#i find it HIGHLY unlikely that he genuinely liked all of them

[platonicsoulmatesstobin]

"Leo can't be aro ace, he has too many crushes!"

were they crushes???? were they??

[lordprettyflackotara]

party monster || fred weasley

SMUT. MINORS DNI. 18+. TW: partying, drug usage (cocaine guys), fred’s ooc sorry not sorry, paranoia, etc. just overall v mature themes. OBVIOUSLY DO NOT DO COCAINE. this has a lot of plot ;)

Fred Weasley was never one to turn down an invitation to a party. Especially not one from Mattheo Riddle, to a Slytherin party.

Fred had felt like he had seen it all. He had watched the Hufflepuffs get giggly over champagne, Gryffindors try muggle grass for the first time, and Ravenclaws make tame mixed drinks that sent their minds into oblivion.

Slytherin’s on the other hand, went as hard as Fred liked. Of course muggle grass and alcohol was provided. The usual sex addicts were on the prowl for someone new to warm their bed. But what Fred enjoyed about the Slytherins the most, was their lack of fear to try muggle substances.

The most recent substance the most fearless had been trying was cocaine.

George refused to attend Slytherin parties, frowning upon the houses entirety. Truthfully Fred used to be the same way, until Mattheo offered him his first joint. The dark lords son had introduced him to an entire new world of highs, ones that Fred couldn’t find anywhere else.

For the past year the core Slytherins had been trying different pills, ones Theodore had been smuggling from a muggle born Hufflepuff who was naive enough to think they were being used for medical purposes. Fred had been to enough of these parties to where no one questioned his presence. If anything, he was often greeted and offered a cigarette at the very least.

It was highly unusual for other houses to venture into the Slytherins events, old superstitions still highly believed in. Fred would’ve been the same way, if it weren’t for Mattheo. It was an unlikely friendship, one no one could understand. Not George, Not Draco, no one. The ginger scanned the room, excited to find his friend. Word on the street about cocaine being smuggled into Hogwarts was spreading like wildfire. Fred knew he had to be one of the first ones to try it.

Strolling up confidently to the couch Mattheo always sat, the ginger waved. One of Penelope Clearwaters friends sat in Mattheo’s lap, her blue uniform making her stick out like a sore thumb. Mattheo grinned at the sight of Fred, gently pushing the girl away from sucking more hickies onto his neck. “Why don’t you go take a few shots with Pansy and i’ll meet you over there in a second?” He suggested. The girl glanced at Fred, taking the hint and starting her journey of finding Pansy.

Theodore Nott sat on the other side of the couch, a cigarette loosely hanging from his lips. “My favorite Gryffindor, welcome to another rager,” Mattheo chuckled, gesturing to the party that was occurring around them. Fred took a seat beside the brunette, greeting Theodore as well. “So Riddle, what do you have for me? You know I love to try whatever new hits the market,” Fred asked. Mattheo reached into his pocket, holding up a small plastic baggy of white powder.

Fred’s eyebrows furrowed with confusion. Previously he was under the impression that all muggle party substances were in the form of small pills. “That looks like it’s going to taste like shit,” Fred pointed out. A genuine chuckle escaped Mattheo’s lips as he grabbed a small metal tray. “Thats because it does, you don’t swallow it, you snort it,” He explained. Fred watched curiously as he poured the powder onto the tray. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his wand.

Mattheo used the tip to slice it into three tiny lines, the small amount only furthering his curiosity. “How many milligrams is that per line?” Fred asked, trying to get a better grasp on the drug in front of him. Once Mattheo made sure the lines looked even, he set his wand aside. “Doesnt work like that. Nott, wanna lead by example?” He asked, gesturing the tray to him.

Theodore didn’t seem to hesitate at all, his nose hovering over one of the lines and inhaling it without a second thought. His lack of hesitance made Fred more confident. “Alright alright let me see what all of this hype is about,” The ginger interjected. Fred was determined to ‘one up’ Theo, the potions master always a bit too cocky for his liking. (Even if he thoroughly enjoyed spending hangovers with him.)

Fred mimicked Theo’s actions, holding one side of his nose as he inhaled the first line. Flames seem to spread through his nostril, the ginger deciding to ignore it and to snort the other line as well. Sharp pain washed over Fred’s senses, the feeling of the powder sliding down the back of his throat making him cough. “Look at that! Atta boy,” Mattheo said encouragingly, patting Fred on the back. As the brunette took a cigarette out of the box Theo gestured to him, he gestured to the party.

