in shaping up and being a satisfying enemy for Safi to take down, and so does everything she can to get herself together and become the perfect political rival...

("Eti, please stop, we get it, you kink on –")

With Frances taking the lead on the shape of their new relationship, Safi steps into the dance, into a Locke-and-Demosthenes dynamic where what they say in public is largely reflective of real personal differences in opinion, but also a deliberate partnership to optimize the debate between them itself to lead their civilization away from war. They do this without ever coordinating personally on their goals.

(They say things like "That said, Miss Frances, I cannot wait to take your argument apart. You have published a 35 page supplementary tract on your views since then and I have read it with interest. ... Attached is my 44-point list of objections, follow up questions, and what I believe to be convincing takedowns to the general Mars Deltan audience with an open mind.")

// At this point I lose conviction in what happens next – I’ve filled something out but it’s not inspired, the stuff I really care about is [gestures above].

This is the case for the next several years or so. They are completely and stupidly obsessed with each other and spy on each other. Safi goes and has a defiantly prolific sex life, hoping that Frances will be upset about it. Frances, incidentally, is not, but she tries to return the favor by going on some dates (which Safi does get het up about) although she's too demi to actually sleep with anyone. Eventually, they start a secret line of correspondence – probably Safi starts it after Frances misses too many therapy appointments and says something snippy about it – that over time turns into what's undeniably love letters.

At some point, one of them has a real personal crisis and the other one just materializes at their doorstep. The one who's having a crisis ignores everyone else, grabs their visitor's hand, and pulls her into the bedroom. They don't leave for a couple of days.

More faffing about Whether We Can Do This, which is rendered moot by the fact that they find it impossible to stay away from each other. Agony. Frances comes up with a long, multi-year plan for arranging their public lives to intersect in a way that naturally culminates in their getting married. Safi shoots off five emails arguing about the pre-nup and quibbling about the strategy, before belatedly realizing that Frances just proposed marriage and Safi... wanted it so obviously much that she never even considered contesting the premise of the plan.

There are some hiccups but they execute this fine and get married. Oh shit oh shit oh shit what now. Frances might be sufficiently neuroatypical that, Derek Parfit style, she can't handle actually living with her spouse and they largely conduct their relationship over the phone and meet once a week to talk irl, cuddle, and fuck.

[catsandstrawberries]

Foot Issues

alright so im feeling inspired so here's a little thing I whipped out

Pairing: BalletTeacherJungkook x DanceStudentReader (mostly ballet) 

Warnings: It sounds like a foot kink but its not, (unless you want it to be i guess) readers feet are disgusting, pain because ballet=pain, maybe sugar daddy (who knows, definetly not me 0-o) 

Genre: Its literally fluff and I think im gonna make this a series because this is adorable 

Summary: Reader is having some foot problems in ballet class one day and Jungkook is quick to check in on her

Ok so Jungkook is one of the biggest goofballs and relatively new to teaching 

He's trained all his life in ballet, but after three years at a professional company he decided its not his cup of tea and he loves teaching so much more than performing

He gets job offers from a handful of state dance schools where they teach more than just ballet 

He decides on the school that allows him to teach both the littles and the bigger kids because Jungkook is a sucker for the six-year-old smilies with the missing teeth. 

When Jungkook firsts start his job he's quick to familiarize himself with the other teachers 

Hoseok teaches Hip hop and Jimin teaches jazz and contemporary

It's a pretty versatile studio and the owner Kim Namjoon, even though he doesn't particularly dance, is suddenly Jungkooks idol

Namjoon is so good with the kids and teens, and he's so young and has already created such a strong business 

Insert Jungkook making heart eyes at Namjoon uwu

But then Namjoon introduces Jungkook to you

You are one of the girls on scholarship taking the upper-level classes while pursuing a dance degree at college 

"Jungkook, this is (y/n). She's one of the university students here on a scholarship. You might see her around because she clean's the studios on Monday and Wednesdays as apart of her scholarship, so if you need anything and can't find the other teachers feel free to ask her." 

Jungkook thinks you look sweet enough, but it's odd for him at first because you only look two or three years younger than him but he's gonna be your teacher 

You smile and try not to bust a nut because oh my god he's fucking attractive 

You try to mask the color on your cheeks but before you can talk more Mr. Park is calling you because Contemporary is about to start 

So you yeet yourself out of there, finally letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding 

So you find out Jungkook is a pretty decent teacher 

The only issue is all of the other uni students are too busy staring at his ass than actually paying attention

Well....you are too, but you aren't as obvious as them, right?

