#i can literally feel my brain turn into mush rn

[sleyu]

just anything remus

i love remus so so much :( lately, what’s been on my mind is mean bf!remus. and honestly, i don’t think it’s too far off from canon remus if we really think about it :0 he’s so so mean n grumpy all the time and yet, he’s with you, someone that’s the complete opposite of him :( sunshine reader x grumpy remus is literally my weakness.

of course, sometimes he can be a little mean to you, but it’s all out of good love and teasing. mean bf!remus who slaps your ass as you’re in a rush to get ready for class and simply laughs meanly when you whine about it hurting, apologizing to you condescendingly, and asking if he can kiss the bruise he left better :(

mean bf!remus who corners you in a corridor when he misses you in class suddenly, asking you why you haven’t been paying enough attention to him, roughly kissing you and groping you all over, eating up the surprised gasps and mewls that leave your pretty mouth as he has his way with you :(

mean bf!remus who feels himself getting harder at the sight of your tears as he overstimulates you :( you’re begging him to stop but until you don’t say the safe word, he’s relentless. he’d groan, staring intently at your pouty, quivering lips and your teary eyes :( he loves making his baby cry out of pleasure but he’ll go to war if someone else makes you cry !

i don’t have enough time atm but i have sm more thoughts abt mean bf!remus that make my head all fuzzy aaa this and perv!remus <3

[savetheghost]

wanna be put in a room with craft stuff for 10 years

[franciskirkland-deleted]

Hypermobile Françoise anon here!!

1. I hope things start going better for you :c

2. What are your Gerita headcanons, if you have any?

3. Do you have any crackships you enjoy? (For example, I'm a Sweden/Italy enjoyer)

1 - thank you!! <3 i am so exhausted 100% of the time i literally cannot keep up with basic life expectations which in turn contributes to the ongoing misery of my living situation. i've had the last couple days off from work and i haven't gotten much done as far as writing bc i needed to catch up with housework and rest. i work for the next 3 days so i might go quiet bc i need to sleep for at least 12 hours or i'll disintegrate. i have a Blood Doctor appt on monday that i've been waiting literally 5 months for but i might need to cancel it bc my medicare card is expired. sobbing emoji x 5

2 - tbh idrk what ppl mean when they ask for non-specific headcanons like without context i'll forget every thought i've ever had. like my general thoughts on them or... ? i love gerita they're really sweet... i've been thinking about starting a fic soon! they're husbands with each other this is canon actually. it's such an essential ship to me like i can't see them not together unless one of them died lol

before getting together their lifestyles and habits were so incompatible but ludwig has learned to be less rigid and likewise feliciano is forced to clean up his act re: being a lazy little slob.

i feel like they'd have a lot of pets, specifically dogs and cats. like everything in their house is covered in fur, their pets are so pampered and they refer to themselves as mutti and vati when talking to them...

the introvert/extrovert couple of all time. ludwig can't stand PDA but they're so sappy behind the scenes.

feliciano packs ludwig lunch every day and puts the most embarassing little notes in it.

their refrigerator is covered in stickers for some reason? no children were responsible for this.

ludwig is the designated driver bc feli is so reckless but feli complains that he's too slow and begs him to let him drive. he never does.

they've almost broken up over putting together ikea furniture.

3 - crack ships? not that i can really think of?? i like most ships tbh so i see potential in pretty much any characters that have interacted.

for pure crack value i'm sure there's something but sorry my brain is mush rn. what about crossover ships like mad men lane pryce x france hetalia lmfao. napoleon x france? england x his hand?? england vs queen elizab - no let's not do that please.

prumano is crack to me bc (in my opinion) they're too chaotic to actually work, like in close proximity i give them a week until they kill each other by accident or intentionally.

gilbird and pierre are nesting partners. get it? bc they're birds.

[revivemyreverie]

🍫 for alodrian or 🌹 for lenacero in a theatre box or literally anywhere 🤓🤓🤓

Rev’s brain is mush rn so!!!!!! Excerpts!!! That’s something I can do!!!!!!!

🤍.

It was late when Dorian received the gift. Noticing the white floral pattern on its bow, he got an inkling of who may have knocked at his room’s door so late.

The box, however, smelled of something foul, and small splatters of something red covered the little card that accompanied it. Thankfully, the artist still managed to read what was on it.

“Do you like the gift? I’ll admit, it’s odd not getting the usual chocolates or flowers or dresses or anything, but I guess that’s what makes our relationship special! Right??

It took a lot of time to catch, so enjoy it, my valentine! - Aldrich”

Not bothering to open the “gift”, Dorian opted to throw it in the garbage can next to the door. He cared little for whatever animal Aldrich managed to nab, but the witch-obsessed prince’s account of the kill might make for some good inspiration for him.

🎭.

“So, how do you like the view, Dovett?”

“It’s quite nice, Lucero. I’m surprised you managed to get access to this spot.”

Tonight, Lucero had invited Svetlena to watch a play taking place right in his hometown. It was, spring break, so neither had any issue with the time of the show. The opera-loving student had managed to get seats for the closest box near the stage, providing space for the both of them instead of needing to sit with the stuffy crowd down below.

“Well, it wasn’t too hard. All I had to do was give the ticket employee my name, and he practically jumped to give me this seat!” He scoffed.

(That was a lie. Lucero, in reality, had to bargain for many hours with the tired ticket seller, but it worked out for him in the end.)

“Ah! Look, Luce, the show is about to begin!” His companion pointed to the stage. The two grew silent as they watched the curtains rose, and the stars they wished to be began their performance.

“Thanks for taking me on this date, by the way.” Lena whispered as the 2nd act began. Lucero froze as his brain registered the words.

“D-dat- HAH?” he choked out.

“The date?” Lena looked at him oddly, “Inviting me to such a nice place… buying so many gifts before it began, I didn’t know you were such a romantic.”

What Lucero actually had in mind was a regular hangout, and only bought the seats because he believed it to have the best view in the entire hall. And the shopping before was just to waste time. But after putting it all in a romantic light… this really was a date, wasn’t it?!

Wanting to save face, Lucero cleared his throat. “I-its no problem, really. Plus, with how much money you have, you could probably buy these seats too.”

Lena bit her lip and the comment, her eyes narrowing to a slight degree.

“Well, I still feel bad that I don’t have anything to give you. So,” she pulled Lucero’s head towards her’s, before lightly pressing a kiss to his cheek. “How about a ‘thank you’ kiss instead?”

Feeling his face rise up with heat, Lucero turned back to the stage.

“…That works.” He murmured. Lena giggled to herself, noticing his reddening cheeks under his mask. Lightly holding Lucero’s hand, she too turned back to the stage.

They watched the play continue on in a comforting silence, letting the romantic moment linger on.

[iampikachuhearmeroar]

pray for me, y'all.... im finally trying to actually read some of my old required philosophy readings from uni..... nearly 10 years later... all bc I could start to feel my brain rotting from the inside out, from all the fb watch bs and youtube shorts and general yt stuff bullshit that I've been watching non-stop since I left my job in march lmao.

part of this, is me starting to use my brain to actually read a Physical Book™️ as well.... bc last week I went to get the undercarriage of my car fixed at the car body shop..... I went to that area's local mall to kill the hour and a half they took to fix it. in the food court of the mall, they had a community library shelf thing, that so many places have now.... where people just leave their unused old books for people to peruse while eating a subway, or fish and chips meal, or whatever else for lunch.

on that shelf, I finally jumped onto/into Michelle Obama's memoir Becoming.... which i've been meaning to listen to the audiobook of on scribd (which I've deactivated since I'm broke rn); for ages. and y'all. I can't stop reading it. it's made me finally look into international relations, which was a subject I always wanted to do at uni... but just didn't want to do the debating side of it lmao (and also bc I was thinking of doing it if I'd applied for that cadetship at my local uni.... which I didn't lmao). I'm reading my old intro to philosophy textbook- philosophy for everyone (ebook).... which I completely and utterly ignored during undergrad on purpose.

just. say what you want about the Obama's. but at least Michelle has kicked my ass into paperback reading, and philosophy text overdrive.... making me realise just how dead and numb my brain has been; since I dropped causal reading of ANY books as a hobby..... for endless tumblr, youtube shorts (and now also actors reviewing their careers through vanity fair or GQ)..... endless make-up or skincare review/tutorial videos or endless repeats of some of my fave stand up comics bits from their netflix specials or w/e (which I've watched so often now that I can recite some of them word for word or paraphrase them well enough in a semi-okay impression of them).... just an endless stream of bullshit, really.

just yeah. at least im reading again. and finally using my brain. im not using my phone for like at least an hour or two (2) at a time, when I really get into the groove of reading. it's wild tbh. but I will really have to train my brain not to re-read and re-read and re-read, ad infintum, one or two sentences on a page; whilst trying to read philosophy texts like on liberty (like im attempting rn lmao). bc that's exactly how I gave up on all of my philosophy readings in the first place..... bc having to re-read a sentence like 3 times made me feel stupid asf.

yeah. im just here to say. for the love of god. pick up a print book every once in a while. or hell, even an e-book through your local library's e-book app (eg, libby/overdrive or borrowbox). or if you have one, your kindle (that's where some of my international relations stuff is and my old philosophy textbook) or other e-reader. and yeah I know. once I get a job (lmao the job markets shit) I won't be raving like this, about wanting to read anything other than an audiobook on the way to and from work everyday. I'll end up back in the loop of nothing but fb watch etc. I will be the last person to join, if at all, the company's book-club. I didn't even join the short lived one at my old work.

just try to make an effort to read something, anything. get the fuck away from youtube and other social media reels/shorts etc etc brain rot and read... idek comics or something fun. a kids' book, like Grug or the little miss/mister men, just for shits and giggles, to turn off your brain... instead of going down the reels and shorts or tiktok holes so often that you can literally feel your brain melting to mush.

[elviratheepic]

Idk if I'll stick with this, but I've been in hospital for over a week now and I can feel my brain turning to mush, so I'm thinking it might be good to post like a journal thingy here. I can just throw my thoughts to the void and if anyone feels like throwing any thoughts back at me, maybe I'll reminded what human interaction is lol

And who knows, maybe some bits and pieces of my experiences rn might be handy to someone who ends up seeing it. This is a weird time for me, maybe someone else around here's having, has had or will have some similar weird times and we'll have made a little connection even if we don't speak :)

I mentioned it briefly in a post on my art blog, but to flesh it out a bit, I've been generally run down and really quite unwell like all summer and now into autumn. Been back and forth to the doctor, told I have chest infections, possible asthma, etc. I get booked in for an xray and then something looks weird so a ct scan, still thinking it's pneumonia with some odd symptoms, then a couple days later I get a call from my doctor telling me i am going to the hospital asap, there's a bunch of fluid in my chest that should not be there and also they need to check for lymphoma. I've never been to hospital for more than an orthodontist appointment and while not as surprised as I could be expected to be by the thought of cancer due to having had a weird anxiety fixation thing on the idea for a while (fun coincidence), it was still a bit of an ordeal lol. This was 10 days ago and I have not been home since. I've been coping pretty well considering the wild lack of control I feel over literally anything rn. The steroids they've got me on rn while I wait for further treatment have me feeling better than I have in a long while, and mentally the worst I've been dealing with is some fairly mild dissociation. Just kind of taking things as they come for now, rolling with things as best I can especially while so many things are kind of a bit up in the air and subject to change.

But I mean drama aside, the current diagnosis for me is pretty good. The cancer as it appears right now is treatable and has a pretty great cure rate. It's a "primary mediastinal large B-cell lymphoma" according to the leaflet I've got. It's high grade, so fast acting and aggressive but that actually makes these easier to get rid of than low grade slower working ones. It's hanging out next to my heart so that's the reason I've had all these bullshit symptoms in my chest cuz it's just been fuckin shit up in there and irritating its roommates. They've got me booked in for a pet scan day after tomorrow cuz the scanner was having issues so they couldn't get me in sooner, then the plan is to start chemotherapy the next day. Which will be an experience. The treatment plan we've basically already decided is 6 21-day cycles of chemo where I'll be in hospital for about 5 days getting monitored and adjusted treatment, then going home for the rest and coming back to start the cycle again. It's not going to be the most fun and easy experience of my life but tbh I've done hard things before and I know I'm capable of doing this. Not that this kind of thing can ever really come at a "good" time, but I think that personally I'm pretty lucky this came along at the point in my life it did. I've been able to spend the last couple years basically building myself back up from feeling entirely lost, shattered and directionless after a pretty traumatic attempt at university durring covid lockdowns. I'm maybe lacking in some life experience people my age tend to have, but ultimately I have confidence, strength and self-awareness now that I do not take for granted. Basically I got the chance to reinforce my foundations in unkowing preparation for this whole thing. Honestly, I'm kind of just curious who I'll be on the other side of this experience - wherever that may be.

My main concern has been my siblings. I'm the oldest of 3 and we're all very close, spend a lot of time together and are at the core of eachothers' support systems. One of them's got college stress and deadlines, the other's out of school with anxiety issues rn, and my instinct is to be there as a support. And of course they would be supporting me too, it's not all give, they're amazing at being there for me too especially while I've been unwell (I love them so so much and I'm proud of everything they do can you tell lol). But while they have been visiting when they can, we don't get so much time together rn with me being in hospital and I feel like it's hard to get a gauge on how things really are with eachother at the moment which is rough with there being so much change going on rn. I know we'll figure things out, but I can't help worrying about them a bit, I feel like it's kind of my job lol

Oof can you tell it's getting late and my brain's going sleepy ramble mode? Idk if I'm even making much sense but hey

The ward I've been moved to for this is good. It's a cancer ward for teens and young adults with a common room area funded by the teenage cancer trust. There's guitars, a ps4, craft supplies and free snacks. It feels so weird that like that space is for me to use, like I'm kinda tresspassing on something for people who need it more than I do. But the ward's fairly quiet and not so busy at the moment, so when my siblings and briefly my friend came to visit me today, we basically had free reign of the space without having to disturb anyone. I feel more comfortable in there than I did, and I think it's a good space for my siblings to be when they come visit. I'm really greatful they get to use it with me - even if I feel kind of like others deserve the space more (ik im being silly), seeing them get good use and some fun out of it today was good and reassuring. It's reassuring to hear people talking about there being support systems for siblings too should they need them. Especially when it feels like I can't look out for them so much in the ways I normally would.