“Let’s get out there, shall we?”

Fred had never felt more talkative in his life. From Pansy, to Blaise, to Slytherins he didn’t know, he could not stop talking. Sober, Fred was a very social person. But he knew when to let the conversation fizzle out. But as of right now? That concept didn’t exist. He felt utterly invincible, as if the world itself existed around him for his pleasure and his only. His throat had gone numb, unable to feel the shots he downed repeatedly.

As he was talking to Blaise about his latest prank, his eyes briefly flickered to you. You were mesmerizing, a girl he had never seen before. Fred ensured to keep track of girls in his year, knowing which ones were taken and what not. But you looked to be the same age as him and he had never seen you a day in his life. You stood by the alcohol table, pouring raw tequila down your throat. Without excusing himself Fred left, abandoning his conversation with a way too drunk Blaise.

Fred knew he had to meet you, something about you calling to him. Even as you downed the liquor your hips swayed to the music, your curves intriguing Fred even more. The ginger didn’t feel one ounce of nervousness, the coke having imbedded in his mind. “Hey there, mind if I have a swig?” Fred asked. Your eyes widened at the sight of him, before handing him the bottle. “Thanks,” He said, taking a drink. Fred’s throat was completely numb, the firey liquid not affecting him at all.

He handed the bottle back to you, giving you a sly grin. Your lips were painted a dark red, your beautiful eyes accompanied by flattering dark makeup. The kind Fred could only imagine a Slytherin could pull off. “You have something right here,” You replied, pointing to your upper lip. In a sudden movement you stepped forward, wiping the very top of Fred’s lip. You held up your thumb, the faintest sprinkle of white powder coating the pad of your thumb.

“Thanks, been a wild night. When new muggle stuff comes in it’s always exciting to try it,” Fred said, unscathed by your action. If anything he was into it, thrilled that you were so touchy. “It always is, isn’t it?” You say, taking another swig of the bottle. Fred couldn’t help but grin, thrilled that a girl as hot as you understood his enthusiasm. It was difficult finding another student so adventurous, yet here you stood.

A girl behind you waved at Fred, a friend of Pansy’s. Fred waved back, making a mental note to talk to her later. “So, a lion playing with snakes?” You ask, creating conversation. He hadn’t realized he had just been standing there, his eyes flickering in every direction. Soaking in the party, the music, you, the lights, Pansy’s friend-

“I’m a good friend of Riddle’s, great isn’t he?” Fred said. He gestured to the brunette who was currently dancing on top of a table, his tie loose and hanging around his shoulders. A cigarette hung on his lips, his hips occupied by grinding on the Hufflepuff in front of him. You nodded in agreement, shrugging. After tonight Fred made another mental note to ask Mattheo about you. You were awfully quiet for a Slytherin.

“A real charmer, that’s for sure,” You replied, your words laced with sarcasm. Your eyes flickered to Fred, shooting him a playful smile. “As are you. I see where he learns it from,” You continue, biting your lower lip. Flattery was the gingers weakness, a cocky smile creeping across his lips. “Hey, you wanna get out of here? My dorms gonna be empty. Roommates crashing with one of the boys,” You ask, pointing to the dungeons. Fred knew about the girls rooms being in the dungeons all too well, his visits down there frequent.

“Sure, lead the way little witch,” Fred purred. You grabbed his large hand, your skin cold to the touch. You led him through the hot swaying bodies, your hand gripping his his. As you both approached the staircase to go down further Fred looked over his shoulder, his eyes landing on Mattheo. The brunettes eyebrows were furrowed as he watched him, mouthing a clear question: ‘you good?’

Fred smiled and nodded, shooting him a thumbs up as he followed you down the dungeons. If there was anything Fred knew about Slytherins, without stereotyping them too much, was that they cared about appearances. They kept precise upkeep about their looks, (maybe not including Mattheo), that it teetered towards an unhealthy amount. In Fred’s opinion anyway. He didn’t have to deal with strict parents with pureblood ideologies, so he didn’t feel like he had room to judge.

As you led him further down the staircase he noticed several mirrors in between portraits, for students to use while heading up to the common room. Fred’s focus mainly was on himself, noticing how large his pupils were. You both reached towards the end of the staircase, Fred’s eyes still focused on the mirror. For a split second he squinted, noticing he didn’t see you. His hand was being held in mid air, your fingers not entangled around his palm like he saw before him.