The cast list for the show specifically for the university kids is coming out soon

The show is the wizard of oz and you really want to be the wicked witch of the west

What? Not only does she get to do the fun, big jumps but Dorothy is overrated 

So you have been working really hard in class and haven't really been paying attention to Jungkook until your foot starts to hurt bad  

Your pointe shoes are relatively new and you haven't rolled your ankle so you don't really understand why

 Jungkook comes up to you during a développé combination and he's grabbing your leg and placing your foot on his shoulder, his hands pushing your ankle up. 

Ooooof the pain

you bite your lip to avoid the discomfort but Jungkook only scolds you, 

"Relax." 

sure relax, you try lifting your leg above your head. 

But no, seriously Jungkooks extensions are insane, you watched him do a leg hold turn once and it was crazy 

When Jungkook puts your leg down he immediately notices how red and swollen your foot is

After barre when all of the students go to the centre he calls you out and asks you to put on your flat shoes

You blank because 

ExCUse mE 

First off, he didn't ask any of the other girls to take off their pointe shoes, and you don't want him to think you're lazy or incapable and then give you a bad part in the show

You kind of stand there like an idiot while he raises his eyebrows at you, 

"Bu-"

"now (y/n)" 

Jungkook is never really strict with your class, sure he gets annoyed when some of you get off the music (cough cough* its always Lisa* cough cough) or when he has to give the same corrections, but he's pretty chill, he even lets you call him Mr. Jungkook

He wanted to be called Jungkook but Namjoon said he needed to keep a level of professionalism 

Anyways

Jungkook sound generally mad at you and you try to hide your annoyed facial expression while you rip off your ribbons and slip on the flat shoes that make you look like a novice 

On the bright side, you can do a triple pirouette in flat shoes while you can only do doubles on a good day in your pointe shoes

Class is kind of hazy because you're still annoyed but once it's over all of the girls go to bow to Jungkook because it's proper and you should always bow to your teacher

"Wait, (y/n), can you stay after? I want to take a look at your foot." 

"Um...ye-eah, sure." 

Fuck 

You're gonna be alone with this snack 

Jungkook sits cross-legged on the floor, clad in his tight, but somehow flexible jeans and his black T-shirt

"Did you do something to your foot? It was really swollen in your pointe shoe today." 

You take off your flat shoes and roll back the tights of your injured foot though you practically feel no pain 

Okay...

SO Jungkook is ATTRACTIVE, and he's gazing at your feet as if its the most important thing on the planet 

but your feet are fucking disgusting

Your big toe lost a toenail the other day and you have blisters on your third and fourth toes. Bandages cover your pinky and its completely red. 

"I'm gonna touch your foot." 

Jungkook grabs your foot and puts it in his lap and looks up at you through the fringe of his hair, and this motherfucker starts to giggle 

"Um..." You worry he's lost his shit for a second but then he's looking back down at your foot

"I've seen my fair share of gross feet (y/n), no need to be embarrassed"

Okay you're blushing all over and looking anywhere but him as he starts to ask questions 

"Does it hurt? Can you feel this? Have you rolled over your box" 

"No, no, and no." 

This boi 

He starts to massage your foot 

Your filthy, ugly, foot

and it's strangely intimate 

You gasp in a very unsexual way that sounds very sexual 

You suddenly feel everything as if the blood was finally rushing to your foot

"Your pointe shoes are definitely too tight. My guess is that because of how hard you've been working your feet have swelled up a bit, which is normal-" 

How can Jungkook move his hands like that? His fingers are spreading the skin and rolling his palm against the arch of your foot and it feels like heaven. His hands are distracting you so much that you don't even hear the compliment he gave you

"You're gonna need new pointe shoes though." 

You stop drooling and flinch your foot away from his hands

"What?" 

"You need new pointe shoes." 

so

POINTE SHOES ARE EXPENSIVE 

and you're BrOKe, there's a reason you're a scholarship girl 

"What would happen if I just keep dancing on the pointe shoes I have now." 

He sends you the same glare he did in class

"I won't let you dance in those shoes (y/n). They cut off your circulation and could damage your feet." 

His eyes suddenly widen and he starts to blush a bit, "if money is a problem I can help you out."  

"What? No, I can figure something out, and I don't want you to feel like I'm using you and I already have the scholarship I cou-" 

Jungkook after rubbing some hand sanitizer into his hands that are kept in all the studios helps you to your feet by gently grabbing your hands

"(Y/n) I know your scholarship doesn't cover your pointe shoes, and if you want to be ready for rehearsals for Wiz you'll need them by Wednesday." 

He gauges your reaction carefully and gently grabs your elbows as he stands in front of you, 

"Hear me out, I pay for them, you pay me back when you have the money. Deal?" 

You hate this, but you have no idea what else to do, and he's right. If you don't have them for rehearsals they might lower your position or not cast you. 

"Fine." 