But yeah, I think that's about all that's in my brain for right now. I'll look back on this tomorrow and realise none of this actually made any sense lol

But yeah basically got thrown a bit of a curveball lately as life tends to do, but there's answers now where there wasn't before, and the path ahead's starting to make itself visible. It sucks, but I've been worse. I'm not just saying that for the sake of offsetting the fact that it sucks, I'm just taking the the little wins where i can cuz I know that's gotten me through plenty rough and sucky times before.

Some little wins:

Woke up to magpies outside the window this morning. One came right up to the glass to say hi, but I couldn't snap a picture in time lol <3

My friend brought me a rainbow sensory slug companion, and I made a pipecleaner creature named Spigley while my siblings were here. They are friends and will be my chemo companions :)

(Idk if that's a mouth or a moustache but i think it suits him either way)

[moonhoures]

first love part 3 teaser ✨

hello my lovelies~ 👋🏻

so i feel terrible about keeping you all waiting for part 3 of first love for so long (it’s literally been a month since part 2 was posted, i can’t believe this is taking forever) so to make up for it i wanted to give you guys a little sneaky peek of the smut part that i’m working on rn 🤭 like i said before, soobin’s dom side is gonna show up in this part so i wanted to share a little piece of that with you! enjoy 😗✌🏻 - moon 💌🌙

warning: obviously some nsfw imagery under the break, so don’t read if you’re not comfortable w that 💓

“Of course,” he spoke without thinking, his eyes trained on the way your breasts were pushed up with the pressure of the bra holding them. If his self control were any worse he would’ve ripped it off of you already, but his body was almost frozen in shock. He didn’t know what to do with himself.

“Can you just touch me already?” you whimpered, your thighs pressing together under his gaze.

Your boyfriend’s lust-filled eyes met yours, but there were too many thoughts running through his mind to pinpoint one, “What do I, uh- What do you want me to do first?”

“I don’t care,” you got close to him, wetting your lips as you moved him near the bed, “Anything. Everything. I’m all yours to play with. Just use me the way you want to.”

Of all the dirty things he’s ever heard come out of your mouth, those words caused a deep, visceral reaction in him. I’m all yours to play with. Just use me the way you want to. Goosebumps erupted all over his arms as his brain turned to mush. He felt as if he could bust in his pants right then and there.

“Are you sure?” he asked, your lips ghosting against yours. His breath was warm and inviting, tasting slightly of the chocolate candies his mother had given to them shortly before they turned in for the night.

“Absolutely.”

Now, Soobin didn’t consider himself the type to take charge in your relationship, or even in general. It just wasn’t in his nature. You were the one who made plans that he went along with. For the most part, you initiated the physical affection you two shared. The kisses, the hand holding, the sex. Soobin was merely there to enjoy everything you offered him, and he liked it that way. Some would say he was submissive.

But with the way you were acting now, it’s almost like something inside of him switched. He didn’t want to lay back and receive. He wanted to be the one in command.

“Get on your knees for me,” the words rolled of his tongue before he could stop himself. He had shocked himself, so he followed with an uttered, “Please.”

[michipan]

oh my fucking god. i’m seriously at such a loss of words ur so cruel so evil such a genius i genuinely pulled at my hair at that ending because????? FUCK YOU UR SO EVIL FOR THIS UGGGGGGGGHHHH I LOVED THIS SM IM GOING FUCKING FERAL MY STOMACH HURTS IM SHAKING FUUUUUUUCKK 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

the way that you managed to clock all the things that make me weak. mean dom gyu. perv gyu. obsessive gyu. the fact that u used one of my favorite photo shoots of him as the image for this fic. you are just so uuuggggggggggggggghhhhh i can’t even you’ve turned my brain to mush all i can do is keyboard smash. i wish u could see the physical effect this shit had on me because it’s genuinely concerning. (edit: my fucking roommate came to give me their stress ball bc they said and i quote “you’ve been rlly quiet for a while now, u okay?” ALDBSKFJDN)

i’ve read a concept kiiinda maybeeeee slightly reminiscent of this (if u squint) like. years ago. but it was literally one of my favorite things ever if it managed to survive the absolute warfare of my mind. so to see something that reminded me of it made me genuinely fucking FREAK OUT. LIKE WHAT THE FUCK. GYUS PHANTOM FINGERS AND LIPS AND MONSTER COCK FUCKING THE MC IN A PUBLIC AND FULL SUBWAY 😭😭😭 WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!

THIS WAS SO HOT BTW. IN CASE I DIDNT IMPLY THAT. but besides the absolute insanity that was the smut (that i’ll come back to) ur writing is so good LMAOOOO

like ur descriptions and moods are written so well it was so well executed as always… the descriptions of beomgyu’s day to day life… and how scary it was for him to grow up with his powers 💔💔💔 the fear of his dreams falling apart on him, there’s seriously a really interesting storyline buried beneath the yk. absolute filth that broke my mind apparently.

i could quite literally quote all of gyus “dialogue” with the mc and tell u why it fucked me up— but all i will say is that i read “that’s music to his ears, really— because he likes treating girls like that too” and gasped. out loud. he’s so hot i need him i want him so bad i don’t think u understand.

the whole scene where he begins to touch the mc…. then it all builds up to him finally fucking her with his huge… phantom? dick??? ur so fucking sick for that i fucking hate u. 😭😭😭 “he knows he’s big, but you take it like a champ, your hips grinding down into the seat…” i’ll start crying rn btw ‼️🤣🔥🔥🔥

this makes no sense. i feel the need to properly break this down and tell you why i loved it and show u all the stuff that just made me go crazy, but i’m mentally incapable of saying anything coherent!! so this is all you’ll get i’m sorry. i’ll probably end up coming back to this once i’m normal but in the mean time…. this is all you get.

telepathy (m) — cbg

pairing: choi beomgyu x fem!reader

genre: smut, strangers to ???, mind reader/telepathist!beomgyu, funeral home employee!beomgyu (it's for the plot ok???)

wc: 11.7k

synopsis: most people would abhor a packed subway car — but beomgyu, telepathist extraordinaire, relishes in it. with a career in the funeral business, he finds his morning commute to be the only thing that keeps him relatively sane. reading the mundane thoughts of mundane people maintains his tether to his humanity, but when he goes to read your mind...oh, things get a whole lot more interesting.

warnings: mdni!! 18+ only, ageless blogs dni!!!, mentions of dead bodies, embalming, and funerals (though not very descriptive — it's only bc of gyu's profession), reader is a freak that listens to nsfw audios on her way to work!, gyu is a perv so it's a match made in heaven (hell?), gyu's honestly a little strange + obsessive in this...anyways, dom!gyu, sub!mc, solo male masturbation, on my big cock beomgyu agenda, very brief mentions of daddy/sir/master kinks, explicit consent is given before anything happens bc consent is sexy <3, mind manipulation (he makes it feel like he's touching her), exhibitionism in a way (it will all make sense, trust 🙏), degradation, praise, pseudo-fingering (idk how to explain it, f receiving), gyu calls mc: pretty girl, sweetheart, slut, whore, princess, mc calls gyu sir like once...whew! that was a lot, lmk if i should add anything!

note: you know i have a terrible bout of brainrot when the warnings are all nsfw related...yeah. Yeah. *presses post and runs away*

☆ playlist ☆

masterlist

beomgyu’s commute to work is, by all means, uneventful. 

the train is packed as per usual, filled to the brim with businessmen and office workers and other miscellaneous passengers on their way to whatever the hell their destination is. like most days, he finds himself towards the middle of the passenger car, snatching a rare open seat between a stone-faced man adorned in a suit — his head buried in a newspaper — and a slumped over college student nursing a cup of coffee. the poor kid almost looks like death itself, sporting dark under eyes, rumpled clothes, and a prominent slouch to his spine. not that beomgyu could really blame him; he remembers how easily college living (if you could call it living) can chip away at a person’s mental well-being. 

people-watching like this is what keeps him sane, he thinks. being surrounded by corpses all day, every day is more than draining — it sucks the soul out of him, really, being the only person on shift most of the time that he’s working, having to embalm and clean and pretty up all those cold, gray bodies so that their loved ones can say one last goodbye. it’s quiet in their minds and it’s all too quiet in the funeral home, the only sounds being the clanking of the embalming tools he’s been trained to use, his footsteps echoing down the tiled halls, his sighs of contempt when something small goes wrong — yet the living, breathing, warm people on the train provide a sense of normalcy, something to look forward to every day. to hear their thoughts, as prosaic as they are, has become a sort of saving grace from the lifeless, cold building that he finds himself in five out of the seven days of the week. honestly, if he can maintain a little bit of his humanity via strangers among the subway, even if it’s just by hearing their thoughts, then he’ll take what he can get. 

yeah, that’s the thing: beomgyu is a mind-reader, a pretty talented one at that. not that anyone knew, of course — he wouldn’t risk the government finding out. beomgyu is not usually one for promises, but he has promised himself one thing: there’s no way in hell that he will ever become one of the government’s sick little science experiments, even if his life ever hits rock bottom. he has no idea how his powers work — just that they do, and he would like to keep it that way. it’s bad enough that he doesn’t know where he got such abilities; his parents never mentioned anything about it and only ever grew worried whenever he read back their thoughts to them, so obviously the existence of his powers is some statistical anomaly in the universe. normal people can’t read others’ minds. he was forced to learn that at a very young age in order to keep himself safe. 

“how do you know that?” he remembers his mother’s alarmed tone when he first did it unknowingly, repeating back her own thoughts to her without realizing that’s what he had done. he was maybe six at the time — innocent, curious, plagued by voices in his head that he didn’t quite understand. those voices weren’t his. rather, they were his friends’, his family’s, his dentist’s and his doctor’s and his soccer coach’s voices that ricocheted about his mind uncontrollably;it was overwhelming for the young boy’s mind. the day he first admitted that he could hear them was the first day he heard his parents argue, their yelling from downstairs colliding with their internal voices in beomgyu’s mind, their terribly poignant concern for him and this development louder than any of the venomous words that they spat at each other in the living room. all he remembers from that day was himself crying, unable to block out anything that they thought, let alone his own thoughts. too much for his young mind to handle.

he heard their fear when they took him to the doctor for the first time of many, their heartache when the doctor came back and said that he might have psychosis, but more testing was needed. he heard how they started to deny it — their little boy couldn’t have that, could he? no, no he couldn’t. there’s no way he could. 

although beomgyu was young at the time, guilt ate at him. he was the one hurting his parents, he was the one making them worry. despite his official diagnosis when he was seven, something inside him knew that the doctors were wrong. those voices weren’t just the result of the machinations of his mind at work — they were voices of the people he knew, strangers who passed him on the street. what they said wasn’t evil, it wasn’t out of the ordinary. usually, it was quite mundane. at some point, he started to practice with it, trying focus on one certain voice out of the buzzing hive in his mind, blocking out the others, switching and focusing and blocking out until the action was as natural as breathing. it took him about five years before he reached that point, and after nearly two decades of living with his abilities, he’s gotten quite used to it. his mind is usually quiet — besides his own stream of consciousness — unless he allows others in. or, rather, they allow him in, which they always do. he sees it like a set of doors; open one, and you can hear that one person’s thoughts. close it, and he no longer hears them. and none of them are ever locked since no one expects to their thoughts to be read, which simply makes his life that much easier.

if he’s being honest, he didn’t used to read minds as often as he does now, but there isn’t much he can do about that now lest he go insane. beomgyu could admit that his habit was a little creepy…okay scratch that, extremely fucking creepy. these people had no idea that their minds were being infiltrated, their mental walls bypassed and their privacy violated like a computer infected with a malicious virus. it’s borderline depraved, how nonchalantly he robs these strangers of their utmost privacy, sometimes of their deepest, darkest secrets that they would never want anyone to find out about. he could sequester quite a bit of money out of some of these people, now that he thinks about it.

and sure, that may sound immoral, but beomgyu has never considered himself to be of particularly virtuous character.

without a second thought, beomgyu taps into the mind of the kid next to him. he’s thinking about how he’s failing his statistics class because he just bombed his midterm. no, now his mind is full of what he’s going to eat after his 8 a.m. class. he shifts his focus on the businessman to his right. stocks, his cheating wife, how he’s considering leaving with his mistress in the coming days…

”what a prick,” beomgyu thinks to himself, smirking a bit. just a few more stops until he gets off, now. 

he pulls his phone from his jacket pocket, scrolling aimlessly just to keep his eyes busy. sitting on the opposite side of the college student, an elderly lady walks herself through the stew that she’s going to make for her grandchildren tonight, excitement coloring her words. it’s cute — he loves hearing things like that. wholesome thoughts are not easy to come by nowadays, given the state of the world. exhibit a: a teenager standing on the other side of the train car worries himself into a frenzy over whether the girl that he has a crush on likes him back. exhibit b: a middle aged man contemplates if he should quit his job. for a second, beomgyu thinks that he might be in the same boat as him, before realizing that he has nothing else to fall back on — exhibit c. he could keep going.

a clear, robotic voice overhead announces the subway’s arrival to the next station — his station. sighing, he sits up a little taller, slipping his phone into the pocket of his slacks. a vague sense of dread weighs down his shoulders, knowing that he has a service to set up for the moment he clocks in.

he’s not looking forward to today, and yet the train still slows to a stop, the doors still slide open, and he still grabs his work briefcase from the spot between his feet. like clockwork, beomgyu maneuvers through the crowd, out the doors, and climbs the stairs up to the chilly streets of seoul.

decompressing after a slow-moving shift can take beomgyu’s night in many directions. sometimes, he simply returns home and hops into bed after a long, scalding hot shower that removes the invisible layer of grime that lays heavy on his skin. other times — typically on fridays — he’ll stop by a bar and catch up with his friends, occasionally leaving with a woman hanging off of his arm if he drinks enough to lower his inhibitions. more often than not, however, his excursions at the underground bar that taehyun is partial to end in him stumbling home alone and waking up the next morning with a raging headache. nursing a hangover alone, eating breakfast alone, bathing alone…he has never really become acclimated to it. the monster that festers inside beomgyu’s chest craves for love, for connection, for somebody to hold when the nights are too dark and his thoughts match the shade of the sky. the lack of connection is slowly getting to him. is this what insanity feels like? he wouldn’t know, nor would he like to find out. he’s sane. he’s perfectly sane. 

beomgyu understands that his profession can be off-putting to potential lovers, but it’s not as if he had much of a choice in the matter — not when his one shot at the career of his dreams crumbled below his feet when the company filed bankruptcy, sending him tumbling back down to earth, to the reality that his college degree meant little to nothing to the vast majority of employers nowadays. though he applied to dozens of jobs, the only one he ever heard back from was from the listing titled “mortuary assistant,” and in desperation, he accepted the position without much thought. maybe if he had tried a little harder to find a different company where he could apply his skills, maybe if he had pushed himself to make connections in the industry when he had the resources to do so, maybe if he had pursued music production a little harder, had not given up so readily when things grew difficult…maybe things would be different. 

beomgyu often thinks about the maybes.

this particular night, he finds himself leaned over a bar counter, a glass of amber-hued beer in hand. he half-listens to yeonjun’s slurred account of his dance crew’s latest win while he stares down at the mahogany tabletop. some condensation has gathered on the wood, and he swipes a finger through it. a slap to his shoulder brings his focus back to his surroundings.

