#and somewhat mature depending on how you look at it

[scifimademequeer]

Vulcan Tails

I'm not sure if it's known which fan "invented" Spock's tail, but in a nearly 60 year old fandom the actual pioneer is probably lost. I've been influenced by a ton of fan artists, notably shigeoreum here on tumblr and on twitter. They look very long and flexible, possibly prehensile, and end in a tuft of hair.

I've also seen the other obvious tail for Vulcans, a bifurcated tail like a demon, which is also cute but not my headcanon. From here on I'm just talking about my headcanons but I'm open to feedback/comments/questions lol. I just want to organize my thots

I really dig the imagery of a humanoid able to wrap their tail around their own waist semi-neatly. I think for most Vulcans this is the equivalent of poker face or maintaining composure, and in some formal clothing the tail is actually meant to be worn this way the entire time. It conveys several different attitudes depending on context, such as professionalism, objectivity, modesty, humility, etc.

And on the flip side, when the tail is "out" it is only mostly voluntarily controlled. It reacts to stimuli and emotions automatically and Vulcans work to control it as they mature the same way they discipline their own facial expressions and other bodily functions.

I think Surak had a docked/destroyed tail. Perhaps it was symbolic or a literal result of his outsider status. The tail could be your connection to your family line or community and when you are ostracized, it is literally cut.

This resulted in modern Surakians using the docked tail to signify the ultimate devotion to logic. And with the ritual of Kohlinar, the two meanings collide: a Kohlinar adept has achieved both perfect logic and perfect independence from their community. Your tail and your emotions are severed from you.

Along this same line, the tail is an instinctive object of interest for infants and small children. Many start walking as they hold onto their parent's tail. This could help a touch telepathy bond be maintained between children and caregivers while letting the caregivers use their hands freely.

I've read really interesting stuff about hunter/gatherer communities where babies almost never cry because they are in constant tactile contact with other people, including older children. They develop a tactile language before a verbal one and have all their needs for comfort met immediately. Sounds like how touch telepathy might work, or develop in a species.

A Vulcan in extreme distress might comfort themselves by stroking or holding their own tail. They may even comfort one another this way, or soothe a child by giving them an adult's tail to stroke. The equivalent gestures among humans might be rocking back and forth or hugging yourself.

The tail is prehensile to a certain degree but cannot lift heavy objects or ones that are too small to grip. The primary use of the tail is communication, it wants to wrap around the bodies of others as well as the Vulcan's own body. And remember that you can't pull on tails too hard because they're attached to the spine. Vulcans should have pretty well developed lower back muscles to wield this tail, I think

I have cats so I'm biased but I think the gestures are a blend between a cat's and a monkey's. Cats tails tremble, curve, lash, shake, whip, and wag to portray different emotions.

I'm writing a wedding fic and I realized that the children at the wedding would have bells and ribbons tied to the ends of their tails. But this would be seen as cringe on an adolescent or adult.

I think as far as touch telepathy goes it makes no sense for tails to be as telepathic as the hands, face, or genitals. BUT I would think that the skin of the tail IS somewhat sensitive. So, going back to the children touching a caregiver's tail, I think a Vulcan can naturally "sense" with their hands and attune to anywhere on a person's body that is ennervated. The tail is just very convenient and has developed to be a little receptive to telepathic touch, but not wield it as the hands do.

So the connotations of touching another adult's tail would be non-sexual intimacy and comfort. Maybe depending on how Surakian you are, or if you are in private, casual touching of tails is normal between friends and family members. It helps you coregulate to do so. Not only putting your hands on your friend's tail but putting your tail on their body. Maybe even wacking them with it to be annoying, I could see that as a sibling activity for sure.

[theprettynosferatu]

“I hate you so much”, she said. “I fucking despise you. You are the worst kind of person to ever blight this world and if I could, I would stomp you like the roach you are”. Her words were most certainly strong; however, they were somewhat undermined by her smile, by the sensual, almost dance-like movements of her body as she removed her top.

“I am well aware”, he said, reclining on the sofa.

“You have no idea. You fucking ruined my life, you piece of shit” she said before biting her lips in a perfect picture of lust. 

“And yet here you are. Again”

“You know damn well why I’m here, you monster”

He did. That was part of the charm of the whole affair. 

Her hatred for him had been long held, and nurtured lovingly for nearly a decade. In college, she took an instant dislike for his jokes and remarks, which she felt, rightly, to be sexist and dumb. As they matured politically, they found themselves staring at each other from opposite ends of the spectrum. As they entered professional life, her intelligence and skill propelled her well above him, a sin he could never overlook. It was an animosity as strong as true love, as enduring as the sun. And yet she looked at him with the tender eyes of a willing lover as she went to her knees.

It was true. She hated him. But she hated herself more. Or, more precisely, she hated how much her body adored him, how deeply it needed him. His… Every inch of her skin tingled in anticipation, and she realized how seductively she moved even despite her hardest efforts to stop it. It wasn’t her, she tried to remind herself. It was that damn… thing. Her breath came in short, panting bursts. Her eyes fixed on the bulge in his pants. She desperately wanted to blame some sort of mind control, of hypnosis, of strange, sci-fi implant in her brain for how pathetic she was being, and how delicious her pussy felt, eager with anticipation. Sadly, she knew better. She knew what would happen the second she saw his cock. Hell, she could almost smell it and it made her drool. And there was no magic behind it, no esoteric mystery driving her actions.

It was chemistry. She knew it as well as he did. She knew exactly how he had turned her into… this. She knew why her body loved it. She knew it wasn’t love. She realized, consciously, she was simply… fiending. Addicted. A victim of chemical dependency and his fucked up expolitation of her situation.

He always loved this part. When her eyes retained some defiance, her absolute hatred of him was on full display, her disgust with her own actions hidden behind a teasing smile, a bite of her lips. Her body was performing because it had learned exactly what he liked, how to get the drug it needed from him quickly… and the woman behind that body was trapped between her need and her true feelings. It was a delicious mix, especially because they both knew he could destroy her with a simple act, and there was nothing she could do about it. He could tell she was almost shaking, resisting the urge to rip off his pants- an urge he had trained her to resist simply by denying her what she craved most when she gave into it. 

Cum. His cum. 

She couldn’t help but blame herself. She had done the research, seeking to understand addiction in order to help people, analyzing how the brain reacted to different patterns of rewards and even chemicals… only for him to use all that and turn it against her. And she knew in one second all of it wouldn’t matter to her one bit.

He smiled. She was beautiful, no doubt about it- her jet-black hair, her big, dark eyes, her generous figure… but that wasn’t what attracted him the most. No, it was the way her brain shut off completely as soon as she saw the object of her obsession. That split second when she tried to fight it, when she hated herself for failing, and then…

It only took a single look, and her brain was flooded. Cock. His cock. His beautiful, perfect, delicious cock… Her mouth watered, her body started shaking as the last of her self-control gave way to the animalistic, primal need to…

Perfect. So perfect. The taste. The way she could feel the blood flowing through its veins. It’s strong, conquering hardness. Why would she ever fight against this? Why would she ever think of anything but feeling it in her mouth, taking it deep inside her throat, licking it adoringly? It grew and grew in her mind, pushing everything else away. Her job. Her dignity. Her family. Those things seemed so trivial, so miniscule next to the sensation this cock gave her, as if it made every inch of her skin as sensitive as her clit, her mind a raging inferno and yet perfectly calm: it made sense to worship. It made sense to love this cock. It was just… her place.

Every now and then she fought back. “I hate you”, she would say before moaning and taking him in her mouth, using her tongue to pry moans of pleasure from him, which in turn made her shiver. His pleasure was her pleasure, because his pleasure was a herald of the reward to come. “I hate you so much”, spoken with the loving tenderness of a schoolgirl declaring her love to her first crush. 

For a moment she thought of her husband, her daughter. She hated the way this cock made her feel. Hated that she loved it so much more than her family. Hated them for not letting her live in constant worship of the big, perfect cock. Hated herself for thinking it. Hated how good it felt to think about it. Hated how her pussy soaked her panties without it being touched.

“I hate you so much…” she didn’t mean it. Not anymore, not at that moment. But she knew he loved to hear her say it. Loved the power his cock had over her. And she needed to make him cum. Needed to taste it. Needed to swallow it. “You ruined me… you made me into a cock-addicted whore… your whore…”

He was close. She could feel it. Her entire body tensed up, ready to give in completely. “I hate that I love you…”

It happened. Her mind went blank as she swallowed every drop, convulsing in an orgasm that was more than just an orgasm: it was the fulfillment of her purpose, it was heaven and an embrace and complete, perfect peace. It was happiness. It was true love.

He watched her smile on the ground. This made it all worth it: the experiments, injecting himself to make his cum the most addictive substance on Earth… the most powerful of drugs. She was in complete ecstasy. Sure, it would last maybe an hour and she’d go back to hating him. But that wouldn’t last long. Sooner rather than later her body would need him again. She would shake. She would be unable to think of anything else. 

Yes, she would hate him. But addiction was stronger than hate. 

Did you enjoy this story? You can support my work at patreon.com/prettynosferatu

[freedomfireflies]

Wake the Dead*

Summary: An iFall for Harry blurb for Halloween Kinktober, Freaky Fun

The one where you and Harry sneak into an abandoned cemetery at night.

And things get a little spooky.

Can be read as standalone!

Word Count: 2.1k

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*

“Har…Harry—”

“Shh. Gonna scare the ghosts, ladybug.”

You pout playfully while Harry grins and continues his vivacious sucking on your neck. “Har...what if we get caught?”

“Then we run.”

You whimper deep within the back of your throat, sighing when his tongue darts out to swipe under your jaw. “We’re...we're gonna be late. What if Patrick comes looking—”

“He won’t,” Harry retorts calmly, tightening his hold on your hips while continuing to grind you down against his cock. “Now hush, you’re ruining my fun.”

Left with no other choice, you oblige his request. Eyelids growing heavy with lust as you look off into the dark, empty cemetery. The sound of the wind echoes between the trees; an ominous addition to your frantic and somewhat lewd make out session. Yet despite it all…you feel at peace.

It had been Harry’s idea to come for a leisurely stroll through the cemetery in the first place. Claiming it was perfect Halloween fun – and he knew a shortcut.

 But five minutes later, he had you down on his lap, his hands under your shirt, and his tongue tangled with yours.

Not that you really care to complain. You enjoy the spookiness and the secrecy. After all, you don’t always tend to get such private moments with a man whose face is plastered on almost every billboard across the world.

But in times like tonight – when it’s just you and him – you realize how badly you need them.

And how grateful you are that you texted that wrong number all those months ago.

“Har,” you whisper again, fingers tangling in his roots as you tug. “Baby, there’s cameras—”

“So?”

“So,” you exhale, “if they recognize you, you could get in trouble.”

Harry merely hums. A soft, dangerous sort of sound while his thumbs swipe beneath the swells of your breasts. “Don’t care.”

“Well…you should—”

“But I don’t,” he repeats coolly. “Only care about you.”

You feel your insides twist. “Just…don’t want you to get in trouble.”

He smirks at this. Amused with your nerves and enamored by your care. He leans back, now nudging his nose against yours. “I won’t, baby,” he whispers. “S’nothing wrong with me lovin’ on my girl, is there?”

You smile yourself. “No. But that’s not all you had in mind, is it?”

His grin grows a bit more wicked. “I don’t know. Depends.”

“On?”

“If you like an audience.”

Confused, your brows furrow.

He nods his chin toward the dark graveyard before you, gesturing at the headstones with a devious gleam in his eye. “Heard ghosts like to watch.”

Now you understand, chuckling beneath a quiet breath as you readjust yourself over his lap. “Is that right?”

“Mhm. Kinky little fuckers.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I mean, not that I really mind,” he continues, nuzzling his way back to your neck. Dancing a trail of kisses down to your shoulder. “Kind of feel bad for them, y’know? Bet they never see any action anymore.”

Your lashes flutter. “Yeah…”

“We’d probably be doing them a kindness.”

“Mmm…”

“Let ‘em watch…let them listen…let them feed off your pretty, little screams.”

He suddenly tugs on your hips, forcing your cunt against his hardened cock, and it makes a breath hitch in your throat.

“Guess…guess you’re right,” you exhale, head rolling to the side. “S’only fair.”

He smiles. “Guess it is.”

You whine again as his cold hands smooth across the expanse of your stomach, easily slipping down to your waistband. “Har…”

“What?” It’s a gentle hum but filled with concern as his eyes flick to yours. “We don’t have to, baby, I promise. We can leave right now and go back to the hotel, yeah? Finish what we started there. Honest.”

It’s a kind thought. Considerate and so very Harry that it makes your heart wrench.

But it’s not what you want, and you begin to giggle quietly as you shake your head and lace your fingers around the back of his neck. “No, I don’t wanna go. Want you to fuck me – right here – and let all the ghost’s watch.”

The energy shifts instantaneously as he bursts out into a wide, excitable grin that fills his whole face. Putting those familiar dimples on display as you kiss him hard and with an overwhelming rush of adoration. 

“That’s my girl,” he groans, returning to his work of slipping your zipper down. “Okay, but we gotta be quick, yeah? Don’t want you to catch a cold.”

“Wouldn’t care if I did,” you admit, fingers fumbling with his belt. “Just wanna feel you, Har—”

“I know,” he breathes, moaning some when his thumb finally finds your clit. “Shit, I know, ladybug. Got you all worked up, hm? Like it when I tease you, don’t you?”

You can say nothing, instead nodding again as you pull his cock from his boxers. He’s hard and heavy in your hand. The tip slightly swollen and sticky with pre-cum as you work him in your palm.

“Fuck—” His forehead drops to your collarbone, lips buried into the skin not covered by your sweater. “M’gonna cum if you keep doing that—”

“Well, maybe I wanna tease you, too,” you retort. Watching the way he twitches between your fingers. “Know you like it when I edge you.”

He makes another noise – virile and animalistic. Tortured in a sense and it makes your cunt clench around nothing. “And you think I’m the sadist in the relationship.”

You smirk. “We share.”

After a few more coy pumps, you release him, and move to wrangle your jeans further down your thighs. Creating a bit more room and space before he’s bringing his cock to you.

Steadying your stance above his lap, you rise up onto your knees, and allow yourself to sink down onto him. Slow and easy – enough for you to both feel every second. 

And it’s everything – a rush of endorphins and euphoria that transcends this one singular moment. He’s the perfect stretch. No matter how many times you take him, it feels like the first. Enough to knock the wind from your lungs and make your mind grow fuzzy.

Once you’re finally sat, your arms loop around his neck, holding him to you. Keeping him warm inside your pussy as he curses and presses a kiss to your throat. 

“There you go,” he murmurs, hands cementing to your sides. “You okay, baby?”

You offer another weak nod. “Yeah…yeah, m’good.”

“Good girl. Do you want my help or do you wanna do it yourself?” he asks softly, taking a moment to glance over your expression.

You suck in a needy gasp for air and glance down. “Wanna…wanna do it. I can do it, I swear.”

He chuckles gently before loosening his grip. “Okay, lovie. But I’m right here, yeah? Do whatever you want me to do.”

You dip down and smash your lips against his. Kissing him to showcase your gratitude before you begin to roll your hips and set a steady pace.

It’s relaxed at first. Enough to ease you both into it – create a desperate need and worsen the ache until you’re both whining, frantic messes. 

And he allows you to create your own rhythm. Never rushing you or pulling you the way he wants. He merely wants to enjoy you. Enjoy the sound of his cock slipping in and out of your greedy cunt that sucks him in so well.

The cemetery has grown quiet. Almost too quiet, save for your anxious pants and pathetic whimpers. Occasionally a rogue crow will swoop from tree to tree, but it only makes Harry smirk. As if entertained by the reminder of where you are.

You feel his fingers move for your nipples. Tweaking them between the cold pads of his thumbs before he’s forcing your sweater higher so he can attach his mouth to the left one.

His tongue is warm – a stark contrast to the frigid outside air. But it’s perfect. Sensual and erotic as he sucks you into his mouth and moans.

Your mind falls into an exhilarated haze as you begin to bounce on him. Faster and faster, despite the ache in your joints. Needing to chase after that rush and the sounds he makes.

“So good, baby,” he praises between devious licks and harsh gropes. “Just like that. S’it feel good, lovie? My cock making you feel good?”

“Yes…yes,” you whine, head dropping back as he nips at the skin of your breast. “Harry, please—”

“What, hm?” He flattens his tongue against the aggravated skin. “What do you want, ladybug?”

You make another noise that becomes lost in a gasp, struck with a rush of pleasure from the way his cock strokes against your spongy walls.

“Is that it?” he asks, almost proudly. “Was that your little spot, honey? S’that what you need?”

You nod again and work to find it once more – angling your rolls until you feel it. “Shit…Har…feel so fucking good—”

“Yeah? Gonna cum on my cock? Right now, let ‘em watch?”

You mewl despite his teasing. Ghosts or not, there’s something tantalizing about the idea of him doing this to you in public. No matter how crass, there’s something about it that feels almost sweet. About the idea that Harry Styles – America’s Sweetheart – would be willing to taint his reputation and throw away his anonymity just for you.

His large palms suddenly move for your ass, cupping you firmly before beginning to guide you a bit faster. Seemingly overcome by the need for release the closer he gets. 

“Shit there you go…there you go, honey, fuck.” He’s groaning now – almost incoherent as his brows crease and his teeth grit. He’s so beautiful when he’s being fucked. “M’gonna cum, baby. M’gonna cum…and you’re gonna take it, yeah? Gonna take me in your pretty pussy?”

You stumble over a gasp and scratch your nails down his shoulders. Allowing him to move you exactly the way he needs as he begins to yank you all the way down. Burying himself inside your cunt until you feel him twitch.

“Keep going,” he exhales before it twists into a moan. “Fuck, keep going, lovie, m’almost there—”

“Please,” you whisper, pressing your forehead to his. “Shit, please, Har. Cum inside me, please—”

“God, baby. Gonna, I promise. Fucking fill you—”

“Please—”

“And you’re gonna take me, aren’t you? Keep me inside this sweet little cunt all goddamn night, yeah?”

“Harry, please—”

“Shit—”

It hits him then. Suddenly and with no warning as he releases a lewd groan and empties himself into your pussy. Wrapping his arms around your middle to keep you against his lap while he fills you with each drop he has to offer.  

It makes your fucking head spin, a warmth blossoming in your stomach as you weave your fingers in his roots and pulls his head against your heart. 

However, he doesn’t settle in your embrace for long, instead moving his touch down to your clit to work you toward your own release. Pinching and rubbing in small, practiced circles until you’re practically screaming. Unraveling by his hand only moments later as your pleasured sounds echo around the graveyard. Loud enough to wake the dead.

“There you go,” he murmurs, and it’s sweet like honey. Deep and comforting as he kisses your neck. “Oh, baby. Fucking soaking me, aren’t you? Can feel you all over my thighs, lovie. S’fucking perfect. Aren’t you?”

You feel your lips stretch into a lazy smile as you finally manage to catch your breath and slump against his strong frame. Allowing him to hold you up as you both succumb to the quiet night. 

You feel his fingers stroke against the skin of your hips. Another quiet reminder of his adoration that makes your stomach flip. 

“Did so good,” he praises, nuzzling his nose against your jaw in an unspoken attempt at asking for a kiss. He grins when you give it to him. “See? S’more fun with an audience, isn’t it?”

 You laugh, eyes trailing over to the row of tombstones just beside you. “Speaking of which…do you know what a ghost’s favorite cheese is?”

Instantly, a grin is exploding across his face. “What?”

You take a beat to build up the anticipation, fighting a smirk as you whisper, “Ghoul-da.”

He groans, amused and exasperated as he tightens his arms around your waist. “God, that was your worst yet.”

“What? You aren’t scared stiff?”

“Fuck off—”

“Are you gonna boo me?”

“Ladybug—”

“Well, you better fasten your sheet belt, cause there’s more where that came from—”

“All right,” he huffs playfully, tugging you closer until you squeal. “You win. And you’re insufferable.”

You chuckle. “Maybe, but…you love me.”

To this, he smiles, and your heart feels warm and fuzzy as he guides his lips to yours.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

~ iFall for Harry Masterlist

~ Freaky Fun Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

~ Blurb Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @lydiarry @yoruse @lomlolivia @kkr102 @gills-lounge @sicklscream @white-wolf-buckaroo @brooklynbelle @stylesmoonlight12 @itjustkindahappenedreally @scndsofsummer @theofficialprongs

[5ukho1]

NSFW Alphabet (141 + König)

Content warning: 18+, mature content, MDNI

Aftercare (what they're like after sex) 

Ghost tends to go get a cloth to help clean you up. He's pretty gently, his fingers tracing over any marks he left on your body. He'll rub any spots that you comment are sore, and he'll lay next to you until you fall asleep.

Soap will hold you close, making sure you're alright and would go get you a glass of water. He'll pick out new clothes for you to wear before cuddling next to you, asking if you enjoyed it.

Price would kiss any markings he left on your body, chuckling to himself as you're trying to compose yourself. He would definitely go start a warm shower for the both of you before watching a movie later.

Gaz would ask if you're alright and place gentle kisses along your face. He'd help you clean up and go make you some food of your choice. Probably would just cuddle for the rest of the day.

Alejandro comments on how good you did and would give you a massage before you're even allowed to get up. He already has a glass of water on standby and would wrap you up in some blankets while watching TV.

König has a warm bath already ready for you once you're done. He would carry you to the bathroom and help clean you up, being gentle with your body. You two would just relax in the bath for awhile before getting out.

Bodypart (their favorite part of their partner's body)

Ghost would definitely love your throat. Loves wrapping his hand around it and watching you gasp and your eyes rolling back.

Soap fucking loves your thighs, especially if his head is in between them. Loves hearing the noises you make when doing so.

Price loves your lips. The sight of your lips wrapping around his cock turns him on even more than before.

Gaz would probably love your ass. He loves smacking it and watching is bounce afterwards. Lots of hickeys on them.

Alejandro is definitely an eye guy. Loves staring into your eyes in the act. Would stop thrusting if you try to close your eyes though.

König loves your throat. Same with Ghost, wrapping his hands around it turns him on, but he mostly likes seeing you try to deep throat him.

Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Ghost would love to cum on your face, especially if your tongue is sticking out.

Soap would prefer to cum inside you, but if you don't let him, he'll cum all over your chest.

Price would make you swallow his cum, making him groan as it trickles down your chin.

Gaz is either cumming on your back or all over your lower stomach. It all depends on what position you two are in.

Alejandro would cum inside you. If you don't allow him, he would just cum all over your thighs.

König would make you lick up his cum as it drips down his cock, and then would make you swallow the rest.

Dirty secret

Ghost probably stole one of your underwear just to have.

Soap had a wet dream about you a few times.

Price would definitely masturbate to your photos.

Gaz tends to look at your ass a lot when you walk by.

Alejandro would purposely get you tight fitting clothes to see your body.

König would stare at your lips and picture what they would look like around his cock.

Experience (how much do they have?)

Ghost is pretty experienced, though it's been a while for him.

Soap is kinda experienced, probably only done it three times.

Price is experienced, definitely knows how hook up with people.

Gaz is somewhat experienced. Same with Alejandro, only with one person.

Alejandro is kinda experienced. Only done it with one other person.

König is somewhat experienced. Probably had a few nightstands.

Favorite position

Ghost loves doggy. End of story...

Soap would probably like missionary.

Price would probably like a little bit of doggy, but mostly missionary.

Gaz loves when you ride him.

Alejandro loves to bend you over the counters.

König probably lifts you up while fucking you.

Goofy (how are they in the moment? Are they more serious or humorous?)

Ghost is more serious, probably talking dirty in your ear the whole time.

Soap is somewhat humorous. He wants you to feel comfortable and would praise you.

Price is in between. He would praise you and would laugh if your body made any noises to make you feel better.

Gaz is with Price, in between. He'll be a little humorous if it's your first time, but he's pretty gentle with you.

Alejandro is serious. Would downgrade you and choke you. Obviously would be gentle if it was your first.

König would be serious. He'd throw you around and make you squirm. Lots of begging.

Hair (how well groomed they are, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Ghost is somewhat groomed.

Soap tends to keep it shaven but sometimes he forgets.

Price is somewhat groomed.

Gaz is shaven and wouldn't grow it out.

Alejandro is not shaven, but he wouldn't mind shaving if you asked.

König is not shaven and would just keep it that way.

Intimacy (how are they during the moment)

Ghost doesn't talk much but he loves to whisper in your ear to set you off.

Soap likes to tell you how good you feel and such. Loves to run his hands all over your body.

Price is pretty gentle with you. If you want him to do anything specifically, you're going to have to ask.

Gaz is pretty gentle. He doesn't want to be too rough to hurt you, unless you asked.

Alejandro loves to talk to you, and he would chuckle if you can't talk back to him in response.

König just makes you lay there and take it. Would do anything to tease or to make you beg.

Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Ghost jacks off kinda a lot, but it all depends.

Soap kinda jacks off, but he's not that big of a fan of it.

Price prefers not to jack off unless you've been teasing him all day.

Gaz will jack off if you're far away or is too busy to give him any attention.

Alejandro would make you watch him jack off and would make you clean him up.

König doesn't jack off often. If he needs to release, he'll use you instead.

Kinks (one or more of their kinks)

Ghost loves to choke you out and make you beg. Makes him want you more.

Soap would love to smack your ass every time you're in doggy. Loves seeing his handprint on you.

Price likes when you deep throat him. Watching the sight in front of him gets him weak.

Gaz wouldn't mind you kinda choking him out but wouldn't mention it to you.

Alejandro loves giving hickeys, especially in places other people can see.

König loves hairpulling, especially if you're in doggy. Just pulling your hair back while wrapping his hand around your throat is hot.

Location (favorite places to do it)

Ghost would prefer the bedroom.

Soap would like to be risky and do it in a car.

Price wouldn't mind his office.

Gaz is a bedroom guy.

Alejandro likes to do it in the kitchen or bathroom.

König would like to do it in the shower.

Motivation (what turns them on)

Ghost kinda gets turned on if you bend down in front of him or bite your lip while looking him up and down.

Soap likes when you sway your hips, or when his hands are on your hips.

Price will get turned on by you breathing heavily while sweating. Especially after a run.

Gaz would get turned on if you sat on top of him, straddling him. Even if it's innocent.

Alejandro gets turned on by tight fitting clothes on you, wanting to rip them off.

König will get turned on if you're licking anything or watching your lips wrap around a straw.

No (something they wouldn't do, turn-offs)

Ghost will not let others watch you two in the act. You're for his eyes only.

Soap won't do any in public. He doesn't want to risk getting caught. The closest to in public he'll do is fuck in a car.

Price won't use toys on you. You have him, that's the best you're going to get.

Gaz won't slap you or anything that could cause you harm. Doesn't want to hurt you.

Alejandro will not do a 3 some. He wants you all to himself. And he won't do any sex tapes of you two.

König won't let you take control in the bedroom. He's in full control of you.

Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skills, etc.)

Ghost likes to receive and would give you if you begged.

Soap likes to give only until he's done teasing you.

Price prefers to receive.