You're suddenly very conscious of how close the two of you are and you both jump away as if you've burned each other 

"Um, I should go." You turn to grab your bag but just before you head out the door you send Jungkook a smile. 

"Mr. Jungkook, thank you seriously." 

Jungkook will come to realize, that your smile will be stuck in his head for the rest of the week. 

[warmbeebosoftbeebo]

/post/627205399610884096/about-brendon-urie-lana-jade on prettyoddfever tumblr

so i was on the outside looking in on fandom back then (was kind of into panic, kind of crushing on ryan, read some fandom goings on but didn’t participate in fandom i don’t think) but had thought lana kind of being with b was better known. 

ok, yes, she was a drama queen back then. not super surprising. early 20s, involved with those scenes eg emo, “scene girls”, early on in the internet being used in those ways. i didn’t know about most of those screenshots, and most of my perception of her was her youtube channel and the shots of her talking about b before the break up and her disavowing the open letter to b, which she stands by not being her even now (it was a joke by a guy who knew them both, mostly untrue, with inside jokes).

i guess stuff from over a decade ago shouldn’t be held against her. we can only for sure go by what she’s said this month, although she latter realized the online stuff was a catfisher, likely chelsey, and she didn’t want to delve into details about 07. if she did talk about that time now, i would take her word for it, because why would she put her name out there after all these years and give details only to lie about it? based on everything i’ve come across, that time in 07 with him is the only thing that likely was him being unethical/inappropriate, maybe even abusive, although we can’t know for sure without her saying (she was actually with him casually for months, met with him irl, was sexually involved with him). it’s the only situation that gives me significant pause now. if some of the anon accusations came out with their real names/faces, i’d have to reevaluate that view eg i’d be inclined to believe someone who put their name and face out there about a specific experience with b. anyone can make drive by anon accusations and close their account a day later about anyone doing anything, takes serious guts to stand by it. 

edit to add: cash cooligan and alex from the cab may also have experiences with b that are cause for concern, but at this point, it’s pretty cryptic and seems to blame b for how capitalism and the music industry works. if alex got specific, there might be something there, but as it is, it makes alex seem like the violent one, not b (eg that he’d smash b’s face in if he saw him)

also, some things she was saying about b back in 07 could actually indicate not abusiveness, being dominating, etc but being submissive, into gender nonconforming things sexually, as well as genuinely mutual roughness. she connects his being a “kinky mother fucker” with her thinking he was gay, but i don’t think she is connecting it with him treating women shittily, implying the two are different, and that she’s connecting sexual interests with her with his attraction to men. this more likely implies him wanting to be acted upon, submissive/pliant, get “rough” treatment, than the other way around. it could also imply things she thinks is weird and are weird in our culture eg men being genuinely “submissive” with women, and i have other readings to that are speculative eg tribadism, him being a tease with his bum, him being into other sex acts more than piv, some people consider focusing on oral or manual or frottage/tribadism to be weird. and some things were also said by audrey, indicating their likely truthfulness (that he was bi, smaller than average penis, into anal stimulation in some forms or others). 

also important to note: “kinky” looked very different in 07 from what it does now, as i kind of get into above. a decade ago, even bdsmers were against things that are normalized as part of regular, vanilla sex now like strangulation and seen as “mild kink” at most now (eg ddlg). strangulation used to be a hell no, run for your life thing, even according to most bdsmers. what people got up to under the banner of rough sex without identifying with the bdsm scene or relying on porn, where the man wasn’t deep into sadism (which would be hell for anyone with such a man at any point), was generally a lot milder than today eg spanking, hair tugs, light bondage, scratching, light bites, sucking hard/hickeys, pining each other down, wanting to be taken, blindfolds, ice cubes, heat. even rough thrusting, genital stimulation, nipple stimulation, etc wasn’t as rough as now. “throat fucking” and “piledriving” were fringe things at most. it was also more likely to go both ways to at least some degree and not necessarily connected with clear male domination, female submission or humiliation or degradation like now. i feel like people will read about the lana situation, her dms to someone, the fake letter, etc and conclude things back then reflect what “kinky” “rough” sex looks like now. 

i... uh... knew some people into rougher stuff back then that didn’t identify with the bdsm scene (which back then was usually really abusive to women too but it’s gotten worse now) and it wasn’t like it is now, even when it left some bruises (let’s just say it didn’t hurt to get said bruises). even the guy who was too rough and caused me pain (in 2006) would look really different (worse) now i think and i still waver on how intentional i think he was in his causing it (jesus who likes having their clitoris/vulva/vagina so roughly? pain for fucking days. i gave up on trying to show and tell him how and didn’t get myself out of the situation after he repeatedly went back to how he wanted to do it). i could go into some specific detail on this if anyone wants but i’ll leave that there for now.