“gyu, dude, y’should totally try out,’’ yeonjun pitches as he sloppily swings an arm over beomgyu’s shoulders. “get out of that. that—” he stumbles over his words for a moment, expression warping into a confused grimace. “that gross ass dead people building.”

beomgyu exhales a laugh as yeonjun’s head lolls against his shoulder, quietly whining about how his head hurts. while yeonjun is substantially gone already, beomgyu is only on his second beer. scanning the spacious, dim-lit room, he shakes his head. it’s times like these where he does not feel the need to slip into people’s minds — being surrounded by his friends is enough. “nah, man. i don’t think i could keep up. it’s been a while.”

“sure y’could! you’re like th’second best dancer here!” yeonjun says as his torso slumps down against the table. the bartender eyes him from further down the bar top with concern, but beomgyu sates the employee with an apologetic smile, ensuring that he turns away before setting his attention back on his friend.

beomgyu scoffs. “and i’m assuming you’re the first best?”

“uh, obviously. i literally run th’thing,” yeonjun retorts as he glares at him with a single eye open, an ear now resting on top of his crossed arms on the counter.

“yeonjun’s right,” taehyun butts in from the other side of yeonjun’s collapsed body. though his glazed over eyes give away his inebriated state, taehyun’s tolerance tends to lean much higher than yeonjun’s; this fact is confirmed by the crystal clear enunciation of his words as he continues, “you’ve been acting differently ever since you started working there. it wouldn’t hurt to try something new.”

great, even his friends have noticed. exhaling deeply, beomgyu nods.

“yeah, i’ll think about it.” 

as the conversation meanders off into other topics, beomgyu sinks back into his own little world. curse taehyun and his acute perceptiveness. he knows that he’s been acting off, but maybe his friends are right; he once dreamed of being a choreographer, back when he was a teen, before he discovered his love for music production. perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to try.

unintentionally, he meets the gaze of a girl sitting at a booth with her friends. he quickly averts his gaze, and by the time he looks back up, she has been roped into what seems like a shot-taking contest. six other girls circle the table, one joining the first girl in taking rapid-fire shots, four others egging them on, and one laser-focused on her phone, occasionally sipping water through a straw. from what he can gather, she’s likely the group’s designated driver — though it seems her role has morphed into more of a babysitter. she’s pretty, he’ll admit. just his type. if he was on his third or fourth beer, he’d probably be over there trying to strike up a conversation with her, rather than any of her drunk friends. 

as she looks up and throws a cursory glance around the bar, she catches him staring, her kohl-lined eyes meeting his own. an eyebrow raises as her gloss-coated lips twist, as if to say “don’t even try it.”

oh, how terribly he wishes to slip into her mind and let her know that he has no intention to. 

the ear-piercing screech of yeonjun’s barstool to his right tears his gaze away from her. yeonjun now stands, one arm around taehyun and the other around soobin, the latter sporting a borderline disgusted grimace directed at the older boy hanging off of him while kai simply stands behind the trio of men. yeonjun’s head hangs low below his shoulders, chin nearly touching his chest, as he emits a pathetic groan. at least he’s not puking this time.

“we’re about to go grab some food. this one,” taehyun’s head nods to yeonjun’s sagging frame. “definitely needs it. you coming?”

unwilling to allow the night to end quite yet, beomgyu hums, quickly pays his tab, and allows the brief, silent encounter with the woman to fade away into the back of his mind.

the rest of the weekend passes without fanfare, and monday returns to rear its ugly head once again. monday is beomgyu’s least favorite day of the week; it brings a raging headache from his 5 a.m. alarm, a bone-deep fatigue that lingers for the rest of the day. it brings grumpy commuters whose knees and elbows uncomfortably bump against his own. it brings people who think that he should give up his seat, and silently tell him so with narrowed eyes and furrowed eyebrows. how selfish, they all think whenever he actually bothers to read their thoughts. what a fucking dick, some of them even snarl within the so-called impenetrable walls of their minds, walls he so easily breaks down. he levels those ones with a half-awake glare, pupils gloomy and lifeless. internally, their uneasy reactions make him want to laugh, hysterically cackle in their faces because wow, is he really that scary? he shouldn’t be, but maybe the dark under eyes are doing something for him.

surprisingly, the subway car he frequents is less crowded than usual. not as many people stand in front of him, and he’s actually able to see directly across the car for the first time in a while. doors shut, and he’s left to look around at the regulars and the new patrons that often don’t show up again. they’re easily less interesting than the regulars. really, what can he say? the daily life updates satisfy his nosy tendencies. 

still, he hates mondays. mondays suck. mondays make him want to crawl into a hole and eventually join the bodies at his workplace. they bring out the worst in his mind. all they do is remind him of the neverending cycle that he has trapped himself in — wake up, work, go to sleep, and do it all over again the next day.

mondays bring a lot of things he fundamentally dislikes, but this particular monday also brings you. 

it’s split-second eye contact. nothing more, nothing less. your eyes grow wide, your lips parting just the slightest bit in surprise. though he has not invaded your mind (yet), he can already tell what you are thinking. fuck, he isn’t blind — he knows that he is handsome.

your eyes shoot downward, your head hanging low with your phone clenched between your fingers. one of his eyebrows raises while a small smirk plays on his lips — you’re new, and even better, you’re cute. his dark, seemingly bored gaze trails over to the earbuds nestled in your ears, then to your crossed legs. you glance up at him again, eyes blowing wide again as your thighs press together just enough for him to notice the movement. his own eyes narrow slightly, evaluating the sight. 

you seem...interesting. prim, proper, sitting in a modest-length skirt and a plain blouse and coat that paint you as an unassuming character, just another random person in this sardine can of a train car. yet there’s this glint in your eyes that tells him there is so, so much more to you than what meets the eye — that the innocent, put-together little front that you display to the world is a complete and utter lie. it’s intriguing. new patrons come and go from this particular subway car every day, but you and your fresh face have caught his interest — and so has your odd behavior. 

then, without warning, realization punches him square in the gut.

you were there the other night, with those girls at the bar. the one sitting at the end of the table with the small glass of water as you scrolled through your phone. the one who shot a piercing glare at him as you looked out for your inebriated friends. your current behavior is a far cry from the strong front he first encountered that night, small and oh-so meek and lacking the sharp, piercing edge to your gaze that initially piqued his interest in you. the change, for some reason, intrigues him more. what happened to that feisty glare, that confident air to your posture? he wants to know why you seem so meek, so he taps in to your mind and—

“you’re my dumb little slut, aren’t you? fuckin’ say it—”

beomgyu flinches in his seat, the door to your mind slamming shut as he sits there in shock. did he really just hear that? are you listening to fucking porn on the subway? what the fuck?

he’s never had this happen to him before. he’s accidentally stumbled upon the occasional horny thought before, sure, but listening to porn on the subway? that’s a new one. he decides to give you another glance; your lips are pressed together now, eyes pointed towards the floor as you further shrink into yourself. fuck, you’re so cute, but now he knows you’re also awfully perverted — and for some reason, he feels himself getting hard in his trousers at the thought of entering your mind again. 

he should do something about this little development, shouldn’t he?

yeah, he thinks that he should. a sick sort of curiosity wins over the more logical side of his brain, the side that tells him that he should feel guilty for even thinking about what he’s about to do. he can’t, can he? no, he can — he wants to, he really fucking wants to. opportunities like this don’t just present themselves on a silver platter like this on the regular. if he doesn’t take this chance, then he’d be an absolute fool. 

the subway slows to a stop, the weirdly cheery, robotic voice calling out another stop. not his, thank god. he takes this opportunity to open that pesky little door to your mind again, now fully expecting the depravity echoing in your brain — and rather than do anything drastic too quickly, he simply sits there and listens. he listens through an entire audio alongside you, ignoring the twitch of his cock as he listens to the woman be degraded and praised, in missionary and in doggy, her moans mixing with the man's in a cacophony of pleasure — he loves the way you jump when the sound of a hand striking flesh sounds through your mind. your fleeting sigh of “god, i wish that were me,” causes him to bite his lip. you like being treated like a slut, huh? like a stupid little whore only made to take cock? that’s music to his ears, really — because he likes treating girls like that too. 

as sick and disgusting as it is, he continues to listen as if mindlessly tuning in to a podcast, subtly adjusting himself in his pants as he fights off a raging boner. he wants to be the one to do those things to you. he wants to make you scream and sob and beg for mercy as he completely ravages your body, fuck you until you’re brainless, perfect little slut for him. you’d love that, according to the audios you consume for the remainder of his commute — to be fucked so hard you legs give out from under you, to be owned, fully and completely. he likes that sound of that as well.

a few minutes into the second audio, you take another glance at him, eyes squeezing shut right away once you catch his gaze — and suddenly, your thoughts are full of him. he’s encountered countless strangers who can perfectly visualize their streams of consciousness, and you seem to be yet another one of them. images of you on your knees between his thighs and sucking his cock in the middle of this subway car flood his own mind, switching to one of him fucking you from behind against the wall while everyone else watches, then to him finger fucking you with a hand around your throat…what the fuck. what the fuck? how do you just do that? how do you think of such terribly shameless things while looking so pretty and demure, as if you’re a shy little thing rather than some fucking whore? he shifts his briefcase over his lap again. fuck, he’s so hard it’s starting to hurt. shit, fuck. 

he should be appalled by you, but fiery, ardent lust is the sole emotion that floods his veins. would it be a bad idea to talk to you? no, you want it. you want it so fucking bad. just look at your mind — and he can make all your dirty little fantasies come true, if you would let him. 

just as he’s about to actually do something about you, the subway slows to a stop once again, the same cheery voice announcing his stop. god dammit. pushing himself up to his feet, he finds that you’re doing the same, wide eyes flitting around nervously as you move towards the door and stop nearly right next to him, those earbuds that hide your biggest secret in plain sight still stuck in your ears. he can still hear those degrading words and moans and slapping sounds that still echo through your mind, loud and clear as if those white earbuds are sitting snug in his own ears. 

the doors slide open, and soon enough, he loses sight of you in the surging crowd. stepping out of the subway, he looks around once, twice. you have completely disappeared; nowhere to be found, your mind has grown too far from his own for him to locate nor access, the tether between the two of you frayed to the point of snapping in half. with a brief purse of his lips, he sets off up the stairs. it’s fine, there’s always another day. it’s fine, he tells himself over and over again. there’s nothing he could have done in such a short time, anyway. 

the sun sits high in the sky today, but the bone-chilling air cuts through his puffy coat like tiny needles puncturing his skin, or millions of scalpels slicing open flesh nearly to the bone, cold and sterile and far from comforting. autumn shouldn’t be this cold, and his slightly soured mood isn’t helping his case right now. he should have done something back there, he should’ve opened up the channel between the two of you and taken the plunge. it wouldn’t have hurt to try, but no. no, he let that opportunity go like every other one he’s had in his life. with his jaw set, he promises himself that it won’t happen again. it won’t, because if he keeps living like this — allowing all these opportunities slip through his fingers like grains of sand — he’ll never be able to forgive himself.

and honestly, beomgyu is no clairvoyant, and he should brush off the tickle in his brain as a stupid, naive hunch…but he has a compelling feeling that he’ll be seeing you again tomorrow. 

when beomgyu returns home, the sun slowly sinking towards the horizon, he doesn’t unwind like he usually does. today’s shift was a slow one, with no bodies to preen and primp and no services to set up for, so most of his time was taken up with cleaning, filing documents, and sitting around aimlessly. no matter how much he tried to fend them off, thoughts of you bounced around in his brain for the entire eight hours he was on shift. fuck, he doesn’t even know your name, much less anything else about you, yet he wishes he could travel back in time and redo this morning all over again. he’s not sure how it would have panned out, exactly, but he has a few tricks up his sleeve that would’ve made it exciting.

he shakes his head. the current moment presents much more pressing matters than ruminating on this morning’s terrible decisions; the strain in his trousers proves to be a pertinent issue, a tent formed in the black fabric and aching to be touched. now that the public eye no longer holds his gaze, his apartment door locked shut behind him, he allows himself to give in to his most base instincts. a hand comes down to cup his hardness as he imagines his fingers as yours, you on your knees below him, those adorably wide eyes staring up at him in desperation. you’d wait for permission, right? you’d beg so prettily like a good little slut should? fuck yeah, you would. you’d be good, you’d take what he would give you — and you would love it. 

groaning, he crashes onto his couch, head throwing back against the back cushion as he gropes his cock harder. he’s forgone slipping off his dress shoes and has barely even slipped his coat off before he’s giving in to the pulsing ache in his groin that’s nearly unbearable, the white hot need swirling in his stomach that demands his immediate attention. his belt quickly unbuckled and his trousers pulled halfway down his thighs, he slips his cock from his boxers, gasping at how sensitive he has become. 