Gaz likes to receive but wouldn't mind giving.

Alejandro loves to give.

König would give and wouldn't stop until you're begging.

Pace (fast and rough? slow and sensual?)

Ghost is for sure fast and can be rough if he wants to.

Soap would probably be rough and slow.

Price prefers to be a little slow and sensual.

Gaz is the same with Price.

Alejandro would be fast and sensual.

König doesn't care and would be fast and rough.

Quickie (their opinion on quickies rather than proper sex?)

Ghost is okay with quickies. Anytime you ask he'll be down.

Soap prefers proper sex than quickies. Would do it after he comes home.

Price would do proper since he doesn't want to rush. You give him a chance and he'll take it.

Gaz is okay with quickies but prefers proper.

Alejandro likes quickies and likes to see how fast he can make you cum.

König prefers quickies since he's busy, but it'll be a long night when doing proper sex...

Risk (are they okay with experimenting, do they take risks, etc)

Ghost is okay with some experimenting but wouldn't do it often.

Soap loves to experiment. Likes to figure out new things together.

Price prefers not to really experiment unless you keep begging him.

Gaz is pretty vanilla but wouldn't mind experimenting.

Alejandro is down for whatever you have in mind. He'll even ofter some suggestions.

König is down for experimenting, but you'll have to beg for it to happen.

Stamina (how many rounds can they go for, how long they usually last)

Ghost can probably last for about 2 rounds.

Soap can go for around 1 1/2 rounds. All depends on how turned on he is.

Price is just good with one round, unless you get on your hands and knees and beg.

Gaz is fine with one round. If he goes a second round it'll just turn into a quickie.

Alejandro tries to go as many rounds as he can. Probably do 3 rounds.

König just makes you take it until he's done. Can keep going for an hour.

Toys (do they own any? Do they use them?)

Ghost doesn't own any.

Soap owns one and would use it to tease you.

Price doesn't own any.

Gaz would get one if you asked.

Alejandro doesn't own any.

König owns a few and uses them often to mess with you.

Unfair (how much do they like to tease?)

Ghost kinda likes to tease, but not much.

Soap is definitely a big teaser.

Price doesn't like teasing that much.

Gaz is not one to tease.

Alejandro would tease you a lot.

König is a master at teasing you.

Volume (how loud they are, what kind of noises do they make, etc)

Ghost is pretty quiet. He tends to grunt into your ear a lot.

Soap can be somewhat loud, but he'll bite your shoulder to quiet himself. Lot of gasping.

Price is somewhat quiet. Loves to talk to you and likes to say 'fuck' a lot.

Gaz can be loud at first, but he quiets down over time. Lot of groaning and hissing.

Alejandro is loud. Will talk to you loudly and wouldn't care if others are listening. Lots of swearing.

König is somewhat loud. He doesn't talk that much but will groan and will tell you what to do.

Wild card (random headcanon)

Ghost loves to bite, especially your neck. He'll mark up your thighs too while slowly making his way up to your lips.

Soap would definitely get you all hot and bothered before walking away, wanting to see you beg for him.

Price had many thoughts of taking you on his office desk, or just pinning you against the door so the others can't come him.

Gaz tends to blush a little when you get too close to his face or when you give him praises.

Alejandro would definitely give you a back hug while you're doing anything in the kitchen, trying to act innocent before bending you over the counter.

König loves when your head dangles off the end of the bed while you're deep throating him. Loves seeing your throat expand around him.

X-ray (what's going on under their clothing)

Ghost is 5.5

Soap is also 5.5

Price would be close to 6

Gaz would be 5

Alejandro is 6

König is 6

Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Ghost has a high sex drive.

Soap is in the middle between high and low.

Price kinda has a lower sex drive.

Gaz is in between both high and low.

Alejandro has somewhat of a high sex drive.

König has a high sex drive.

ZZZ.. (do they fall asleep afterward?)

Ghost takes about an hour to fall asleep.

Soap can fall asleep right away.

Price waits for you to fall asleep.

Gaz can fall asleep a few minutes afterwards.

Alejandro can't fall asleep after.

König won't fall asleep.

[evillemons]

JUNGKOOK’S IDEAL TYPE (JK pt. 1)

~ a manifestation of his ideal girlfriend. Continuation into part 2 and part 3. Masterlist here.

• Jungkook’s ideal type has been the hardest for me to imagine out of all the members. He is such a curious and adventurous person and seems to lack a level of certainty in his life.

• Because I can envision Jungkook with completely dichotomous types, I’m going to approach his section a little differently than the other members. Here are the two possibilities:

The bad bitch

• ABG vibes. Sexy, mischievous, and a little naughty.

• Appears intimidating on the outside (like JK) and probably also has an intimidating personality (not like JK) (looks like they could kill you, would kill you).

• A little impulsive and a high sensation-seeker.

• May come across as cold to most people, but would show vulnerability around the people she trusts.

• The creative type. They might’ve met during a dance class or photoshoot.

• MBTI: ISFP. Adventurous, artistic, bold, and expressive.

• Her and JK would have a lot in common in terms of their styles and interests, but she would be more brazen and opinionated.

• He’s probably a little intimidated by her but finds her incredibly sexy and alluring at the same time.

• Her style consists of casual streetwear that’s a little edgy, and a love for tattoos and piercings (very Gen Z).

• Leather jackets, cargo pants, chunky boots, cropped t-shirts.

• Potentially a little androgynous looking with her slim figure and dark, baggy clothes.

The good girl

• A good-natured, smart, kind, patient woman.

• Sweet inside and out (looks like a cinnamon roll, is a cinnamon roll).

• While not necessarily a “career woman” like Namjoon's girlfriend, she might have a more traditional 9-5 life.

• She would be very mature and maybe a little older than him.

• He would admire her wisdom and life experiences (like the way he does with RM).

• Generally confident, self-sufficient, and knows how to take care of herself.

• Someone who is friendly and easy to talk to, but not overly loud or extroverted.

• MBTI: ISTJ or ISFJ. Ambiverted, respectful, caring, trustworthy, and dependable.

• They would likely meet by chance during a normal outing or through a mutual friend.

• Feminine and petite. Maybe also elegant and well put together.

• Big, sparkly doe eyes to match his own.

• In the office she would dress modestly and professionally, but would like to wear sundresses on the weekends.

Other notes:

• Like Yoongi, Jungkook is attracted to many different types of people and wouldn’t discriminate based on Race/Ethnicity. Being the youngest, he is quite well traveled and unbiased.

• Sexual orientation wouldn’t matter too much either, but I can see him being a little jealous or insecure if she has dated women or a lot of other men in the past.

• He definitely seems to be attracted to women with some sort of sex appeal. Not too audacious in their sexuality, but not too cute or innocent either.

• He is shockingly independent, and while he would want to feel like he can take care of her, he wouldn’t want someone who is overly needy or lacks self-sufficiency.

• Equally as competitive, perfectionistic, and hardworking as him.

• I do think she would be somewhat athletic or fit, as working out seems to be a priority in his life.

• Even though I can see JK being rather experienced in casual sex, I don’t think he would take choosing a partner lightly. When it comes to a relationship, he would be very picky and want something that is real, loyal would allow him to learn and grow.

[hwnglx]

he had so much to say, and has such self-degrading tendencies that even his green flags came out tainted in this negative light.. so the lines were a little blurred ㅜ

wonbin's real personality behind the scenes

based on tarot. i do not know these idols personally. energies are always changing. what i say is NOT straight fact. pls take it with a grain of salt!

+ so, very early into the reading, i got this vibe of a “protected child” who's been thrown out into the real world, and is trying his best to find his way and place. wonbin has quite pure energy, he's someone who's kinda obsessed about constantly doing what people expect of him, or want him to do. he's so incredibly focused on always meeting people's expectations, that he's still not entirely sure of who he is beyond that; his “true” self persé. his personality is basically the result of what others want him to be, need him to be or see him as. (his energy somewhat reminds me of a more emotional young jk) he sees his own self in the eyes of others, meaning people's opinions have a huge effect on his self-image, which can become a little unhealthy for someone in the public eye, who's out there left vulnerable to be criticized by the audience left and right. he has so so much pisces and libra energy in him, it's crazy. if you asked wonbin “what are your strengths?” it's likely he'd ask what you think his strengths are, and nod his head saying “yeah, that's probably right.”

interesting thing is, he has an abundance of drive and determination. a lot of achievements he's aiming for, so much ambition. but he's very worried about coming off too strong to people. his own “selfish” desires, which basically everyone has, can weigh on him because of this. he doesn't wanna overwhelm anyone, or have anyone think he's too greedy.

wonbin is honestly, one of the few energies i've read for now, who seems to genuinely care for the people around him, which is why he has the tendency to adjust his behavior according to other people's needs. i remember in the reading i did about riize's feelings towards seunghan, wonbin was one of the members who felt sincerely sad about the situation, and it made him look back on himself a lot. this seems to be a pretty good depiction of the type of person he is. i could see the members in this reading here as well, i just think he bases so much of himself on what he can do for the people that depend on him. he wants to be this figure of generosity and kindness, but he's still so.. scared of doing too much, people being bothered by him. i'm in his energy, and he's just nervous.

i'm also getting a lot of voices telling him how he should behave, how he has to be this star and main character in the group, how he has to be the stan attractor, and wonbin just suffers under that pressure, because it doesn't exactly suit his personality. he's very charming and attracts people easily, but he isn't boisterous, or someone who loves being the center of attention all the time. he wants to be comfortable giving others the spotlight sometimes. however, he doesn't wanna disappoint anyone, and truly thrives off of public validation, so.. it's just difficult for him to navigate it, i can feel him being caught up in a dilemma here.

he just seems like this young and clueless guy not even sure of who he is yet, being thrown out into an industry that basically forces a certain image on him, so now he's just running with that. he's like “oh, you want me to be the attractive and flirty guy? okay, i'll act like him then. oh, you want me to be the mysterious and quiet guy? okay, i'll become him then.” that's the energy he seems to be in right now. but, i can truthfully see this changing as he matures. his energy is very young still.

- he's just walking emotion. soooo so emotional. he can give off the impression of being emotionless, but there's an actual turmoil in his head. he takes things personally a lot, even constructive criticism can hurt his heart, which can make him insecure. he deals with a lot of insecurities behind the scenes, many thoughts and concerns about not being enough for people, not meeting expectations. he's an overthinker who's stuck in his head a lot, and can, as a result, make things worse for himself. create problems out of trivial things and dramatize situations in his mind, when from an outsider's perspective, it isn't nearly as bad. very anxious energy.

he can blame himself for many things, especially not living up to the person he himself wishes he was. he has this exact idea of the man he'd like to be (emotionally mature and intelligent, stable and dependable, grown up) and he has problems accepting his journey for what it is. like he wants himself to be at level 100 already, when it's a process, and only natural for him to be at like.. 20, considering he's still so young.

this seems to be a common trait of libra placements, but wonbin also has a habit of pushing down his thoughts and emotions a lot, avoiding negative situations. he doesn't always enjoy expressing himself. he's worried of it coming off wrong and people misunderstanding him. he is the type of person who can sound way more forceful than he actually wants to, just because he keeps bottling everything up and keeps trying to approach every situation peacefully, up until his emotions just come bubbling out of him in this aggressive manner. he doesn't have any bad intentions, but can give a wrong impression to others in this way.

i can also sense a certain struggle with fame he could be experiencing at this moment. it feels like the rose-colored glasses are fading, and fame is starting to become less appealing and “glamorous” as before, the harsh realities of it are making him a little uneasy. he might've expected and imagined it to be different, and is beginning to realize the shallowness behind the concept of fame. it can feel fake and superficial to him, not as fulfilling as its made out to be.

[immodestly-marina]

HEY WELCOME!!!

I always find one of the easiest things to start with is Alphabet hcs (NSFW or SFW)

Could you write one for Sam Winchester? ❤️

Yesss these are literally so much fun to write

Sam Winchester Alphabet Hcs (SFW)

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Sam's a very affectionate guy, especially in private. His love language is 100% acts of service and physical touch.

He'll make you meals and little snacks throughout the day, and would totally take you out at least once a week. Though he's not huge on PDA, he'd definitely be somewhat "dominant" in the sense that he'd walk around with his hand on the small of your back, or holding your hand to assure you that he's always there (Also, forehead kisses bc he's like a foot taller than you).

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Very protective and caring, as your best friend he'd definitely be a bit of a big brother figure to you. Always looking out for you and ensuring that you're safe with him around.

The friendship started when you went to Stanford with Jess and him. You were always around, he didn't like you much at first but eventually, you started to grow on him.

After the incident, you stayed by him to make sure he was doing okay, though he feared that the demon might come after you next. Naturally, he stuck with you, and eventually started bringing you along with him and Dean on hunts to keep an eye on you.

C = Cuddles��(Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

BIG cuddle over here! I'm not kidding when I say his love language is also physical touch.

Sam usually sleeps on his back or his side, which can allow for you to sleep against his chest with one or both of his arms around you. He'll also spoon you, his head either rests against yours/cheek to cheek, or tucked into the nape of your neck. His hands always either hold yours, or are wrapped around you holding your tummy.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He's always weary of longterm relationships... obviously. It's tough for him to talk about settling down, because he absolutely wants to, but that fear is just always in the back of his mind.

Nonetheless, he's our fav housewife. He's always been very tidy, and you can't tell me this boys not a good cook.

He absolutely makes you two dinner most nights, and all meals are made with love teehee

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He'd sit them down and have a heart to heart about it, no bullshit like over text or a letter.

Sure they have limited time with all the chaos that comes with each hunt, but he'd want to be as mature about it as possible and ensure that there's no hard feelings. I also think he's the type of person to keep in contact with his past relationships, rather than just never speak to them again.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Babe, he was ready to propose to Jess after a year of being with her.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

The biggest teddy bear ever. So, so, so gentle with you. When his hands are on you they're always soft touches, he'll guide you around by lightly placing his hand on your hip or your back.

As for emotionally, he is so considerate and understanding. Depending on the situation, he can easily get you out of a distressed mood by being patient and talking you down calmly from it.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He loves hugs, and is a great hugger. Usually only does it when necessary or whenever feels right, he's not keen on too much clinginess but won't hesitate to pull you towards him for a little comfort.

He's 6'4 so he towers over you, he can't really avoid placing his chin on top of your head while hugging. His arms are so friggin big that his hands hold his elbows when they're wrapped around you. He'll also do a Little Rock side to side sometimes, cutie.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Most likely after the first two-three months of being together, but he's felt love for you since you came into his life.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

It honestly depends. He's not super possessive, so it takes quite a bit for him to feel jealous. But when he does, he's more protective than possessive.

It goes back to the need for physical touch, he'll take your hand or pull you away. Again, depending on the circumstance, he would also step in front of you, keeping you right behind him. (No matter what, he doesn't strike me as someone to take his jealousy out on you either)

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

FOREHEAD KISSES TOP OF HEAD KISSES HAND KISSES

Very soft and loving (unless he's feeling needy but that's a whole other thing y'know), his lips taste like a minty chapstick bc I refuse to believe he doesn't carry any around. Look how shiny his lips are in the gif bitch.

He loves when you give him jaw kisses, you have to stand on your toes to reach his lips, and even then he has to lean down a little.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

S1 Sam is great with them! He'll do a baby voice to talk to the really tiny ones, and for bigger kids he'll just sit there and listen to them go on and on about god knows what.

S6+ Sam is so awkward with them he literally cannot fucking deal.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Realistically, he'd lay with you for as long as he can before he/you both have to get up for a hunt. You'd pull each other back down onto the bed as much as you can, kissing and whispering "Just five more minutes, please..." until it was really time to go.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

He's able to stay up late with you most nights, he'll either watch a movie with you or literally just have deep conversations with you, either way you're both engaged with each other as much as you can be!

He's a light sleeper, so anytime you move or make a sound, his eyes will flicker open to check that you're alright.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He trusts you, he knows you'd never judge or be scared away from him, so after about a month of being together he starts opening up. He definitely doesn't dump everything on you at once, when it's relevant he'll talk to you about things like his nightmares, visions, and bad memories of growing up and Jess.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He's a bit of a hothead (as we've all seen), but he can usually calm himself down before he gets too carried away, especially with you. He wouldn't want to scare you, or make you feel like he's angered because of you/something you've done, so he's careful not to flip out completely.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He remembers absolutely EVERYTHING. From your birthday, to your favourite colour, to some random thing you told him while he was drunk.

He even keeps a little notebook of things about you he wants to remember.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The time you totally fucked up his hair.

"Just... easy, easy, not too much." Sam sat on a chair in front of you with a towel over his neck and shoulders, watching your every move in the mirror he was faced. You carefully trimmed the hair that sat in front of his ears, brushing the strands around to see if it looked even.

"Sammy, relax. I'm just fixing it, I swea-" Shnk.

You watched Sam's eyes widen in the mirror as the huge chunk of hair fell from his bangs to his lap.

"OH-kay, yep. We're done, I think that's good!" Sam said with a singular nod. He stood up and frantically dropped the towel from his arms, you jumped up to fix it with your fingers as best as you could, moving the gap of hair around to see if there was any hope.

"It's okay! Look, we can fix this, I can just cut-"

"No-no, no ma'am. You're finished." Sam chuckled taking the scissors from your hands, placing them on the sink counter.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Very. Sam is and always has been very protective of you.

As mentioned, he tries to always keep a hand on you somewhere, ready to pull/push you away from something. He'd do whatever he can to keep you safe, even if it meant sacrificing himself for you.

Him on the other hand, feels like he doesn't need to be protected (brat). I love making size jokes because seriously, what is standing in front of him going to do? "Sorry, Sam, I couldn't see you behind that grain of rice!"

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He puts in lots of effort, this is where the acts of service comes into play. He loves getting you little gifts on each hunt, whether its a dumb little souvenir or something more romantic, like a flower.

He also likes taking the lead on things, telling you not to worry and that he can do it for you.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He's a teeth gritting nail biter. And, he wears socks to bed sometimes.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Only a little, he makes sure his hair is done before leaving but aside from that he's not too concerned. You aren't, so he isn't either!

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He's not necessarily dependant on you. But at the same time, if he'd lost you, even just temporarily, he wouldn't know what to do with himself.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He keeps a scrapbook full of things to do with you. He secretly takes pictures of you when you're not looking, and saves them to add to said scrapbook.

He put petals from your favourite flowers in there, along with pages of your favourite colours, and a page with a sample of your favourite perfume/cologne. He loves you.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Someone who's super self-loathing or conceited, it's one thing if you struggle with insecurity or self image issues, of course. But constantly being around someone with too much negativity is too much for him to take, so that's an absolute no for him

As well as someone who's super, super clingy. He gets uncomfy with too much energy and affection towards him.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He sighs and hums a little in his sleep, its cute fr.

He also has little face twitches, especially when he's cold/not in the best sleeping environment :(

Anyone wanna see NSFW next?😋

[imfoive]

The Youngest Son - Chapter 3

Minho x Reader (fem.) Genre: non-idol au!, Suspense, Angst, Romance, Mature Warnings: mentions of drugs, smoking, alcohol, cursing, death, murder, somewhat proofread WC: 3.7k A/N: Part is on the shorter end. Feedback is always welcome, enjoy! ── MASTERLIST

Synopsis: The youngest son of the Lee family was stubborn, he was arrogant, he was conniving. Hiding it all behind the mask of a calm and collected man, the youngest son was a master at mind games. Playing a dangerous game where trust is a luxury and betrayal lurks around every corner. He had sworn once, to not let family ties or any feelings hold him back. Yet, against all odds, she had him completely wrapped around her fingers, and he had no desire to break free.

Missed a chapter? - Chapter 1 / Chapter 2

CHAPTER 3 ───────────────────

Minho always ended up being the one to clean up the messes made by members of the Lee family. Whether it was dealing with the fallout from Jae’s actions or smoothing over the tensions with the Park family, it fell on him to fix things. He had a knack for knowing the right words to say, the right way to handle situations, and how to charm and appease others. Despite being looked down upon, he was the one to handle his brothers’ and cousins’ mistakes, and he excelled at it.

So he showed up to visit Y/N’s father, the man’s favorite whiskey in hand and his signature, charming smile plastered on his face.

Upon hearing that Minho was in her father’s study, Y/N hurriedly rushed to make her way to the family house. She proudly displayed her exaggerated bruise. Her father’s face lit up with a smile, upon her arrival. Clearly he’s had a drink. Minho glanced up from his seat beside her father, who sat comfortably in his armchair.

   “Well, if it isn’t my bruised peach.” Her father joked, eliciting a playful eye roll from Y/N and a suppressed snicker from Minho.

Her father chuckled, reaching for his box of cigars.

   “What a surprise. What brings you here?” He asked.

Y/N gracefully took a seat on the long sofa opposite the two men in their armchairs.

   “I wanted to thank you, Father, for calling off the engagement. You handled it very well that morning.” She said as an excuse, though her eyes stole glances at the younger man.

Her father chuckles and turns over to Minho. He clears his throat.

   “Speaking of that. Son, you studied law, didn’t you?”

   “Ah yes, briefly.” Minho sits up, nodding.

   “The engagement is off, but I’m a little worried about the contract we had signed. I can say a lot of things through anger, but of course there’s a hold back.”

   “Well.” Minho adjusted in his seat, exchanging glances between Y/N and her father.

   “Depending on the severity of contract breach and all its terms, you may be able to terminate it with minimal financial consequences.” He explained.

   “Perhaps if you show me the contract, I can provide further assistance.” Minho offered with a smile, trying to be persuasive yet respectful.

He was charming. But not enough for the older man to laugh and open up the contract right there. He wasn’t that gullible.

   “Maybe some other time. For now I’ll take the whiskey you brought with you.” Her father laughs off the topic, putting one of his cigars in his mouth. He extends the tin box of the neatly laid out smokes.

   “Here, take one. Let’s have a smoke.”

Minho shakes his head, politely declining.

   “Thank you, but I don’t smoke.” He replied, glancing at Y/N.

   “Good, good. It’s really not a good habit. But what can I do after all these years.” He mused, cigar dangling between his lips.

   “Are you sure? It’s the expensive kind, he doesn’t offer that to just anyone you know?” Y/N presses with a brow raised.

Minho nods, still polite, still gentlemanly.

   “I’m sure.” He looks right at her. ─────────────────────── He always found solace on the school rooftop—it was quiet, empty, and an easy escape. Leaning over the white railing, he took a puff of his cigarette, his gaze fixed on the imposing letters of the main building across from him.

Lucian Academy: The Next Generation Leaders

He scoffed quietly to himself. It seemed ridiculous no matter how many times he read it. And he read it every time he came up here. His eyes wandered back to the sign as he inhaled another drag of smoke.

   “So that’s what you do up here.”

Her voice, as familiar and annoying as ever, interrupted his thoughts. He didn’t need to turn to know it was her.

He was accustomed to her presence by now, tired of telling her to leave him be. But Y/N was as stubborn as she had always been, ten times more irritating than she was a year ago.

   “Since when did you start smoking?” She asked, leaning casually against the railing next to him.

As usual, he didn’t dignify her question with a response.

   “Your father visited again, didn’t he?” She continued, glancing at the drops of blood on the collar of his white dress-shirt.

He looked down, noticing the stains, remnants of a bloody nose he thought he had cleaned up.

   “Doesn’t it hurt?” She prodded further.

   “Don’t you have anything better to do?” He retorted finally, turning to look at her, his eyes narrowing slightly, though he knew she wouldn’t give him a serious answer.

   “Better? Here? Ha!” Y/N laughed bitterly, turning her gaze towards the main building. She scanned the campus below.

Minho took another drag of his cigarette, exhaling softly. And she begins to cough.

   “Everyone looks so...” She trailed off with a cough.

   “Stupid?” He finished for her, his tone dry.

Y/N met his gaze, holding it for a moment. His eyes flickered down to the cigarette in his hand, another cough escaping her lips before she’s glancing back down.

   “Don’t you think?” She pressed.

He stared at her for a beat before dropping the cigarette to the ground and stamping it out with his foot.

   “You’ve ruined my mood.” He muttered, walking away.

Minho had quit smoking that day. ─────────────────────── Her father had stepped out of his office for a moment, apologizing for not being able to see Minho out, although Y/N was happy to do that in his stead.

The older man leaves the duo, one still sitting on the sofa, the other standing up with her father. The door closes with a soft click, leaving a brief silence that Y/N disrupts by throwing a sofa pillow at Minho. He catches it deftly, eyebrows raised in surprise at her sudden playfulness. She stands, her slippers making sounds as they scuff against the floor.

   “So you’re really here for something else right?” Y/N picks up the bottle of liquor he had brought as a gift, examining it with a mix of curiosity and suspicion as she walks to her father’s desk and casually perches on its edge. He was obviously not here for cigars and a nice chat, that too with her father.

He puts his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

   “Why do you ask if you already decided on the answer?

She rolls her eyes, going through the files on her father’s desk.

   “Would it hurt to answer my question without asking another question?” She mutters, reading the words on the covers of the scattered work.

   “Ah.”

Her fingers pick out the red-covered file, pulling it out of the pile.

   “‘If you were to show me the contract, I can gladly help you with it even more.’” She mocks, attempting to imitate his voice from earlier.

He stares at the file in her grasp, and she looks at him in a taunting way. He had forgotten for a moment. He had forgotten that even though she might act like she doesn’t have a care in the world, she was always watching him.

He sighs, dropping his head for a second before looking back at her.

   “What do you want for it?”

She clicks her tongue, slipping off the desk, playing with the contract and all the other information he said he’d get and report to his father, his grandfather.

   “Too bad I can’t just give you the file, my father would be pissed.” She pouted, putting the file back into its place.

   “But take me shopping after work tomorrow and I’ll tell you all about it myself. I made sure to learn every single detail about it after the engagement announcement, so I’m a very trustworthy source.” She shrugs proudly.

Minho ponders for a while. Of course, he had thought about manipulating the information out of Y/N. She was always well-informed or found a way to become so, and she did a good job of keeping such knowledge to herself. But he knew she wasn’t naive. She played her cards when it suited her, and evidently, now was one of those times. Though shopping was not what he expected. He could already envision the shopping spree she’d demand, the outfits she’d make him try on, and the inevitable gossip about him being her “boy-toy” that would continue to follow. Considering the time she would likely make him waste, he wondered if it was worth it. He had other avenues to uncover the supposed secret deal between his older uncle and her father, though it required more time and effort.

   “I bet you’re thinking of other ways to find out. Ugh, I’m offended by that, Lee Minho.” Y/N crosses her arms over her chest, feigning an upset expression.

He doesn’t bother to ask how she guessed, not surprised that she reads his expression so easily, at this point. Instead, he steps closer, his eyes studying her intently before reaching up to touch her face, brushing his thumb over the bruise on her cheek, smudging the hint of blue makeup.

   “You amaze me sometimes.” He can’t help but smile in astonishment, observing the color on his thumb.

She blinks for a moment, his soft expression catching her off guard before she laughs, shrugging as if to say it was obvious.

   “It’s called Project Rose Gardens. It’s a forty billion dollar deal. My father thought an engagement would be assurance that it won’t go south. Obviously that didn’t work out too well.” She spills, rolling her eyes.