the “shaves everywhere” accusation i just find hilarious and really unlikely esp for pre-2010 haha (today in wondering about bden’s bush XD... twtl era, i’d believe it because he did shave his pits and even groin area at times, and in the 00s shaving everything wasn’t that normalized for either sex and was often considered unusual still. and b likes pubes on others, has referenced having pubes himself. back in my day when dudes still dug bush... btw, having a bush is a great way to tell the guys you can work with/teach vs the pornbrained ones haha). i’m sure that’s one of the things that make her cringe now for saying back then (along with bringing gayness/bisexuality into it).

i also find it unlikely that he lied to her about the status of their situation eg told her they were monogamous, but maybe that’s my default assumption about guys in music not being monogamous generally (some are, but there’s a lot of nonmonogamy and cheating). he was 20 years old, new to fame, getting LOTS of interest and opportunities from gals and probably a few guys, such opportunity and interest was mostly new to him, he wanted to explore some of said opportunities... 

[sethrine-writes]

Heat of the Ocean

Fandom:  Devil May Cry 5

Pairing:  Merman!V x F!Reader

Words:  2678

Warnings:  Rated E - Spicy content ahead, sexual themes

Commission Request:  900 words, merman!V in his heat/rut, marking (biting/scratching) light dom/sub undertones, possessive V, creampie, breeding kink, hair pulling.

A/N: This commission was requested by the super lovely @mysticalkhfan! She is an absolute sweetheart, and I can't thank her enough for her patience! Thank you so much for commissioning me, dear!

------

V had been acting strange the past couple of days.

It had come on rather suddenly, whatever affliction it was that was causing the merman to act all out of sorts, and it was concerning. You worried that it was contagious and could spread to the others you had come to know, Nero and Kyrie and the elder twin brothers who mostly kept to themselves, but ended up visiting out of sheer curiosity, much like everyone else.

Oddly enough, none of them seemed any worse for wear. In fact, none of them seemed remotely concerned over V's behavior, and you wondered if, perhaps, it was a normal occurrence amongst their kind.

Whatever it was, it all started with the excessive touching.

V rather liked touching your skin. You often found yourself nearly waist-deep out in the ocean's more shallow region near your secluded home, the iridescently colored mer content below the water's surface to swim about you lazily and brush against your legs or popping up to smooth webbed fingers over your arms as you read poetry books to him. For two days straight, however, the touching felt more possessive, more grabby and demanding the longer you stayed in the water.

The day after noticing the somewhat subtle change, a frightening altercation occurred, one you never would have expected to see from V's docile nature.

Just like the days previous, he was being rather handsy, nose perpetually pressed into your ribcage while his hands stroked at your legs in large, sweeping motions, occasionally peeking up and motioning for you to kiss him. You were sat near the shoreline, though submerged enough in the water that there was a constant pool of it about your hips as you leaned against one of the many large rock formations that scattered the shallows of the beach.

There was movement in the deeper waters that caught your eye, and you looked up just in time to see two heads breach the surface. Eagerly, you waved to the two mers, Nero and Kyrie, smiling as the latter gave a beaming smile that lit her speckled features. Nero began leading them closer at your acknowledgment of them, most likely appearing for a visit on his mate's behest-

V had turned so sharply, you barely had the chance to call out his name before he was scrambling towards Nero, unleashing ungodly hisses and exposing the large, razor-sharp teeth mostly hidden behind unassumingly plush lips. His spine was arched sharply, and the winged finds indicating his ears, as well as the ridge along his spine, had flared out in both an impressive and frightening display of intimidation.

Nero, poor thing, had not expected such a hostile welcome and reacted in-kind, hackles raised and expressing the same intimidating features as V in a form of defense. Kyrie remained behind Nero, if a bit more hidden than before, and you could tell that she was both frightened and rather confused. Even Nero seemed confused for a good moment before his flared find suddenly receded, eyes narrowing curiously. Several sharp clicking sounds left his throat, and then he was promptly leading Kyrie back into deeper waters. They didn’t seem to go too far, intent on playing around close by, mindful of V's sudden need for space.

It took a few minutes for V to feel comfortable again, even with you having stood and moved to his side to comfort him with cautious fingers sifting through the damp fringe of his white hair. When all his features began to relax once more, you knew he had calmed, at least enough for you to coax his attention away from the others with gentle words. He was immediate in nudging you back toward the rock, nearly pushing you down into the water in his haste to resume his form of cuddling.

Prodding him for answers resulted in only one, his words bitter and petulant through the mind-link you shared with him:

“He was too close, and I could not allow that.”

Cryptic, and so unlike him to be so sour, especially concerning Nero, but you let it be. No one had gotten hurt, at least not physically, and if it happened again, you would be sure to put a stop to it.

The following afternoon, everything began to make perfect sense.