“oh fuck,” he breathes out into the quiet air, a shuddered sigh following when his thumb swipes over the angry red head, the bead of precum that has gathered there spreading across his skin. he brings his hand up to his lips, gathering some spit beneath his tongue before letting in loll into his palm. bringing it back down, he drags his hand up and down his shaft, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as pleasure rushes through his veins. he pumps his cock steadily, hips rolling up into his hand as if fucking your throat. eyes fluttering closed, his free hand grips the couch, fingernails digging into the worn leather and leaving half-moon indents in their wake. “fuck. god, fuck.”

would you be able to take him? he’s been told he’s big, most women barely able to take him even after extensive prep. he imagines how you’d keen as he enters you, your back arching so prettily and your walls stretching to their limits to accommodate his size. how you’d choke and gag on his cock if he decided to use your throat, tears streaming down your cheeks as you peer up at him pathetically, fingers digging into your thighs as you resist the urge to touch yourself. would you like to be slapped around a little, punished with spankings and little taps to your cheek? 

“focus,” he mumbles to no one. to you. “focus, slut. be good for me.” 

he’s delirious at this point, has dived so deep into his fantasies that he barely registers that he’s fucking his fist and not your mouth or sweet little cunt. that doesn’t stop his fingers from tightening their grip, squeezing the head before gliding back down again, then back up, the rhythm of his hips growing frenzied as his high inches closer. his free hand smooths up his stomach, taking his button-up with it as he clenches it with desperate fingers. he bites down on the fabric, pumping himself once, twice, three times before his high hits him, his cum spurting out in staccato ribbons. he’s making a mess, but he can’t bring himself to care when this is the best orgasm he’s had in months. the shirt falls from his mouth as he moans unabashedly. 

“take it,” he groans, his hips canting upward. “fuckin’— fuckin’ take it. shit. such a perfect little whore for me.”

he cums and he cums, spilling all over himself until he’s milked dry. eyes closed, his contracted muscles melt into the couch, hot pants replacing his moans and groans. a few minutes pass before he fully comes down from his headspace and returns back to earth, only for him to realize just how much he came, staining his clothes and coating his skin in creamy white. he blinks. 

reality crashes down on his head. 

he just…jerked off to you. he just came so hard he saw stars just from the mere thought of you. oh, he’s in deeper than he first thought. too deep, too quickly, he can barely breathe. 

“fuck,” beomgyu murmurs as he stares down at his cum-covered abdomen, his sticky hand. “fuck.”

beomgyu was right: you do come back the next day. and the next. and the next.

over the remainder of the work week, he watches you — well, more so listens to you, but he can’t deny himself the little glimpses he allows himself to take, drinking in how you worry your bottom lip, how the muscles in your throat contract each time you gulp. the poker face that you don crumbles oh so easily whenever he meets your stray gaze. it’s exhilarating, knowing the power he, a complete stranger, has over you. your microscopic slips in expression remain undetected to the rest of the passengers, but he sees every single one. they’re a perfectly entertaining backdrop for your explicit musings. 

he knows he could approach you like a normal human being would, but where’s the fun in that? he’s not quite a normal person in his own right, anyway. instead, he’s decided to keep you in his sights, learning what exactly you enjoy, what you like to hear, preparing for the day where he again gathers the courage to toy with you within the walls of your mind. he’s in deep, and at this point, he’s accepted it if only to justify his sadistic obsession with you. actually, on second thought, he wouldn’t quite call it an obsession, perhaps a morbid curiosity more than anything. yeah, that’s all it can be.

it’s almost as if the universe has sent him a little present in the form of you, an apology for the trials and tribulations that whatever is above has rained down on him this past year or so. of course he’s going to savor it. who wouldn’t? so he sticks to his plan, and keeps watching you, listening to you, observing you, identifying your little quirks and deepest, darkest desires. they’ll be quite useful later, he’s sure. 

over his…research period, he’s found out a lot about you. you like to be bullied, to be called a slut, a whore, but you also enjoy a little praise mixed in: good slut, good whore, pretty girl is so obedient for sir, for daddy, for master. you’re also not too picky in what you listen to, as long as it contains a male dominant in some capacity. couple’s content, threesomes, gangbangs are all on the table, as are solo audios that usually have some sort of plot to them — coworkers to lovers' first date that ends in sex? check. hot librarian who fucks over a table you after closing? that too. he could go on about what he’s heard in just the solo audios you consume, but even that list would be exhaustive. 

by the time friday rolls around, he doesn’t even have to try to search for your mind; call him crazy, but it’s almost as if you, on some subconscious level, know that he wants in and are more than willing to let him. as if you keep the door cracked open just for him. 

at least, he likes to think that you do. 

staying close, but not too close, to you proves to be difficult today. fridays bring with them a surge of new faces that crowd the subway car, which is generally quite annoying, but at the moment, he also finds it to be frustrating. no seats are open when he boards, he can’t even see you through the dense crowd, but you’re there. your mind is there, open and waiting for him to enter.

though he won’t be able to see your cute little reactions, he steps through that mental threshold. 

“it’s okay, baby. shh, don’t cry, you can cum. cum for me, just let go,” a gentle voice coos. aw, you must be having a rough morning, how sad. the only other day you listened to these kinds of audios, you looked absolutely miserable, the corners of your lips pulled down and a deep, pathetic furrow to your brows — it was wednesday, that’s right. two days ago, when you seemed frazzled and completely out of it. a little digging resulted in him learning that you had spilled your coffee all over the concrete on the way here, you thought your hair didn’t look right (even though, to him, it did, it looked perfect — he wished he could’ve told you that), and worst of all, your boss emailed you late the previous night to admonish you for your performance, demanding a meeting first thing that morning. 

still, he wishes he could take care of your boss, eliminate that weight off of your shoulders. if it were up to him, your boss would be sitting in the morgue at his place of work, gray and comatose and unable to admonish you for things that beomgyu is sure you had no control over. because that’s how offices work, right? sink or swim, big fish eat the little ones, blaming those below them for everything they should be taking responsibility for. your boss has to be one of those. he was pig-nosed and donning a constant sneer when you pictured the verbal berating you’d be getting once you got to your workplace. 

that day, he found himself thinking about how he’s become pretty talented with a scalpel. 

“good girl. doing so well for me, pretty girl,” the same voice soothes, soft cries and sniffles from the submissive mixing with the gentle words. he could treat you all sweet too. he could be anything you want, if only you knew him. 

he wants you to know him — needs you to, really.

there’s no clear cut reason for your current sour mood, your thoughts too jumbled together for him to properly decipher. are you picking apart your appearance? did you wake up late? is this all because of your boss again? he might just kill the bastard if that’s the case…if only he could approach you, tell you that everything will be okay, but he doesn’t want to knock down the house of cards he’s spent such precious time building over the course of the week. you’re too special for that. it’s the very reason why he tries to blend into the crowd, why he tries to keep eye contact to a minimum. the last thing he needs is for you to run away from him when you’re one of the only things holding him together.

when the car slows to his and your stop, disappointment nips at the space between his eyebrows. he didn’t even get to see you today, and the end of the work week means that he won’t be seeing you for two entire days. sighing, he falls into his typical routine: move towards the doors, wait for them to open, and follow the other exiting passengers out. where could you be? you’re still here, he knows that much since he’s still connected to you, still hears those soft words and moans, but where the fuck are you? you, as in your body. that you.

with a single cursory glance around, he swears he catches a glimpse of your figure before the crowd swallows you whole. as he’s shoved towards the stairs by the crowd, his chest grows heavy.

friday has just begun, but monday couldn’t come any faster. 

“so, are you gonna try out?”

yeonjun is far more sober compared to last friday night, his eyes lacking that fatigued droop they always get whenever he’s had too much. beomgyu tears his glazed-over gaze away from the television screen to look at the yeonjun, sinking further into the couch below him. he points to himself. “me?”

yeonjun rolls his eyes, a knee swinging over the arm of the armchair he sits in. “who the fuck else would i be talking to?”

scoffing, beomgyu shoots him a glare. “i don’t know, man. y’don’t have to be a dick about it.”

the open bottle of beer in beomgyu’s hand chills his fingertips, so he switches it to his other hand before taking another sip. meanwhile, soobin plops down next to him with an already open bag of chips, offering some to him. he shakes his head, and soobin shrugs, beginning to munch on them by himself. 

“i’m serious though,” yeonjun continues. “you should really try out. there’s not much to it, just dance to one song and you’re done. i’d probably pass you even if you sucked.”

“that’s nepotism,” taehyun chimes in from the floor, eyes trained on the screen as he shoots a player down in the game him and kai are currently obsessed with. the sound of gunfire fills the living room of soobin and yeonjun’s apartment, the murmurs of the two boys a low drone beneath it as they figure out their best strategy to win. 

he almost wishes he lived here with soobin and yeonjun, or with the other two. yeonjun and soobin, taehyun and kai — only beomgyu lives alone. alone doesn’t necessarily mean lonely, but in beomgyu’s case, it does. maybe that’s why he’s latched onto you so hard: to cure his loneliness. he swats that thought away like one would a pesky mosquito. he hasn’t latched onto you, he admonishes himself, he’s simply curious. yeah, curious. 

just a little innocent curiosity. 

disregarding taehyun’s comment, yeonjun raises an eyebrow towards beomgyu. “i know i was drunk when i said that shit last week, but you really have been acting weird since you started at that job. we’ve all noticed.”

“yeah, it’s like you’ve gotten more reserved, or something,” soobin says, words muffled by his chewing. beomgyu grimaces, shifting closer to the arm of the couch. 

“you’re the most introverted one here, you can’t say shit,” kai snorts. soobin throws a chip at his head.

“anyway,” yeonjun butts in with a scalding glare before an argument can begin. soobin and kai blanch, mouths closing. “we’re just…concerned about you.”

“is this some kind of intervention?” beomgyu laughs, disbelief apparent in his tone. he’s fine. he has you now.

“no, we just want you to know that there’s other things you could do that would make you happier than work at a fucking funeral home,” taehyun says, eyes still not straying from the tv. 

“like joining my dance crew,” yeonjun tacks on. 

beomgyu sighs. they’re kind of right, if he’s being honest with himself, but is he ready to put himself out there again? is he ready to face the potential of rejection, of failure? he’s had his life fall apart in front of his eyes once already, what if it happens again?

“...i guess.”

“c’mon.” yeonjun shifts around until he’s leaning on his elbows, focus solely on beomgyu. “tryouts are next saturday. i know how fast you can learn choreography. hell, you could probably learn something in a couple hours and be fine.”

“honestly, you’ll never know if you don’t try,” soobin chimes in. “it might end in something good.”

“yeah,” beomgyu says before taking another large swig of beer. “yeah, i know.”

and so another weekend passes, and monday returns once again. 

soobin’s brief, sage advice plays through his mind again and again. although he understands that soobin meant for it to apply to his current career situation, beomgyu has adopted it for his situation with you instead. he should try, he’s going to try, eventually. 

it might end in something good, he tells himself over and over again. he has to try.

mondays are a bit less excruciating now that you’re around. he has only known you for a week, but it’s been long enough to know that you make his day-to-day routine bearable — hell, he’ll stay at his terrible job as long as you keep showing up each morning. the day that you don’t will be the nail in his coffin — he chuckles at his stupid joke. yeonjun is rubbing off on him too much.

the sky is overcast today, and endless expanse of gray that contrasts the warmth of the changing leaves that line the sidewalk. it might rain soon, he surmises, but he hopes that it won’t. he’s forgone an umbrella today. digging his hands further into his coat pockets, he ducks into the subway station, descending the stairs and weaving through the crowd until he finds his usual platform. when he gets there, you’ve already arrived, ears vacant of those white earbuds, but it’s not a foreign sight to him. you typically put them in once you sit down. the fact that you get on and get off at the same stop as him…he almost likes to think of all of this as fate. 

maybe the universe really is trying to apologize. 

the subway arrives at the platform a few minutes later — minutes in which he tries not to stare at you. he’s not a creep, he swears that he’s not. he’s not a creep, he’s not a creep — he repeats this to himself as he follows behind you into the subway car the two of you frequent, he finds a seat across from you a few feet to your left. he can’t be too obvious.

and most importantly, he’s not a creep. 

you dig around in your bag. ah, here come those infamous earbuds, he’s sure of it — but then they don’t, and then the digging through your bag grows a degree more frantic, your lips parting as you continue shoving whatever is in there aside in search of your most precious possession.

you feel like crying as panic surges through your veins. oh god, you forgot them. how could you have forgotten them? what are you going to do now? 

beomgyu decides to tap into your mind in that moment, finding you in an unbelievably frazzled state. his heart clenches in his chest, he wishes he could help somehow…

wait. he could…oh my god, he could. no, that’s sick, he’s not a creep — well, no, he could. he definitely fucking could, and you’d probably end up liking it…

he could be your temporary replacement for today — no, he could become your constant source, the one you need to get through the day. he could become your audios. he wants to. they’d be far more…interactive, if he did, after all. you’d love what he could do to your pretty fucking body just with access to your mind. reading thoughts isn’t the only thing he can do — and soobin’s right: he’ll never know if he doesn’t try. how could he sit here any longer and not give in to his burning desire to ravage you? you know what? fuck it. this is the perfect opportunity, served up once again on a silver platter, waiting for him to take. he’s not going to let it slip away again — and oh, you just look so devastated right now, how terrible would he be if he didn’t help you?

in a split-second moment, beomgyu decides that today is the day. deep breath. focus. okay, he can do this. one, two, three…

“hello, pretty girl.”

you flinch before you look up and around, only to find no one is looking at you — well, he is, but through his peripherals. wouldn’t want to get caught, would he? suppressing a smirk at your reaction, he shifts in his seat.