It was Minho’s turn to blink dumbfounded. He was stunned. Y/N was a master of surprises, and even after knowing her for so long, she manages to surprise him when he least expects it.

   “Now get out before my father suspects you of actually snooping around for this information.” She says, patting his jacket and gently pushing him back.

He walks backwards, and she closes the door on his face. He was…speechless.

Y/N will always be a mystery to him. The meeting had seemed to be a success of some sorts. Minho was certain that extracting any information from Park Hyunmin, the head of the Park family, would be challenging. However, he hadn’t expected the sole heiress to blurt it all out just because he complimented her.

He knew.

Of course, he knew.

The clear interest Y/N had in him wasn’t something he was blind to. He was simply reluctant to acknowledge it. He allowed the rumors to swirl around them, whispers in his ear about their supposed relationship. There was no need for him to clarify. People loved to invent scenarios in their minds, and the more he denied it, the more attention it would attract. And he didn’t need that unnecessary mess.

But Y/N always had a way of dragging him into unwanted messes.

He had finally arrived home, greeted by the quiet of his dark apartment. The dim nightlight seeped through cracks in the curtains, casting faint shadows across the floor. As he shuffled down the corridor into the living room, his fingers worked at his necktie, before loosening the first two buttons of his shirt. Collapsing onto the leather sofa, he leaned his head back and stared up at the white ceiling, starkly bright against the dark surroundings.

He couldn’t recall the last time he had been here. Perhaps the night Y/N had shown up, or maybe a few days ago when he spent hours researching Park Hyunmin’s preferences. Despite his exhaustion, his mind continued to race.

   “Forty Billion Dollar Project.” He repeated in a low tone, sitting up and crossing his fingers over the tip of his nose. With his elbows on his knees, he mulled over Y/N’s revelation of the so-called “Rose Gardens”, even the name held a certain alluring charm.

He slightly squints, tilting his head just a bit as if he suddenly realized something. And just like that, he’s off the sofa, swiftly moving into the home-study. He sits down at the desk, fingers quickly tapping on the keyboard, the dark room brightening from the glow of the computer screen. His eyes scan the information on the monitor, fingers scrolling through pages of data.

Lee Minho was the family dog. No, he was a hound. One that got to the bottom of anything that piqued his curiosity.

His father slams the file of new information on the desk, and Minho stands on the opposite end, absorbing the weight of the discovery. The reveal of the Rose Gardens project was significant, though not in his favor. No wonder his brother refused to tell him.

   “How could he do this? Even if we are always butting heads, how can he just make profits on his own using the Lee name?” His father is bewildered, his face flushed with anger, a sight Minho secretly relishes.

   “The Parks purchased thousands of acres of land just off the coast back in July. They’re planning their largest project yet. And according to my research, the industrial material contract with its commissions were offered to Uncle.”

   “Forty billion dollars.” His father mutters to himself, the enormity of the sum sinking in. A sum his brother was so close to enjoying on his own.

   “That bastard.”

But then he glances at Minho and then laughs.

   “But that fool Jae ruined everything. His father beat him to a pulp the last I saw him. Ha! I wonder where he decided to hide this time, after causing such a mess.”

He stands up and walks towards Minho, placing a hand on the younger man’s shoulder.

   “Let’s just wait for the news of the engagement breaking to be announced, then we can see what our next move should be.”

The older man turns on the television, walking back over to his seat where his tea had been cooling. But he freezes after hearing the reporter.

Lee Jae, Grandson of renowned business man and founder of L Corporation, found dead in his private yacht. Details are still unclear as investigators have yet to release official information.

Jae’s uncle looks at the television screen in shock, eyes trailing to Minho, who also stood frozen, gaze fixed on the screen.

The study door burst open, his wife rushing in through the doors.

   “Honey! Jae is dead!.”

Minho tears his gaze from the screen then to his father and shocked mother. His father stares right at him, trying to find the right words. His voice drops into a low tone, wide eyes peering into his youngest son’s eyes.

   “Did you kill him?’ ─────────────────────── Reporters flocked like birds, surrounding the Lee Residence with their large cameras, shouting for attention as family members emerged from the gate and hurried into black cars. The security team at the main house worked to hold them back.

The funeral procession began promptly after Jae’s body was released from the post-mortem procedure. The investigators were paid off almost immediately, the case hastily closing after coming to one simple conclusion.

An accidental drug overdose.

The poor bastard went around denying he had any involvement with drugs. He went around telling everyone he attacked that escort because he was drunk. But he had been found with needles in his arm.

Minho stepped into the packed funeral hall, his eyes scanning the faces of those gathered, many of whom had congratulated Jae on his engagement just days earlier. Some faces displayed feigned tears, offering hugs to his uncle. Garlands and flowers lined rows outside the main room where mourners gathered, offering condolences to his grieving mother and siblings.

Whispers swirled around him, growing louder as all eyes turned towards the entrance behind him. His gaze followed instinctively. The Parks entered, dressed in somber black like the rest. Y/N, positioned in the center, approached Minho with the head of her family beside her. Her father placed a sympathetic hand on Minho’s shoulder before moving past to pay his respects to the deceased. As if not only a week ago he was ready to strangle Jae himself. Young women from various families rushed to Y/N’s. She keeps her head down and walks right past him. She was playing the role of a grieving fiancée, mourning his death. Before the news of their engagement breaking was made public, that poor bastard shot himself up with an insane amount of drugs. The sound of his aunt’s mournful cries echoed through the hall, signaling Minho to enter and feign grief. But his eyes studied the room.

The room is full of potential suspects.

The timing just wasn't right. Why did Jae have to die now out of all times? Although he was on the fence about that conclusion, since the reports claimed overdose.

Minho’s eyes darted to his torn aunt, and cousins by her side.

They weren’t capable of killing someone and making it seem as if Jae had done it to himself. They weren’t conniving enough.

His uncle? That man would sell his own son, so why not kill him as well? He was also one of the only people who knew where Jae was hiding away.

The CCTV footage on the yacht was compromised by the time Minho had gotten his hands on it. He had paid the investigators off before they could try and bring its contents back. And the chip in Jae’s car dash cam was missing.

None of it was his doing.

As for his own father, Minho quickly dismissed him as a suspect. The man appeared genuinely bewildered upon hearing the news of Jae’s death. He lacked the foresight and technical acumen to even tamper with the dash cam.

Jihoon was only a few months older than Jae, but he had no interest in getting along with the druggie. Joohyeon was in his own world, probably still thinking of ways to find out what the secret deals between the families were. God, has no one told him that they’ve found out already?

The chairman stood tall, his hands resting firmly on his cane, his gaze fixed on the incense burning before Jae’s picture on the altar. His presence was imposing, exuding a sense of authority that commanded respect and fear alike. Minho knew this man well enough to understand that he was capable of orchestrating Jae’s demise if it suited his purposes. But was Jae enough of a threat for the chairman to get rid of him?

Minho’s eyes locked onto Y/N and her parents as they stepped up to the altar. His mind raced with suspicions.

Could it have been Y/N? She had appeared terrified when he attacked her, yet she had managed to defend herself, even knocking him unconscious. He remembered how shaken she had been, collapsing into in his arms after the altercation. Could she be capable of murder?

Secretary Cha’s hand on his shoulder broke his reverie, pulling him back to the present. The weight of his grandfather’s scrutiny hung heavy in the air, reminding Minho that the chairman was always observing. ─────────────────────── Minho stood stoically, watching his grandfather who was seated in his favorite spot, the private room of his cherished restaurant. The elder man methodically cut into his steak, the clink of cutlery against porcelain echoing softly in the intimate space.

For the second time he was questioned.

   “Did you do it?”

What did they think? He goes around killing people that tick him off even a little? Then they’d all be dead.

   “I did not.” He responded calmly.

His grandfather nods, before sighing.

   “I told him to lay low for a while and not create a mess. He created a bigger mess and laid down forever. Hope he rests well, that one.” His grandfather mutters, taking a sip of his drink.

   “Did you look into it? Don’t always trust what the investigators say.”

   “The CCTV camera was damaged. I’ve sent it to a trusted technician to see if he could bring back the data.”

The grandfather nods.

   “Jae’s car was parked a few feet away from the pier, but it was angled in such a way, the dashcam should have definitely caught something. But the chip is missing. And I’m sure it wasn’t the police.”

Chairman Lee’s knife and fork halted against his food, his gaze lifting to his grandson who always seemed one step ahead.

   “Check every single dashcam in the vehicles parked in the main house. The person who wanted to get rid of evidence knew where Jae was hiding.”

It had to be someone from the family. Of course it did, how else would you explain the damaged yatch footage, unless Jae himself tried to destroy it.

Minho nods, and takes his leave, immediately getting to his new task. He hated the look in the eyes of these people. The way they looked at him with suspicion, even though he’s the first one they’d run to when they needed someone gone. Jae was of no importance to him. Sure, he briefly entertained the idea after Y/N showed up bruised and bloody at his doorstep, but killing Jae would only create a mess he didn’t want to be in. But somehow he always ended up in messes.

The grandfather watched intently as the door closed behind Minho. A few tense minutes passed before his secretary entered, holding out a cell phone with a paused video on the screen.

   “Are you sure you can see that person from this?” Chairman Lee asked sharply.

   “Yes sir.” Secretary Cha affirmed confidently.

   “The dashcam footage spans from days before the engagement party up to Jae’s arrival on the yacht. The only and last individual that enters and exits the yacht besides Lee Jae is captured on this video.”

With a nod from the Chairman, Secretary Cha played the footage on the phone. They observed quietly as the scene unfolded, revealing crucial moments leading up to and after the fateful event.

   “Ah. There’s our little snake.” Chairman Lee muttered, a glint of annoyance flickering in his eyes.

Minho’s foresight in the parked car has proven to be accurate, capturing everything. Minho was always one step ahead. But Chairman Lee was cunning and calculated, five steps ahead.

   “This is a twist in the story, isn’t it Secretary Cha?” ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ to be continued.

[magicalbats]

Kinktober Day 9: Lactation

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 8971

Afab!reader, noncon, mentioned/implied abduction, lactation, milking machine, medical kinks, injections, human experimentation, breast expansion, breastfeeding, possible body horror elements depending on how you want to look at it, general horror/ psychological horror themes, let me emphasize again that this is VERY non consensual 

A/N: okay, this one is dark. It might be upsetting or uncomfortable to some so PLEASE read the tags and pay attention to your own comfort levels before clicking the read more. It’s Dottore and you should expect the worst, so honestly just multiply that by 5 before you make your decision to read or not ndkvndke

⭐

You were hand selected from a group of other women and girls. Neither the oldest or the youngest, you’d fallen somewhere in the middle. It had been a diverse selection, ranging in size and shape, and even physical maturity, but he chose you out of all the rest. You’d watched him summarily dismiss the matrons standing in line with little more than a glance, outright scoff at the ones who hadn’t even hit puberty yet, as if they disgusted him, and then wave off the girls who were thin and malnourished. It was impossible to tell what he was looking for at the time, especially when it had come down to you and a few others who were healthy and ripe; old enough to be of marriageable age but not so on in years that your bodies were showing signs of aging yet … but you’d long since come to realize the answer for yourself. 

After that humiliating selection process and the equally invasive exam that followed, your world receded to a fine, pinprick of existence that consisted almost exclusively of cold metal equipment and him. Sterile and unpleasant, he touched you with impartial hands encased in powdery gloves while he conducted his preliminary experiments in the cold laboratory where he kept you like an animal. When not on his exam table or hooked up to strange, whirring machines that you did not understand the purpose of, you were securely locked inside a cage in the corner. You’d been foolish enough to think it somewhat nice and even comfortable at first, since it was bigger than the one you’d had to share with all the others after those masked deviants took you from your home. He even provided you with a blanket so you wouldn’t catch a chill and expire before he was through with you — or so he’d said —  but the appeal had quickly faded. It was impossible to stay optimistic when you'd been in here so long that you were even starting to forget what the outside world was like. 

You couldn’t tell how much time you’d spent there, unsure if only several weeks had passed or if months had flown by without your noticing. It could have been either, and he never responded when you asked. He never said anything to you, only at you. The Doctor in the frightening bird mask. As cold as any of the steel equipment he touched you with and just as silent as the machines, he merely conducted whatever trial or objective was on the schedule for the day and then left. You weren’t even sure if he had a name, but if he did you certainly didn’t know it. 

He’d also never asked for yours. 

The Doctor called you ‘Specimen’ when he bothered to refer to you at all, sometimes murmuring instructions to the exceedingly rare assistant that would stop in from time to time to help him with tasks. Either to get you hooked up to another set of plugs and monitors, or to strap you down to the table for him. You were much too scared to actually struggle or fight but it seemed to be the way of these things, so you allowed them to secure leather straps over your ankles and wrists without a fuss. He never hurt you beyond temporary discomfort when he’d take stabbing metal pincers to your breasts and notate the measurements with a low hum, or slip an uncomfortable metal device inside your cunt to spread you open. This, you could accept. You tried to tell yourself it was probably still better than what the others were experiencing, wherever they were, and the pain never lasted long anyway. 

But then came the day where he wheeled a small tray over after already securing you in place on the chilly metal slab in the center of the room, and you just caught a glimpse of what was on it. Needles. That wasn’t so strange. He took blood samples from time to time, to do what with you had no idea, but … these syringes were full of something. A mostly clear fluid that looked only slightly murky in the glaring overhead light. He was going to inject you with it. 

You understood this on an intrinsic, innate level of comprehension but still maintain your obedient silence while he putters around with whatever else was on the little tray. It’s not like he would have explained anything to you even if you’d asked. It’s only when he finally turns to you and wipes a cold, faintly clinging swathe over one side of your breast do you start to realize that something is not quite right here. The smell of antiseptic floods your nose all at once and you gasp, jerking against the bindings holding you down. 

It’s no use though. The leather is entirely unrelenting no matter how much you anxiously jostle your wrists, and all you can do is lay there, watching with big, frightened eyes, as he thoroughly wipes the area clean. It was so chilly in the lab that your nipples were already stiffly coiled but the one he’s clinically wiping down with that damp cloth seems to pebble to an even finer point that makes you whimper low in your throat. The Doctor had touched you like this before, many times in fact, so you didn’t understand why your body was reacting like this to him. Almost like it knew something you hadn’t yet realized … 

When he brings the first needle close to your tit you panic even though you try not to. But he merely clicks his tongue at you, murmuring something under his breath about behaving as he reaches out with his other hand to cup the swell of your breast and still you. Your toes curl at the sensation even as you anxiously shake your limbs, so scared and wracked with uncontrollable shudders your chest heaves under his hold but he doesn’t even give it a moment's pause. One second the sharp needle is arching through the air on a sure, steady trajectory, and the next it’s sinking deep into your flesh. 

A hurt, gutted little moan escapes you, hot tears flooding your eyes while you watch him swiftly depress the plunger. It only takes a few seconds for the syringe to empty and he leaves you wildly gasping for breath when he withdraws it from the skin before turning back to the tray. 

You can’t process any of it as he sedately moves around the table to come up on the other side and repeat the process. It’s like you’re suffocating, looking up at him in horrified confusion and disbelief. What the hell was he injecting you with?

“Wait …” It's little more than a timid mouse squeak. 

Softly tutting at you, The Doctor quickly wipes the area down with a second antiseptic wipe and then bends over your chest to bring the next needle close. “Hush now, Specimen. I’ve got you.” 

The sharp point pricks into the meat of your breast and he lets out a low, faltering breath as it sinks in. You lurch on top of the table, too restrained to actually pull away, but it does little to stop you from devolving into hysterical, heaving gasps. You didn’t understand. Couldn’t understand. But if your frantic reaction concerns him in any way he certainly doesn’t show it as he straightens up, eyeing you from under that horrid mask for a long moment before humming a brief sound. 

“Perhaps Specimen needs a sedative for today. We don’t want you hurting yourself carrying on like that, do we?” 

Chuckling faintly at the way you wordlessly squawk and shriek, he steps around you again to dig in a drawer on the far side of the room. You’d never admit it but you were so gripped by wild, mindless panic, very nearly choking on it, that you’re almost a bit relieved when he returns and injects another shot into your pinned arm. Almost immediately a false, manufactured calm starts to wash over you and you readily relax into it, happy to let your mind drift off rather than be forced to face the reality you were living. 

*~*

The next day finds you strapped down again, but this time with the upper half of the table propped up so you could sit. You’d woken up sore, your chest aching so fiercely it made you wince and seethe each time you moved, and having the weight of your breasts settle without any support like this was just making it worse. If you could have brought your hands up to elevate them and lessen some of the pressure you would have gladly done that but your wrists remained locked next to your hips. 

The Doctor takes his time giving you the usual examination as he always does, checking your temperature, blood pressure, heart rate, etc until he finally gets to the end and sets his clipboard aside. You cautiously watch him reach out then, twitching when he tentatively prods the underside of one breast with a blunt knuckle. He doesn’t miss your reaction even though you’d tried to conceal it, scared of what he might do with that information, and he noises a brief sound of interest as he brings his other hand up as well. 

Simultaneously, he nudges both of your tits to lift them slightly but not actually support them, and you hiss through tightly clenched teeth. You were already starting to feel lightheaded, a bit nauseous. The deep ache you felt was so close to being unbearable that you can’t help but react even when you know he’s only going to turn it back around on you. 

“My, how interesting,” He murmurs to himself, sounding really quite pleased with this result. “You’re already this tender, Specimen? It must be working even quicker than I thought … looks like I made the right choice when choosing you for this experiment. Aren’t you happy?” 

You want to ask him what experiment, desperate for any information at all, but you bite your tongue, already knowing full well he wasn’t going to explain anything to you. All you can do is helplessly watch as he pokes and prods, and paws at your chest until you can’t hold it back any longer and stinging tears track a wet path down your face. Your chest was so sensitive and sore it felt like he was jabbing you with blunt knives. 

Softly laughing under his breath, The Doctor lifts his hands a little higher and just brushes over your stiff nipples. You choke at the instant, blinding sensation and jerk back against the table so hard it clatters in response. It was all you could do just to keep drawing air into your lungs. You were so oversensitized it hurt! 

“Please,” You somehow manage to grit out. “Stop it!” 

“How precious,” He purrs, low and mean, as he takes delicate hold of the hardened buds between thumb and forefinger. Just holding them for the moment but even that is enough to make you writhe in place, thrashing against the bonds as much as you physically can. “You know, this is the kind of feedback you just can’t get with animal test subjects. All they do is scream and bleat, but you …” 

He leans closer — so close the curved beak of his mask almost touches your face — and you suck in such a ragged, threadbare gasp that it seems to claw at your throat on the way down. Trembling like a leaf now, you just stare at him. Fixated on the spot where his eyes should have been. You can catch only a very small glimpse of the corner of his mouth like this, and you’re more than a little unnerved to find he’s smiling. Delighted. Pleased. 

You just shake even harder. 

“Isn’t it nice that we can communicate like this, Specimen? You can beg me for mercy and I can laugh at you for being stupid enough to try. Why, if I suddenly find myself feeling generous I could even attempt to have a conversation with you.” Pausing, The Doctor appears to give that a moment’s consideration only to softly click his tongue at length. “Probably not, though. I doubt you have anything of interest to say.” 

Before you can even think to respond or formulate a convincing argument for yourself, he abruptly pinches down on your nipples and you shriek. Jerking back against the table only makes your tits bounce and pull at your sore teats where he’s still got them squeezed between his fingers, fresh tears welling behind closed eyes. It was easily the worst thing you’d ever felt. Even worse than the barbaric looking contraption he’d wedged inside your cunt and used to stretch you open when he first brought you here. You’d thought nothing could compare to that discomfort but you were now realizing just how bad it could really be. 

In this manner he spends what feels like many agonizing, endless hours just toying with your breasts; tugging and pulling, and twisting, until the sharp sensitivity somehow exceedes the threshold of comprehension in your mind and dwindles to a dull, mostly numbed but still aching throb. You’re distantly aware of it but too strung out to give it voice anymore. You barely even register the sound he makes when he finally breathes out a quiet sigh of satisfaction and pulls away, leaving your chest screaming in the aftermath. All you knew was that he was stepping away, leaving you to the agony … 

But then he comes back, and a broken little sob bursts out of you when you recognize the two needles in his hand. Whatever this experiment was, it didn’t look like it would be over any time soon. 

~*~ 

The next few days continue in the same manner, repeating the same process over and over again until you almost start to become acclimated to it. The Doctor visits you once in the morning to make note of your vitals and jot down whatever remarks on his clipboard before leaving you to waste away in solitude until midafternoon. Another round of vitals and more note taking, then another session of having him paw at your chest until tears were streaming down your face and, finally, another shot in each breast. He leaves you for the rest of the day until his final check in late in the evening when he makes his final notations and then secures you inside your cage for the night. It all would have been rather humdrum at a certain point except … 

Except that by the end of the first week you start to notice certain changes in your body. You’d thought it was your imagination at first, just a result of the injections and all the brutish pawing he insisted on doing for no reason you could conceive, but your breasts were in fact getting bigger. Swelling to the point that it was noticeable and you couldn’t write it off as a mere flight of fancy. Even worse though was the way your nipples had likewise become puffy and constantly stiff, like they were in a perpetual state of arousal. It was all very strange, to look down at your own chest and see yourself looking like that, but The Doctor was nothing if not pleased. 

He marveled over the results to no end, constantly remarking on how well you were reacting to the treatment and muttering under his breath that it wouldn’t be long now. You didn’t dare to ask until what, really not sure if you even wanted to know, but it’s not as if he would have told you anyway. Utterly helpless, all you could do was try to grin and bear with it for as long as you were able to, hoping that this trial would soon come to a close. 

But of course you’re not quite so lucky, and at the start of the second week he suddenly introduces double dosages of that mysterious substance he was injecting you with. Instead of one in both breasts, you now got two in each and with that increase so too do the results start to speed up. 

Your chest is not only growing bigger, you're more than a little horrified to realize one day, but heavier too. Initially you think they’re one and the same, and you were feeling jittery panic over nothing. But then you’d touched them, lifted them in your palms to lessen some of the strain, and it had occurred to you that your tits weren’t just filling out … they were swelling with an internal pressure, like something was building up under the skin and the resulting inflation was forcing them to expand. You couldn’t make any sense of it. Not only did you just not understand what was even happening in the first place but you couldn’t seem to wrap your head around why he would do this to you. What was his goal? Were these really the results he’d hoped for, or had something gone wrong? 

Trying to tell yourself you were still likely faring better than any of the others you’d shared a cramped little prison cell with or any of the women you’d stood in line with to be evaluated like livestock only goes so far. It soon becomes especially hard to consider your situation a lucky one when the daily breast massages steadily turn into a truly tortuous experience. Where you’d once been simply too sensitive and tender, there was now the added sensation of having too much pressure without any way to relieve it. You sob all throughout these little sessions now, groaning and heaving against the exam table while he squeezes and pinches, tugging on your raw teats until you’re sure you’re going to lose your mind. It gets so bad that even after he leaves you to your own devices you find yourself rubbing your chest in a blithe attempt at easing some of the constant ache there. 

That’s how you eventually figure out what’s really going on. 

It’s the start of the third week (you’d made it a point to keep track from that first injection) and your tits are so heavy and swollen they look like they’re ready to burst. Fighting back harsh, body wracking sobs, you desperately run your hands over them even though it’s done you little in the way of good up until now. It’s like an instinctive urge though, something deep in the primal part of your brain compelling you to massage your breasts even when it just causes you more discomfort. But you can feel something building in them and you’re half delirious with the thought that you would soon find relief if you just kept at it long enough. 

The first wet dribble almost goes unnoticed. You think it’s a mistake. A bead of sweat, perhaps, or maybe even a faint little droplet of blood where your nipples felt so chaffed and sore. But when you look at your fingertip only to find a clear, somewhat thick consistency clinging to the skin, you feel faint with disbelief. Try to convince yourself that it’s not what you think it is, that you were excreting literally anything else — anything at all, but … the proof smacks you across the face when you bring it up to your mouth and take a cautious lick. 

It was sweet and bitter at the same time, and more than just a bit cloying and you’re suddenly left with the crushing realization of what he’s done to you. 

~*~ 

For the first time ever, you fight him tooth and nail when it comes time to strap you down to the table for your midday exam. It’s difficult with your chest so swollen and heavy that every shuddering movement hurts, but you still manage to hold out until he’s forced to call for backup. You feel rather proud of yourself for that up until two sets of hands descend upon you, grappling to get you secured in place, “without harming the Specimen!”, he’d irritably snapped. 

It seems to stretch on for many, many minutes, but at last they manage to buckle a restraint around one of your wrists and it becomes frustratingly easy for them to get the rest. You’re left panting and heaving, shooting daggers at The Doctor as well as his assistant when they step back to sort themselves out. The younger man was nursing a bruised jaw where you’d successfully caught him with your elbow and The Doctor … you’d almost knocked his stupid mask off his face, and you regretted not being able to see him without it as he tersely readjusts it’s placement. Maybe next time though. There was always a next time with him. 

Finally drawing himself up, The Doctor impatiently tugs at the cravat around his neck where it had twisted askew before barking at the other man. “Get the table up. I want the Specimen sitting for this.” 

His assistant rushes to obey and you narrow your eyes at him in warning, still gasping for breath as he comes up next to you. Bending down, he reaches under the table to fiddle with some sort of lever or mechanism and then moves to incline the top half of the table, slowly inching you up until you’re left staring directly at The Doctor. He’s standing at enough of a distance that you can see his mouth under the curved beak, and you’re quite pleased to note he’s scowling at you. Good. A bit of frustration was well deserved after what he’d done to you. 

“Now then,” He finally intones, low and dangerous, as his assistant reaches back under the table to lock it in place. “Might I ask just what it is you think you are doing today? I was so sure you knew better than that.” 

It takes you a moment to realize he hadn’t asked you a rhetorical question for once and was actually expecting an answer. You were so unused to him acknowledging you in any way that for a moment you’re not quite sure how to respond. 

“Why don’t you start by telling me what it is you’re injecting me with.” You finally spit. 

The Doctor tips his head to one side, looking so much like a curious carrion bird in his beaked mask and feathers that it actually sends a chill down your spine. “Do you really think you’d understand if I told you? How ridiculous.” 

Your cheeks start to grow warm, but you pull yourself up as much as you’re able to and try again. “You’re a monster! What did you do to me?” 

“That’s better.” Simpering, he roughly yanks at his coat to straighten it and then strides forward. Your already erratic heartbeat picks up at his approach but you can’t pull away when he comes up alongside you and reaches out to rather disinterestedly grab one of your tits. Sharp splinters of pain immediately shoot through you and you wheeze, looking down at his hand on your chest in dull disbelief. “What I did to you is rather simple, really. If you want my honesty so much then let’s just say I’m a little surprised you didn’t start to figure it out sooner. Even someone with rocks for brains should have noticed the correlation when their body started to undergo sudden change. I mean, really. Are you that oblivious or are you just trying to get under my skin, darling Specimen?” 