Questioning was on the tip of his tongue, your abrupt words cutting him off. “My dorm is further down and I need you, now,” You say urgently, palming at Fred’s shirt. His eyes flickered to yours, unsure. “Did you see that? You weren’t in the reflection,” Fred asked, completely ignoring your statement. You raised an eyebrow, gesturing to the girls bathroom on the right side of the hall. “You’re paranoid, do you want to fuck or not?” You asked.

Fred shook his head, trying to rationalize with himself. He had a hot witch standing in front of him and he was about to fuck up a one night stand because of some muggle drug. “Absolutely,” Fred agreed, allowing you to lead him into the bathroom. Admittedly this was one place Fred hadn’t been, his knowledge of the room little to none. He was surprised that a velvet green couch sat almost in the center of the room. Would that have been his style choice? Absolutely not. Do witches tend to take their time in the restrooms gossiping? Fred believed so.

Your lips were on him before he could process it, his back hitting the couch. You tasted like raw alcohol, his tastebuds flooded with the sensation as you got on top of him. Fred was typically dominant, but he never minded a Slytherin topping him. You were so confident, tugging your shirt over your heard before reattaching your lips to his. Your touch made Fred want to immediately submit, his cock growing harder by the minute as you straddled him.

“Hard already? Naughty naughty gryffindor,” You teased, biting his bottom lip. Fred groaned, his hands flying to your waist. He guided you to grind against him, his cock growing achingly hard. You kissed down the side of his face to his neck, sucking at his sweet spot. Fred squeezed your thighs, whimpering as your lips littered his skin with marks. You kissed down his clothed chest, all the way down to his aching cock.

You teasingly kissed his hard on, maintaining eye contact as you did so. The ginger bucked his hips towards, throwing his head back as you unbuckled his belt. “If you want me to suck your cock you’re going to have to beg Freddie,” You say, unbuttoning his jeans. Spews of pleas left his lips faster than he would like to admit, “Fuck, please, touch me, please.”

A brief concern of how you knew his name crossed his mind, the worry fading as you shoved his boxers and jeans down his thighs. Fred was decently known, maybe you had known him for an infamous prank or-

His spinning thoughts came to a screeching halt as you took him into your mouth. Fred couldn’t control his noises, you taking control of him and his pleasure one of the hottest things he had ever seen. As you bobbed your head up and down on his cock, Fred chopped up his previous mental ramble to paranoia. Most likely he was coming down from his high, his body adjusting his mind back to normal.

Fred didn’t even know your name, but the moans he was making made it sound like he did. He was pure putty at your hands, willingly and merciless at your disposal. His tip brushed against the back of your throat, expectancy of the sound of gagging ensuing. Except it didn’t. Fred looked down at you in awe, your eyes meeting his. You didn’t have a gag reflex? What kind of magic was this?

He roughly grabbed the back of your head, pushing you down further onto his cock. You took his length with ease, saliva pooling to the base of his shaft. “Merlin, you’re a goddess right? Sent to me from above?” Fred panted, his mind trying to wrap around you. You pulled off of his cock, his hands not affecting your movement. He thought he had applied a decent amount of pressure, even if it was involuntary. What were you? Were you some kind of-

“Maybe, maybe you’re just my personal pet. My babies get the best treatment you know,” You purred. The ginger had no idea what you were rambling about, but what he did know, was that he wanted you to fuck him. “Ride me, fuck, please ride me,” He whined. Most girls would’ve asked for foreplay, head, or something along those lines. But you didn’t ask for either, instead lifting up your skirt and shoving your panties to the side. You guided his tip up and down your drenched folds, the feeling of your warm slick enough to make Fred groan.

He couldn’t understand why he felt so sensitive, his body on cloud nine just from your simple touch. You sank down onto his cock with ease, your walls clenching around him. Fred threw his head back, unable to formulate coherent words as you began to ride him. You seemed unfazed by his size, riding him like you had been doing so for years. Fred was not only unable to speak, but completely and utterly speechless.

You didn’t seem real, his unrealistic expectations for a hookup playing out in front of him. You leaned forward, one hand placed on his throat while the other tugged at his hair. “You like that huh? Feel good Freddie?” You asked. Fred groaned an agreement, his cock brushing against your g spot with every roll of your hips. Most witches would tire out by now, opting to switch positions. Yet you didn’t, your body not seeming to tire as you squeezed at the sides of his throat.