“was someone just talking to me?” you ask yourself, brows furrowing as your eyes continue to dart around. your hand comes up to your ear to see if you accidentally remembered your earbuds, your frown deepening when you register that they are, indeed, not in your ears. glancing around again, your eyes skirt over his form. he shivers at the thought of what’s to come, biting his lip as he avoids your gaze. “is this some sort of prank?”

“calm down, sweetheart, this isn’t a prank. now, stop looking around, you’re the only one who heard me.”

your brain flits from thought to thought so quick he can barely keep up, the volume of them rising as you panic. your fingers clench the strap of your purse as if to ground yourself. “am i hallucinating right now? what the fuck? this has to be a prank. should i go to the doctor’s? no, my boss would kill me if i called out, but fuck, i should really go if i’m hearing things—”

beomgyu chuckles, the sound echoing through your mind as well. freezing, your muscles lock up as you look around again. your distressed stream of consciousness stops for a moment, before resuming at a much more rapid pace. “what the fuck, i need to call out right now, where’s my phone—”

sighing, he leans back into his seat and closes his eyes. so cute, how easily you spiral. “quiet that pretty little head of yours, pretty girl. you’re not hallucinating, this is all real. very real.”

a few moments pass before your internal freakout quiets down. for once, silence fills your mind…and rather than him break it, it’s you: “someone’s…talking to me through my mind? this is real?”

“such a smart girl. you figured it out so quickly,” beomgyu taunts, resisting the urge to coo again. adrenaline rushes through his veins, urging him to continue. you need him. he can make you happy. he just needs to hear you say it.

your thighs press together at the praise, fingers digging into the trousers you had chosen to wear. you shouldn’t be feeling like this. this is strange, terribly strange, and even a little frightening, now that you are aware that someone — that a complete stranger, at that — has full reign over your conscious. yet, at the same time, you’re curious to see how this will play out.

“and you can speak to me, too, if you focus hard enough…” his voice trails off. okay, you can do that. allowing your eyelids to flutter shut, you begin to breathe deeply until even the mechanical noises of the subway and the murmurs of passengers vacate your senses. mind empty, you exhale a shaky breath. focus. stay focused. 

“hmm, impressive. you’re a natural at this.” god, he needs to quit praising you like that with his deep voice. by the way he laughs, you know he heard that too. fuck. 

“who are you and why the fuck are you in my brain?” you decide to ask. straight to the point, no fluff to it, it’s reminiscent of your attitude at the bar where he first laid eyes upon you. this is the wall you put up towards strangers and any other threat to your life, but little do you know, beomgyu’s breached that wall already. this is just a little front. “answer me, you fucking asshole—”

“woah, woah, watch the language. why would i tell you who i am? it’s much more exciting this way, don’t you think?” the smile in his voice is unmistakable, but he purses his lips to keep them from curling upward. 

you start to gnaw on your bottom lip, biting hard enough for pain to bloom across your nerve endings. this is stranger you’re talking to right now, a stranger who you’re talking to through your fucking thoughts. this is weird. you never signed up for this. “get the hell out of my mind before— before i—” 

“before you what? can’t kick me out, you don’t know how to do that, pretty girl.”

fuck, he’s right — wait, if he’s in your mind right now, can he also control it? is he going to hurt you? is he going to make you his puppet and go on a murder spree? is he in this car with you, or somewhere else? what if…what if…

beomgyu can almost feel your panic swelling in his own chest. fuck, he needs to put a stop to your spiraling before it gets out of control. if you freak out now, then all of his work over the past week will be for naught. after all, he’s not going to do anything without your permission. the last thing he wishes to do is scare you off completely before he can have his fun. with great urgency, he cuts off your ramblings, “hey, now, relax for me, princess. i’m not going to hurt you. i’m as human as you are, just a bit…different, i guess. and i am in the same car as you right now.”

rather than respond, you look around again, eyeing every single man around you with suspicion, even him. he stares at the floor, maintaining what he hopes to be a neutral, borderline bored, expression. he needs to keep it together. he’s gotten this far, he can’t ruin this. “looking around again, huh? if i were that easy to spot, then this game wouldn’t be very fun, would it?” 

“game? fucking with my mind is a game to you?” 

the corners of his lips twitch up before he’s forcing them back down. this is it, the moment he has been waiting oh so patiently for. keep it together.

“well, not really — i actually have a proposition for you, if you’d hear me out.”

scoffing, you urge him along. “just get on with it.”

“so impatient. that’s okay. i can work with that,” he smirks. “i know what you listen to every morning, you know.”

your heart drops to your stomach. he what? oh god, you think you’re going to be sick. your arms wrap around your stomach, squeezing hard. this is bad, this is really fucking bad. “do you want money, or something? are— are you trying to blackmail me right now? i’ll have you know, i’m actually kinda broke right now. i really don’t wanna end up homeless, can you just. pick someone else to fuck with? there’s like twelve different businessmen in this car, i’m sure they’re rich and corrupt—”

beomgyu’s brows raise imperceptibly. jesus, are you always this flighty? “woah, chill. i’m not here to judge you — or blackmail you, for that matter. i’m not evil. aw, don’t look all shameful now. i told you i’m not here to judge — i actually wanna help you, if you’d let me.”

“help me?” you dumbly echo. “help me how?”

“well,” he starts. “i noticed you forgot your earbuds today, and you just looked so sad and lost without them. how else are you going to get through your commute? and then i thought maybe i could do something about that. y’know, help you out, get you through the morning.”

“so you invaded my privacy just to tell me that you wanna dirty talk to me for the rest of my commute? is that what you mean? ‘cause if so, that’s pretty weird,” you reply, though your stray thoughts that dart around tell him that you’re actually considering his offer — it’s tempting, isn’t it? to give in, to let his deep voice get you all squirmy and needy, knowing he could be anyone in this subway car. still, your words make him laugh, because of course you’re deflecting right now. it’s okay, he hasn’t given you the full story quite yet.

“that’s only part of my offer, princess,” he starts. “i can read minds, yes, but i can also do…other things.”

oh, you’re really considering it now. maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to let him. his voice is nice, and maybe, just maybe, it’s kind of making you horny. after a deep, long breath, you gulp once, then, with curiosity dripping from your tone, you ask, “...like what?”

jackpot.

beomgyu’s high on a mix of adrenaline and dopamine, utterly giddy because he’s got you right where he wants you, where he needs you. he’s played his cards just right, shoved your worries to the side and drew out your curiosity enough that you’ve taken his bait. perfect, oh, this is perfect. he knew you’d be good for him.

“it would be much easier for me to show you.”

“then show me,” you immediately reply, heat flooding your cheeks at the sheer desperation in your voice. god, calm down. he hasn’t even done anything yet.

chuckling at your internal conflict, he decides not to comment. “tell me if you don’t like something. i’ll stop.” he watches as you slightly nod to yourself, a soft “okay,” echoing through your head and into his — thus, he sets his plan into action. 

something warm caresses your calf, but when you look down, there’s nothing there. your eyes widen — was that a hand? it definitely felt like one, the way it creeped up the back of your leg, calloused fingertips pressing into your skin. a shiver races down your spine. that had to have been him. 

“it was,” he confirms, then his voice is growing impossibly deeper, adopting that gruff edge that you love so much. “you want more, princess? i can give you more.”

another phantom hand skirts over your waist, dragging down over your hips to your right thigh, just to stop there. biting your bottom lip, you nod, hoping that whoever is in your head right now sees it, wherever he is. the hand moves to your inner thigh; despite how tightly pressed together they are, it skirts over your skin with ease, seemingly beneath your trousers. “i need words, pretty girl, or i might just stop right now. and we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

no, you wouldn’t, not at this point. the unbearable ache currently building in your core makes you want to cry; you haven’t felt this level of desperation in a while, and you need to be touched. you need it so fucking bad. 

“please.” the single word comes out meek, quiet. shame flushes your face, a fiery heat that spreads up to your ears and down your neck. 

you hear the way his breath shudders, causing your own hitch. “fuck, you’re so cute, but i need more than that. beg. beg for me to touch you.”

his voice — fuck, his voice is so deep, so dark and wanton. you wonder what he sounds like when he’s moaning, how he would sound if he fucked you, pounded you into the mattress so hard you saw stars. the image of a faceless stranger fucking you from behind, your back arched behind you and your face buried in the sheets, as he holds your wrists behind your back flits across the big screen of your mind. you shake it away, but the man in your head is already tutting. “use your words, sweetheart, not pictures — though i’d love to do that to you too. you’ve got quite the imagination on you.” 

beomgyu’s cock twitches in his boxers as you whine, frantic pleas bubbling up from the deepest, darkest recesses of your mind once he takes the sensation of his hand away from your thigh. you sound halfway dumb already, begging for his hands, his cock, his tongue — anything. you’ll take anything just, “please, sir. please touch me. need you to touch me so bad.”

you don’t even know who he is, yet you’re being so obedient, calling him sir, begging so sweetly for him — it’s like you’re begging straight into his ear. his heart swells at the thought, as does his cock. you sound so pretty, but he finds himself wishing he could hear these words come from your lips instead. 

“yeah? my little slut needs more?” he prods, laughing meanly when you whimper out a yes. “aw, ‘course she does. desperate whores always need more, don’t they? so greedy.”

you have to swallow down a whimper at that, focusing so intently on keeping quiet that your nails have dug into your palms deep enough to almost break skin. the pain seems to help keep you grounded — that is, until you feel the sting of a palm against your backside. you flinch in your seat, gasping sharply. the man sitting next to you glances over, but you only hang your head and shrink into yourself. he looks away. 

“focus, whore. you’re drawing too much attention to yourself.”

two hands are touching you now. one cupping your pussy, the other wrapped around your throat, pressing into the sides of your neck so you start to grow dizzy. the hand on your throat releases its grip to slide down to your chest, circling around one of your nipples before a thumb swipes over the pebbled flesh. your back arches off of your seat when the sensation morphs into that of lips, plush warmth enveloping your tit before the sharp bite of teeth interrupts. you inhale a shaky breath from your nose as lips return to soothe the sting. despite the hard press of your thighs, the hand on your pussy drags up and down your folds, dipping down to your entrance before dragging up to your clit. a tiny squeak sneaks up your throat before you’re masking it with a cough. 

“aren’t you just a sensitive little thing? so wet too,” he coos, shifting his briefcase over his lap to gain some semblance of friction. his fingertips tingle as if your wetness coats them right now. fuck, he’s hard. if it were up to him, you’d be taking his cock right now, moaning so prettily as he presses you up against the wall and fucks up into you, your legs giving out from under you because he’s just making you feel so good, isn’t he? never mind that, he has a job to do. “how about i just…”

two lithe fingers breach your walls while a thumb continues to slowly circle your clit, barely brushing over the sensitive bundle of nerves. you feel like you’re going insane, trying your best to hold still as his fingers begin to move inside you, curling up into your walls. searching, he’s searching for that spot inside you that will get you crying—

then he finds it. 

your knee jerks up, your legs falling open slightly before you’re pressing them closed again as he abuses it over and over again, crooking his fingers just right to find it with each thrust. your hips roll up into the sensation, stilling as soon as you realize that you’re squirming too much, being too obvious. people are starting to stare, calm down. calm the fuck down.

god, you don’t think you can. it’s too difficult to keep still with the way he’s finger-fucking you right now. with the way there’s lips suddenly circling your clit, sucking the pearl in so that his tongue can play with it. little kitten licks that make you want to scream and cry and beg for mercy because you don’t know if you can keep up this front of normalcy with the way he’s touching you.

it’s like he’s speaking directly into your ear right now, warm breath fanning over your earlobe, your cheek. “wanna see you fall apart, wanna see you lose it in front of all of these people, baby. bet you wanna cum right now, yeah? just wanna feel good, don’t even care if you quake and cry in public? you’re that fucking desperate for it?” 

you nod to yourself, eyes squeezing shut. you’re so close. oh god, you’re going to cum. you’re going to cum like a brainless whore in the middle of a fucking subway car. you’re sick. you’re fucking sick for enjoying this.

you’re just as bad as him, beomgyu decides. he knew you’d like what he could give you, he knew you needed him. it was just a matter of time before you realized that fact. that’s okay, because he needs you just as badly. it’s a carnal need, white hot in the center of his stomach — fuck, he’s obsessed with you. he wants you to be his forever. 

and beomgyu knows you’re close, but he’s not quite ready to give you what you want. 

“please, oh god. please let me cum. fuckfuckfuck— no, please don’t stop!” you cry as he slows the pace of his fingers. “please no, ‘m so close! no no no—”

“you drive me crazy, it’s only fair if i return the favor. makes it more fun.” ripping the sensation away from you completely, he watches you bottom lip tremble as you blink back tears, your body melting into your seat as the pleasure fades away. “now, now, don’t cry, sweetheart. i have something even better for you.��

a few seconds pass before something breaches your entrance, your walls stretching to their limit, yet the sting of pain never arrives. filled to the brim, you throw your head back against the window behind you. to others, you seem to just be resting your eyes, but the way your mouth falls open is not lost on beomgyu. he knows you can feel him everywhere, knows you can feel the way the head of his cock nearly touches your cervix, how it presses into every single sensitive spot inside you. he knows he’s big, but you take it like a champ, your hips grinding down into the seat, as if to bring him deeper inside you. what a little whore, his little whore. 

“y’feel that, pretty girl? feel my big fucking cock inside you?” he asks as your chest heaves, a feeble attempt in holding yourself together. “calm down, now. i’m gonna start moving, okay?”

he doesn’t wait for your response before he’s spoon-feeding you the sensation of his cock pulling out until nothing but his cockhead remains within your walls. a few seconds pass, then your begging returns. tearful, this time, fucking pathetic. he basks in the power that rushes through his entire being. you need him. you need him in order to feel good, and he loves that you do. he brings a hand down to adjust himself in his pants, hissing quietly at the ache that the action brings. he needs to fuck you right now. physically fuck you, none of this thought manipulation bullshit — but no, he has to be patient. he can be patient as long as it’s you. 

the subway is slowing down again, and he comes to the gross realization that he only has a few minutes before both of you must depart. dammit, he has to make this quick. 

meanwhile, you’re already halfway to your high just at the mere feeling of him inside you. as soon as his cock begins to move again, you’re choking back moans, head hanging low as your muscles tense and your hands press into your lap. you can feel him in your throat each time he thrusts back in, his thrusts growing faster and faster until he’s pounding into you. 