You had shown up to V's favorite sunbathing spot just a bit further from the shoreline, sporting one of your usual swimsuits as well as a slightly water-stained copy of random poems by the late author William Blake. Much to your surprise, V wasn’t in his usual spot as you expected him to be, flaked out on his stomach and enjoying the warmth of the early afternoon sun on his pale back. Regardless, you moved to sit at the edge of the mostly smooth surface, feet and legs dangling into the water as you made yourself comfortable-

Only to scream a moment later as V propelled himself from the water and right against you. There was some floundering that followed the odd panic of the moment, but that died down into confused wiggling as V hovered over you upon the rock, slick webbed hands pinning yours next to your head as he stared down at you with near-bleary eyes, water dripping from his hair onto your face. He was panting, also, and looked as if he was possibly in pain, something that worried you greatly.

“V? What's…are you alright?”

Instead of answering, he pressed himself closer, completely soaking you with the water still dripping from his body. Surprisingly, he was rather warm, as if he had already been sunbathing before your arrival. Either that, or he was running a fever, something that didn’t seem possible.

You tried wiggling your hips in an attempt to slide out from underneath him, wanting to check him over for any signs of injury. You didn’t expect V's grip to tighten around your wrists, nor did you expect the trembling of his muscles, of which you felt all along your body. Looking up at him, you were aware that the pain in his features before had shifted, his eyes now closed and mouth parted just so.

He wasn't in pain, at least, not the type of pain you initially thought.

Curiously, you angled your hips a bit more upward and rolled your lower body against his to his reaction. Doing so garnered a rumbling growl from V, something he had never done before, as well as one of his hands reaching for your hair and giving it a firm, consistent tug until you were forced to follow the movement.

“Need you,” was whispered through the mind link you shared with him, his words low and dripping with barely contained desire.

A small gasp escaped your lips, eyes fluttering as you reached for his wrist, but did not pull him away, merely anchoring yourself.

The action must have been the tipping point because his mouth was against the side of your exposed neck not but mere seconds later, a cheeky tongue darting out between plush lips to taste the smooth skin there. You shivered at the sensation, something V must have liked, if the rumbling purr coming from deep within his throat was any indication.

A breathy moan escaped your lips as he began pulling patches of skin into his mouth with light suction, the tiniest pinpricks of his teeth threatening to break the surface the longer he remained there. He pulled at your hair once more, angling your head to the side to allow him more access to uncharted flesh, leaving behind blooming patches in his wake that would surely darken over time.

“I tried to hold back,” he spoke to you, lips and teeth and tongue trailing down across your chest, “I believed your company alone would be enough. I…miscalculated the nature of my wants, my desire.”

V's hands shifted, elongated nails scratching along your arm and leaving behind lines along your skin that sent tingles straight to your core. He made quick, laughable work of your swimsuit, shredding the fabric and pulling it from your body with an odd impatience that wasn’t like him.

The change in V, though a bit startling, was starting to affect you more than you wanted to admit.

“Y-you could’ve asked me,” you gasped, free hands reaching for the mer and earning nibbling kisses to your fingertips for your efforts.

“I was worried of scaring you,” he admitted, “I worry, still.”

You reached for him once more, fingers threading through silver-white hair and pulling his gaze to your own. He looked dazed, still a bit pained, but you were beginning to understand what was possibly going on, what it was that V really needed.

“You have me, V,” you told him, exhale shaky at the mere thought of what was about to occur. “You don't have to worry, alright? I can take it.”

The dilation of his eyes was sudden and prominent, the only warning you were given before he was ravaging your skin anew. His teeth were harsher, uncaring of leaving behind slightly bloody bites along your neck and chest and breasts. He was barely more gentle against your nipples, relenting on using his teeth at your small plea and the harsh, only somewhat panicked pull at his hair.

His tail was not idle, the shimmering appendage wriggling between your legs incessantly as if he couldn’t help himself. There was a definite hardness forming and pressing against your thigh, warm and rather slick as it slid against your skin with his movements. The more you were aware of it, the more insistent V's sounds became, little punched-out breaths and low hums that sounded like pleased moans.

He shifted to angle himself more against the apex of your legs, the first initial slide of his cock between your folds causing a surprised moan to pass your lips, hips lifting instinctually to chase the contact. A broken sound left V’s lips at your noises, nearly a frightening growl, if your mind wasn’t already knee-deep in pleasure.

“Be still,” he said, voice deep and sensual within your mind, and your body responded almost immediately, muscles relaxing until you were pliant against the rock with V pressing himself flush against you. A purr-like rumble emanated from his very chest, vibrating against the stiff peaks of your nipples. You gasped at the feeling.

“I need you,” he reiterated, sharp nails scraping at the skin of your hips delightfully, “in ways you cannot fathom. You are mine, my human, my mate.”