He emphasizes that last bit with a tight, incensed squeeze on your chest, and you outright choke when a tiny little spurt of discharge flies from your nipple. Going so completely still it’s disconcerting, The Doctor simply stares down at you for a long, tension filled moment. Then, to your reeling surprise, he abruptly lets you go. 

“I see,” He eventually murmurs, tapping a gloved finger to his chin in thought. “So that’s what finally tipped you off. We’ve already made it this far in the experiment so it simply wouldn’t do to kill you now and have to start over from scratch … but we’ll have to adjust the parameters. Specimen is far too erratic to be left to their own devices anymore. Might even need to be put under permanent sedation until the final test results are obtained.” 

Muttering under his breath, The Doctor turns from you to pace the room in deep consideration and leave you violently shuddering on the exam table. You didn’t want to be permanently sedated … just the thought alone is almost enough to send you spiraling into full blown panic. Although you’d welcomed its comforting embrace once you were far too alert now to willingly slip under like that. You needed to think of something. Quick. 

“I’ll cooperate - -“ 

“Your cooperation means less than nothing to me.” He cuts across you like the crack of a whip, making you cower in place. Suddenly turning on his heel, he stalks towards you again and you can do nothing at all when he slips his hand under the heavy weight of one breast so he can lift it in consideration. “Specimen should be close to full production levels at this rate. Another day or two, I suspect.”

A heavy silence settles over the room, interspersed only by your labored panting and the nervous shuffle of the assistant somewhere behind you. But The Doctor is perfectly still while he seems to weigh the options laid out before him, his blunt thumb brushing idle circles over the straining swell of your tit while he thinks. You’re certain the waiting is going to kill you. 

“Dimitri!” He abruptly snaps, startling both you and his assistant, if the tiny yelp behind you is anything to go by. “Prepare the machine immediately. I know just what to do with this one.” 

*~*

With your hands secured behind your back, you’re led from the enclosed section of the lab you were usually kept in and into a different section that housed far more complicated machinery than you could reasonably process. You’d never seen so many different kinds of knobs, buttons, circuits, control panels, hanging wires and thick cable power lines in your life. Half of it you hadn’t even known existed until being brought here, but your relative familiarity with the banks and complicated components in the other room did serve as an effective baseline to at least understand that what you were looking at was far outside your sphere of comprehension. 

Even the tall cylindrical machine The Doctor’s assistant pulls you up to is so far beyond anything you could reasonably wrap your head around that you have no idea what it was supposed to do. You feel a bit like an oblivious sheep being peacefully led to the slaughter, but there wasn’t much you could have done about it even if you did know what was happening. 

Leaving your side, the assistant scurries over to the control bank and starts to fiddle with various levers on the panel, evidently fine tuning the parameters of the output as the strange machine starts to sputter louder. You momentarily consider making a run for it, weighing your odds of escape with your hands tied behind your back, but then The Doctor steps up behind you and takes a pinching hold of your elbow to give you a brief, teeth rattling shake. 

“Did you know,” He says rather amicably, at complete odds with the rough treatment. “Mammalian births are some of the most successful in nature. Even putting aside mankind, they’re among the most common class of animal and for good reason. Tell me, Specimen. Do you happen to know why that is?” 

You give your head a mute shake, a little too unnerved to play this game with him, and he barks out a clipped, humorless laugh. Yanking on your arm, The Doctor drags you closer to the heaving machine until the sound of it seems to swallow you whole and set your guts to vibrate. Suddenly finding yourself more scared than you’d ever been, you instinctively try to backpedal but he all too easily holds you in place. 

“It’s the milk, you silly little nitwit. It promotes growth and development, in addition to a wide variety of benefits to brain functionality.” Grinning a sharp, eager smile under his mask, he reaches up with his unoccupied hand to tug at a clear tube sticking out of the machine. Your mouth drops open when it jerks loose with a loud, forceful suck of air but nothing comes out, not even a peep. You were starting to have strong suspicions what this machine was used for and yet — you didn’t want to believe it. Couldn’t believe it. 

Turning to you again, he holds up the open ended tube piece and tauntingly waggles it at you. “Now, answer me this … do you have any guess as to what happens to developing infants if they’re denied that very milk they need to grow? Say, in the instance of the untimely death of their mother?” 

Your stomach lurches with an intense, sinking feeling of dread. You did not like this line of questioning and what it would suggest any more than you liked the aggressive shucking noise coming from the machine. Surely you were misunderstanding something and he didn’t really mean what you thought he did. “I — I don’t know. I don’t understand - -“ 

You cut off with a frightened squeak when he gives your arm another tug to drag you closer, nearly pulling you stumbling right into him. Your heavy tits bounce with the sudden motion and bring fresh stabs of discomfort with it, but you’re much too focused on The Doctor to get swept up in the pain. It was all you could do just to stay on your feet instead of collapsing in a dead faint. You’d never been so terribly frightened. 

“They don’t grow.” He hisses, sharp fingers digging mercilessly into your skin. “Not to their full potential, anyway. All the amino acids, antibodies, vitamins and minerals they should have gotten from their mothers milk … gone, just like that. I’d ask you another question but it’s obvious you don’t have the intelligence to even follow along so allow me to spell it out for you instead. A colleague of mine runs an orphanage. Some of the children she takes in are quite young indeed and there is a noticeable difference between those who lost their parents early in development and those who did not. The ultimate goal of this experiment was to determine whether or not a reliable production method could be used to — fill in the gaps, so to speak.” 

He leans down then, putting his face close to yours, but you just stand there, staring up at him in wide eyed terror. It was like he was speaking a foreign language now, every other word so bizarre and incomprehensible that it may as well have been complete gibberish. But somehow you still grasp enough of the meaning to be afraid. You still tremble uncontrollably when he tips his head, and suddenly his breath is intermingling with yours without his mask in the way to block it. 

“And lucky you, our first test subject. Such a resounding success too.” He purrs in a soft, velvety croon that makes your spine snap straight. “Even I wasn’t expecting to see these results so quickly. If only you could have just had the sense to stay nice and docile for me … oh well. It doesn’t really matter now does it, my darling Specimen?” 

You force your constricting lungs to expand, sucking in a harsh, stuttering breath, but he just nudges your right up against him before you can think of something to say. Your blood instantly turns to ice when you feel his coat brush against you as well as the body heat coming off him, and frantically try to twist away. It was much too late though. His hold on your elbow was as good as iron and he now had you standing close enough to the machine that he could direct the suctioning tube towards your chest. So gripped with terror, you desperately try to angle away from it to no avail and you outright shriek when it sucks your nipple up and seals to your breast with a deafening loud schuck. 

Throwing your head back, you scream up at the ceiling until your throat seizes under the stress and you trail off into a gutted, hollowed out groan that seems to echo off the walls. The pressure is so extreme on your swollen, sensitized teat that for a wild moment you actually think it’s going to pull it right off. But when you sway unsteadily, nauseous and sick, then chance a look down, immense relief washes over you when you see the tip of your breast very much intact. That doesn’t make it any less painful though, and you viciously seethe through your teeth as you watch the suction pull at your nipple, stretching the pliant flesh to the point that it hurt just to look at it.

But then, to your groaning horror, you catch a brief jet of milky discharge getting sucked out of you to disappear up inside the tube and whatever it was attached to. You understood perfectly now. This was a milking machine. A horrid creation of The Doctors, no doubt, and it was so powerful that even when his hand falls away it stays suctioned right where it was over your teat. To your surprise, however, the sharp discomfort you’d first felt quickly starts to recede into a dull thrum under that constant pulse and you can’t quite stop yourself from issuing a low, faltering sound of relief. There was still an immense amount of built up pressure inside your breast but somehow the intense suction actually helped make it a bit more bearable. It wasn’t by much, but you were willing to take anything at this point, and your knees violently knock with that realization. 

“O - oh, blessed Archons!” 

Chuckling faintly, The Doctor slowly releases his hold on your arm and you nearly collapse right then and there. The only thing that reminds you to catch yourself is the tube attached to your breast which showed no sign of loosening its hold anytime soon. You stagger and try to reestablish your balance without him there to keep you propped up as he shifts behind you to step up on the other side. From the corner of your eye, you watch him reach out to grab the second suction device, grimacing even when your neglected tit throbs at the prospect. 

“Please, dear Seven, I’m begging - -“

“They aren’t listening, I’m afraid. Such a pity.” Casually, The Doctor curls his unoccupied hand under the weight of your tit and lifts it slightly to better bring the tube down on the nipple. It firmly sucks into place just the same as the first did, and you scream at the initial pain that tears through you. But same as before, it only takes a few moments for the constant, rhythmic sucking to alleviate some of the tension in your chest and, shuddering, you force yourself to relax into it. Easier said than done when it felt like this horrible machine was actively trying to suck the life right out of you but you manage, somehow. 

“How … how long do you intend to leave me like this?” You pant, struggling to swallow around the rock lodged in your throat as you awkwardly shuffle your feet to better ground yourself. 

“Hm?” Crossing his arms, The Doctor puts his head to one side in faux consideration. “What a silly question. As long as it takes for your production levels to reach their maximum output and for you to start milking properly, of course. Your current rate,” He nudges his chin towards the shuddering tubes, still mostly clear save the occasional tiny wet bead moving along their length. “Isn’t even close to being sufficient. Your lactation ducts need to be thoroughly stimulated until they start to trigger your let-down reflex for optimal milk flow. Truth be told, I had wanted to save this for the final step since things could get … messy, but you just had to go and force my hand, didn’t you?”

With a faint click of his tongue, he starts to turn. “No matter. At least now I won’t have to spend quite so much time monitoring your progress to ensure that everything is proceeding as it should. One way or another, that machine will have you sorted out in no time.” 

Gasping, you give a little jerk when he moves to walk away but you manage to catch the subconscious reaction before you can yank on the suction cups and hurt yourself. “Wait! Please don’t actually leave me here! You can’t — nghn! It hurts, you bastard!” 

The Doctor doesn’t even acknowledge your desperate pleas and he disappears further into the lab without so much as a backwards glance, leaving you at the mercy of the machine. 

~*~ 

You’re not sure how long he’s left you like this. All of your careful tracking since that first injection, gone just like that without his clockwork appearances to track the time with. It could have been mere hours or the whole day, a whole night. You never would have known any different. 

Your legs shudder under you, exhausted and sore from standing for the indeterminate period you’ve been hooked up to the machine but the tubes are too short for you to sit. You were effectively tethered to the faintly groaning mechanism with only enough lead to shift from side to side before the powerful suction started to pull and cause a great deal of discomfort. It wasn’t so bad when you just stood there and let it suckle at your raw teats, but that was hardly any comfort to you at this point. 

You’d watched your breasts shudder against the force and slowly, so slowly you hadn’t even realized it was happening at first, let down on the intense pressure that had steadily built in them over the last two weeks. What was initially just an occasional spurt of creamy fluid, shuddering beads sucked up through the tubes and into what you could only guess was a collection unit, had gradually turned into a relatively steady stream of creamy white fluid. Even without any real knowledge on the topic, you still recognized it for what it was and could no longer try to pretend it was something else. You were not only lactating but quite excessively by the looks of it. Whatever he’d been injecting you with had caused such an extreme physiological shift in your body that you were now rapidly producing milk without ever having been pregnant and the output only seemed to be steadily increasing. 

The innate relief that comes with having your tits milked doesn’t do much to pacify you though, and your head slowly comes up when you catch the sound of approaching footsteps. You know it’s The Doctor, so familiar with that slow, confident gait and the unique sound of his boots on the floor that you’d know it anywhere at this point. Shuddering so hard you nearly collapse, you force yourself to straighten from the tired hunch you’d fallen into, hissing when the suction tubes give a stiff jostle over your nipples. You weren’t foolish enough to believe he’d found the capacity for mercy in his twisted soul but a little part of you still hopes … 

“Good morning, Specimen. You look lovely today, don’t you?” He drawls as he comes up behind you, and a hurt little groan bursts out of you when more of the pressure in your tits gives to release a thick, creamy dollop into the sucking machine. You just stare down at the tubes in frozen, slack jawed disbelief. At the sound of his voice? 

He steps up beside you then, startling you, and you snap your attention up to find him grinning under that ugly mask. Waves of deep satisfaction practically roll off him as he halts close enough you can feel his coat brushing your thigh. The two of you just look at one another for what feels like an eternity, your shoulders trembling with every labored breath. 

“I see the machine has served its purpose.” He says at length. 

“Screw you!” 

Clicking his tongue in admonition, The Doctor reaches out and casually — much too casually — slips a gloved hand between your thighs. You jolt so hard the tubes bob with the motion, pulling at your poor tits, but there’s nothing you can do to stop it as he worms his wrist in the tight space even when you try to squeeze him out. Long, blunt fingers find the seam and rudely nudge up into you, nearly knocking you off balance when you give a fierce jolt. 

“My, my, isn’t that interesting?” He croons, baring sharp teeth with a mean, perverse grin as those oppressive digits slip and slide through an obscene amount of slick. You’d been so focused on the continuous suction on your nipples, the stilted relief of pressure, that you hadn’t even noticed how the rest of your body was reacting. 

Your stomach wrenches with this knowledge but you just stand there, thighs quaking around his hand, while he casually pulls soft, wet little clicks out of your cunt with the drag of his fingers. It was horrible and disgusting, and your nausea only increases when you catch a glimpse of yet more creamy white discharge being pulled up through the tubes. 

“Are you enjoying your milking, Specimen? Good. You’re going to be here for a while so it’s probably best if you find some way to entertain yourself.” Chuckling, The Doctor slowly withdraws his hand, much to your shuddering disappointment, but he ignores your quiet whimpering in favor of straightening up. “Dimitri!” 

A sudden bang sounds from somewhere in the lab. Within seconds, the young man rounds the corner at a flustered sprint and you sway unsteadily on your feet when his eyes widen at the sight of you. 

“Lower the settings on the machine,” The Doctor hisses at him, low and dangerous. “Then leave me for the rest of the day. I will oversee the experiment myself from here.” 

He turns back to you as his assistant goes scurrying off to fiddle with the control panel, leering viciously under his mask when he reaches out to palm your hip. You gnash your teeth, chest heaving with fast pumping terror but there’s nothing you can do to stop it when he tugs you closer. Your pelvis bumps his firm thigh and you suck in a harsh breath. He couldn’t be serious … now, after all this time treating you like little more than a slab of meat? 

Seething, you grimace when the suction suddenly lessens to a weak, hollow tug that you can barely feel through your raw teats. The change in pressure is immediately apparent though and your nipples pulse in its absence. You have to fight back the sobs that try to tear their way out of your throat as you watch him slowly reach up to wrap his hand around one of the tubes still clinging to your breast. He doesn’t pull it off though, not yet, and instead just looks at you for a long beat. 

“I suppose you do deserve a reward. After all, you’ve far exceeded my expectations and I’m quite pleased with you, you know.” He purrs at last. “I wasn’t expecting you to take to the drug so quickly, nor did I foresee you reaching this production level so soon. You’ve impressed me a great deal, Specimen, and I always make sure to reward good behavior where I can.” 

He doesn’t warn you before he does it. So abruptly it leaves you reeling in hurt disbelief, he pops the suction tube free with a firm tug and your nipple throbs against the total lack of pressure. It feels like a million tiny pinpricks are stabbing into the sensitive flesh all at once when the air hits it, wafting uncomfortably against hot, swollen skin. Unable to stop yourself, you look down only to instantly wish you hadn’t. 

Not only was the swollen teat so puffy and dark from the suction, fat with milk that beads and dribbles wetly from the tip, it was also humiliatingly engorged. The constant sucking had pulled at the pliant skin for so long that it now stuck straight out in a plaintive, attention grabbing point. Meaty and so starkly different from how it had once looked, you feel bile rise in the back of your throat. 

The Doctor doesn’t allow you enough time to fully process what you’re seeing though, and you helplessly watch him take the remaining tube in hand so he can pull it loose as well. You shudder so violently at the onslaught of sensation that your knees give out but he’s quick to steady you with both hands on your hips. Fingers digging in mercilessly, he pulls your lower body against his own and your mouth drops open at the hard press of his cock on your stomach. 

“That’s a good look for you, Specimen. Much better than all that hissing and kicking you did yesterday.” Casually, like it was the most normal thing in the world for him to do, he lifts a hand from your waist when he’s sure you’re steady enough not to fall and nudges a single finger under one teat. You loose a gutted, broken sound when a fresh bead of milk trickles out to run down his hand and, humming, he idly presses up to make more come out. “Yes, your production levels are excellent. Your let-down reflex seems to be working quite well.” 

You aren’t sure what he’s going to do next when he withdraws his fingers, but the very last thing you expect is for The Doctor to hunch over your chest and seal his mouth around the nipple. Going stock still at the sensation of a hot, wet mouth suckling at your breast rather than the cold, impartial machine, you just stand there and … let him do it. You were horrified with yourself but couldn’t quite find the wherewithal to be disgusted when it felt good. So much better than you could have imagined it would. His tongue laps at the swollen bud to gather the creamy secretion and swallow it down, the suction of his mouth so much less intense than the merciless tubes and yet — somehow far more satisfying. 

A frazzled whimper rattles through you with the sensation of your milk ducts giving out completely, releasing a steady stream into his mouth. The Doctor groans very softly against your skin at the influx of milk and nuzzles deeper into your breast, bringing his teeth down around the puffed up areola to make it squirt at the back of his working throat. Numbly glancing down at yourself, at his face pressed into your chest, you’re more than a little horrified to find a sympathetic dribble coming out of the opposite teat to splatter on the floor below. You didn’t understand how you were making so much milk and you knew even less why your body was reacting to him like this, but all of that seems to get swept up and dissolved in the dreamy haze that slowly comes over you. 

You’d felt it while you were hooked up to the milking machine as well but had written it off as a defense mechanism of some sort … just an old, primal part of your brain trying to make the situation more bearable so it didn’t break you. The physical discomfort as much as the mental strain of watching your body change against your will was taxing enough that it had made sense at the time. But now you knew, innately, that it was a natural response to feeding. As much as the let-down reflex was, this strange sense of peace was just the nature of your mammalian instincts. 

Suddenly his strange questions and even stranger answers made a lot more sense. 

“Goodness,” He groans when he finally comes up off your breast some moments later. A heavy squirt of milk follows after him, splattering across his open mouth but, much to your heaving shame, he just reaches up to wipe it away. “You really are producing more milk than I expected you to at this stage of the experiment. I suspect at this rate you could likely fill almost two gallons in a single day … such a sublime Specimen you are, darling, and a resounding success at that.” 

You can see he’s breathing heavier now, either excited by the results or the act of feeding from your breast, and you bite down on your lower lip to keep quiet as he straightens so he can reach for his slacks. He’d never crossed this line before, had never shown you even so much as a passing interest even when he had you spread out and helpless on his exam table, and you don’t know what to expect. The rigid cock that springs up in the space between you surprises a strangled gasp out of you though, and you try to jerk away from it. He was big. Much bigger than you were prepared to take. 

The Doctor just grabs onto your hips, squeezing so hard you cry out even as he drags your pelvis closer so he can slot himself between your thighs. Wheezing, you shudder uncontrollably when he takes a moment to sedately thrust into the space and drag his stiff length over soaked lips that seem to cling at him. The calm that had mercifully fallen over you while he was suckling is quickly replaced by jittery panic, and you can’t help blubbering like an idiot when he none too gently forces your pelvis into an upward, tilted angle that almost drags you up onto your tip toes. 

You didn’t want him touching you like this. Didn’t want to even think about him moving inside of you, claiming your body for himself. 

But the stiff rope keeping your hands behind your back is unrelenting and there isn’t anything you can do about it as he nudges closer to line himself up with your entrance. “Oh, don’t be like that. I’m sure you’ll like it. Your sweet little cunt is already so very wet and I bet it’s just aching to be filled, isn’t it?” 

Hissing through your teeth, you twist your head around so you won’t have to look at that horrible mask looming over you. But that does absolutely nothing to deter him though, and you cry out when he starts to slowly sink into your hot, squirming guts. Taking him like this is difficult, the slow stretch so much worse than it would have been if you could properly spread your legs. He just forces you to stay upright when you waver, and you let out a hurt little groan as his fingers dig into your hips so hard you can feel bruises blooming under the pressure. Your cunt grants him entry one stilted inch at a time though, welcoming it as much as your mind wants to fight it. 

But you’re completely at his mercy and when he finally settles inside you, as deep as he can reach in this position, you feel something in you snap. Your hips nudge forward of their own accord to weakly rut against the intrusion as you tip your head down, intending to look at where his body connects with yours, but all you see is … your breasts, so swollen and heavy, leaking copious amounts of milk all over your front. Like being penetrated had loosened a faucet and you were now freely dribbling all over the place without the need for any stimulation. The sight alone almost sends you shuddering right over the edge. 

Hunching closer when your eyes start to roll back, The Doctor studies you up close for a long, drawn out beat while your cunt hollowly contracts around him, squeezing his length in pulses. You feel the excited shiver that runs through him as much as you see it, and then he tips his head to just touch his mouth to yours. “Aren’t you being good for me?”

“P - please —!”

He softly shushes you, lips brushing when he speaks again. “You’ll get your reward, not to worry. But tell me something first, Specimen. If you can do that for me I’ll make sure you feel so good you won’t know what to do with yourself.” 

Mewling softly, you sway against his hold while your tits just keep leaking. “What do you want?” 

“Can you tell me your name?” 

You go still, so caught off guard by the question you can’t seem to process it at first. But then a stiff shudder tears down your back and your eyes go big, jerking back as far as you can when he’s got a hold of you like this. A helpless, trapped little animal sound bursts out of you but he just grins at you, his mouth a razor sharp slash under the mask. You didn’t remember. It had been so long since you’d spoken it, since anyone had called you anything other than Specimen … you truly didn’t know anymore. 

Where there once had been a solid, tangible thought there was only ringing silence. An echoing void inside your head, and The Doctor’s leering smile only grows when he sees the horror dawn on your face. 

You weren’t anyone now. 

Just Specimen.

⭐

Crossposted: here

[shadowgast-recs-weekly]

This week, we have eleven fics that feature Caleb, Essek, and at least one other person involved! Look behind the cut for some Shadowidomauk, some Blumenshadow, some Fjord/Essek/Caleb and more!

amongst the things left unforgiven by nonwal (63958, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

“In which a pair of scourgers shows up at Essek’s doorstep and saves him from himself.“ Slow-burn blumenshadow featuring heavy mistrust, mind games that aren’t mind games, and Caleb mostly in the background thinking he doesn’t deserve to be loved.

Reccer says: One of my all time faves. Nonwal’s gorgeous prose and characterization of these 4 is always top notch, but the dialogue?! The spy vs. spy mind games? The poetic descriptions of longing and grief? The visceral feeling of constant low-level panic punctuated by a full panic attack and maybe developing a crush on your current crush’s evil exes? The DIALOGUE (again)?!?! Absolutely stunning. Side note: chapter 4 features the best Jester dialogue I have ever read. The tag “openly declaring your mutual distrust can be a love language if you do it right” says so much and I love it.

Happily Ever Laughter by Settiai (1288, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: Veth’s alcoholism is brought up a few times but isn’t the focus.

Adorable Essek/Caleb/Veth/Yeza slice of life fic. Polyamory is not nearly as difficult as trying to teach a hyperactive 6 year old magic can be.

Reccer says: Incredibly sweet little domestic fic. The rapport between them is so soft and gentle and well-worn like the most comfortable pair of old house slippers. The moments where Yeza and Caleb glance at each other and manage to communicate in absolute silence (in that pseudo-telepathic way that some real parenting couples often do) are just so perfect, and Veth still finding Essek somewhat aggravating even while she loves him is :chefskiss: delightful.

Three’s Company by flammablehat (2074, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Caleb, Essek, and Fjord have a threesome, and Essek is maybe more than a little jealous about it.

Reccer says: Possessek is always a favorite! Fjord is fjeisty, and Caleb is having the time of his life. It’s both hot and tense.

altogether, infinite possibilities by ivelostmyspectacles (199305, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek has barely begun to cement his place in Caleb’s life when they bring Mollymauk Tealeaf back from the dead. Slowly, the three of them adapt together.

Reccer says: First part of a series! This was my entry point into Shadowgast!

in the pieces of what's left or what we've found by SeaWitchDreams (14620, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Astrid takes some time to figure out how she wants to rebuild her life (and who she wants to rebuild it with.)

Reccer says: a wonderfully subtle and contemplative character study, featuring four wizards carefully dancing around each other

the sea, the stars, the dreamers by nonwal (111996, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: suicidal ideation

Essek sacrifices his budding relationship with Caleb to marry Archmage Astrid Beck - for the good of the entire galaxy. But whatever Astrid's reason for marrying him is, is not nearly as noble.

Reccer says: This fic takes an unusual premise (Blumenshadow arranged marriage spaceship murder mystery with sea shanties?) and *commits* to it. Still incomplete, but if you've liked this author's other works, you won't regret taking a chance on this one.

(Oh,) How a Human Burns by witches_chant (18318, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

This is a story about Essek trying to prepare for eventual loss, depending on if Caleb wants to use the Clone spell or not. But it’s also a story about a lazy, sexy vacation on Rumblecusp where the couple stumble upon a service top and learn things about their relationship (with a happy ending!).

Reccer says: It’s both hot as hell AND feelsy! It’s a really interesting take on Caleb & Essek’s relationship. Honestly I recommend the entire series.

Victim of Convenience by se1ze (54243, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek and Caleb are together, Essek and Kingsley get together, and Kingsley is losing his mind because Caleb can’t get his shit together. An exploration of the very complicated feelings that crop up when a) no one seems to understand who you are, and b) someone you love thinks they need to stay gone for your own good.

Reccer says: The dialogue is fantastic, the sex is wonderful, and the hurt/comfort is amazing. It establishes the foundation upon which Essek/Kingsley can be a thing in a way that is both endearing and completely believable. Caleb is oblivious to how much Kingsley loves him, and once again hurts those around him by throwing himself on his sword.

(nothing in my bones can say) just where you’ve been by SaltCore (8216, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

It takes more time than Caleb realized to get home from the Hellcatch Valley, and in his absence, Essek’s tentative alliance with Astrid and Eadwulf has grown to something more.

Reccer says: Soft and complicated and briefly heartbreaking. The way it manages to feel like an outsider POV reinforces the sense of missing time, of having missed a massive change, and the softness and warmth of everyone’s love for each other is palpable throughout even in the most tense and anxious of moments.

i'll meet judgement by the hounds by necromanticomedy (yelenavasilyevna) (6553, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: Dubcon/Consensual Non Consent, knifeplay

Astrid and Eadwulf come to a dinner party to meet Essek Thelyss. Things either go very poorly or very well, depending on your definitions.

Reccer says: the author called it a "insane psychosexual foursome" but neglected to mention that it's the best insane psychosexual foursome you'll ever read

To The Bone by thetickingclock (2919, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Snapshots of Astrid and Eadwulf's opinion of Essek changing over time (and proximity to Caleb Widogast.)

Reccer says: Hits all my favorite notes when it comes to Blumenshadow, and there's an astounding amount of characterization and relationship development packed into less than 3k words.