“fuck fuck fuckkkkk!” you wail, encouraging him to continue. in reality, your walls clench around nothing, but your mind paints a different picture. you almost beg for him to cum inside, but you cant find the words, too fucked out to think about anything else but the knot in your stomach that grows tighter with each passing second. “fuck, please. please, fuck i’m, nghh—”

imaginary fingers swipe across your clit, and you’re a goner. 

thighs quaking, your release coats your panties, walls fluttering, but the movement of his cock doesn’t stop until you’re begging for mercy. beomgyu almost cums in his pants at the depraved wails you emit, half-baked sentences pleading for him to “s-slow down, please. i can’t, no, i can’t — shit!”

finally — finally — he grants you reprieve from the onslaught of pleasure. your body slumps into your seat, your eyes shut as you begin to float back down to earth. the clack-clack-clack of the subway slows until it stops completely. the usual robotic voice announces his stop, but you seem so out of it that you don’t even register that you need to get off. 

“good job, baby. you put on quite the show for me,” he praises as he rises to his feet. luckily, he decided on wearing a longer coat today which he uses to cover up his raging hard-on. this has to be fate.

no response. with an excited gleam in his eye, he disconnects from your mind and moves towards you. looming above you, he drinks in the beads of sweat that have formed along your hairline, the wrinkles in your trousers where you gripped the fabric a wee bit too hard, your dreamy eyes and how they blink down at his black loafers before raising to meet his own. concern has painted itself across his features, his head tilting as he holds your bleary gaze.

“are you alright, miss? you look a bit ill.”

you blink once. twice. god, how are you so cute even after getting fucked so hard? he can barely control himself from blurting out who he is.

“what—what stop is this?” you ask him, eyes wide and red-rimmed from your earlier tears. he tells you, and he watches those same eyes widen. “oh shit, this is my stop!”

attempting to stand, you stumble straight into his chest. he catches you with gentle hands before he’s helping you steady yourself. your legs tremble like those of a newborn fawn, sexy yet terribly adorable. he gulps at the image of you unable to walk, legs so sore that you’re forced to let him dote on you, that forms inside his mind. later. that can come later, don’t get too hasty. 

“oh, you’re a bit shaky there,” he murmurs, a hand curling around you elbow when you stumble again. “are you sure you’re alright?”

“i’m f-fine, sorry for the trouble,” you reply with a polite, yet jittery, smile, stepping away from him. he wants to tell you to come closer again, he wants to smell your sweet perfume again, feel your warm skin beneath his fingertips. 

but good things come to those who wait.

“no worries.” with a charming smile, he shuffles beside you, until the two of you have exited with the rest of the crowd. he catches your wrist before you can get too far, and you turn to face him once more. afterglow looks wonderful on you. “it looks like we’re getting off at the same stop today, so would you like me to walk with you until you’re feeling a bit better? i’m sure some fresh air will do you good.”

you pause for a moment, hesitating. have you seen him somewhere before? you feel like you have. “i…that would be great, actually. thank you.”

“of course,” he nods, holding back a smirk. he can’t help the words that escape him next.

“lead the way, then…pretty girl.”

the way you look back at him with alarmed realization — even a hint of fear — causes a grin to split open his lips. you begin to sputter as you back away, but he merely follows with light, casual steps. “w-what, who—who are you—”

his smile grows knife-sharp. the door opens — it always does. 

“aw, c’mon, sweetheart,” he coos inside your mind, biting his lip as he watches your knees buckle. “who else could it be?”

© to agustdiv1ne. do not copy, repost, steal, and/or translate.

[sunflowersseemhappy]

May I please have a headcanon of the Main 6 with an MC that loves physical affection and likes to run their hands through their hair, etc.? Thank you!!

Here you go @acefangirl1 ! Thank you for the request, sorry it’s a bit messy my brain is literal mush rn. I may edit this at a later date ¯\_(ツ)_/¯, we’ll see.

Requests are still open, up next main 6 with an apprentice who’s blind.

Much love and enjoy!

 Asra

Asra spent so long after your death craving your touch, sometimes he thought he felt your hand on his shoulder but all he turned around to was a silent shop. Faust helped but part of him always felt empty inside.

When he took that chance to bring you back and it worked? Gods he held you so tight, as if you would vanish at any moment.

When you came back you didn't quite understand 'hugging' but it felt good.

Asra taught you many things in the last three years, it's the main reason you are so physical in your affection. Whenever you struggled with a word he'd envelop your hand in his, and when you walked for the first time he held you just in case, and when you cried tears of frustration he would wipe them away and hug you kissing the top of your head. "You can do this; I know you can."

Your touch to him is like magic, despite any thoughts and feelings he feels in that moment your touch brings him peace and soothes his mind.

You learned quickly that Asra is a big fan of massages, as soon as your hands are rubbing firm circles against his shoulders he's melting down and sighing in relief. For someone usually so at ease he has some tension in those muscles. He insists on giving you a massage afterwards, and he loves to kiss your shoulders and the back of your neck.

You two have this thing you do while out and about together that you'll hold each other’s hands when you are thinking about each other. Asra will take many opportunities to kiss your hand while it's in his own.

When you're lying together in bed you can't keep your hands off each other, it's quite funny because Asra is constantly giggling under your touch and against your lips. It’s not that he’s ticklish, he’s just happy.

His hair is so thick that it always has tangles so you’re extra careful not to tug at it when you run your hands through his locks. Loves when your fingers tickle against his scalp and it is an instant turn on.

Nadia

That night she came to your shop and you placed your hand on her arm, guiding her in…

She’s the countess and it’s a surprise to her when you touch her with such ‘familiarity’ like the two of you are friends. But it’s oddly comforting, no one has touched her in such a manner since she awoke three months ago.

When you touched her arm Nadia’s headache stopped and her skin prickled, she was intrigued.

You’ve helped a lot since that moment, your touch a breath of fresh air as it chases away the headaches. It’s like your own practice in managing your headaches and lost memories flows into her.

On days, the two of you are working together preforming the duties in the palace you are almost constantly linked together by your arms. It’s a refined manner of physical affection that you suggested, but Nadia just likes it for how close it brings you together and how easy it is to peck you on the cheek.

During meetings and the like (when the courtiers are stressing her out) you like to place a hand on her knee soothingly and just give her the slightest smile. Almost as if to say; “I’m here.”

Nadia’s favourite thing is when you get her to rest her head in your lap, talking away as you trace her face with your fingers and loose her hair from all the ornaments and pins that held it in place. A lot of time you end up doing upside down kisses.

Being such a dominant partner Nadia likes the physical affection but can’t help but take over during more heated sessions. She’ll push you against a wall and absolutely devour your face and neck with kisses, what happens next is best left to the imagination…

Julian

He’s spent a long time on the run, seeking comfort with drink instead of with others. You may have been the first person to touch him with good intentions in many years and he is comforted. There’s something about you.

But he doesn’t want to get close, physically, or otherwise. He doesn’t want to hurt you even though he barely knows you, but you touch him, and he loses his resolve to push you away.

When you touch him, he doesn’t feel like a bad person, he just feels like himself. A part of him he thought he lost comes back when he’s with you.

Loves having his hair run through your fingers, it’s so relaxing and perfect that it will send him to sleep. He gets pouty after you use it to make him sleep because he doesn’t need sleep when he has a paper to write!

He really likes it when the two of you are snuggled up together in bed (even though he’s such an insomniac). He's all legs so the two of you are always tangled up when you're hugging. Nonetheless he really likes to lay on top of you, his torso straddled by your legs and rest his chin on your chest and look into your eyes while having a chat.

Loves your kisses but always asks for them “I’ve stolen many things Y/N but I will never steal from you.” You give him plenty of kisses, but he always wants more.

One time he complained that his hand was cramping so much it hurt so you took his hand and kissed it ‘better’. His mind instantly thought ‘more kisses?!’, now he complains about his ‘aches and pains’ all the time.

Muriel

Physical affection?! His guard was most definitely up the first time the two of you met, other than Asra he’s never quite experienced affection (even then there is minimal physical affection between them).

But he does know that Asra trusts you, Asra has told Muriel about you and how kind and good you are. Muriel trusts Asra, so maybe he can trust you too.

The first time you graze his arm he pulls tensely back, but your touch brought warmth to his skin and not pain like he had felt all those years in the Colosseum.

Once he gets used to your physical affection it’s like he’s addicted to your hugs, you hug so often they just blend together. He's a hug machine and doesn't want to stop holding you close to him.

Really likes hugging while you're on top of him. Scared to admit that he loves hugging you when he's partway on top of you, legs wrapped up and head against your chest or the crook of your neck.

One day you decided to jump and hug him from behind, impromptu piggyback ride!

Mumbles incoherently when you give him any kind of affection, you can’t tell if he’s embarrassed or pleased. More often it’s the latter.

You often pecks one of his cheeks with a kiss as you leave for the shop, but on days Muriel feels like he needs more than one he’ll pull you close and let you kiss all over his face. Then he’ll do the same to you, this may or may not have gotten him in the mood.

Further on the above, he whines when you tease him and kiss his face everywhere but his lips. One of the few times he pulls you in for a kiss

Forehead touches, that’s it. Soft, sweet, breaths mingling. Just being there with each other and feeling the world disappear.

Portia

She thinks it’s great you are so physically affectionate, the two of you are ‘affectionate’ buddies and it is an endless cycle of hugs, kisses, hand holding and more hugs.

That first day you met (after the pomegranates went everywhere) and your hand gazed her own, Portia didn’t quite realise how close the two of you would be one day, but she knew you were special!

The past few years where Julian disappeared were hard for her, other than Mazelinka she had no family to speak of around her. So, when you came along bringing physical affection reminiscent of a family member, she thought of you as such.

Physical affection with Portia is giddy and fun, you quickly found out that she really likes to be picked up and spun around (given you’re strong enough, if not she’ll be the one picking you up). Particularly after a long time apart (which for her is after a couple of hours after you last saw one another!) But how could you deny her the joy?

At particularly intimate moments the two of you just rub your noses together and giggle at the ridiculously cute sappy people you are. You’re pretty sure Portia got the idea from Pepi, who also likes to stick her face in yours.

Further to the above, after/during the time you are rubbing your noses together the two of you just messily kiss over each other’s faces. Cue getting in the mood.

Cupping each other’s faces in hands and just soul gazing, feeling breaths wash over each other and mingle, memorising the colours and patterns in each other’s eyes and feeling each blemish over smooth skin. Portia can’t remember her parent’s faces, but no matter what she wants to remember yours.

Loves to just snuggle up and read/sew/or do another homey activity together. You two are close together and get to chat, its terribly mundane but Portia really enjoys it because your head is in her lap and she gets to watch you do something you enjoy while also doing the same thing herself. She imagines it to be something her mother would have done with her.

Lucio

That day you used the blood magic to make him semi-corporeal, he was just about ready to admit defeat and just do the most reckless s**t as a not-ghost to entertain himself.

But when you, the first person in three years to notice him and then touch him, did so he almost lost his mind. He didn’t think he missed physical affection that much, but your touch was better than all his imaginings of eating until he passed out or throwing that huge party he had been planning.

It was a special moment for him, he’s so glad you walked into the palace that day.

Just the simple act of hand holding is what Lucio loves most. It is a must have during his day, reminding him he is finally alive and here. Reminding him that you, you wonderful, amazing person stood by him and helped him be better.

That said he always holds your hand with his real arm, once time when you tried to hold his prosthetic hand the sharp fingers stabbed you in the palm. Even when the sharp plates are off, he’s very wary of holding your hand. You can tell he’s still very sorry, he’s still trying to make up for it.

He loses his mind (there’s a lot of that) when your big spoon him and kiss along his back, shoulders, and neck. He feels protected and vulnerable at the same time and it’s such a jumble of conflicting emotions he can’t help but get in the mood.

Plays footsie with you anytime anywhere, during dinner, meetings, in bed… It’s like a game and whoever wins gets to have the other do whatever they want *wink, wink*. He ‘let’s you win a lot’.

You once took the lead during a slow dance and he was didn’t even complain, so long as your hands are on him… He will let you dip and twirl him all night long.

[frogtanii]

It’s wind anon! (Imagine me as the screeching seagull meme) just pushing through the week. Getting the test out of my mind—it just sucks because there’s always this one test that I completely mess up on—and as someone who has to deal with all honors classes and my grades tend to be good, every time I fail to meet up to expectations my stress skyrockets. (Imagine a world where grades don’t matter and school is learning based rather than mark based...) Family pressures too—okay, wind anon is done ranting.

The update! The drama—I was there the moment it updated and I saw the comments rush in and I was laughing real hard.

But my reaction to the update!

Osamu POV :0!!! The insecurity... “all it did was remind him that he was alone”— I empathize because gosh, that is so real.

The attachment to Meiko though... his emotional state is on a very unstable tightrope. “Osamu had Meiko and he used to have Daichi and Iwaizumi...” that entire section has all my red flags raised. He’s going to completely break when everything comes out.

The loud clang startled me though. I was like “!!!” But it was our YN! Our kind, wonderful YN!! Trying to get snacks wwwwww.

Osamu thinking YN is cute :0 I be having a lot of thoughts about that but him squishing it down is fair. He considers himself to be in a committed relationship (though Meiko does not reciprocate and I am ready to fight regarding that) but I can respect his devotion (even if it is very misguided).

But. “After all, you were the reason Atsumu hated him now and never spoke to him anymore.” My gosh. What do I even say about this? Because the blame is entirely thrown off. I mean, you mentioned before Atsumu had a specific reason for believing in you over Meiko so I’m still waiting for that but Osamu is thinking something wrong but it’s a human action. It’s so easy to blame people to make yourself feel better. And your brain can do it without you realizing the depths of what has been thought.

Osamu being angry (!!!) and being a complete utter douche. YN literally just wanted a bag of chips and you’re here, crowding them in the pantry and being hostile. I don’t have much to say about it because he realized his mistake but by then he already stressed YN really badly and I am...(long sigh).