His words were punctuated by slow, hard grinds, the slippery slide of his cock against your clit driving you absolutely mad. There were little bumps along the underside of it, flared little ridges that had your nerves spasming with each quick pass over the sensitive, swollen nub, a constant stream of tiny little ah sounds passing your lips in delight.

Your shaking legs found the strength to wrap around his tail, just under the ridge along his spine, the action pulling him impossibly closer and harder against you.

“Yes, V! Please!”

“Mine to touch, mine to claim…mine to breed.”

He was shifting once more, pulling back just enough to raise his hips from yours. When he pressed back, he was breaching your folds, the smooth press of him filling you with ease, despite the girth of him. You could feel each little ridge from the underside of his cock as V continued to push into your welcoming heat, the sensation unlike anything else you had ever experienced, before.

When his hips touched yours again, he gave a final undulation of his tail to fully seat himself within you. The moan that left your lips was obscene and decadent, loud even in your ears, but you were beyond caring. V was inside you, a part of you, connected to you in the most primal, intimate way.

Your hands shook as they attempted to find purchase against the smoothness of his skin, opting to thread through his hair once more in some semblance of grounding yourself to the moment, grounding yourself to him.

“It…it isn't possible, I know,” he spoke through the link, his voice sounding utterly wrecked as his tail began to roll against you, taking your breath away with the momentarily blinding pleasure of the full movement from within you and against your throbbing clit. You weren’t even able to fully understand what he was saying, only knowing that he was speaking, the deep timbre sending tingles down your spine and further hiking the sensations you were feeling in that moment.

“Had I a way…had I some way…but I will fill you full of me, all of me, as many times as I m-must. My beautiful mate, my l-love-"

His tail rolled against you quicker, harder, grinding into you with a determined force that had you seeing stars. You were nearly in tears, gasping and groaning as V thrust into you as best he could. Every forward movement had him rubbing against your clit, the stimulation shaking your sweat-water-slicked legs something fierce.

You attempted to hike your legs higher, barely mindful of his spine ridge in the haze of your coupling. The new angle caused V to shift minutely within you, and suddenly, you were screaming, nails digging into his scalp and head thrown back in absolute ecstasy.

“There, th-there! Ah, V, please!”

V was practically snarling against you, pressing into you with harsh undulations, barely pulling out from the wet heat between your legs. His mouth was on your neck again, teeth working at bruising flesh as you trembled and shook and pulled at his hair. Sharp claws pressed into your hips like fine needle points, a harsher bite drawing a well of blood from against your collarbone, and you were done for.

Your climax came rushing over you swiftly, whiting out your vision as you choked on a cry, tears unknowingly escaping the corners of your eyes in the process. V continued to chase his own end, unaware of just how much he was elongating your own orgasm with the rippling sensations of his cock in and out of you.

When he finally reached that peak, his fingers were bruising in their grasp, claw-like nails digging further into your skin as he held himself in place against you. You could feel him filling you, long spurts of warmth that seemed almost never-ending. He stilled his movements after what felt like forever, remaining lodged within you as he attempted to catch his breath, gazing upon your wrecked visage in wonder and awe.

You tugged gently at his hair with shaking fingers, angling him closer to kiss at his crimson dotted lips. He obliged the notion, still not completely used to such a form of affection, but knowing it was important to you, all the same.

When he parted from your lips, you gave him a dopey smile, giggling a bit as you all but flaked out against the rock, uncaring of the small, sharp points you were now aware of digging into your shoulders.

V lifted from you a moment later, pulling out rather abruptly and moving away from you just as quickly. You gave a sharp gasp, sitting up just a bit to find the mer halfway submerged in the water, hands splayed on each one of your trembling thighs and eyes trained on the apex between them. You shifted shyly, feeling the mess that was already leaking from you, but V seemed rather enthralled.

He crooned, the sound nothing more than a chorus of high pitched chirps and clicks, then turned and began placing teasing, mouthy kisses along the soft skin of your thigh, nipping at the skin playfully. You gasped once more, leg jumping and core tingling at the attention.

“V?” you questioned, surprised at the hungry desire that still remained in his eyes.

“I've not had my fill of you, yet,” he mused, voice dipping into something more sinful, causing you to moan wistfully, “and I wish to see just how much more…accommodating your body can be.”

[lets-steal-an-archive]

Acafandom: Individual Chapters in Edited Volumes

2020

tk

2019

Beeler, Karin. 2019. “Hunting for the branded body in Supernatural.” In Tattoos in Crime and Detective Narratives: Marking and Remarking, eds. Kate Watson and Katharine Cox. Manchester University Press.