Aeor is for Lovers is an 18+ Shadowgast Discord server. The above fanfic recommendations were pulled from our community for this weekly event. All fics, unless otherwise specified, will primarily feature Shadowgast. Have any questions about what this is? Check out the FAQ! Next week, we’ll be back with Lifespan Angst!

[bibibbon]

Inko midoriya is a bad mum

Yeah you heard it right inko is a bad mother. Look Iam not saying that inko is abusive but Iam saying that she isn't a good mother. YOU CAN CARE FOR YOUR CHILD AND LOVE THEM BUT STILL BE A BAD PARENT.

Somehow doesn't realise the severe bullying izuku went through and him being beat up since the age of 4. Iam so very concerned and confused on how inko never noticed that izuku was getting beat up when coming back home from the park or school it literally makes no sense to me like?!?! It's not like she even works she is a literal stay at home mum so how did she not notice for a good 10+years of izukus life?

Didn't really do anything about protecting her son until he got a quirk. The only time we actually see inko advocating for her son is AFTER He got his quirk. Look I think quirkless discrimination could of been a thing but seriously this series doesn't treat it like it is like this stuff only happened to izuku and I don't get why she never went to aldera and complained or why she didn't re-enroll her son into another school. How am I supposed to believe that she is somehow a helicopter parent when stuff like this happens and the fact that the plot doesn't allow her to take izuku out of ua and instead somewhat demonised her for that is sad.

She is very emotionally dependent on izuku. No offence but this is the truth. Every single time we see them together there will be a panel or a whole page even dedicated to inko crying to izuku and him having to comfort and honestly as a parent YOU SHOULD BE COMFORTING YOUR CHILD NOT THE OTHER WAY ROUND. This also reflects a lot on Izuku's behaviour, throughout the series izuku is actually very emotionally intelligent when it comes to people take the whole Katsuki Vs izuku 2 or take the sports festival and todoroki this could all be a result for him having to take care of his mother emotionally and having to grow up quickly when it comes to emotions. stuff like this explains why he is so emotionally mature and also emotionally intelligent.

Her reaction to him being quirkless and completely breaking down on him. Izuku's is 4 he has very limited knowledge of the world and the stuff around him. Izuku being diagnosed quirkless isn't necessarily something he can fully understand so the only thing he understands is that 1) this diagnosis makes his mother sad and 2) he can't be a hero and do what other kids/the majority of the population can do. Her reaction doesn't help Izuku at all and izuku even goes on to acknowledge such a thing and talk about how he wanted his mother to comfort him instead of cry and profusely apologise. @delawaredetroit talked about the meaning of this panel and how the chair acts as a barrier between the two which I really like and think explains their relationship perfectly

Her "concern" on the quirk Izuku got. Look your child that has been quirkless for 10 years of his life magically gets a quirk and explains it to you in some gibberish about modern science but then you find out that the quirk is completely different from yours and your husband's genetics and it physically hurts your child to use it. (He hurt himself to the point he had to get surgery?!?!) Instead of questioning the origins of this quirk and asking your son to explain himself or worry about your son hurting himself you JUST COMPLAIN?!?! Complain to the universe about why he got such a dangerous quirk out of nowhere like?!?! Also is it just me BUT THE WHOLE SEVEN TIMES FAINTING IS GETTING TO ME LIKE?!?! Iam confused aren't you supposed to be there for your child why is he supporting you emotionally and mentally on stuff he shouldn't have to worry about

Izuku's reaction and mentality whenever his mum is brought up. From the few times izuku has thought of his mum in the series you can clearly tell how their relationship really is. Their relationship is literally I can't make my mum sad and I have to be there for her instead of it being the other way round. Like seriously why is izuku waking up from a two day coma and the FIRST THING HE THINKS OF WHEN HE SEES his mother's handwriting is her crying for him to wake up and not to hurt his mum by him getting hurt. This is very concerning?!?! It doesn't help that the two times he actually wakes up from the coma he is the one that has to be there for him mum like he had to comfort her when she found out that villains were after him (understandable) but she should of been there for her child she should of advocated for him or tried to comfort or even reassure him in anyway like seriously?!?!

The lack of communication between the two. In my opinion these two truly lack communication because why is she bringing the fact that she is going to take him out of UA at that point Infront of all might when she could of had a proper discussion with her son at any point before all might came?!?! It seriously makes no sense and don't get me started on the way she was talking about it like I know she had a point and she was right but the way she brought it up and the way she talked about it were horrible. These two don't necessarily communicate about anything that is solely about izuku himself. Majority of their conversations are about things like heros, inko and her health and some other stuff but none are about the child and solely the child which I find very worrying to be honest. also don't get me started on how izuku never felt responsible or felt like he could trust his OWN MOTHER ENOUGH TO TELL HER About thr bullying or OFA ( still mad that bakugo found out before inko)

Her allowing her child to go vigilante and not actually sticking up for him during the whole don't let him into UA thing. Idk about you but I genuinely don't understand why a parent who claims to be very overprotrctive of their child allows them to go and become a vigilante and run around while they haven't even fully healed. Also this went on for a month?!?!!! Like we she seriously never went to UA and was like?!?! What about my son is it safe for him or she never set her foot down and was like no izuku you're a child you don't need to fight you shouldn't fight the adults should keep you safe or something along the lines. No we got nothing of the sort all we got was her crying and agreeing to it which is honestly frustrating. Also HOW AND WHY THE HELL WAS SHE NOT ANGRY?!?? LIKE WHY WAS SHE NOT ANGRY AT YAGI?! WHY WAS SHE NOT ANGRY WITH UA ?!? OR AT ANYONE INVOLVED. Are we also forgetting that izuku was also used as a child soldier in the first war without his consent and idk if the parents knew but why was inko not rightfully angry about what happend it makes no sense to me. Oh and don't get me started on the chapter when all the people were like get this kid out like was inko not standing up for her son why didn't she comfort him with Kota when he broke down sobbing like why?!?! How am I supposed to believe that she is a good mother and not neglectful at all when I get THIS

Her lack of reaction when izuku is on the news for the sludge villain. So almost everyone knows about the sludge villain incident it was literally boardcasted on the news and you're telling me we never got a scene of izuku and inko talking about it, of inko comforting izuku or just inko knowing in general. Like your son was on the news and decided to run into a villain fight and you don't reprimand him or demand to find out why he did it. Like why is it that kirishima and other strangers have more of reaction to the sludge villain incident instead of the main characters mother and I bet izuku didn't even tell his mum that he met all might or that he was attacked by the sludge villain before Katsuki so yeah

Simply allowing her child to do whatever after waking up from a coma (THIS LEGIT HAPPENS TWICE?!?!) Are you telling me that inko really let her child who woke up from a coma not even long ago just go out because UA required him to or something like she just let izuku do whatever he wants and didn't even come and seem him after he woke up or didn't even come and collect him after he was literally discharged from the hospital!?!? Also I have touched on the 2nd coma thing but the training camp parc inko kinda drives me insane because how do you simply allow this to happen?

PS this is just stuff from the manga because if you want me to go on about how inko was absent WHEN IZUKU LEGIT GOT ACCUSED OF BEING A MASS MURDER AND DID NOTHING ???! that's not really something imma go into deep depth but wanted to mention (THERE ARE A LOT MORE INSTANCES I DIDNT MENTION)

Look I get it inko is a flawed parent but the narrative doesn't acknowledge that and no one else does. Like I said if horikoshi actually wanted to redeem an abusive parent then he had inko and kotaro idk why the hell he chose someone like enji to fulfill that role because let's be honest enji sucks and so does his redemption. (Neglect is a form of abuse!!!)

Also it's sad inko never gets to be more than the overly emotionally dependent parent to the MC and that's it. Like she has no friends no job no family except of izuku no nothing she is all alone and usually forgotten about in the narrative sometimes I think that a dead parent could of been more useful than her which is sad.

Iam all for inko actually being somewhat of a bad mother who works a lot but loves her child and is now trying to improve and be there but that never happens and izuku deserves so much better cos how come the villain Tenko has a better family and mother than the hero

[gabessquishytum]

Glad to have you open again! To celebrate, we love us some Professor Hob with student Dream, and we love us some mafia au, so why not combine the two?

Morpheus Endless is fully aware of what the family business is, and that at some point in the future he will likely be asked if he wants to find his own niche in it—and he probably will. For now though he doesn’t really care about all that so long as he’s able to use his family’s resources to get what he wants (he’s rather spoiled and rarely been told “no”).

The latest thing he wants is his college history professor Hob Gadling. He’s handsome, charming, and kind, and Morpheus spends most of his classes fantasizing about taking him out on dates to fancy restaurants and kissing him under the stars (or bringing him back home and laying him out on Morpheus’ expensive silk sheets, depending on whether he’s feeling more horny or romantic that day). He generously waits for his guards to stalk him gather information on him and perform a background check, but otherwise he doesn’t pine in silence very long before approaching Professor Gadling to ask him on a date.

Hob is by now accustomed to the occasional crush from his students, and has been propositioned by some a handful of times. Admittedly this is the first student to expressly ask him out (as opposed to just requesting an opportunity for “extra credit”), and he’s honestly a little flattered. But he decided early on that he wouldn’t be the kind of teacher who becomes involved with his students, so he does his best to turn Morpheus down as gently and kindly as he can.

In response, a tearful Morpheus goes directly to his chief bodyguard, the Corinthian, and demands he fix the situation.

That is how Hob, after being threatened persuaded to reconsider, finds himself sitting across from Morpheus (who has a pretty good idea how Hob was persuaded, but doesn’t care so long as it means he’s here) at dinner at one of the finest restaurants in town. He had no idea that his student, a kid who looked like a stiff breeze could blow him away, was mobbed up. However he does have a bit of experience with this type of spoiled, and he’s pretty sure that if he just plays along a little and bides his time, Morpheus will discover some new shiny plaything to distract him and leave him alone again.

(Little does Hob know that it only takes a handful of dates for Morpheus to become even more besotted, and his fantasies are quickly evolving into turning Hob into his perfect little mafia wife…)

-🪽anon

Thank you so much friendo, this is a great prompt to get back in with!

I'm imagining how that conversation with the Corinthian went down for Hob. Did he show up at Hob’s office hours?

Cori: It's about Morpheus. He's infatuated with you and wants you to join him on a date.

Hob: ah, I know. But nothing appropriate happened, I promise I turned him down-

Cori: that is precisely the problem *reveals knife in jacket pocket*

...anyway, for the sake of his physical wellbeing, Hob shows up to dinner with Morpheus. In a way, the whole situation is quite funny for Hob (a grown, mature adult). This spoiled little brat thinks he can buy anything and anyone apparently, but one day he'll surely learn that money and power aren't everything. Hob is smiling into his wine glass, somewhat amused by the little mafia prince's attempts at seduction.

But Morpheus is unhinged, as well as spoiled, and his attention doesn't wander away from Hob. Weeks and months of dates pass by, with Hob refusing to do more than kiss his cheek after dinner. Morpheus is growing impatient. Hob is his boyfriend, they should be doing more than making small talk and barely touching! And so, Hob gets a second visit from the Corinthian.

And now Hob’s feeling kind of worried. Because Morpheus seems to be genuinely obsessed with him, and Cori has made it clear that Hob needs to start behaving like a doting lover, or there will be consequences. Involving the knife.

So, he is sucked in deeper to Morpheus’s life. There are more dates; these ones more intimate than before as they take place in Morpheus’s large private apartment. They're alone together at last, and then it's a little easier for Hob to pretend that it's all normal and okay. Kissing Morpheus feels good. Accepting gifts from him feels easy. Being touched by him... Well, at least nobody else will ever have to know. And Morpheus is quite a little sweetheart, really. Maybe because he has the Corinthian to do all the dirty work for him...

It'll be the Corinthian who finally "persuades" Hob to give up his job and be the "support" that Morpheus needs as he takes his place in the family business. Hob has a responsibility to keep Morpheus happy at home now. Isn't that more important? Because Hob does love Morpheus. He just wishes sometimes that they could have a normal life together.

And standing in the purple satin evening gown that Morpheus requested, draped all over in diamonds and rubies, smiling dutifully at the other members of the family, Hob can't help but wonder if Morpheus will keep him forever. Because at this point, Hob’s not sure what he'd do without him...

[ourflagmeansgayrights]

one thing about me is that i do enjoy a good Dad Stede fic or fics where stede’s kids (and mary and doug) are important figures in his life and he has a great relationship with them, i like reading abt stede trying so hard to be a good dad

but at the same time i do not consider this to be stede’s canonical characterization. canon stede is an incredibly subpar dad to his biological children. not only does stede not know how to interact with said biological children when he’s not sharing his interests with them but also it has never once occurred to him that he should do other stuff with them. stede probably doesn’t even realize it’s possible to do anything with his kids aside from play pirates. he also does NOT have the emotional maturity necessary to handle when a toddler is throwing a tantrum, and thank fucking god he got out of there before they reached their teens. in s1 he mostly felt guilty for leaving them bc he did it in the middle of the night without saying goodbye but also because he still felt tied to the social obligations enforced on him by society. he still felt like he had a responsibility to be a Socially Acceptable Man, which includes being a husband and a dad, even tho trying to be a socially acceptable man made him fucking miserable. when he realizes at the end of the season that his kids and his wife are legitimately better off without him he leaves again without looking back.

and mark my fucking words he is never seeing those kids again. he said “two messed up kids, probably” so he’s at least somewhat aware that running out on his kids like that will most likely cause lasting psychological damage, but by god his children’s abandonment issues are not his problem. doug and mary can worry about that, he left them plenty of money to afford ye olde therapy if they need it down the line. and louis might’ve said “who are you, again?” but the truth is that stede only knew louis was his son bc he was sitting for breakfast inside stede’s house. that man could not pick his kids out of a lineup if his life depended on it. to quote @jaskierx, stede said “two messed up kids, probably” as in “my kids are messed up. and i think there were two of them”

[mint-yooxgi]

Written in the Stars - Yandere!Idol!Yeosang X Tall!Chubby!Reader

Soft Yandere AU & Idol AU

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Fluff, Slight Humor, Slow Burn

Pairing: Yeosang X Reader (ft. platonic Ateez ensemble)

Words: 11,875

Warnings: Slow burn. This story is going to be very self indulgent on my part, so please bear with the first few chapters. Jongho is an over excited fanboy. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: So, I decided to just say 'fuck it' and post it anyways! I got too excited and just had to share, so I really hope you all enjoy what I have planned. I have SO much already for this series, and like I said in the warning, it's definitely going to be quite self-indulgent on my part but it IS based off my own dream, so... anyways, as always feedback is greatly appreciated. Enjoy~

Also, gentle reminder that I don’t do tag lists.

Mini Masterlist

A low exhale escapes you through your nose as you stand in line waiting to board the plane. Absentmindedly, your thumb brushes over the front of your passport, your boarding pass tucked neatly inside. 

Shifting your weight onto your opposite foot, you adjust the straps of your backpack slung over your shoulders. Despite your best efforts to pack light, the heaviness weighs you down, feeling the corner of your laptop harshly digging into your shoulder blade. Perhaps you should have packed a few more of your books into your checked luggage after all. 

It’s not every day that you get to move to South Korea for approximately a year or more, depending on how well writing your next book goes. The decision had been meticulously planned out, seeing as your publisher has arranged a fairly large book signing in the heart of Seoul a few weeks from now. 

To say you were pleasantly surprised to learn how well your books are doing in South Korea is an understatement. You were more than happy to agree to it, especially when you have also been personally invited to perform a new piece of writing at one of the many award shows this season. It seems the organizers really appreciate your way with words, and want you to compose a short poem of sorts to encompass the emotions and influence different types of art has around the world.

It seems as if you’ve become a somewhat popular international author within the country, and you are more than happy to attend any and all events they ask you to. Subsequently, the offers were too good to refuse, and you’ve always wanted to move to Seoul for a few years. At least now you have a good reason to stay.

It has taken you years to get to where you are now, but being a well established international author has truly been everything you could have ever asked for. Writing has always been your passion, and you’re just glad that you can share it with the world. With a little extra on the side, of course.

Slowly, the line begins to move in front of you, and you blink to regain your focus. It looks as if they’re finally boarding for zone two, and you honestly just can’t wait to get settled in your seat and sleep. You’re hoping to at least catch a few hours before you attempt to work on a bit of your next book. The idea you’ve been mapping out is a big one, and you’re hoping the words flow just as easily for this one as all of the previous novels you’ve written.

The length of the flight has yet to be determined if it’s your enemy or ally.

Maybe you’ll just watch a few movies instead…

As more and more people advance, you can feel those familiar jitters of excitement coursing through your veins. Every time you visit another place, but especially when it relates to your writing, you cannot hide your eagerness. The adventures you can have are endless, and you honestly cannot wait to see a few of your friends again. Some, you’ll even be meeting for the first time. Well, if their schedules allow.

When you had arrived at the airport, getting through security after checking in had been a little heinous. 

First of all, you had a few too many bags, but since you’ll be moving to a completely new country, you need almost all of your things to take with you. Plus, you don’t want your new home to be too empty. You’re just grateful your mother will be sending along a few care packages with some of your bulkier items, like your favourite blankets and a few of your trinkets once you’ve gotten settled in.

Then, came security.

There seemed to be a rumour floating around that some celebrity or something was supposed to be on this same exact flight. A few overheard hushed whispers, and you determined the celebrities to be some Korean pop group. Though, you doubt that’s the case. Despite not really paying attention to the other passengers, you haven’t exactly seen any idols around.

Needless to say, security took longer with all the fans trying to sneak through.

At least you still made it to the gate with plenty of time to spare. You even had some free moments to browse the airport bookstore, noticing a small display of your own books near the front table. The way the workers had stacked your newest release in a mini-pyramid of sorts still makes you smile. The fact that you signed a few of the copies had made the workers’ day, taking a few photos with one of the girls who happened to be a big fan of your work.

Looking back on it now, you cannot help but to grin to yourself as you begin to make your way onto the plane. The worker who scanned your ticket seemed to look on you in awe, brief understanding lighting up their eyes after handing you your passport back. They probably recognized your name, if anything. The fact that you nodded back to them in acknowledgment seemingly made their day.

Truly, this is a dream come true.

Stepping onto the plane, you’re quick to find your seat. You made sure to pick the window of the very last row in premium, as you’ve always enjoyed watching the scenery as you fly. Take off and landings are your favourite parts. Plus, with no one behind you, you can recline without worry or fear that you’re infringing on someone’s personal space.

Luckily, it doesn’t appear that your seat partner has arrived yet, and for that, you’re grateful. Honestly, you hope no one actually sits beside you just so you can have a bit more space to yourself. Plus, it’ll make you more comfortable if you decide to actually get some writing done on the plane. 

You’ve always had a sense of paranoia about writing around strangers, given how often people like to snoop. The last thing you want is to be writing some steamy scene, or something completely gruesome, and offend the person you’re sitting beside. Though, you mainly only get that feeling when writing on your laptop.

Sliding your overstuffed bag beneath the seat in front of you, you settle into your own. Your purse gets shoved to the side beside your feet as you unceremoniously kick your backpack as far beneath the seat as it will go.

The joys of premium economy: much needed leg room, and better seating. Though, you can just hear your publisher’s voice in the back of your head, chastising you for not buying business class.

You huff lightly to yourself as you click your seatbelt on. Like hell you’re going to pay something ridiculous, like four grand, in order to have your own private podlike seat. That’s way too much for a one way ticket, and besides, premium is just fine. You’ve been lucky enough to fly it before, anyways.

Settling fully into your seat, you pull out your phone. Unlocking the device, you shoot a quick text to your family letting them know that you’ve just boarded the plane and are waiting for take off.

Of course, they reply quickly, telling you to have a safe flight and that they’ll miss you greatly. Most of all, though, to have fun on your new adventures.

A soft smile paints your features as you tell them that you’ll message them once you land, and if there’s time, phone once you make it to your new apartment. As soon as you see their response in confirmation, you’re turning your phone on airplane mode and grabbing your headphones out of your purse.

Movement from your left catches your attention, and you see a few people settling into the seats near you. You take a moment to assess your new seat buddy before turning back to your phone, plugging in your earbuds without another thought.

Looks like you’ll be sitting next to a guy for the entire flight. Not that you mind, but the last guy you sat beside on a long flight like this tried to talk your ear off about politics and how ‘kids these days don’t have the same respect they used to.’

The worst part? The man didn’t look that much older than you.

Oh well, it could have been worse. It could have also been like that one time you sat beside a lady who told you everything wrong with your first book, and what she would have done to fix it and make it better.

Holding your earbuds in one hand, you scroll through your playlist, searching for a song you want to listen to before putting them in.

From beside you, you can hear some hushed whispering in Korean, each voice distinctly male. The words ‘writer’ and ‘newest book’ catch your attention in-between the bustle of the other passengers boarding the plane, and you nearly let out a sigh.

Just as you go to place your buds in your ears, you hear a gentle voice pull you out of your thoughts.

“Excuse me?” The words are low, cautious, as if he’s unsure of himself. Surprisingly, they’re in English.

Lifting your head, you shift your gaze to the side. The way your eyes blink in mild surprise, caught immediately off guard by who you see sitting beside you, is apparent. Ever so slightly, your breath hitches in your throat.

“Are you…” he trails off, brow furrowing as if he’s searching for the right word in English.

Out of the corner of your vision, you see a face peering out across the aisle from the row in front of you. His hands grip the seat firmly as he angles his body towards both you and the male beside you. Though, from the way his face keeps being blocked by more passengers boarding the plane, what he attempts to whisper to his friend goes unnoticed. At least, by the unsuspecting male. However, at the way you can hear the word ‘author’ lightly cut through the crowd, you grin softly.

“It’s alright, I can speak Korean.” You reply casually.

The way you see the male visibly freeze in his spot, body seemingly relaxing immediately after has you chuckling slightly.

“You do?” The surprise is clear on his features, but he’s quick to hide it in the next second.

“Not very well, but sufficiently enough.” You say. “My Japanese is better.”

You can see the way his brow twitches slightly in acknowledgement, that same look of surprise shining within his gaze.

“Anyways, my friend would like to know if you’re actually the author that wrote this book.” He says, lifting the object slightly in his hand.

An object of which you didn’t even notice before, too wrapped up in your own little world.

Sparing a glance at the book, a soft smile graces your features. For there, resting in his hands, resides a copy of your latest novel from the airport bookstore.

“I am.” You confirm with a small nod.

The male turns back to his left, seemingly having a silent conversation with his friend across the aisle. From his body language alone, you can tell that your seat buddy is slightly exasperated. Especially when his friend looks about ready to lunge across the aisle after the one sitting beside you asks him very lowly if he has to.

The announcement for final boarding call is heard over the speakers, the cabin crew now moving to secure the plane for take off.

You can only quirk a brow in amusement as your seat buddy heaves a tremendous sigh before turning back to face you.

That’s when you notice two more heads popping up over the seats in the middle section, one row in front of you. One sports bright, flaming red locks, while the other has a head full of black hair. They not so subtly peer over the back of their seats, looking in your direction as the one sitting right next to the aisle with bleached locks still has his eyes locked on you.

“I’m so sorry to do this to you; you probably get this a lot,” he sighs, and you can literally feel the death glare the male directly across the aisle from him is sending his way. “But do you think you could sign this for him?”

The plane begins to move. Briefly, you hear a flight attendant tell the three males in the row in front of you that they need to sit properly in order to prepare for take off.

Your brow quirks. “I thought I already did.”

This causes the male across the aisle to practically fall out of his seat as he reaches across to tear the book out of your seat buddy’s hands. You notice that he practically shreds through the front page in order to flip through to where your signature practically shines back up at him.

You notice a vibrant red beginning to creep up his neck as you chuckle lightly.

“I can still add a personalize message, if you’d like?” You lean forward slightly, looking directly past the male sitting beside you.

The way you visibly see the male perk up, practically throwing the book back at the one sitting beside you has a large grin pulling at your features. You can feel your own face heating from this interaction, heart pounding in your chest.

“Flight crew, prepare for take off.” The captains voice is heard over the intercom, and you realize you missed the entire safety demonstration. Not that you haven’t seen it all before.

“That would be great,” the male sitting beside you says, seeing as the other one seems too excited to speak for the moment. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” you smile, reaching down to grab a pen from your bag.

“Excuse me, Miss,” the soft voice of a flight attendant draws your attention to the aisle beside you. “Please remain in an upright position until the plane has left the tarmac.”

“Right, sorry,” you smile sheepishly, a nod to your head.

Turning back to the males beside you once the flight attendant walks away, you pat the cover lightly.

“I’ll sign this as soon as we’re in the air, okay?”Your voice is sweet, holding the book lightly in your lap.

“Thanks again,” the male beside you nods.

“Of course,” you repeat. “It’s not everyday an idol from one of your favourite groups asks you to sign something for them.”

Four heads whip in your direction: the male sitting beside you, the two directly across the aisle from you, and the one who had been turning around to face you one row up. The surprise is clear on their features, and you’d bet anything that the two you saw peeking over their seats earlier would be doing the exact same thing once again if they could.

“You know who we are?” The one from directly across the aisle sounds completely awestruck. “You know who I am?”

“Yes, I do,” you nod gently in his direction, a small grin tugging at your lips. “Choi Jongho from Ateez.”

You swear that this man is about to faint from how red his face goes.

“Right now, though, you’re all just some guys on a plane,” you say. “And we all just so happen to be heading to the same destination.”

A slight whine from the row in front of them draws your attention.

“Joong, tell Yunho to stop kicking the back of my seat!” With the familiar intonation, you can just tell that it’s Wooyoung.

“Well, then stop hopping around.” Said male turns briefly towards his opposite side before turning back to continue observing this interaction between you and the other members.

You huff out a laugh, feeling as the plane begins to accelerate for take off. A moment later, and that familiar sense of weightlessness takes over, signifying you’ve left the ground.

“So, you’re a fan, then.” A statement, rather than a question comes from the man sitting beside you.

“For my part,” you hum, a tender smile pulling at your lips. “I saw you guys in concert a few years ago when you came to my city. You’re all incredible performers.”

You notice all four of them that are still looking at you become a little bashful at your words. Mutters of gratitude escape their lips as they bow their heads in your direction, and you are once again reminded of just how humble this group is.

“Then, you know who all of us are.” Again, another statement leaves the male beside you as he observes you with curious eyes.

“I do indeed know who you are, Kang Yeosang of Ateez.” You repeat your little phrase from earlier. A moment later, you shrug. “It’s like I said, though, right now you’re just some guy.”

A ding sounds, indicating the seatbelt sign going off once you’ve reached altitude. As soon as you hear it, realization flashes across your features, and you lean forward to grab a pen out of your bag.

“So, did you want me to address this to you, or is there a specific nickname you’d like me to use?”You direct your question towards the youngest member sitting across the aisle from you.

“Uh…” Jongho blinks, shifting forward slightly as he undoes his seatbelt. “Nickname?”

“Yeah,” you confirm. “Sometimes people like me signing a term of endearment from one of my books in front of their name, or even instead of their name. I can do that, or something else. Just nothing weird, like ‘Daddy’, or anything like that.”