Atsumu to the rescue. We appreciate Atsumu very very much in this house. It really sucks that Osamu and Atsumu are confronting like this—I mean, Atsumu has been fighting a bit and Osamu had not really been listening to Atsumu on his own end prior to this confrontation so I’m...exhausted and a bit sad in the “It can’t be helped” kind of way.

“Osamu allowed him to, too in shock and ashamed to protest, much less fight back.” It couldn’t be helped considering how everything developed but...it still hurts my chest a bit, y’know? And then Osamu tries to apologize and I’m ready (so so ready) for them to communicate because they desperately need to—

But then Meiko comes in (I am...ready to throw stuff at her. Lots of stuff. Packing peanuts. All squeaky and annoying and bad for the environment just like she is—or something like that, I dunno, I’m half dead because I’m dealing with cramps rn) and all my wishes for them to finally have that much needed conversation where Osamu can finally break down and cry—all my wishes are turned to ash like.

(Angry Wind anon noises)

Meiko rubbing her makeup all over Osamu’s shirt like he is a rag. What in the... And her 4 inch heels please, I cannot, why, I can’t deal with this, I can’t, don’t make me get close to her because I’m like Yachi (stressed out of my mind). Please don’t do this to me. But yeah, Meiko with her poor makeup that doesn’t stay on her face. What the heck....

And Meiko’s scent... gross. Like, brown sugar, cute, nice, baked goods do smell really nice, (ever add a bunch of vanilla extract to a recipe? It like, perfumes around everywhere, it’s insane and wonderful) but chances are (because it’s Meiko), it’s overbearingly sweet. Chinese food (I do not trust her taste in Chinese food to be frank), I happen to come from a Chinese family, I have Chinese food for dinner like everyday, it would take a lot to be able to get that sort of scent on you. And I do mean a lot. And hairspray??? Chemical? I do not,,, I,,, Osamu, why would you breathe that in? It’s gonna be real bad for your lungs? And we already know Meiko smokes as well—your lung health, please value it—

And then the Suna entrance. Wonderfully done fr0ggy!

Final thoughts, I am very much projecting onto Yachi rn. Yachi has been in the house for less than a week and she already has to deal with this. The company should give her a raise. My gosh.

Anyway, might as well do a thoughts/headcanon thing because it’s been a while and my mind is still on gem/jewel stuff (so hope you don’t mind!)

Okay, so Kenma I think would go with a warm colored gemstone, and citrine would work well with him! “Protection against evil thoughts” because we know Meiko has ramped up is insecurity and lowered his self-esteem.

I mentioned this before last time but Sakusa is definitely onyx. That black is iconic, and “sharpening wit” would make sense with his grace for word play and snark.

Akaashi is an interesting one...I think sapphire. I mean, sapphire can have many colors besides the classic dark blue, so that’s one thing, but it’s known for “loyalty and a pledge of trust” which Akaashi gave. I think it’s suitable for him.

Suga...initially I was thinking pearl would match him in terms of appearance, but actually looking at my reference, turquoise would work really really well with him. “Protect from evil, maintain virtue, bring good luck”. Would work well.

For Atsumu and Osamu I wanted something that could represent their duality. My first thought was gold and silver. I mean, it’d fit in terms of appearance but I’m not sure that would be the best comparison. Gold doesn’t rust so it fits Atsumu who never fell for Meiko’s tricks. Silver has been said to vanquish dark/evil beings (vampires, werewolves, the classic silver bullets and stakes). It would be interesting to see if the comparison will apply to today’s update :D!

I like how my brain shut off and couldn’t remember anyone else for a second—anyway, Oikawa... every time I think of him, I want some hue of blue wwww. I guess Aquamarine “soothing influence” would work. Since he joined YN’s side, he has been able to see the big picture and be a voice of reason. He’s thoughtful and I think aquamarine which encourages long relationships is suitable because that is what he wanted. So yes, aquamarine.

Bokuto...is a tough one. I’m trying to still keep with their color schemes a bit. I think carnelian would work. “Health, luck, bold energy, warmth, joy”—it would represent him fine. It’s a bit more orange than I would prefer but it suits him so I think it’s okay.

Iwaizumi... emerald? I mean, he does suit green tones, and “rebirth, regeneration, new hope” would work just fine for him.

Right now my brain is complete mush and I can’t think of anything for Kuroo and Daichi. Like, Kuroo would be red, sure, but the more famous ruby/garnet I think don’t represent him fully because he is still rather contained. Hmm, would need to think about them more.

But I’d like your thoughts on this too :D!!

I wanna do something suitable for all colors for YN, so opal! YN has many different parts and colors and is overall a very vivid person—if you tilt opal, you see more and more faces and things underneath being brought into your eyes. YN may be seen from many different perspectives, but YN is always beautiful and amazing. So opal is what I think YN would be.

Anyway, I’ll end here :D! Need to eat lunch. Much love towards you fr0ggy! Make sure you eat and rest up too~ drink some water or any other fluid to hydrate! And keep warm too. Much love to all the fans and supporters and ask senders too! It’s really awesome seeing and hearing from all of you and seeing new faces with the old. Love the excitement and points you all bring up—makes my brain happy.

MAJDKD I NEED TO POST THE NEW CHAPTER BUT I HAD TO RESPOND TO THIS FIRST BESTIE ILY N I LOVE TUIS — I AM OBSESSED W THE CRYSTAL (??) STUFF??? IVE NEVER UNDERSTOOD IT BUT I THINK YOIVE EXPLAINED EACH GEM N WHY SO BEAUTIFULLY I AM IN LOVE W U KITH KITH UR SO LOVELY HAVE AN AMAZING DAY (sending u good vibes n anti-stress love >333)

[lone-berry0]

I generally avoid forming any solid opinions on what happens in shows until they end because almost always you're not going to have all of the context to fully understand the intent behind the writing until later episodes or even right until the end. And I think a lot of people are forgetting that miraculous ladybug isn't over, that was not the end.

But yeah I'm inclined to agree with you.

It does feel to me that it was ladybug/Marinette fighting hawkmoth and Chat Noir / Adrien was supporting Ladybug (note that him being in more of a support role absolutely does not mean they aren't equal partners), so it makes sense that it would be ladybug who defeats hawkmoth in the end, and now the roles will reverse and the focus will be on Marinette supporting Adrien in his conflict with Gabriel.

I also think that aside from the more outward conflict marinette had with hawkmoth and Adrien with Gabriel, it's also about their conflicts with themselves. I think being ladybug taught Marinette confidence and to confront her fears (might be over simplifying that but if I think on it too much I'm going to forget what I'm trying to say here), and Adrien's has and will be about learning autonomy and standing up for himself (again, might be over simplifying/ missing something, but my brain is turning to mush rn).

I'm not sure how Adrien's conflict with his dad will play out seeing as Gabe is dead, I seriously doubt it's going to be a literal confrontation with him (though who knows with some of the craziness happening in the show), but I do think it will be about learning and coming to terms with who his dad really was and what he did and why. I imagine Adrien's conflict with him self will partly be represented with the whole him being a sentibeing thing.

I think that wraps up what I wanted to say here (and a bit more than I originally intended).

I will say as a side note, yes I can understand the disappointment over Chat Noir / Adrien not being in the final battle and all the angst that comes with it, but there is a mountain of fanfiction where that confrontation happens, and I do fully believe we will get that confrontation in canon, it just won't be during a physical battle with hawkmoth, and Gabe won't be there to see the full impact of his actions (which I do find frustrating because dammit I want him to see and to suffer, but that's nothing against the writing of the show).

Okay there was a time where I would've asked you to please shoot me in the face if I ever made a post overanalyzing this show, but let me just offer my interpretation of the writers' decision to leave Adrien out of the final fight, because personally I thought it was a very good, very impactful decision. You are more than welcome to disagree with me, but please, I beg of you to disagree with me after actually understanding my logic here.

There are two heroes of the show. Marinette/Ladybug and Adrien/Cat Noir. There were two central conflicts of the show. The heroes' fight against Hawk Moth, and Adrien's conflict with his dad. The cool thing about this show is that one man, Gabriel Agreste, serves as the antagonist for both of these conflicts. He is the supervillain the heroes are fighting. He is also the bad father Adrien is growing up with. This made for some prime dramatic irony in the show.

But just because the antagonist is the same in these two conflicts doesn't mean these two conflicts are connected. Yeah, I know they're connected because of Adrien's mom and whatnot, but up until the very final moments of this arc, the heroes did not know this.

Remember that first conflict I mentioned? The heroes' fight with Hawk Moth? Ever since the start of the show, that has primarily been Marinette's battle. She was the hero who bore the brunt of this conflict. She was the hero who cared more about it. This was Marinette's conflict, so she was the one to end it.

The reason Adrien wasn't there for the final fight is because that was Marinette's fight. Hawk Moth was Marinette's fight. And Gabriel Agreste is Adrien's fight. And just because Gabriel Agreste is dead, doesn't mean Adrien's conflict is over.

So no, I don't think Marinette being there by herself was just a "gotta have the cute bugnoire outfit ~uwu~" decision (though the writers may have seen the cute bugnoire outfit as a bonus), I think it was an impactful decision because the Hawk Moth conflict was Marinette's conflict and it was pretty symbolic to have Marinette fuse the ladybug and black cat miraculouses, seeing as that was the main goal of her nemesis for the entire show.

I liked that Marinette was by herself in the end. It signaled her growth as a hero. She started this arc lacking confidence and relying on reassurance from Cat Noir, and ended it able to defeat the antagonist herself and even offering him help.

If you think Cat Noir should have been there, ask yourself two things: "Would Adrien have gotten any catharsis at all from this fight?" and "Did I want Adrien there just because I wanted the angst of seeing my blorbo going through it?"

[sugasgrowl]

The Positive [Prologue]

Hello all! I am finally back from the dead after literally writing this on a whim. My other wips are sobbing in Google docs rn. But alas, I’m starting my period and am emotional and soft for dad!bts. This is by no means a super original concept whatsoever, but I just *clenches fist* needed to write it. This is the beginning of a drabble series that I assume will show the OC and Tae go from estranged friends/a one night stand to parents. Basically, I just wanted an excuse to write Tae with kids. I have no idea how long this will end up being LMFAO.

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Genre: ?? Friends to lovers? Manwhore to upstanding father? Sorta smutty eventually? There will be angst

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, mentions of sex, Taehyung is a fuckboy but at least he owns it, Get it Sandra, mentions of hangovers

Word Count: 1513

+++

Your brain felt like mush. Like when you were a kid and twisted your swing up just to lift your feet off the ground and spin around and around and around and the world was tilting and swaying before your eyes. The sweltering heat of the soft bed you lay on made your mouth feel just as sweaty as underneath your tits. 

In your barely-alive state, flashes of the night before flickered in your mind. A beautiful face catching in the glare of neon lights. Thumping bass rattling your lungs as you pressed your body against his. Deep kisses that took your breath away, tongues that slid against each other. A warm, eager mouth desperate to explore every inch of you. Burning, honey skin whose heat relaxed you more than the alcohol. And then...pleasure. Mind blowing, blinding white lights bursting behind your eyelids. A fullness you’d never felt before.

You really regretted drinking tequila last night. 

Squirming out from under the heavy down comforter, cool air hit your face. The room around you was dreary gray from the pouring rain--piles of dirty clothes towering in the desk chair and on top of the dresser at the other side of the room barely visible in the overcast veil. Through the blurry grog of sleep, you, unfortunately, could make out the sight of multiple beer and Mountain Dew bottles, as well as an old greasy pizza box. A gaming chair and monitor. Anime posters adorned the walls. You already regretted the decision to choose dick over standards, but it’d just been so long. 

The warm body beside you shifted with a throaty groan. You froze, praying to sweet angel baby Jesus that he wasn’t awake.

Taehyung. An old friend from college who never quite...left. Mentally, anyway. The two of you graduated years prior. Both of you felt the tickle of The Big Three-Oh breathing down your necks. Most of your friend group had moved on to have at least semi-decent Grown Up jobs, but somehow Tae was stuck in the same mindset he had when you were powering through classes with weak and tired prayers for graduating. 

And somehow, four years later, you thought it would be a good idea to fuck him.

You took a deep breath and slowly, carefully eased out of bed to pull on your clothes. The movement made your lower half ache with memories of the night before. Despite throwing back shots like your life depended on it, you could still remember pretty much everything from the previous night. And what you remembered was...fantastic, to put it frankly. Not that you were surprised. Taehyung was a good lay, based on what you heard from most of the girls in your dorm back in the day. 

Tugging your jeans up your legs, you decided that sleeping with your fuckboy friend was not the lowest or most shameful thing that had happened to you. You had been forced to move back home just a few months before, after you quite literally caught your ex in bed with another woman and left his ass in the dream city you’d both run off to to possibly start a life together. This was just a step to climb up from rock bottom. 

“You’re not sneaking off, are you?” Taehyung’s deep voice made you jump.

Half closed, chocolate eyes pinned you to the spot. You wished he didn’t look so damn good. If he was less attractive, you’d be less likely to let this happen again in the future. 

You sent him a small smile. “I...yeah, I gotta run. I’ve got a lot of work to do before Monday.”

He sat up on his elbow and ran a hand through his tousled, inky black locks. “You don’t have to leave yet, Y/N. You know that, right? We’re friends, we can get breakfast and catch up or something.”

You almost turned him down when you realized the nearest bus station going to the club where the two of you met, where you left your car, was a solid sixteen blocks away. It was raining out, and you had no umbrella. Not to mention, your monster of a debilitating hangover craved food. 

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you nodded and sent him a polite smile. “That would be nice, actually. Thanks.”

He drove you to a diner down the street where the food smelled like old grease and thin wallets, and on top of that, there was the lingering aroma of cigarettes despite the no smoking signs plastered and faded all over the smudged glass door. The waitress, Sandra, looked to be about forty. Maybe forty-five. Hell, maybe even fifty. Her pencil thin Pamela Anderson eyebrows and premature aging said that her glory days died in the early 2000s. 