Chin, Bertha. 2019. “When Hated Characters Talk Back: Twitter, Hate, and Fan/Celebrity Interactions.” In Anti-Fandom: Dislike and Hate in the Digital Age, edited by Melissa Click, 291-314. New York: NYU Press.

George, Jessica. 2019. ‘Some Normal, Apple-pie Life’: Gendering Home in Supernatural. In Gender and Contemporary Horror in Television (Emerald Studies in Popular Culture and Gender, Volume 2), eds. Steven Gerrard, Samantha Holland, Robert Shail, 187-199. Emerald Publishing Limited.

Graves, Stephanie A. 2019. “The Transtextual Road Trip: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Supernatural, and Televisual Forebears." In Transmediating the Whedonverses: Essays on Text, Paratext, and Metatext, edited by Julie L. Hawk and Juliette C. Kitchens, Palgrave Macmillan.

Roach, Emily E. 2019. “Supernatural: Wincest and Dean Winchester's Bisexual Panic.” Queerbaiting and Fandom: Teasing Fans through Homoerotic Possibilities, edited by Joseph Brennan. University of Iowa Press. Google Books: 65-66 | 67-68 | 69-70 | 71-72 | 73-74 | 75-76 | 77-78 | 79-80 | 81

Ronnenberg, Susan Cosby. 2019. So Many Chick Flick Moments: Dean Winchester’s Centrifugal Evolution.” In Gender and Contemporary Horror in Television (Emerald Studies in Popular Culture and Gender, Volume 2), eds. Steven Gerrard, Samantha Holland, Robert Shail, 131-147. Emerald Publishing Limited.

Rose, Jonathan A. 2019. Breaking the Scales: Refusal, Excess, and the Fat Male Body in Supernatural and Harry Potter Fan Fiction. In Representing Kink: Fringe Sexuality and Textuality in Literature, Digital Narrative and Popular Culture, edited by Sara K. Howe and Susan E. Cook. Lanham, Maryland: Lexington Books.

2018

Stein, Louisa. 2018. "Of Spinoffs and Spinning Off." In A Companion to Media Fandom and Fan Studies, edited by Paul Booth, 401-413. John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

2017

Booth, Paul and Isabella Menichiello (eds). 2017. Part III: A Celebration of Supernatural. Time Lords & Tribbles, Winchesters & Muggles: The DePaul Pop Culture Conference: A Five-Year Retrospective. https://communication.depaul.edu/academics/research/publications/Pages/booth-time-lords.aspx

George, Jessica. 2017. “’The Monster at the End of This Book’: Authorship and Monstrosity in Supernatural.” In Monsters and Monstrosity in 21st-Century Film and Television, eds. Cristina Artenie and Ashley Szanter, Universitas Press. https://www.academia.edu/32103362/_The_Monster_at_the_End_of_This_Book_Authorship_and_Monstrosity_in_Supernatural

Re, Valentina. 2017. “The Monster at the End of This Book: Metalepsis, Fandom, and World Making in Contemporary TV Series.” In World Building, edited by Marta Boni, 321-342, Amsterdam University Press, Amsterdam. https://www.oapen.org/search?identifier=1004106

Sell, Christian and Sevenja Taubner. 2017. “Carry on Wayward Son: Supernatural als gottverlassene Suche nach dem richtigen Leben.” In Von Game of Thrones bis The Walking Dead, eds. Timo Storck and Svenja Taubner. Berlin: Springer.

2016

Booth, Paul and Lucy Bennett. 2016. "Interview with Emily Perkins, Actor in Supernatural." Seeing Fans: Representations of Fandom in Media and Popular Culture, eds. Paul Booth and Lucy Bennett. London: Bloomsbury.

Booth Paul. 2016. “Supernatural Fandom: The Fandom Business.” Crossing Fandoms. Palgrave Macmillan, London.

Larsen, Katherine and Lynn Zubernis. 2016. "We See You (Sort of): Representations of Fans on Supernatural." In Seeing Fans: Representations of Fandom in Media and Popular Culture, eds. Paul Booth and Lucy Bennett. London: Bloomsbury.

2015

Golomb, Liorah. 2015. "Dipping a Toe into the DH Waters." In Digital Humanities in the Library: Challenges and Opportunities for Subject Specialists, eds. Arianne Hartsell-Gundy, Laura Braunstein, and Liorah Golomb. Chicago: Association of College and Research Libraries (ACRL). http://www.ala.org/acrl/sites/ala.org.acrl/files/content/publications/booksanddigitalresources/digital/9780838987681_humanities_OA.pdf

2014

Fuchs, Michael. 2014. "'Three hundred channels and nothing's on': Metaleptic Genre-Mixing in Supernatural," in Critical Reflections on Audience and Narrativity: New Connections, New Perspectives, eds. Bianca Mitu, Silvia Branea, and Valentina Marinescu. Hanover: ibidem-Verlag.https://web.archive.org/web/20160805151433/http://www.fuchsmichael.net/index.php/news/47-publication-news/89-metaleptic-genre-mixing-in-supernatural

Macklem, Lisa. 2014. "From Monstrous Mommies to Hunting Heroines: The Evolution of Women on Supernatural." In The Canadian Fantastic in Focus: New Perspectives, edited by Allan Weiss. Jefferson, NC: McFarland.