A head pops up over the seat in front of you. “Someone’s asked you to sign a book for them addressed to ‘Daddy’?”

“Oh, hello, Song Mingi from Ateez.” You blink in mild surprise.

“Hello.” A subtle nod and an immediate look of meekness crosses his features. Almost as if he couldn’t help but pop up and join in on this conversation with you.

“I thought we were all just some guys to you right now?” Yunho quirks a brow at you from down the row.

“Listen, this is the only way I know how to-“ you search for the right word, looking up at the ceiling of the cabin all the while. A slight tilt of your head in realization is the only sign they get that you’ve thought of the word, “dispel my excitement for the moment. I’m pretty sure my heart is about to burst from how furiously it’s racing right now.”

You see Seonghwa poke his head around the edge of his seat to look at you. Only, you see him flinch in the next second, slowly shifting so he’s now peering over the top of his seat just as Mingi does.

Looks like Hongjoong didn’t like the fact that his sight was being blocked.

“I think the feeling is mutual,” at the way you see Yeosang motion towards Jongho with his head, you crack a grin.

“So,” you catch the last dregs of the glare Jongho sends Yeosang’s way before the youngest is meeting your gaze once more. “Nickname?”

Knowing grins tug at a few of the male’s faces around you, Yunho nudging Jongho teasingly in his side.

Again, the youngest shoots a pointed look at the male on his opposite side before turning to look at you. Red begins to creep up his neck as he averts his gaze to the floor before continuously flicking it up to meet your own.

“I’ve always liked ‘Darling’,” he admits, and you notice how Yunho nudges him teasingly while more of the guys shoot him knowing grins.

This time, it’s your turn for your cheeks to heat as you hum. “How fitting.”

Flipping open to the page with your signature, you twirl the pen in your fingers once. A moment later, and you’re scribbling out a message.

To My Darling Jongho,

The stars look up to you. Keep shining!

Signing it off with a ‘Your Fan’, you’re quick to add your name. However, before you hand it back to him, you add a little note at the bottom.

P.S. You have a lovely voice.

Adding a small smiley face, you’re quick to cap your pen and shut the front cover.

The moment you hand the book to Yeosang to pass back to Jongho, you notice a few of the other members sliding back into their seats. The youngest eagerly snatches the book back from the elder, opening to the page with your signature on it without a second of hesitation. The way you see him visibly shake in excitement, a large smile stretching onto his features warms your heart.

There’s a part of you that really wants to ask him about his favourite characters, and what he’s thought about your books, but you hold off for now. You wouldn’t exactly start a conversation with him otherwise, and you don’t want to bother him too much. Besides, he seems far too content to pull out the Korean translation of your previous book from his bag shortly afterwards.

Figuring he wants to read, you turn back to face the seat in front of you. Leaning down, you go to put your pen away, kicking your bag lightly back beneath the seat.

“Yeosang,” you hear a harsh whisper from your left. “Switch seats with me.”

A moment of silence where you notice the aforementioned male shoot a disinterested look towards Jongho. 

“No.”

“What do you mean, ‘no’?” Jongho practically seethes, a frown tugging at his features. “I swear to god, Yeosang, I will split you in half like an apple.”

“Yes, I’m sure your favourite author would love to sit beside a man who just threatened to snap me like a twig.” Yeosang deadpans, reclining his seat back as far as it will go.

You’re about to make a comment on the situation, torn between jokingly saying that that’s actually kind of hot, or telling them that you don’t mind at all, when a voice draws your attention from in front of you.

“So,” it’s Seonghwa, peeking over the top of his seat once more. His hands grip the headrest, and you cannot see his mouth, but the way his wide eyes shine as they look towards you nearly makes you swoon. “Who’s your bias?”

You notice that this catches all of the member’s attention, and you suddenly sink back into the seat you’re in. That is, until you quirk your brow, a teasing grin causing the corners of your lips to twitch upwards.

“My ult?” You tilt your head. “I think I’m very explicit about it being Lee Taemin.”

You can visibly see the way his shoulders deflate at your words, and you briefly look around at all of the males that now seem to be peering at you from over their seats.

“No,” Seonghwa practically whines. “Of the group!”

“Which group?” The expression you wear is nothing short of amused as you see Seonghwa begin to pout before you.

If someone had told you that you’d be making the Park Seonghwa from Ateez pout because you wouldn’t tell him your bias from his group, you would have laughed in their face. Even more so when you notice Hongjoong staring at you with a mildly pointed look in your direction. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear that he’s almost daring you to say that it’s anyone else but him.

“Our group, of course!” He frowns, leaning the slightest bit forward to rest his chin on top of his hands as he watches you carefully.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice San lean into Wooyoung from a row ahead.

“Has she answered her bias yet?” The male not so subtly whispers to the younger.

“Shh, not yet.” Wooyoung hisses back. “That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”

“Who’s your bias in Ateez?” Mingi is the one to ask you this time, and you shift your attention to him for the moment.

Again, your cheeks flare with heat.

“Now, isn’t that the million dollar question?” You breathe, letting out a chuckle as you grab your phone in your hand once more. “Nah, sorry boys. If you want that answer out of me, you at least have to buy me a drink first.”

“Is your bias your lockscreen?” Jongho asks, an eager gleam in his eyes as the males closest to you now divert their gazes to your phone held in your hand.

“My lockscreen definitely takes priority,” you grin knowingly, and you watch them all eagerly lean in to catch a glimpse of the photo. “Since I won’t have wifi for such a long time, I always change it to a list of things I should probably get done on the plane."

Clicking the side button reveals said list on your screen.

A collective sigh of defeat is heard from the males around you as you chuckle. Only, in the next moment, your brow furrows.

“Wait, how do you know I usually keep one of my biases as my lockscreen?” You turn towards Jongho.

“Lucky guess?” He shrugs, another blush creeping up his neck.

“He started screaming about it during one of your lives once someone translated your remark.” Yeosang casually states, shifting slightly in his seat to get more comfortable as he settles in for a nap.

You swear that were it not for the way another passenger walks by to use the restroom, Jongho would have lunged at the male sitting beside you.

Still, you cannot help the way your eyes shine in awe. “You watch my lives?”

Jongho avoids your gaze, fumbling over his words for the moment. His hands nervously toy with the pages of the book in his lap, and you nearly coo at how bashful he suddenly looks.

“When he can.” Yunho supplies for him with a soft smile. “Sometimes Hongjoong and I watch, too. It helps when Joong can translate some of the things you say.”

Your heart skips a beat in your chest at the implication, and you cannot keep the hopefulness out of your voice. “You guys have read my books, too?”

“Even if it weren’t for Jongho ranting and raving over your writing, our other friends are pretty persistent.” Hongjoong replies, a soft smile pulling at his features. “You’re very popular back home.”

“Yeah, Changbin told me that Felix recommended him this book, so he just had to tell me about it.” Wooyoung supplies.

“Members of Stray Kids have also read my novels?” You say, though with how lowly you whisper it, it’s more to yourself in awe.

“I know! I was surprised, since Bin will barely even look at books half the time,” Wooyoung laughs, eyes crinkling in joy.

“You’d be surprised by how many of us read your novels.” Yunho hums, settling back in his own seat for the moment.

“Wow,” you breathe. “Honestly, it’s something I always think about, but I still never expect it. The only idol I know for sure that reads my books is Mark Lee of NCT.”

“Oh, yeah, we didn’t hear the end of that for weeks,” San calls out over his chair, shooting a look towards Jongho.

“‘Why can’t we get personalized signed copies of her books?’” Wooyoung imitates the youngest, nearly getting shoved out of his chair in response.

“I’d send her a full on review along with our albums if she gave me a chance,” Hongjoong laughs, receiving a harsh kick from Jongho to the back of his seat.

“Remember the one time he said he’d serenade her?” Yunho supplies, a fond chuckle falling from his lips.

Jongho instantly wraps his one arm around Yunho’s throat, pulling the taller man into his side as the elder hunches over uncomfortably. “Want to die?”

You cannot help the way you laugh, eyes falling shut as you lean back in your seat. Your one hand rests over your chest as you catch your breath, blinking away your tears of joy shortly after. The scene is much too comical for you not to react, anyways.

The moment your vision clears, you notice Yeosang having turned to face you. He wears a somewhat neutral expression, but his eyes are soft, a hint of awe residing within.

You chalk it up to him just being tired.

“You really said you’d serenade me?” Your inquiry is tender, nothing but a sense of wonder pulling at your features as you lean forward to look his way.

Slowly, he releases the chokehold he has on Yunho, nodding lightly all the while.

“That’s honestly so sweet, oh my goodness,” your one hand comes up to cup the side of your face as you tilt your head to the side.

The way Jongho’s eyes begin to shine as he meets you gaze says it all.

A moment later, and your attention is being drawn to the male peering his head over his seat in front of you.

“You like anime, right?” Mingi has an eager look on his face, arms crossed over the back of his seat as he rests his chin on top of them.

“I do indeed!” You reply, an excited gleam sparking in your gaze.

“Uh-oh,” Hongjoong says. “This is going to take a while.”

“Shut up,” Mingi frowns, turning his suddenly harsh gaze towards Hongjoong for a moment before turning back to you with an eager grin. “Which one’s your favourite?”

“Definitely Jujutsu Kaisen, but Naruto will always hold a special place in my heart since I’ve loved it since childhood.” You reply. “Haikyuu will also forever be my comfort series.”

You see him nodding along to your every word.

“What about you?” You reply, blinking lightly up at him.

“I really love Demon Slayer,” he replies, a giddiness to his tone.

“Oh yeah, the animation for that series is beautiful,” you nod along to his words. “I also remember when Atiny’s went feral for your Rengoku hair. Now, that was a look.”

You swear the male nearly tumbles out of his seat as his lips part in awe. A subtle blush begins to tint his ears, as he smiles bashfully in your direction.

“Thank you,” his voice is soft. That is, until his sharp gaze is locking on the male sitting beside you. “Hey, Yeosang-“

Pointedly, the male turns away from you, pretending to be asleep.

“I don’t think any of us are going to get him to move any time soon,” Hongjoong chuckles. “Anyways, sorry for bothering you.”

“Not at all!” You shake your head, a kind smile tugging at your features. “Honestly, this has made my entire week.”

“Likewise,” Jongho breathes, and you turn your smile towards him.

“Oh, wait,” you lean forward, pulling out your backpack and riffling through it in the next minute. Once you have what you’re looking for in hand, your eyes are lighting up, pulling the item out of your bag quickly. “The translation isn’t due to drop for another month, but they sent me some early copies. I’d like you to have this one.”

Carefully, you reach over a somewhat asleep Yeosang to hand Jongho the book in your hands. You can see his own shaking as he grabs the novel from you, a look of complete awe on his features.

“Thank you,” he meets your gaze. “I’ve been waiting for this one to drop since you announced it. It’s why I bought the English version.”

“I do that, too, with a bunch of my manga. I think I have at least four copies of volume four of Jujutsu Kaisen just for the one panel alone.” You chuckle.

“Not the cover?” Mingi quirks a brow.

“Oh, god no.” Your face scrunches in distaste. “Kakashi two-point-oh is most definitely not a character I like. I’ll stick with the original, thank you very much.”

From beside you, you notice Yeosang’s shoulders start to shake with mild laughter.

“Anyways,” you chuckle. “That’s a topic for another day.”

The way you see Mingi visibly pout as he sinks back into his seat has the corner of your lips quirking upwards. A second later, and you’re turning your attention back to Jongho on your left.

“I hope you enjoy the book, it’s definitely darker than some of the other ones I’ve written.” You comment.

At this, you notice Hongjoong’s brow quirk. “Darker, you say?”

“Twisted, if you will.” You shrug a shoulder casually.

“Hey, Jongho, once you’re finished with that, let me borrow it.” Hongjoong turns to the aforementioned male who already seems to have begun reading your book.

Jongho’s eyes flash, protectively hugging the novel to his chest. “Get your own.”

The two males begin bickering over your book, and you notice how the other members have all settled back into their seats. You decide to get comfortable in your own, leaving the conversation at that for now as you put in your headphones. A moment later, and you’re putting on one of your softer playlists to help you fall asleep. It works, too, for in no time at all, you’re succumbing to the realm of dreams.

Of course, it doesn’t last too long, for the flight attendants come around offering drinks shortly after. The meals are served following that, and then finally, you’re able to sink back into the comfort of sleep once more.

A few hours later, you wake to more hushed whispers coming from your left. It sounds as if Jongho is attempting to convince Yeosang to switch seats with him once more, much to the elder’s annoyance.

“I said, ‘no’,” Yeosang grumbles, his arms crossed over his chest.

“But I want to ask her about her new novel,” Jongho whines.

“Ask her some other time,” Yeosang huffs out a breath. “She’s sleeping.”

Jongho leaves it at that, but when you crack open your eyes to assess the situation, you notice he’s already almost halfway through the book you’ve given him. A large pout rests on his features as he pointedly flips back to the page he had last been on, continuing to read without another word.

After about another hour where you fall in and out of sleep, you decide that you’re too restless for the moment to succumb to the land of dreams. Adjusting yourself in your seat, you make sure not to disturb the resting male beside you. Leaning forward, you shuffle a few things around as you grab a notebook and a pen from your bag.

Might as well get a little bit of writing done.

The lighting inside the plane is low, but you’ll make do. The last thing you want is to disturb the people around you, and besides, it’s not like you can’t see anything. It’s no different than all of those nights you used to spend when you were younger sitting in the dark staring at your laptop’s screen as you wrote until the first glimpses of the sun’s rays peeked through your windows.

Turning to a blank page, you let out a small sigh through your nose.

Now, where to begin?

Quirking a brow, you smirk to yourself, putting the pen to paper.

Before you know it, two hours have passed and you’ve written a fair amount for the opening of your new book. Sitting upright reveals just how stiff your neck has gotten, bringing a hand up to gently begin massaging at the muscles as you stretch it out lightly. A moment later, and a few satisfying pops can be heard as you crack it, and subsequently, your back.

The way you notice Yeosang spare a look at you out of the corner of his eyes has  you smiling sheepishly. “Sorry.”

You begin to close your notebook before a final idea strikes you, scribbling the little note to yourself for later. Once done, you tuck it away, pulling out your laptop shortly after.

A brief silence settles over you as you place your laptop onto the little tray you’re using. That is, until a soft voice from beside you draws your attention.

“You have nice handwriting.”

Your entire body freezes, turning to blink at the male in shock.

“Do you always write everything out before typing it?” Yeosang meets your gaze, a mild curiosity lingering in his tone.

Slowly, you shake your head. “Not usually. I just prefer writing things out like this when I’m in public. I always feel like my screen is a giant ‘Look Here’ sign when I use my laptop. That, and you were sleeping. I didn’t want to disturb you with the light.”

“I thought I was ‘just some guy’ to you?” He quirks a brow, completely misinterpreting your words for the moment.

“You are.” You confirm. “I would extend the same curtesy towards anyone.”

“But not right now?” He quirks a brow, eyes briefly darting down to the way you open your laptop.

“You’re awake now, and I think I’ve earned myself a few episodes of Jujutsu Kaisen after actually getting some writing done.” You say. “Besides, my hand hurts from gripping the pen so tightly.”

“Oh?” The corner of his lips twitches upwards as he notices you stretching your writing hand out by curling and uncurling your fingers periodically.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice Jongho nearly at the end of your book. His body is angled towards you, gaze flitting above the top of the pages every so often to check if you’ll notice him or not. At the way you smile tenderly his way, he’s quick to hide his face behind the pages once more.

“It’s a bad habit I have,” you shrug, setting up your screen with the first episode. “It’s one of the reasons I prefer typing. That, and both spellcheck, and the fact that I can type faster than I can handwrite.”

“I see.” He hums.

You blink, a subtle heat rising to your cheeks. “Sorry, I’m rambling.”

“Not at all.” He smiles politely. “I asked, anyways. Think of it as the mere curiosities of a stranger.”

“Well then, stranger,” you grin slightly, a playful gleam to your eyes as you properly introduce yourself. “It’s nice to meet you.”

An amused grin tugs at the corner of his lips as he introduces himself to you, following along with your antics for the moment. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

“There,” you nod once, quite firmly at that, too, “Now we’re not strangers.”

“No,” he hums, “I suppose not.”

Turning back to your screen, you are more than content to leave the conversation at that. A moment later, and the familiar sight of the first episode of Jujutsu Kaisen pops up on your laptop, allowing yourself to connect your headphones before pressing play. You get about five minutes into the episode before you begin to feel eyes on you.

Shifting your gaze, you notice Yeosang glancing towards you, and then your screen every few seconds. Carefully, you shift your laptop in his direction so he can see the screen better, and you notice him stiffen slightly in his spot.

You chuckle lightly, silently offering him one of your earbuds.

You don’t even have to look at him to see the way he glances from that small item held in your hand, to your face and back a few times before accepting the offer wordlessly. A press of a few buttons and Korean subtitles appear at the bottom of the screen.

You can see the shock clear on his face as he places the bud in his ear.

“What?” You laugh. “Expecting English?”

He blinks. “Yeah, actually.”

“I think I mentioned my Japanese being better than my Korean,” you hum.

“Your Korean sounds fine to me.” He comments.

A warmth blooms on your cheeks as you divert your gaze to the screen.

“Thank you,” nothing more than a mumble escapes you.

“Why? Do you think you’re not speaking well?” He asks, the anime playing on in the background.

“I used to be friends with a girl who always harped on me for my pronunciation, so it made speaking all the more difficult for me.” You admit softly. “Which is really ironic, when she always complained about people correcting her when she was younger.”

“Harped?” His brow furrows. “How so?”

“She would always make fun of the way I would say stuff,” your nose scrunches in distaste as you recall the memories. “I would learn something new, and the first words out of her mouth would be something like, ‘you really think it’s pronounced like that? You sound like a Koreaboo.’”

His eyebrows raise significantly, “Koreaboo?”

“Yeah,” you confirm, turning your head to meet his gaze only to realize just how close he is to you due to the fact that you’re sharing headphones. A warmth blooms once more on your cheeks. “Ironic, since she wasn’t even Korean to begin with, yet she was correcting my pronunciation.”

“Was she a language teacher?” His brow furrows.

“Not even,” you sigh, shaking your head lightly.

“She sounds like a bitch,” he comments, shifting his gaze to your screen.

You spare a glance at him out of the corner of your eyes. “She was.”

“Well, I think your pronunciation is really good,” he says, somewhat nonchalantly.

You wish you could prevent the way your eyes light up. “Really?”

A soft smile graces his features. “Really.”

“Thank you.” Shyly, you avert your gaze back to your laptop, shifting slightly in your seat.

He smiles kindly at you in response, turning back to the show as well.

About two minutes go by before he’s breaking it again.

“So, how come you have Korean subtitles to a Japanese anime?” He inquires, a hint of curiosity leaking through in his voice.

“Well, back to the language conversation,” you begin, “I had always wanted to learn more than one, but every time I went to study, my mind just wouldn’t retain the information. Except for Japanese. So, originally, I wanted to learn Korean first, but it just wasn’t working out well for me. Another fact she harped on me for: my memory. Anyways, I realized I could remember things better in Japanese, so once I learned that, I learnt Korean from Japanese.”

Yeosang hums, clearly impressed. “I see.”

“It was easier to pick up phrases and stuff with Korean subtitles to my favourite shows, so I made the switch,” you go on to say, tapping the edge of your laptop with your finger lightly. “I still use English subtitles if my brain gets too tired, though.”

“Makes sense,” he nods. “Do you watch dramas?”

“On occasion,” your tone is light, a small hum to your words. “I’m really bad at finishing a series though. I tend to start one, and then not touch it for years before going back to it. I still think I have a few episodes of Goblin left. Which is really ironic considering I referenced the reaper in one of my first published series.”

“You did?” He sounds quite surprised, but curious, nonetheless.

“I did.” You confirm with a chuckle. “I make reference to a lot of things I like in my stories. Music, movies, shows, characters, you name it.”

“What’s the thing you reference the most?” He asks, resting his elbow on the arm of his seat in order to lean his head in his hand.

“Probably The Lord of the Rings,” you chuckle. “I love that series.”

“I don’t think I’ve properly seen it.” He admits.

“Really?” You look at him skeptically. “Forgetting that you’re just some guy for a moment, but you literally have a song called The Ring where you make reference to it in the final lines.”

The somewhat sheepish shrug he gives you makes you laugh.

“Alright, fair enough,” you grin. “If you ever get a chance, you should watch it. The extended editions, though. There’s no other way to properly watch those films in my opinion. You get so much more out of them that way.”

“Oh, really?” He hums, amusement dancing in his eyes as he quirks a brow.

“Literal cinematic masterpieces.” You continue. “There’s so many cool behind the scenes facts and tidbits I could tell you, but I don’t want to subject you to that right now.”

“Why not?” His question clearly catches you by surprise.

“I don’t know if you’d be interested,” you shrug, blinking in the next second. “I do also have the movies saved on my laptop, but again, I won’t subject you to that. They’re long as hell, especially if you’ve never seen them before.”

“Ah, so binging them all at once isn’t a good idea.” He nods in understanding.

“Oh, no, you could totally do that, but it’s like, thirteen hours or so.” You say. “Definitely worth it if you make a day out of it, though, Watching them back to back really immerses you in the story.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, then.” He smiles. “They’re based on books, aren’t they?”

The way your eyes instantly light up does not go unnoticed by him.

“They are!” You reply enthusiastically. “They’re honestly one of my favourite series both in film and on paper, but I wouldn’t go around recommending people the book series.”

“Why’s that?” He inquires, tilting his head slightly in curiosity.

“They’re dry as fuck,” you say, and you notice his eyebrows raising in amusement at your description. “Listen, they’re not for everybody. Even I usually take years to get through the first book when I read the series. It’s a very tedious journey, but if you enjoy fantasy, they’re a key staple to read. In any language. At least, in my opinion.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he smiles softly, and again, you can feel your whole body heating in embarrassment.

“Sorry, I tend to ramble about the things I really like.” You avert your gaze, fingers suddenly toying with one another in your lap.

“I don’t mind at all.” He’s quick to assure you, eyes crinkling gently in the corners.

A soft smile pulls at your lips as you keep your gaze fixed on your hands for the moment. You can still feel him looking at you for a few seconds longer before he diverts his gaze back to the screen.

The both of you sit in silence for a few minutes as the anime continues to play. By now, the second episode has started, and the corner of your lips quirks upwards as you watch the familiar interactions between the characters. You could probably recite both the original Japanese lines, and the English subtitles by now given how many times you’ve watched it.

A loud gasp from across the aisle draws your attention.

“Holy fuck!” It’s Jongho.

“What? What is it?” The somewhat panicked voice of Hongjoong reaches your ears as you see both him and Seonghwa leaning towards the youngest from the row ahead.

The younger male turns to you, his eyes wide and his lips parted in shock.

“You-“ he blinks, “I-“ he tightens his hold on the now completed book in his hands, “the twist!”

You grin. “I told you it was dark.”

“I just knew it. The way he was acting when he got back to the room was too suspicious.” Jongho mumbles, flipping through some of the pages to quickly reread certain lines. “It was there all along!”

“Some of the best advice I’ve ever gotten about writing is that plot twists shouldn’t catch you suddenly off guard. The best ones are hinted at throughout, and if the reader can pick up on them, you’re doing a good job of laying out the clues.” You chuckle fondly at how eager he listens to you. Even the others look on you in mild awe. “Granted, you don’t want it to be too obvious.”

“It definitely wasn’t,” Jongho shakes his head, as if to reassure you. “It was all paced perfectly.”

“Thank you,” a brilliant, albeit bashful smile takes over your features, and again, you feel Yeosang looking at you out of the corner of his eyes. “I’m glad to hear you liked it.”

“Liked it?” Jongho looks about ready to vibrate out of his seat from his excitement. “I loved it!”

Once more, you thank him lowly, that smile never leaving your features. A warmth blooms in your chest from his words, and the fact that you can see him immediately opening the book back to the first page to begin rereading it has a happiness unlike any other building within. The way Hongjoong starts to pester Jongho about letting him borrow the book has you wiggling your toes to expel some of your giddiness.

You’re just about to offer the leader of Ateez his own copy when a voice from your immediate left draws your attention.

“Who’s your favourite character?” Yeosang blinks once before turning his attention to you from the screen.

“Huh?” You blink back at him, clearly caught off guard by his inquiry. For a moment, you think he’s asking you about your favourite character from your new book.

“Of the show,” he jerks his chin in the direction of your laptop where you see episode two finishing up for the time being.

“Oh,” you tilt your head in acknowledgement, noticing a familiar male peering over the top of the seat in front of you once more. Your cheeks flare with heat. “Probably Sukuna, but Toji is a close second.”

At the way Yeosang quirks his brow at you, you’re quick to continue.

“Look, my taste in fictional men is questionable at best,” you comment, shifting slightly in your seat. “Don’t ask me why I have a thing for the psychopaths, but I do. Bonus points if they have red hair.”

You notice Hongjoong quirk a brow out in your direction of the corner of your eye, only for him to quickly turn to the male sitting to his left. A moment later, and he returns to his previous position, Wooyoung popping his head over the seat to grin smugly in your direction. You simply raise both eyebrows curiously.

“So, you like red hair?” The smug grin Wooyoung wears says it all.

“I enjoy the colour, yes, but it’s not my favourite.” You confirm, noticing how the male wiggles his brows suggestively at you. “The colour suits you very well, yes.”

“Good thing he’s not a psychopath,” Seonghwa mumbles.

“Debatable,” Hongjoong sighs, and you nearly laugh.

“Then, what are your favourite colours?” Yeosang inquires, blinking at you innocently.

“Hair wise?” At the nod you receive, you hum, thinking it over for a moment before answering. “For some reason, I definitely have an affinity towards bleached hair. I love the look of blond locks. Bonus points if it’s long and the roots are starting to grow in slightly. My absolute favourite is lavender, though. As much as I love Taemin’s blond hair, his lavender hair gets me every time. Jeonghan from Seventeen also had really nice lavender locks, and they were long, too. Oh, and special shout out to skunk dyes.”

The way they all stare at you has you immediately shrinking into your seat. Even more so when you see Wooyoung grinning at you like a maniac from a little ways away.

“Sorry, I’m rambling again.” You chuckle nervously. “Here I am talking to literal idols about this stuff when we’re not even friends.”

The boys all share a brief look with one another.

“We could be.” It’s Hongjoong that offers, the others nodding along softly in agreement.

To say his words catch you off guard would be an understatement, and you have just enough time to compose yourself so that you’re no longer staring at him, dumbfounded. 

A blink, and a soft smile pulls onto your features. “I’d like that very much.”

A phone is nearly flung at your face, were it not for the way Yeosang quickly catches it midair.

“Jongho, calm down!” Yeosang harshly whispers to the younger beside him, gaze sharp as he shoots a pointed glare towards the male.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” Jongho looks absolutely mortified when you turn to look at him.

“It’s alright,” you chuckle. “Honestly, not the worst thing that has been thrown at me before.”

The way they all look at you in confusion at you has shrugging a shoulder casually.