When she came over to take your order, her voice croaked with decades of smoking. Her exhausted expression lightened when she spoke to Taehyung. “G’morning, sweetie. You look handsome as ever this morning.”

His boxy grin lit up the sagging establishment. “Not as beautiful as you, Sandra. Busy shift?”

“Eh. It was busier around four.” She gave you a quick glance and winked at Taehyung. “Your usual Morning After order?”

He flushed to his hairline and avoided your eyes. “I….um….yeah, thanks.”

Her dark eyes fell on you. “And for you?”

“I’ll take a Morning After order as well.”

As she walked away, you slowly turned to raise your eyebrows at the beet red man across the table from you.

“Listen…”

“Still getting around then, eh?” you teased. You propped your chin in your hand. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

He gave you the finger as Sandra placed cocoas in front of you both. You bit back a snort. He never could drink coffee, even when he was half dead after pulling all nighters--which was rare. 

“I’m living my best life. I don’t need your criticism and stank attitude,” he grumbled before taking a sip from the steaming mug. “I’m balls deep in good pussy. You’re just jealous.”

“Of all your pussies?”

“I haven’t seen you in two and a half years, I don’t know your preferences.” His gaze was warm and lingered as you blew the steam from your mug. “What have you been up to? I never expected to see you around here again. I thought you were some hotshot ballbusting editor off in picture perfect Fairyland or something. What happened to Mark?”

Your expression soured. His name made the cocoa taste spoiled. Lowering the drink to the sticky tabletop, you shrugged. “I’m still a hotshot ballbuster. Just…a single one.”

“Yeah, single enough to fuck me,” he sent a pointed look. “What’d he do to send you my way? I never expected you to ask to meet up like this.”

It seemed there was no escaping the questions. You took a deep breath. “Caught him in bed with someone else.”

He crinkled his nose and shook his head in disappointment. “How cliche. What an ass.”

He took offense to the quirk of your brow. “I may be a manwhore, but I’d never cheat. I just don’t commit at all.”

“How considerate of you.” 

The food was surprisingly good, considering how questionable the diner looked. Maybe it was just your hangover talking, but you couldn’t complain. Especially when Taehyung offered to pay.

You started to protest, but Taehyung waved you off and placed a twenty on the table with a devilish smile. “Don’t worry about it. In honor of your sorrows.”

He paused.

“Plus, I get discounts.”

“Do I want to know how you managed that?”

His smile widened. “Sandra and I have a special bond.”

You blanched, lowering your voice to a hiss. “My god, you’re disgusting. Do you even have standards?!”

“Hey! Sandra is a lovely lady!” he hissed back, sliding out of the booth. He looked over his shoulder with waggling eyebrows. “Besides, you called me last night. I could ask you the same question.”

You hated that he was right, and you hated yourself for calling him up. As charming and undeniably sexy as he was, you suddenly had the urge to fly to the nearest doctor’s office and get tested for every STI known to man. You thought back to your abandoned tinder profile and imagined the upstanding manwhore you could’ve found that at least had a baseline standard for the hoes he pulled. 

When Taehyung drove you back to the club to get your car, an awkward silence fell over the two of you. His run down death trap of a Buick Lesabre slowed to a halt, brakes squeaking mildly. 

He cleared his throat. “Well. This was fun.”

You let out a tense half chuckle. “For sure.”

As you opened your door to leave, he called out to you. 

“Feel free to call me again sometime. We don’t have to wait two and a half years to see each other again.”

You nodded and plastered a smile on your face. But deep down, you vowed never to call him again. At least, not for this. And not for a long, long time. All you wanted was a nap and to put this moment of weakness behind you.

[calikoghost]

how do you know that its a queer platonic thing and not a romantic thing? genuinely asking because im confused and questioning - 🦊

You’ll forgive me anon if nothing I say rn makes much sense. I didn’t really get much sleep last night and my brain is actual mush at the moment.

I really have not had anyone I looked at and thought “darn, I’d love to be in a queerplatonic relationship with you” since I came out as aromantic. I’ve had a few instances where I thought maybe that was it, but it turned out I was just lonely and happy to interact with someone new. It took me a long time to figure out that that was what I was so I only realized looking back at those instances where I did feel that way like “huh.”

Looking back, though, I can definitely see a pattern. Of course this is just my personal experience but I hope it helps. I had a few friends who, at the time, I thought I liked romantically. I looked at them with heart eyes, I wanted to literally just attach myself to them like a sloth and never let go (this was huge to me because I’m touch adverse so wanting to cuddle with someone was definitely a sign that I viewed them as more than friends), maybe I’d even think about kissing them. I just really wanted to spend more time with them.

But here’s the catch, whenever I tried to envision us in a romantic relationship, I’d cringe.

Thinking about cuddling was all well and good, but putting the label “romantic relationship” just felt wrong. Wanting to spend as much time with them as possible was great, but thinking “I have a crush on them” didn’t feel right.

I think deep down I knew what I wanted wasn’t a romantic relationship, but I had no terminology to match with what I was feeling so I just assumed it was just me being really, really desperate for friends.

I really have no other way to describe it rather than “it felt wrong.” I loved these people, but it wasn’t a type of love I knew existed. So for me it was knowing that I wanted to be more than friends with someone, but also being put off by the idea of romantic dating.

I’m sorry if this isn’t much help, but everyone’s experiences are different and I’ve only had about two or three plushes and I’m generally terrible at understanding what I’m feeling (part of why I think quoiromantic might be a good label for me but I’ve given up on finding a label for now sksksk).

[unspoken-realities]

ACH, part 3

October 4, 2017

It’s already 9 PM, and I’m quite tired (even after naught all day but heal), so I’ll jot down the fun points and head off to bed.

– Yesterday (and many more times today) I was asked about any physical symptoms I’ve been having: and was shocked to remember all the chest pain, dizziness, and heart murmurs. Goes to show how much I’ve been in denial.

– Denial, though… even now, even laying as a patient in a hospital, I’m still switching between being in denial and acceptance… I still don’t think it’s really settled in yet that I will be able to look back on my life and say, “when I was 17, I spent  x amount of time in the hospital for anorexia…”

– I still feel restless, despite the previous page’s epiphanies. I’m still concerned that my muscles will turn to mush, never again to exist, and thus I’ve secretly been doing little stretches/squats when I can. Just to keep limber.

– Last night the RNs didn’t even trust my heart enough to have me walk to an elevator up to my current room, they gave me a wheelchair. Another shocking event displaying the nature of my case!

– I think being so darn tired today has helped my brain be more chill with the body image issues. For the most part, except for directly before and a bit after dinner, I was emotionally feeling very stable and sound, even with the feeding situation. Sweatpants are good. Not eating with other people (nobody to compare myself to) is good. We’ll see how tomorrow goes!

– I still haven’t met with a dietitian; hopefully this will happen tomorrow, as it is a big priority of mine.

– I still don’t know how long I’ll be staying. My ticket out is a more regular heart rate, and I’ve hears five to seven days minimum. This means no social studies seminar, missing first horn choir, CSSB [marching band], thanksgiving… however, tomorrow Mom is bringing school stuff for me to work on, so I won’t fall too behind.

– I may be transferred to Foothills because of their ED program that incorporates mental health support as well as medical help. I like this idea.

– I still haven’t told anyone!! None of my friends inquired about my absence today, but if they did I wouldn’t know what to tell them anyway. Radio silence for now; only the fam will find out.

– The main story I wanted to tell was of my gusher of a post-IV-removal wound leading to almost passing out/literally feeling like I’m dying/losing my vision and hearing briefly (apparently caused by low blood sugar: reading of 3.2 instead of ~7!), but! I’ve ran out of space. It was so horrible I doubt I’ll forget it.

Goodnight!

[survivordivergent]

EPISODE 9 - “I THREW UP IN A DUNKIN DONUTS BATHROOM” - MELISSA

Holy fuck, can't believe we did that. Thank you @ hosts for letting me sit out for this reward, I have the time to grieve and also midterms without fear of losing something important.

Sloppiest blindside of all time? Yup.

Ugh. It all came together last minute, and I'm so happy that went off as planned. But it came at the expense of leaving way too many people out of the majority and that didn't have to happen. Specifically, I'm worried about leaving Kyle out of it. I can't lie – I totally spaced. Of course I would have told him if I'd have thought about it. Especially with Payton flopping her vote. It just... didn't occur to me. Because I suck. And also this whole 'going to two tribals in All Stars' thing made it very hard to coordinate. Three tribals in one day was not my idea of fun.

Regardless, I like my odds in this upcoming immunity. Word searches are my JAM. I've already got 51 words. And I'm not done. I don't think I'm in danger yet but I'm not taking any risks.

Also, Payton is still talking about eventually turning against the Big Hero 5 (Eliza, Jill, Melissa, her and me) but I'm wondering if we might not be better riding them to the end? Especially if we can get a couple lucky immunities or an idol. It could be our best play. IF we take a shot and hit, it decimates our numbers. If we take a shot and miss, we've got three very angry ladies coming at us.

I also need to figure out what the gameplan is with Geo. And with Kyle. Ack. This is why you don't play multiple games at once, kids. Your brain fries, your daily hyperactive neuroses kick into overdrive, your sleep schedule dwindles to nothing and your brain turns to mush.

WELL I FINALLY FIGURED OUT THIS DAMN ERUDITE IDOL BUT ITS GONE SHOUT OUT TO JENNA FOR SUCH AMAZING CLUES WHEW

!!! I still cannot believe Dani actually got voted off! I voted for Lake, but does BH5 know that? NO. But Dani does :) And that's lit :) Because I knew we'd have the numbers to vote her off, because of how split the vote was on the other side, so I voted for Lake to show geo and dani I was still with them while also looking like the fifth person for BH5! I cannot believe how genius that was. jesus christ. F10!! Love it! 3 more to survive and I'll have beaten my best! 6th place queen please

You can laugh A spineless laugh We hope your Rules and wisdom choke you

Now We are one In everlasting peace

We hope that you choke That you choke We hope that you choke That you choke We hope That you choke That you choke

These people hate me for no goddamn reason I havent done anything to them. Fuck them all, except payton even though shes probably going to vote me out too.

Should I trust Jill rn? I hope I can.

I'm not around for this vote so I am putting all my trust in Eliza. She says vote Kyle which is surprising but I'll do it. Hopefully it's not me getting votes again. 7 people told me they voted dani and there were only 5 votes.  

So Melissa?? A little bitch. She put the closed flower like hmm!! Here I am thinking I can sit cute and be immune for the next tribal but then she goes and screws me! Anyway I hope there are bigger fish to fry than me this vote again but like ugh it's so annoying.. and last week dani's name was a good name to throw out for a blindside because I feel like she didn't have any really close strong ties and people kinda jumped on board with that. Ideally this vote, kyle could go home.. Eliza and I were talking about that idea but idk how much I trust her but it might be one of my only options.. I'm gonna reach out to geo and ed/payton (I need to make a celebrity couple name for ed and Payton bc they're so close... when ed got "voted out" payton was literally like "oh no, my f2 just got voted out." Like hi obvious... I gotta keep my eyes open!!) anyway we'll see I don't really wanna vote out lake or geo or ed but I will if I have to... let's just hope I can make it happen for kyle

Phew I should do one of these huh.

So, I didn't submit until late. That wasn't great. I'm a possible target here, which is less than optimal. But I think I'm safe, so there's that. The BH5 seems solid, which is a very pleasant surprise.

It would've been much better if they weren't all protected, though. I found the Erudite idol this round (finally!) and they're gunning for Kyle. It would've been a GREAT opportunity to take a clean shot and turn the BH5 into the BH4 by handing the idol to Kyle and letting him play it. No blood on my hands, AND I'd reinforce the Kyle link. But alas, I just don't have that luxury this round.

The vote's overwhelmingly Kyle at this point and, as much as it sucks, a valid point was brought up that, if we're planning on riding BH5 to the end, Kyle's probably the only one who's going to be able to mount a counter-alliance. The rest are too scattered or not invested enough. So I think this is  unfortunately the move that has to happen.

Haven't heard Ed's name. Hopefully all is right in the world.

at this point, I just hope that Eliza and Jill are worth it because I haven't played this successful of a goat game since Sarawak, and when I did that, the person I did it for completely squandered every second of it. I am not going through all of this to find out that Eliza actually wants Lucy to win and has been working for that this entire time when I thought I was just helping a friend win, not helping them die at the right time. A good goat game is supposed to take you to final tribal council, like Goat Alex or Sri Lanka Jay. If I'm doing all of this for another measly 6th because people are "afraid I might wake up and start playing again" and a winner who is a lovely person but not the winner I picked, I'm gonna be upset.

I lost immunity cause fuck Lake. But there's a chance im safe, possibly.

Apparently Jill, Melissa, and Eliza want to get Kyle gone. I think that they think he has an idol. which will be good for me. I personally dont believe he has it, but you cant be sure, if he plays it tonight or if im being lied to, im positive its me going.

The thing is, i think i potentially fucked up, Eliza told me not to tell Kyle, Lake, and Otto. The thing is, i want to work with otto and i told him before she told me that. Whether he'll blab or not im not sure, but i think he wants to work with me.

I worry about Ed and lucy, i think theyre actually aligned with eliza jill and mel, which would really suck. Next round, i want to get one of those three out, and im going to need the six's plus otto to do it. it'll 9 people and its going to be 5 for majority. hopefully that goes well or not, one of them is winning.

*Later*

THESE PEOPLE ARE SO FUCKING STUPID!!! They didnt vote me out. They didnt vote ed out. THEY DIDNT VOTE LUCY OUT!!! Like this is going to be the move that costs them the game. I bet, I bet, I bet. Jill, Melissa, and ELiza are not going to win the game. Mark my words.

I'm gonna make it. They can't stop me now, let them try. Our fortune's waiting It's time for you to say, goodbye-bye-bye.

*Later*

I feel like I've been coming into my own in this game, I feel comfortable and I believe I grasped some footing. People haven't been realizing it though, I don't believe, and I actually feel like if I make it to the end, I have a good chance to make my case to the jury and win. That may be my egoism though. FUCK AYN RAND!