2013

Graham. Anissa M. 2013. "A New Kind of Pandering: Supernatural and the World of Fanfiction." Fan CULTure: Essays on Participatory Fandom in the 21st Century, eds. Kristin M. Barton and Jonathan M. Lampley. Jefferson, NC: McFarland.

Stein, Louisa Ellen. 2013. “#Bowdown to Your New God: Misha Collins and Decentered Authorship in the Digital Age.” In A Companion to Media Authorship, eds. Jonathan Gray and Derek Johnson. Hoboken, NJ: Wiley-Blackwell.

Wilkinson, Jules. 2013. “The Epic Love Story of Supernatural and Fanfic.” In Why Fanfiction Is Taking Over the World, edited by Anne Jamison, 309-316. Dallas: BenBella Books. https://www.wattpad.com/40308458-fic-why-fanfiction-is-taking-over-the-world-the

2012

Fuchs, Michael. 2012. "Play it Again, Sam ... and Dean: Temporality and Meta-Textuality in Supernatural." In Time in Television Narrative: Exploring Temporality in Twenty-First-Century Programming, edited by Melissa Ames. Jackson: University Press of Mississippi.

Klein, Michael J. and Kristi L. Shackelford. 2012. "'Hey Sammy, We're Not in Kansas Anymore': The Frontier Motif in Supernatural." In Undead in the West: Vampires, Zombies, Mummies, and Ghosts on the Cinematic Frontier, eds. Cynthia J. Miller and A. Bowdoin Van Riper. Lanham, Md.: Scarecrow Press.

2011

Freim, Nicole. 2011. "I'll Take Our Family Over Normal Any Day: Supernatural's Commentary on the Modern American Family." In Bound by Love: Familial Bonding in Film and Television since 1950, edited by Laura Mattoon D'Amore. Cambridge Scholars Publishing.

Fuchs, Michael. 2011. "Trapped in TV Land: Encountering the Hyperreal in Supernatural." In Simulation in Media and Culture: Believing the Hype, edited by Robin DeRosa. Lanham, MD: Lexington Books. http://www.academia.edu/400950/Trapped_in_TV_Land_Encountering_the_Hyperreal_in_Supernatural

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crossposted to https://justanotheridijiton.dreamwidth.org/33929.html

[previous update]

[intersex-ionality]

The person of that kink reblog said they were 100% not talking about leather flags etc hut of legitimate cis straight Allo people and it was coming for their own personal experience at their local pride

Okay, two things about that kind of disclaimer. First off, even if it were a genuine, legitimate statement in good faith–which is a big, big if that has literally once, one time actually been the case in all my literally decades of these discussions–having good intentions doesn’t actually excuse having bad effects.

To use a less loaded example, let’s say someone annouces in all good faith, that they just want to remove all the dandelions from their front lawn. If they then rent a heavy duty farm tiller, and tear up the entire yards of every single person in their entire neighborhood, then yes, technically they’ve probably removed the dandelions from their front lawn for a couple of weeks (though not, of course, the runners, seeds, or anything that caused the dandelions to sprout there), but they’ve also wildly overstepped their boundaries and fucked up everyone else’s yards too. And if their neighborhood includes a public park, then that’s even worse.

In this metaphor, the public park is a pride event. You can state in all legitimate honesty that you just want to remove what you perceive as a problem element (a perception that many people may not share, for a huge number of reasons). But depending on the methodology you choose to use to address that problem, you can make everything a lot worse for everyone involved.

Secondly?

Kink is queer.

Not to put too fine a point on it, but any sexual practice which centers the consent and actual enjoyment of the participating parties over society’s defined boundaries of normal sexual practice is a queer act and always has been.

Queerness is not limited just to who you have sex with. If it were, trans people and ace people would not be queer. And down that path lie TERFs and their more conservative and ultimately right wing allies.

Queerness is defined by a rejection of the very idea that a society which prizes rape, which prizes oppression, which prizes hatred has any business trying to get involved in how people express ourselves or our relationships at all.

Society can rightly get fucked, and until it decides to play nice, the queers will continue to be on the fringes of it, engaging in radical self expression and freedom.

And the ability to freely participate (or not participate, sure!) in kink is very much a part of that rejection of normative social definitions of relationship structure and the power dynamics that society demands any sexual or romantic relationship have.