“When I worked at a bookstore on the operations team, I can’t count the amount of things that either got thrown at me by accident, or fell on me.” You say casually. “Books are also much heavier than phones.”

“I would imagine,” Hongjoong chuckles along with you. “Do you have kaotalk?”

“I do,” you nod in confirmation. “Though, we might have to wait until we land to exchange information. No wifi and all.”

“Ah, right,” you see his head tilt in acknowledgement.

A small pout pulls onto Jongho’s features as Yeosang hands the youngest his phone back.

“Then, we’ll exchange information once we land.” Mingi grins widely, practically shaking in excitement in his seat.

“Sounds good to me.” You grin right back, heart racing inside of your chest.

If someone would have told you that you’d not only be on the same flight as Ateez, but befriending them on said flight, you would have told them to stop fantasizing. However, truly being in this situation feels so unreal, even as you watch them all settle back into their seats with smiles on their faces.

“Thanks,” you mumble.

Yeosang quirks a brow.

“For catching that.”

“No problem.” The corner of his lips twitches upwards.

“So,” you shoot a look at him out of the corner of your eyes, noticing how the anime has been continuing to play in the background this whole time. “Who’s your favourite character?”

“In this?” He motions to your screen with a jerk of his chin.

“Yeah.” You nod.

“Don’t know. I’ve never seen it before.” He replies casually, and your eyes nearly bulge right out of your head.

“You’ve never seen it before?” Your voice is full of disbelief as you look towards him once more. At the shake of his head, you’re quick to restart the third episode, muttering to yourself about talking over the show this whole time.

“It’s okay,” Yeosang chuckles. “I’m used to the chaos.”

You quirk a brow. “Are you, now?”

“Yes.” he deadpans, turning his head to shoot you a pained smile with a thumbs up in the next second. “I thrive in it."

You cannot help yourself. A loud, boisterous laugh escapes you, your eyes crinkling in joy. A fact which is only emphasized when Yeosang begins to chuckle along with you, only to steel his face and nod solemnly every time he notices you peering over at him.

The way he grins right along with you as you finally calm yourself down from laughing so hard says it all. Not even the way you can see Jongho flicking his gaze towards you from over his book, a clear pout on his features can pull you out of this moment right now.

For the rest of the plane ride, you either watch more episodes of Jujutsu Kaisen with Yeosang, or talk lowly with him. The conversations are somewhat short, but calm nonetheless. They mainly consist of one of you asking the other a simple question, and going from there. Truly, two strangers just passing the time and enjoying the other’s company, rather than sitting in silence.

At one point, you manage to fall asleep again, only to be woken up by the announcement that the plane is now beginning its decent into Seoul. The way you notice your laptop has gently been closed, your headphone wrapped up and sitting neatly on top of it makes you smile softly.

Stretching as much as you can, you move to put your laptop away. You keep your headphones out, just in case you want to listen to music for the last little bit of your journey. Then, once you’ve settled back into your seat, you turn your head to the side. 

Gazing out of the window, nothing but pure excitement shines within your eyes. It’s finally time, and as soon as you land, you feel as if everything will truly fall into place.

You can feel someone’s gaze on you every now and then. You figure it’s either Jongho watching you out of the corner of his eyes like you’ve noticed he likes to do, or Yeosang looking out of the window with you. Thus, you opt to sit back as far in your seat as you can, giving the male the perfect view to observe the ground getting closer and closer with each passing second. He’s probably missed his home more than you could ever imagine.

The moment the plane touches the ground, you cannot help the way your breath hitches in your throat. The small bounce of the wheels hitting the tarmac only serves to solidify to you that this is real. You’ve truly moved to Seoul for a year, and you have many adventures planned already to come. Starting with that award’s show, of course.

Turning your phone back on cellular for the moment, you’re quick to shoot a text to your family letting them know you’ve landed and arrived safely. It’s now early morning for them, so you’re not expecting a message back for at least another few hours. You also need to get a new data plan for the year you’ll be living in Seoul, so you add that to the mental list of things you need to do already forming in your head.

Five minutes later, and you’ve been taxied to the gate, the other passengers beginning to disembark. Honestly, you can’t wait to get off of this plane and stretch your legs. Your few trips to the bathroom did nothing to help. Besides, you can’t wait to get to your place and shower.

Holding your bags in your lap, you watch as Yeosang steps out into the aisle. Only, he pauses, motioning for you to go ahead of him.

“Ladies first.”

You smile politely, thanking him lowly as you step out of the row and begin to disembark the plane. You get about two steps onto the gate when Jongho steps in beside you, as if he was eager to follow you out.

“Holy shit, you are tall.” His awestruck voice reaches your ears.

An amused glance is sent his way out of the corner of your eyes.

“And the most common phrase said by males I meet goes to…” you huff out a laugh, seeing as he continues to scan you from head to toe, noticing how you stand a few inches taller than him.

A red hue begins to creep up his neck and onto the tips of his ears. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

“No, no,” you wave him off with another laugh. “It’s just funny when no one believes you are the height you say you are. Used to happen all the time when I tried dating apps.”

“What do you mean?” Yunho steps in on your other side, and you notice Yeosang walking beside him. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say the shorter male looks slightly irritated. Though, from the way you notice him loop around to begin chasing Jongho, you know that the younger must have done something before exiting the plane.

“Well, where I come from, it’s really common for guys to add their heights to their profile. Which is really funny, when they are usually the ones that lie about it.” You explain, heading towards customs with the crowd from the flight for the moment. “So, I always found it funny when I would tell the people I matched with my height, or when they would ask about it, only to not believe me. Then, whenever we would meet, I would be significantly taller than Jeremy who proclaimed himself to be ‘six-foot three’.”

You see Yunho nod beside you, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Got even more prominent when I started doing signings and people would stand near me.” You comment. “Not to mention the guys that would need to ‘prove’ how tall I was whenever they would bring their books up to be signed. On the other hand, though, it’s really cute to see so many people get flustered by it. Female presenting people and non-binary people especially. Though, I will never forget the fans who always ask me to cosplay Lady Dimitrescu from Resident Evil Eight.”

“You’ve cosplayed Lady Dimitrescu?” Mingi attempts to hide his excitement with a clearing of his throat as he steps into the space once occupied by Jongho.

“I’ve thought about it,” you hum, stepping into the line to get through customs with him, Yunho, Yeosang, and Jongho right behind you. Looks like the others are a little ways ahead already. “Maybe one day I will.”

“I fully support whatever decision you choose to make.” Jongho nods, enthusiastically.

“Just say you want her to step on you and be done with it,” Yeosang sighs, crossing his arms over his chest.

The way the younger lunges for the elder has a laugh escaping you, especially when the two males start bickering and slapping each other’s sides.

“If you want me to step on you that badly, I have one condition,” you joke, stepping up to the front seeing as you’re the next person in line. At the way you seem to now have all four of their undivided attention on you now, you grin, feeling your cheeks beginning to heat. “Suffocate me with your thighs, first.”

Each male doesn’t even have time to respond before you’re being called over to the customs officer, but you definitely catch their stunned reactions. The way you see Jongho nearly fall over, his face turning bright red and looking like he might spontaneously combust has your shoulders shaking in laughter.

The other three aren’t fairing much better. Yeosang’s eyes look about ready to pop out of his head with how wide they’ve gone. Additionally, both Mingi’s and Yunho’s mouths part, subtle blushes of their own creeping to their cheeks before the eldest is clearing his throat. They don’t have much time to dwell on your comment, for they each get called up to their own customs officer to get through to baggage claim soon after.

Getting through customs doesn’t take too long, and before you know it, you’re standing in front of the terminal waiting for your bags to come through. You didn’t necessarily spot any of the other guys, but you haven’t really been looking out for them, either. That is, until you see a blur of red approaching you from the side.

Wooyoung hops right up beside you, stopping short as a look of complete shock crosses his features. “Woah.”

Sparing a glance out of the corner of your eyes, you notice his gaze scan your figure. He begins looking around the ground at your feet, as if to spot whatever it is you must be standing on to make you that much taller than he is. Once he finds none, his awestruck gaze is back on your face.

“Wooyoung, I thought I told you to wait for us,” Hongjoong’s exasperated voice reaches your ears.

Turning your head, you see all of the guys now walking towards you, a few of their staff in tow.

“I’m so sorry, has he been pestering you?” A male, whom you’re assuming is their manager, addresses you.

“Not at all,” you shake your head, a slight grin tugging at your features. “I think I might have broken him, though.”

At your words, all heads turn towards a stunned Wooyoung, his mouth gaping like a fish. He blinks a few times, a dopey grin tugging onto his features soon after as his face begins to turn as red as his hair.

“Wooyo, are you okay?” It’s San who asks, coming up to stand beside the male still blinking at you.

A second later and Wooyoung starts giggling like a maniac, “tall lady. Pretty, tall lady. Pretty and tall lady.”

“Okay, I think someone needs more sleep.” Yunho gently guides the muttering male away from you with the help of San.

“Sorry about him,” Hongjoong chuckles, stepping in beside you.

You notice Yeosang standing on your opposite side, not saying a word. Though, you can feel the way he glances towards you out of the corner of his eyes every now and then.

The terminal begins moving, signifying the start of baggage claim for your flight.

“Anyways, should we exchange Kaotalk’s now?” Hongjoong asks, his phone already held in his hand.

“Sure!” You reply, shifting to grab your phone out of your pocket. A few moments later and you’re holding your screen to him with your Kaotalk code on full display. “Here you go.”

The way his eyes light up has you smiling, and you notice the others all pulling out their own phones to add you as well.

“Feel free to message me anytime,” you smile, already feeling your phone vibrate in your hand with a new message.

However, before you can even check who has messaged you, a voice from your left catches your attention.

“Don’t forget about me.” Yeosang blinks up at you as you turn to face him.

You smile softly. “I could never forget about you.”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say you’ve just made him blush. The way he averts his gaze, focussing so intently on your phone to make sure he’s added you correctly only confirms your suspicion.

A piece of luggage on the conveyor belt catches your eye. Just as you move to place your phone into your back pocket and grab your bag, you notice Yeosang stop you.

“Which one is it?” He takes a few steps towards the terminal, not even waiting for you to respond.

“The silver one, but I can grab it-“ by the time the words have left your lips, he’s already hoisted your bag from the belt and placed it gently beside you. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

He smiles lightly. “I wanted to.”

You smile back. “I appreciate it.”

“Do you have any more?” He asks, eyes already scanning the moving luggage for similar ones to the bag he’s already grabbed for you.

“I have three, but I don’t expect you to-“

“Is this another?” He points to a larger silver hardshell case coming your way.

“Yes, but-“ again, before you can tell him not to worry about it, he’s lifting your luggage off of the conveyor and placing it gently beside your other one.

“Are the other two the same?” He asks, shifting his gaze towards you from over his shoulder.

“Same style, but red.” You blink, figuring you’re fighting a losing battle at this point if you keep telling him not to worry about it.

“Believe me, if I didn’t help you first, Jongho would have leapt across the room and done it himself,” Yeosang comments, pulling the first of your red bags off of the line for you.

The moment he wheels it over to you, you double check all of the labels, making sure these are indeed your bags.

“What about your bags?” You ask, noticing how he lifts your final bag off of the line in the next second.

“The staff usually handles them.” He shrugs, helping you wheel your bags over to a cart to help you start loading them onto it.

“Ah, so you wanted something to do.” You nod your understanding.

“Had to make sure all my muscles still work after a long flight like that.” He deadpans, the subtlest of quirks to his lips.

“Are you sure you didn’t just want to show off?” You quirk a brow teasingly.

“Depends,” he hums, shooting you a look out of the corner of his eyes as you both head towards the exit. “Were you impressed?”

You laugh, fake swooning in the next second. “My hero.”

Yeosang quirks a grin in response. “Fine then. Your bags were super heavy to lift, and I demand compensation.”

“I never forced you to lift them!” Your mouth falls open, a scandalized look crossing your features.

“I could have lifted them for you.” Jongho cuts in, seeing as they’ve all now caught up to you for the moment. “I would have been more than happy to.”

You chuckle, but you cannot help the way that you notice Yeosang fall silent as the younger inserts himself in between the both of you.

“It’s quite alright,” you smile softly. “Yeosang helped me just fine.”

“Do you have a ride to your accommodation?” It’s Seonghwa who asks, blinking at you with wide eyes.

“I do, thank you.” You nod. “My publisher sent some people to pick me up.”

You see a few of them nod back in understanding just as you reach the exit gate.

“Well, I guess this is goodbye for now.” Hongjoong turns to face you, stopping just off to the side to ensure they’re not blocking anyone’s path.

“You guys be careful out there,” you say, looking over all of them briefly. “I’ve seen some wild videos of how certain people can act towards all of you at the airport.”

“You, too.” Mingi sends a firm nod in your direction.

“Well, hopefully we’ll see you around!” Wooyoung grins, practically vibrating in his spot in excitement.

“Not to be ominous, but I have a feeling you will.” You smile knowingly. “Like I said, feel free to message me any time. Keep in touch if you can, and don’t be strangers.”

“We will,” Hongjoong smiles back, the corner of his own lips quirking knowingly as Jongho begins to pout beside him.

“I’ll see you guys around,” with a final wave, you’re grabbing your two luggage carts and steering them out of the exit.

You don’t even have to turn around to know that they follow you out a moment later. Given the way half of the crowd begins to bustle, practically swarming the opposite ramp as Ateez exits the terminal, you have a definitive answer. However, what you don’t expect is for a few people to be there for you.

“Miss, would you be willing to sign this for me? And could I possibly get a picture, too?” A girl asks, holding a copy of your first published book out to you.

“Of course,” you grin, having already given your luggage to the people you were supposed to be meeting at the airport that your publisher sent. Once you take the book and pen from her hands, you turn to face her. “Who should I make it out to?”

You’re so caught up in your own little world, completely awestruck by the fact that a small crowd had come to greet you at the airport, that you completely miss the feeling of eyes glancing back at you from across the way.

The last thing Yeosang sees before being ushered out to a waiting car is you signing some books and taking pictures with a few fans, a radiant smile lighting up your face.

[practicedvmm13fullofpotatoes]

Suddenly hyperfixated on TNUtB and decided to do headcanons for my favorite sfth kids!!

John "Johnny" Evans

Look, being able to see the future at a somewhat young age can be fucking traumatizing, of course he's gonna be less emotionally mature than his younger sibling

That one off mention of this sixth sense being genetic but also being two completely different powers in the two occasions we see it (For Johnny it's future dreams and for Jack [<- their father because I think he doesn't have a name] it's sort of like. Spidey sense if that makes sense [haha, sense]) leads me to headcanon that the sixth sense isn't future dreams/visions specifically, but being more connected with space and time.

Johnny got the sixth sense much earlier than he was supposed to. It manifested when he was around 13. It's terrifying yet super fucking cool to just be able to see the future. But at the same time, he did have a future dream about part of the school collapsing because of its lack of solid foundation. This is how he learned that what happens in a future dream will happen. Like a fucked up version of Murphy's law

There is a small chance that his future dream ends up being wrong because of a shift in the timeline. He once had a dream that half of Somerset was burnt down. This was supposed to be true. Not until the change in timeline by BD and The Spirit of Somerset

Sleep talks. Takes on different voices depending on who's in his dream. You cannot convince me otherwise

Johnny is trans. Thank you for coming to ny Ted talk--

Janae Evans

I was full on panicking with what Janae's gender is so. Non-binary Janae???

"But dvmm13!! Janae's a child!!" Janae's also got the internet, goddamn it. They're smart enough to fully understand things and themself

Despite being much smarter than everyone else in their class, they're actually pretty popular. Take that, introverted/bullied nerd stereotype!

They're actually quite the chatterbox. Give them a topic and they'll tell you all about it-- they could ramble on for hours on end (ESPECIALLY if it's a topic they like)

Tutors students around their age or older than them. You can never convince me otherwise. This is canon to me

Actually fucking terrified of Johnny's powers. I mean, woah, sci-fi/fantasy territory, it's really cool when written but abso-fucking-lutely terrifying when you genuinely think about it

General:

They're related to Egburt's wife. Like, she and Egburt are their great great grandparents, therefore explaining the powers

"But dvmm13!! Only the women of the family have this power!!" To that I say: yes, it's supposed to only be passed down to the women of the family, but Jack got the sixth sense because of a small genetic mutation.

[thefrogdalorian]

The Best of Both Worlds: Chapter Eleven

Din Djarin x Female Reader Modern!AU

❁ Series Masterlist ❁ My Masterlist ❁ Read on AO3 ❁

Summary: With your respective busy jobs keeping you and Din apart, a mystery date after a hectic day at work is exactly what you needed.

Word Count:  8.7k ❁ Rating: MATURE (18+ MDNI) ❁ Content Warnings:  Reader is blindfolded for a bit, mild smut (non-explicit sex), alcohol consumption. ❁ Author's Note:  So happy to finally get the next chapter of this baby up! It's been way too long. The second half of my first draft of the fic was a bit rougher than I remembered so the next few chapters need heavy editing. I now think there will be approx. 21 chapters and I hope to crack on with it this month! March was strange for me because I was productive in some ways but not in others haha and this fic fell by the wayside a bit. But cannot wait to get back to it! Anyway, thank you to @decembermidnight for looking over this one for me! I appreciate it 🩷

11. It Could Be Love, We Could Be The Way Forward [Reader's POV]

The realisation that you had fallen in love with Din Djarin did not hit you all at once as you had long suspected such a strong emotion would. In your childish imagination of how love felt, you imagined the feeling would strike you out of the blue one random day. Perhaps you would wake up with everything seeming a little brighter. A visual clue, impossible to ignore, so you would know that you had reached that point of no return. That moment when you both realised you were in love with him and accepted that inescapable fact. 

For you, the path to falling in love was not inherently straightforward. You reflected on the time when you had feared falling in love, that sense of vulnerability brought on by such a devastating emotion that would bring you to your knees and render you helpless and dependent on the affections of another. Love had seemed terrifying. Then Din had come into your life and, happily, loving him was nothing like you had feared in your worst moments. You were still your own person, but now there was another you wanted to share your life with. 

Falling in love with Din had not happened suddenly. The realisation that you were in love with him too had not been preceded by any particular event. No bolt of lightning shot out of the sky. No pink hearts appeared in your mind’s eye when he was close. Instead, it was a gradual thing. An emotion that crept up on you as the weeks passed and you spent more time with Din and, inevitably, Grogu. It was the warmth you felt settling in your chest whenever you were around them. Spending time in their presence always felt like it was the most natural, comfortable thing in the world. You never doubted yourself or how much Din enjoyed spending time with you. The way your mind had spiralled into the most insecure places after the night in the flat when Din had abruptly left after you seemed like a distant memory now. 

Fortunately, you and Din had been fortunate enough to have many opportunities to explore each other’s bodies and affirm your affection for each other since that night in your flat, even with a toddler around. Although your first time together in the shower had been somewhat frenzied and almost uncomfortably cramped, since then, you had discovered all the different ways Din could make love to you. You had found him to be a careful, attentive lover. Din had been almost shy at first and needed some reassurance. Thankfully, those days were long gone. He adored giving attention to you and making you feel good, even at the expense of himself at times. Din was so focused on your needs that he was content to neglect his desires and ensure your total satisfaction. 

Even on those nights when you were both exhausted after your respective draining days at work, Din would always make sure you came last. He would give you one last achingly gentle orgasm with his tongue or fingers before you drifted off into a peaceful sleep. It was just one of the many ways which made you realise that what you had built with Din was incredibly special. It was a relationship so unlike anything you had ever experienced before. 

It was just one of the many little things which, when taken in combination, made you realise you were in love with him. 

The time you spent with Din was a welcome reprieve from your hectic job at the museum. Working at such a prestigious institution meant it was busy year-round. Somehow, the historic building seemed to get even more crowded during the summer months. Aided partly by the local children's summer holidays. A devastating combination of kids, their parents and visiting tourists from all over the world meant things quickly got hectic. 

You were grateful that August would be over in a few days and give way to the quieter month of September when crowds would at least return to normal. Although you were excited for the crowds to subside, you would miss the summer, especially since you felt like you had spent most of the warm summer months cooped up inside a jam-packed museum. 

Din had always helped you make the most of it when your busy schedules aligned. He would once again tonight when he promised to pick you up after work and whisk you away on another mystery date.

First, however, there was another busy day of work to get through before you could spend time with the man you adored. It was a swelteringly hot day. The city had woken up to soaring temperatures. Most of its inhabitants would enjoy their days in the various parks, perhaps treating themselves to a dip in one of the bodies of water. You yearned to join them. Unfortunately, you would spend this beautiful day cooped up, supervising while ungrateful children and their parents traipsed around the museum. It would have been enough to sour anyone’s mood. Fortunately, you had something to look forward to at the end of the day.

As you walked through the impressive doors to the museum for yet another busy day of work, you already felt lighter knowing that you would see Din again in only a few short hours. You felt the familiar rush of butterflies in your stomach when you made your way through the museum. Particularly when you passed the spot where you and Din had first met all those months ago. It was slightly pathetic how much just being somewhere you had once been with Din could make you almost dizzy with glee. 

In the very spot where you and Din first met, you had a brief conversation with your security guard friend, Mo, who was clocking off from the overnight shift. Things had been so busy that you had not had time for a proper catch-up in several weeks, but he was delighted to hear that you and Din were still going strong. You would have chatted for longer but after a long and tiring shift, Mo seemed eager to leave for home. 

So, after only a few moments of conversation, you continued on your way to your office.  

When you finally reached your office, you discovered your boss was waiting for you. Usually, the sight of her hovering by your desk would strike fear into your heart as it spelt an increased workload. You knew you were one of the most efficient workers on the team, and that usually meant you were saddled with an increased workload. However, as you sat down and resumed the project you had been working on the previous day, you were pleasantly surprised by the reason for Julie’s visit.

“We’re inviting applicants to pitch ideas for exhibitions. I think it would be perfect if you created a pitch for us. I know you have some great ideas,” your manager, Julie, said encouragingly as she stood over your desk, where you were quietly preparing to work on categorising some Neolithic rock art. 

“Oh, I hadn’t heard about that,” you mumbled awkwardly. 

It wasn’t exactly true. You knew full well about it. You were simply too fearful of rejection to even try in the first place. 

“When is the deadline?” you asked, hoping it was too soon to even contemplate beginning from scratch. You knew you were attempting to self-sabotage. It was not going to work this time. Not when your boss cared for you so deeply. 

“The deadline is mid-October. Look, I seriously think you should contemplate it. I know you don’t want to be stuck in here, filing things away for the rest of your life,” Julie asserted. She was completely correct, and you felt shy under her gaze. The rock art suddenly looked far more appealing. “With your passion and drive, you’re already one of the best members of my team. I’d like to see you out there in the spotlight, flourishing. It’s what you deserve.”

“Thanks, Julie,” you nodded appreciatively. Even if you did not believe her words, you were still grateful for them. 

“Did anything ever come of those sunflowers you received, by the way?”

Her knowing smirk rendered you powerless to skirt around the subject. You knew that there was no point lying to her. She was just looking out for you, given the protective, maternal role she had assumed towards you when you had first moved to the big city at a relatively young age.

You wanted to brush off the comment and act nonchalant about the sunflowers and the man who had sent them to you. Yet the strength of your feelings meant it was pointless to even attempt to lie about it. Especially because you could feel your skin burning in shyness and the timid smile that crept across your face when Julie had brought up the sunflowers.

You knew that when you spoke about Din to your friends, your feelings were impossible to hide. Why should you have to hide? When Din had brought so much light and happiness to your life? 

There were so many things about him that made your heart soar. His sweet, gentle nature and how much he cared for Grogu. Every time he was near you, butterflies spread through your body, from your stomach to your chest. You cursed your respective busy schedules for keeping you apart from each other, but you were grateful that the stars had finally aligned and you would be able to see him in a few short hours.

“Things are going well, thank you,” you eventually replied, a small smile creeping across your features. “I’m actually seeing him tonight after work.”

“I’ll expect an invite to the wedding,” Julie teased, and you felt your skin burning even hotter. “Have fun tonight,” she said with a wink as she walked away.

Then you were left with your Neolithic rock art and thoughts of the kind brown eyes you had missed so much, and of the man who you were exceptionally eager to be finally reunited with after work. 

Tonight was a rare break in Din’s busy schedule. He was still as vague as ever about work. You hadn’t been able to see him the previous weekend. A fact which had frustrated you, but he had indicated that things were busy for him. You could tell how stressed he seemed, so you did not push him for any more details. 

Still, Ria, in particular, had made a massive deal over where Din lived, in the quaint village of Nevarro. Your best friend especially made a fuss since the home of the man you were dating happened to be located so closeby to the studios where your favourite TV show was filmed. 

You continued to tell yourself that it was just a funny coincidence, Din couldn’t have anything to do with your favourite show. At most, you believed he possibly worked at the studios as a security guard to the actors. It would explain his reasons for living nearby and his secrecy. You knew in your heart that it couldn’t be anything more than that.

Mercifully, you couldn't spend your day fretting about Din's line of work. You had quite enough of your own to contend with. The Neolithic Rock Art would not be categorised by itself. 

When you came into work that morning, you had expected that you would be left to your own devices at your desk, helping to categorise some exhibits that the museum had recently acquired. You thought you had gotten away from having a heavier workload inflicted on you. 

However, as lunch approached, Julie soon returned to your desk wearing a grim expression. Your stomach dropped. You instantly knew she was not here to tease you further about your relationship. 

Your fears were confirmed when she stated that several people had called in sick and you were required to take to the floors to assist visitors. You groaned, frustrated at your colleagues’ lack of consideration.

You suspected that the sudden plague which had afflicted so many of them had something to do with the sudden warm weather. A mini heatwave had struck London. The entire city was sweltering. 

You supposed you could not blame them for wanting to enjoy the day. After all, working in a museum could sometimes be a thankless task, especially with pushy parents and boisterous tourists. Even so, you felt it thoroughly unfair that it was diligent people like you who stuck to the rules that would have to pick up the slack. 

You knew Din had the day off and you would have loved nothing more than to spend the day with him and Grogu, perhaps enjoying a stroll around one of London’s numerous lush parks. 

Instead, you felt as though you could not abandon your post. So rather than enjoying quality time with your two favourite people, you would spend most of this beautiful day behind closed doors at the museum. 

Your mood did not improve as there was no end to the masses of screaming children and their parents who poured through the museum’s doors. You didn’t want to deal with any of them. You wanted time to speed up so you could reunite with Din. 

It took all your strength to keep going. You consoled yourself by anticipating that moment when you would lay eyes upon the tall, handsome man with the warm brown eyes that you had been so desperate to see. When you were faced with a wailing child or pushy parents demanding to know where various exhibits were, you managed to weather it all with a brave face and charismatic smile, knowing it would only be a few short hours before you were back with the man you were certain you had fallen in love with. 

A word with as many implications as that particular one of four letters would’ve terrified you a few months ago, perhaps when you felt more sceptical and closed-off to love. Back when you had no perception of how wonderful it could be. 

Now… you no longer feared love.

You loved Din. Admitting that to yourself felt as natural to you as taking your next breath. 

It was a thought that carried you through the rest of your dismal day...

✯✯✯✯✯

Finally, after another hectic afternoon, announcements were blaring all over the museum that informed visitors that doors would be closing in thirty minutes. There were now mere minutes separating you and Din. You lingered in the reception area, bidding a sickly sweet farewell to the guests as they left the museum behind. Once the doors finally shut behind the last stragglers, your day of work was complete. 

As you returned to your desk to collect your belongings, you determined tomorrow you would ask your manager if you could have a day away from people and return to your desk with your Neolithic rock art. 

However, when you strolled out of the museum, all thoughts of Neolithic rock art soon vanished from your mind. Your heart stopped for a second, stomach-churning as you struggled to pick Din out of the crowd that lingered, even a few minutes past closing time. But then you caught the unmistakable glimpse of the tall, broad frame and dark brown curls of the man you held such affection for. 

He was standing by the bench he had waited at when he met you for the first time outside work. The night when you swapped out a date at a fancy restaurant in favour of your preferred local noodle bar, with all its liquor. Tonight, however, you did not want to indulge in intoxicating beverages that would impair your senses or your enjoyment of your time with Din. You knew now that it was better if you left that lethal Chinese spirit and did not go within a fifty-foot radius of it. 

Din was leaning against the rails, wearing light brown trousers and a white button-down shirt with the sleeves pushed up, exposing his tan arms slightly. He looked so handsome, and you momentarily panicked that you looked underdressed. You had changed into a more comfortable outfit before meeting him, your work clothes stashed into the small backpack that you carried. As you skipped down the steps towards Din, his face lit up when he saw you. As it always did. 

Your heart soared at the sight of it and him. You had waited all day to see him. Now that he was right here, you couldn’t help breaking into a little jog as you closed the last few metres between the two of you. 

You threw your arms around his neck and pressed an eager kiss to his lips.

“Someone’s happy to see me,” Din laughed as he placed his large warm hands on your back. 

“I missed you,” you admitted, biting your lip as you looked up at him.

“I missed you too, Sunflower,” Din said, touching his nose to yours.

It was cheesy of the pair of you, especially considering the amount of people around. Plus the possibility of being seen by your colleagues at any moment, as they made their way home. But you didn’t care. Maybe it was the warm sunny evening. Or the realisation that you were in love. Whatever it was, you were positively giddy in Din's presence. 

Whenever you saw Din, you felt like a lovesick teenager. It was simultaneously a little unnerving while also electrifying to feel yourself loosen up and reconnect with parts of you that you thought were lost to time, to growing up.

“What’s the plan for this evening?” You asked with an attempted air of nonchalance as you moved to lace your fingers through Din’s. 

Usually, you liked to know exactly what you were doing and where you were going. You could be a bit of a control freak in that way. You had found as time progressed, as you had gotten to know Din better, that you trusted him entirely. You certainly trusted him enough to know whatever he picked for the two of you to do together, you would have a good time. 

“It’s a surprise,” Din said, raising an eyebrow in that way that you loved and looking down at you.

“Does it have anything to do with a picnic?” you questioned, nodding towards the basket he held in his other hand.

Din laughed and shook his head, “So observant.” He smiled at you, he couldn’t even feign being angry towards you for even a second. “Fine," he added, "The venue for said picnic is a surprise, though.”

“Knew it!” you exclaimed, getting a kick out of the fact you knew Din would be a little wound up by you having guessed his plan so easily. Like you, Din was meticulous when planning things.

“Since you’re so good at working things out, I brought something with me so it would be a surprise,” Din explained after you had stopped at a street corner. “The driver is going to pick us up here, but before we move in the car, I want you to put this on.”

Din took his hand out of his pocket and showed you a strip of material. You could glean from the context that it was a blindfold. This man was committed to your destination being a surprise. You knew from here that each direction led to different parks, so it made sense; he wanted it to be a surprise which way you were going.

“Committed,” you laughed as the black Mercedes pulled up. Din opened your door and helped you into the car, like the gentleman he was. Once you were seated, he carefully tied the soft material around your eyes.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” Din asked.

“Six,” you replied jokingly. In reality, everything was pitch black. 

“Okay, I think she’s good. You can drive Boba,” Din laughed.

You should have felt slightly self-conscious that you were blindfolded in the back of a car. Perhaps you should have been panicking that this man with such a seemingly endless supply of wealth from a shady job held your fate in his hands.

Yet, as Din held his hand in yours, you did not feel an ounce of fear. You knew he would never do you any harm.

With your eyesight cut off, you found that your other senses heightened. So, you felt the slight rustling of Din’s clothes as he leaned in to trail light kisses along the column of your neck. 

“Din, please,” you breathed. You were mindful that there was a driver only a few feet away in the front, who would probably not appreciate his passengers entering into a passionate makeout session despite the privacy screen. 

However, all your protestations were cut off when Din held the back of your head and joined his lips to yours. The kiss deepened, and his tongue searched your mouth. You gasped at the sensation. It seemed that the few days you had been kept apart had only increased Din’s desire for you. He was desperate and needy for you, claiming your lips over and over, barely giving you time to breathe between each kiss. 

The consideration you had once held for the driver was replaced by a burning desire for Din to continue kissing you. You had no idea for how long your impromptu makeout session continued, getting lost in the touch of his lips against yours and the way his moustache tickled your upper lip in a way that never failed to produce a smirk from you. Given that you had no idea where you were headed or how long it would take for you to arrive at your destination, you felt the onus should have been on Din to cut things off when you drew nearer to where he was taking you. As it transpired, Din had been equally as engrossed in your lips as it took some sharp rapping on the screen, that separated the passengers from the driver, to finally break the two of you apart.

“We’re here…” a small voice said from the front of the car.

You felt your cheeks warming as you realised that you and Din had been caught furiously making out like a couple of teenagers. You had been so consumed by your desires that you had lost control of yourselves. 

It was only when you had arrived that Boba had finally interrupted the two of you that you had finally stopped. You were suddenly grateful for the blindfold as you weren’t sure that you could ever look the seemingly quiet and unassuming man in the eyes ever again. Especially given the evident embarrassment in his voice, undoubtedly caused by the sight of you and Din passionately making out in the backseat. 

Your cheeks burned furiously at the thought of how long Boba had been sitting there, waiting for the two of you. You were so mortified that you could feel your neck beginning to burn up, too. 

Fortunately, before your embarrassment could reach unbearable heights, Din took your hand in his and moved to exit the car with a quick, murmured: “Thanks, Boba.”

You focused on the way Din held your hand in his and his strong arm wrapped around your waist to distract yourself from the way your stomach lurched as you stepped out of the van, with your vision completely restricted. Din’s dedication to surprising you was admirable, but you wondered how long he would keep this up. Would you be allowed to see the general vicinity of where you were sitting to have your picnic, or would he make you keep it on until everything had been laid out perfectly? 

“It’s a bit of a hike to get to our destination,” Din explained as he squeezed your hand in his. “But I think it’ll be worth it. Are you alright, Sunflower?”

You weren’t sure whether Din was referring to your sensory deprivation or the events which had taken place with the driver who had ferried you to this unknown destination.

“I’m fine, Din,” you smiled happily, turning your face and hoping you had correctly angled your head so he could see your relaxed expression. “I can’t wait to see where you’re taking me.”

You had already deduced that you were in one of London’s many parks, given the noises you could hear and the unmistakable smell of grass that your heightened senses had been able to pick out in the absence of your sight. As you continued strolling along the grass, with only the warmth of Din’s hand to guide you, you suddenly found yourself quite relieved that you were unable to see the bemused, possibly judgemental looks probably being aimed in your direction. If the low hum of chatter, mingled with birds tweeting and the occasional laughter from children, were any indication, it appeared that there were plenty of people enjoying an evening in the park. You heard the unmistakable thunk of footballs being kicked as groups of children or teenagers enjoyed a game. 

There were certainly plenty of witnesses who were probably confused and possibly even slightly concerned at the sight of a man leading a blindfolded woman through the park. Fortunately, you were unable to see any of that. All you could hear were the pleasant sounds of people enjoying their evening in the London sunshine. A warm feeling settled in your stomach, due to the contentment you felt at being in such a place with a man who was showing such care towards you and putting so much effort into your date. 

As you continued walking, you noticed that what had begun as a gentle slope soon became a steep incline. You were reasonably sure that you had sussed out where Din was taking you. It was an incredibly famous spot in London where people flocked to – tourists and locals alike – on warm summer evenings such as this one. If you were correct, you were delighted with Din’s choice of location. 

“Wait here for a second, Sunflower,” Din said as the two of you came to a stop and his hand left yours.

You stood there awkwardly, listening with intrigue as the unmistakable rattling of various items of crockery was audible. Din was presumably lifting them out of the basket he had been carrying when he came to meet you at the museum. Time was indistinguishable as you stood there, waiting for him to finish setting up, your heart pounding in anticipation. 

Eventually, Din was ready for you to sit down. You smiled as he guided you down with his strong arms to take a seat on a cushion. The padded surface was a pleasant break from the dry grass. You were thankful to be afforded such a luxury, although you wondered how Din had managed to carry everything with him. Once you were seated, you heard Din grunting slightly as he sat down next to you and you smirked at the sound. The exertion of hiking up the hill laden with the picnic basket had taken its toll on him. 

“Ready?” Din asked.

You nodded. Immediately, you felt Din's nimble fingers moving to untie your blindfold. Your eyes took a few seconds to adjust to the sudden intrusion of light after so long in the darkness. Once your brain registered the sight before you, you gasped in wonder. Din had done an incredible job.

What was more, your instincts had been correct. You knew exactly where he had brought you. The venue for your picnic was the top of a hill which overlooked London, providing stunning panoramic views of the city. The sight before you was beautiful, with the twinkling red lights atop the skyscrapers in the City in the distance providing the first stars as the cloudless sky shone pale blue colour. Night would soon descend over the city, and the lights from the buildings would be joined by millions of twinkling stars in the night sky. 

“Primrose Hill!” you exclaimed in delight as you instantly recognised your surroundings.

“You know this park?” Din asked, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

“Of course, it’s one of the most famous parks in London,” you smiled.

“This was the spot everyone recommended to me to bring you for a picnic,” Din murmured as he looked down, avoiding eye contact. His brows firmly knitted together. You thought he seemed slightly disappointed that he had brought you somewhere you had already heard of. But you weren’t disappointed, not even in the slightest.

“You asked for recommendations?” you asked, touched by how thoughtful he was. 

“I did,” Din nodded. If you weren’t mistaken, he seemed to flush a little in embarrassment.

“Well, their recommendations were brilliant,” You said reassuringly, with a smile. 

“Really?” Din asked, chewing his lip as his big brown eyes met your gaze.

“Of course,” you nodded. “I’ve heard of this park but never made it here before. I’m touched that you put so much thought into where to bring me. Thank you, Din.”

“You’re welcome, Sunflower,” Din smiled. Any apprehension appeared to have vanished. “I just wanted to make sure you had the best time.” 

“Any time I spend with you is always the best,” You admitted as you looked at the array of food spread out on the blanket before you, suddenly feeling nervous. You knew that you loved Din as sure as you knew the sky above you was blue, but you weren’t yet sure whether you were brave enough to vocalise such a fact.

You busied yourself by tucking into the delicious array of food that Din had laid out for you while he uncorked the bottle of wine he had brought and poured you both a glass. After a long, stressful day of work, you relished being pampered by your attentive date. The conversation was light. There was lots of laughter as the two of you enjoyed your picnic. Spending time with Din was a welcome relief after your hectic schedule. You did not realise how greatly you had missed his company until you were in his presence again. Although you regretted that you could not spend more time with him since you would have to return home tonight in preparation for work in the morning, you tried not to let that depressing thought cloud your enjoyment of the moment. 

Instead, you took another sip of the expensive wine that Din had brought to accompany your picnic and looked out, appreciating the view. You watched as the pale blue sky began to be tinged with pale oranges and reds and the tall office buildings of the City gradually began to turn their lights on. Down below in the park, the lampposts that lit up the paths up the hill began to twinkle like the stars in the sky, which gradually became more visible as the sun set over the city. 

You gazed at the other people who were enjoying the evening just as you and Din were, sitting on the lush green grass of the park. Even in the impending twilight, you could see people of all ages enjoying their evenings just as you and Din were. Couples and groups of friends were sitting around and sharing drinks just like you and Din. Several families lingered despite the relatively late hour, with evidence of their picnics remaining on the blankets they shared. Various games were going on, with teenagers throwing frisbees or having a kick around with a football. The scene in the park was truly a slice of life, representative of this vibrant city.

When you and Din had finished your food, you sat back and enjoyed each other’s company on the warm summer evening. There was no pressure, no expectations on either of you. For a few blissful hours, you were able to leave your hectic lives behind and enjoy each other’s company. As the sun set, you looked over at Din. His striking features bathed in the golden light emanating from the sky. He looked so handsome from this angle, especially since his strong profile was in full view. That gorgeous nose that you thought looked like it was straight from the Roman sculptures section of the museum, his plush lips, strong jawline smattered with his patchy facial hair. 

You appreciated every single detail of him, down to the curls that trailed down the back of his neck and even onto his neck. Din had allowed his hair to grow longer recently and you thought it suited him, he looked dashing and sophisticated with his current hairstyle. You yearned for him to look at you, but his warm brown eyes were appreciating the stunning view. 

Although you wanted nothing more than to lean over and kiss him, you remained unsure about how Din felt when it came to displaying affection so publicly, so you held back. Electing, instead, to tell him just how much you had appreciated his effort in organising this wonderful evening.

“This was an amazing idea, Din. Exactly what I needed after a hectic day,” you finally said appreciatively. “Plus, I finally made it to Primrose Hill, so everyone can stop bugging me to come here!”

“I’m surprised you haven’t been here before, considering it’s so famous,” Din chuckled as he placed a berry in his mouth. Although the plates had mostly been polished off, the two of you were still picking at the remains of the food as you sat there.

“Me too. Everyone always says it’s the best place to come in London for the view but I just… I never made it, despite how close it is to work,” you shrugged as you picked a berry up for yourself, “Kind of silly, really.”

“Yeah, you are kind of silly,” Din teased, letting out an exaggerated yelp when you leaned across the blanket to punch his arm lightly in retaliation. 

You were closer to him now, trapped in his gaze as he loomed over you, looking down at you with a smile on his face. 

Then, as if in slow motion, he reached down to cup your chin, pointing your face towards his. Din closed the gap between you, his eyes fluttering shut while yours remained open until the last second. When his lips met yours, it was as if the park and the city itself had suddenly emptied. There was nothing and no one else that mattered. Only Din and his soft lips as they moved so gently against yours.

You had been self-conscious about kissing him in the park and wanted it to stay chaste, especially given that you were in public and had already been busted once tonight; but as the kiss continued, it was as though a switch had been flipped in your head. Kissing Din like you were in desperate need of oxygen. As if you didn’t kiss him you would die. It was a primal, all-consuming desire. You needed him badly. Your hands reached up and tangled in his hair, feeling the soft curls there at the back of his neck. He groaned as he leaned into your touches more and more. You let out a moan yourself from somewhere deep inside. A noise that seemingly changed something for Din.

He pulled away from you.

The last time he had pulled away from you when you were making out so passionately in your flat, all the fire had vanished from his eyes. The lust and desire were gone in an instant. This time, however, he was looking at you with such an intense look that it sent a bolt of desire somewhere deep inside you.

“Do you… ahhh… wanna get a hotel?” Din asked breathlessly. His tone was desperate as he looked at you, his brown eyes darkened with lust.

All thoughts of saying no, insisting that you would not do a walk of shame into work the following morning as you wore the same clothes two days straight, died on your lips when Din leaned in and kissed them again as if offering you a preview of what the night promised if you only said yes. 

“Yes, Din,” you whispered when he pulled away, tracing his jawline with your fingertips.

Din nodded and closed his eyes as if to compose himself. Then he was up like a shot, clearing the blanket of the remnants of your picnic and stuffing it into the basket as though he were a man possessed. You were stunned by how quickly Din managed to pack up the picnic, considering the eternity it had seemingly taken to set out, as you stood there blindfolded. After what felt like mere seconds, his large hand was in yours once again. Din practically pulled you back down the hill as you made your way towards the waiting car. His stride was so long it felt like you could barely keep up with him. You practically squealed in delight at his determination as he led you towards the park’s exit. You could tell from his haste how desperate he was to be alone with you. His desperation set your skin ablaze. To know that you were so desirable to him, that he had almost been driven crazy with lust for you was incredibly alluring.

The car journey to the hotel was mercifully short, especially considering you and Din could barely keep your hands off each other. Fortunately, things did not escalate to an indecent level before you made it to the hotel. As you pulled up outside the luxurious building, you recalled the first time you had been to this hotel. How nervous and uncertain you had been. Now it seemed like you had been here many times. Although the wine had given you a pleasant buzz and perhaps made you giggle a little bit more freely, you were certainly not feeling the effects of baijiu like you were that night. Tonight the only heat in your belly came from your desire for Din. 

“Wait here for a second, Sunflower,” Din whispered before he pulled away from you and swiftly exited the car.

You sat there for a few moments, puzzled by Din’s sudden change in demeanour. For a man who seemingly couldn’t keep his hands off you, he was suddenly evasive and clearly, for whatever reason, wanted to check in by himself. The in-joke that you had with yourself and a few friends that Din was secretly a mafia boss came back to you, imagining him paying cash for the most opulent suite and you were secretly at the centre of a massive money-laundering operation. You were about to pull your phone out to text Ria your current predicament, but the sound of the car door opening pulled you from your wandering mind. 

Your favourite maybe-mob-boss had returned to the car and collected you before your daydreams could become even more intricate. Din had swept your bags up and guided you out of the car before you even had a chance to think further about why he had left you alone. 

Din’s large hand was splayed across the small of your back as he guided you through the lobby. You barely had the chance to take in the ornate furnishings of this most extravagant of hotels before you were in the elevator and Din’s lips were on yours again. He was relentless and needy, moaning into your mouth as he kissed you roughly. Your hands flew to his chest, finding a way through the buttons of his white dress shirt to move across the expanse of his firm, muscular chest. You had no idea if there were cameras in this elevator. You soon found that you didn’t care.

Din’s arms had found their way around your waist, holding you to him. You could feel the evidence of his arousal already. Mercifully, before things could go any further, the familiar ding indicated that you had arrived at your floor. As the doors opened, you and Din pulled apart.

Then, you were stumbling down the corridor together. Din’s arm firmly locked around your waist for your benefit, to keep you upright given how breathless and lightheaded your journey in the lift had left you. Din fumbled with the keycard desperately. You brought your hand to his wrist, steadying it as he finally found the knack for the stubborn door.

“Thanks,” Din grunted. 

You were barely in the room, without even a second to appreciate your opulent surroundings, before his lips were on yours again, his large frame pressing you into the door. You moaned at how desperate he was for you. Here you were with a spacious, almost palatial room, and you had barely taken two steps in before you had found yourselves making out with such ferocity that you were barely able to remain standing. 

Despite how much you wanted Din, the last vestiges of your rational mind broke through from somewhere deep within you. You realised that you didn’t want this. You wanted him properly on the bed. The shower had been frenzied and hurried as you had both given into your animalistic desires for each other. It had been your first time together. Although you relished that memory, you wanted to take your time. It had been a while since you had seen Din, so there was a real temptation to give in to your desires.

Even though allowing him to continue at such a frenzied pace was a tantalising prospect. With a luxurious suite at your disposal, you knew, this time, you wanted to savour the moment. So, you pressed your hand to Din’s firm chest and pushed him lightly. Din pulled away from you, his pupils blown, lips swollen from the kisses and face flushed with desire. Concern was immediately evident on his face and in his eyes, clearly worrying that he had done something to make you uncomfortable. Despite the passion he felt for you, you knew that Din would never want to push it too far and do anything to hurt you. It was nice to know how much he cared.

“Din, we have an enormous room with a spacious, comfortable bed. Let’s make the most of it.” You said, leaning in to kiss him again, to show that you were not uncomfortable with how things had progressed.

You pulled away and Din nodded in understanding, reaching for your hand and leading you through the spacious suite until you made it to the bedroom. It was enormous, a four-poster bed with the softest sheets on. You wanted to savour Din and this place like he was a delicious feast, not a microwave meal that you wolfed down and then hated yourself for. As he moved to unbutton his shirt, you slid your clothes off, grateful to finally peel your work outfit from your body.

You saw the way he stopped what he was doing, his eyes glazed over as he took in your body. The way he looked at you almost made you feel shy, you would never have believed that someone could gaze at you so reverently, let alone someone as handsome and charismatic as Din Djarin. Yet, here he was, looking at you as though you were the most beautiful person in the entire world. 

You were so caught up in your emotions that you almost struggled to complete your task. Fortunately, Din noticed you struggling and lent a hand. He softly kissed each inch of your skin as he removed your clothes and revealed more of your body to him. 

Din worshipped every inch of you that was gradually bared to him like you were some kind of deity.

Once you stood before each other, wearing nothing except shy smiles, you met each other on the bed. As you lay next to each other on the spacious silken sheets, you resumed the passionate, frenzied kisses that had first begun on Primrose Hill. 

Gestures which were always destined to lead you here, such was the magnetic pull between you and Din. You did not fight it. You allowed yourself to be pulled into him. He caressed your body with his hands. His large hands traversed your bare skin so softly. Din touched you so reverently, making you feel every inch as beautiful with his touches as he did with the way he looked back at you. 

When the kisses on your lips were no longer enough to satisfy his desire, Din hovered over you, like a hunter over its prey. You quivered with anticipation as his lips traced a trail down the column of your throat, your chest and then lower… and lower… 

Your back arched off the bed involuntarily, desperate for him to put his mouth where you most needed it. You whimpered his name and felt him smirk against your lower stomach, the tease. You smirked in return as Din’s facial hair brushed against your skin too, the sensation would have been ticklish were you not so aroused. Then, he resumed his task, continuing to trail a path down your stomach. You practically wanted to scream with desire as he kissed a path across the inside of your thighs.

As Din placed his mouth between your thighs, your head fell back on the pillow. You gasped in delight and threaded your fingers through his soft curls as you gazed up at the ceiling. 

You felt like the luckiest woman in the entire world…

✯✯✯✯✯

The warm, orange light which streamed through the crack in the curtains bathed the pair of you in its soft glow. As you turned your head from where you currently lay on Din’s warm, firm chest to look at him, you felt your heart swell at the sight of him. With the way the light hit him, illuminating his tan skin and strong features, he was breathtaking. You couldn’t believe that he was all yours. 

You didn’t want to get up and start your day, but you knew you had to. Your alarm wasn’t set to go off for another half hour, so you took this time to enjoy the simple pleasure of being wrapped up in the arms of the man you loved, listening to the soft sounds of his gentle snores. You thought about kissing him and waking him up so you could continue the exploration of each other’s bodies that the two of you had indulged in for hours last night. But he deserved his rest, especially after how well he had taken care of you the previous night. So you decided to leave him be, just enjoying his presence.

You thought it was funny that the last time you had woken up in this hotel with Din, you had worried that in your drunken stupor, your relationship had reached a level that you had no recollection of. There was no doubt, no wondering now. This time, you remembered the previous night perfectly. 

Din had been so tender with you, making you feel so loved and taking care of you thoroughly. You must have had four or five hours of sleep, maximum. Yet, somehow, you felt as energised as if you had slept for a week. With this magnetic force of a man by your side, you felt as if anything was possible. Including, it seemed, forcing yourself out of bed and attempting to be enthusiastic about the day of work which lay ahead for you.

As you finally got out of bed and headed towards the shower, you heard a sleepy Din calling your name. His husky, deep morning voice sent a pang of desire coursing through your veins. Your body was instantly ready for him, wetness pooling between your thighs. Unfortunately, as much as you wanted to climb back into bed with Din, you did have to go to work. Quickly padding back across the suite and saying good morning to him wouldn’t hurt, though.

“Good morning, Din,” you smiled as you cupped his stubbly jaw with your hand and placed a soft kiss on his plush lips.

“Come back to bed,” Din said, reaching out to hold your hand and doing his best impression of a helpless stray puppy as he stared at you with big brown eyes.

“I can’t, Din,” you giggled.

“Please,” Din pouted, “It’s so warm and comfortable. There’s plenty of room.”

“Din,” you whined. “Believe me, I want to… but I have to go to work.”

“Kiss?” Din pleaded, still looking at you with his big, brown eyes.

“Always, for you,” you smiled, leaning down to kiss Din. He cupped your chin gently and brought his lips to yours softly. At the touch of his lips to yours, you were on fire for him.

All protestations about needing to get ready for work were soon replaced with breathy moans as you let Din pull you into bed and pick up where you left off the previous night. You didn’t even care that you had to shower in two minutes nor that you had to sprint into work after the car dropped you off in the same clothes as the previous day. 

✯✯✯✯✯

Later, as you lay in his arms, your breaths finally slowed down and your breathing pattern returned to normal. You felt truly content, happy to enjoy the silence. You had expected that you would be the first to speak, eventually breaking it with apologies that you really had to leave. So you were certainly not prepared for the next words that Din uttered.

“You’re so perfect,” Din whispered as he nuzzled into your neck, “I think I’m in love with you.”

Then, as if realising the implications of the words he had just uttered so carelessly in the blissful stillness of the early morning, he froze up and pulled back from you. 

“I’m so sorry,” Din said, his eyes widened in horror at his words.

“No Din, don’t be silly,” you admonished as you pulled his face back towards yours.

As if to shut him up from any further stupid babblings, you brought your lips to his for a slow, gentle kiss. When you pulled away, you rested your forehead against his.

“I love you too, Din Djarin,” you whispered, unable to stop the way your lips curved into a smile around the strong, alliterative sounds of his name.

Din broke into a grin then. The dimples in his cheeks were suddenly evident, as were the crinkles around his eyes that you loved so much. He looked so handsome and boyish, especially with his mussed hair from sleep. 

“Well then, I must be the luckiest man in the entire world,” Din smiled, bringing your lips to his again in another kiss. 

Regretfully, before things could progress any further, you really did have to rise from the bed to get ready for work. Despite Din insisting that there was plenty of room for two, you made sure he kept in bed so that you might actually make it to work on time. Your activities and love declaration already meant that you were cutting it fine as it was. There was no way you could delay your exit further. 

When you finally left the hotel after another round of whispered, “I love yous,” followed by achingly sweet kisses and headed off for work, you did not feel the usual anxiety or dread that you usually did in the pit of your stomach. You were elated that your relationship had finally taken on a new form with the three words that you had been so desperate to say to Din. 

There were no longer any fears of unrequited love. You and Din were both on the same page. It felt as though your worries had evaporated at the knowledge that Din Djarin was in love with you.

The breaking of dawn had shepherded in a new stage of your relationship with Din.

For now, the anxieties of work; of colleagues, of screaming children were forgotten. All you cared about was Din and how happy you were that he was all yours. You trusted this man entirely. You would go to the ends of the earth for him. He made you feel happiness like no one else. 

You only hoped this feeling would last forever.

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