“So good, Merlin, you’re going to be the death of me,” Fred moaned as you licked up the side of his neck. He felt his orgasm approaching, the ginger flustered by the feeling. Was it the coke that was going to make him bust quick? Or was it how well you were riding him? His eyes wondered over your shoulder, landing on a large full length mirror. The presence of the mirror wasn’t surprising, but what was, was your absence. You weren’t present in the reflection, Fred’s head beginning to spin.

“Uh, you’re not in the m-mirror, I-” Fred stuttered, his high approaching faster than he wanted it to. He wanted to go all night with you, but why weren’t you showing up in the mirror? You sat up, your breast bouncing as you continued to ride him.

“You’re being paranoid Freddie, now why don’t you go ahead and cum for me?”

Fred’s hips stuttered as he came inside of your cunt, his head rolling back onto the couch. His ears were ringing, any sounds of you or the party dulling out into nothingness. He began seeing stars, his vision fading out completely. His senses had seemed to given up, Fred’s body unable to sustain itself, passing out.

\/

Fred had woken up a lot of strange places after a party. Most times he woke up beside a witch whose name he didn’t know. Other times he would wake up in random places, one time including the whomping willow. (To this day, no one has any idea how he survived OR got a good nights sleep.) Where Fred had never been woken up before, was in the male Slytherin dorms. Nor, had he ever been violently shaken awake by someone. Faintly he could hear a familiar voice calling out to him, but the words were incoherent.

“Fred! Wake the fuck up!”

He jolted awake, his heart pounding out of his chest as he sat up. Scattered,he looked around, unaware of where he was. His eyes landed on Mattheo and Draco, both of which seemed extremely concerned. “W-what..?” Fred stumbled out. His head was pounding with a rager headache, his body felt drained and spent. “Pansy found you uh-” Draco began, before shooting Mattheo a look that he should speak instead. Mattheo sighed, handing Fred a glass of water.

“She found you in the girls bathroom passed out with your pants pulled down and you uh, came all over yourself,” Mattheo informed him. Fred could feel himself turning red, clutching the water in his hand. His eyes widened in disbelief, becoming dizzy again as he rested his hand on his forehead to keep himself propped up.

“Do you have any idea how you ended up like that dude?” Mattheo asked, keeping his voice even. Bags hung under his eyes, his knee bouncing anxiously. It was rare Fred ever saw Mattheo sober, but he could definitely tell he was. You raced through the gingers mind, embarrassment flooding over him. You weren’t real? None of it was real?

A knock on the door alerted the trio, the Slytherins eyes landing on the new comer. “Well shit I see the party monsters awake,” Theodore said, waltzing in. His confidence made Fred uneasy, his stomach churning. “Do you happen to remember what happened last night?” He asked him, his voice breaking. Theo nodded, taking a seat. “Why don’t you drink some water and i’ll tell you all about it?”

Theo didn’t know Fred well by any means. Sometimes he questioned what Mattheo saw in the ginger, the prankster a bit too full of himself. It was a coincidence he saw him by the alcohol table, talking to himself. At first Theo assumed he was yelling to someone, or even on a muggle phone a lot of Gryffinors used. Cautiously Theo rounded the table, raising his eyebrows as Fred offered the bottle of tequila he had been cuddling to the air in front of him.

The brunette couldn’t believe his eyes, watching dumbfounded as Astoria Greengrass gave him a wave. Briefly his eyes flickered upwards at the Slytherin, before returning to the void in front of him. With a confused expression Theo decided it was none of his business, returning back to Mattheo with new drinks in hand. He figured he was just high, anyways. Unknowingly Mattheo had recommended Fred to Astoria, who was looking for a quick hook up to help her get over her ex.

A dumbfounded Astoria had beat Theo to Mattheo, her lips moving a mile a minute. She was weirded out by Fred’s behavior, the ginger confirmed to be talking to the air. Mattheo’s eyes flickered upwards, watching as Fred was heading towards the stairs. His hand was held out in front of him, a goofy smile spread across his lips. He made eye contact with Mattheo, who managed to communicate through all the noise and ask if he was good.

Fred seemed more than good, excitedly nodding and heading down to the dungeons. It wasn’t until the next morning Pansy came running, trying to get the boys to help her carry Fred before anyone saw him.

As the group sat in Mattheo’s room you watched from the shadows, invisible to everyone around you. You had died from a cocaine overdose in 1970, the curse of your afterlife being that no one could see you. The only time anyone did, was when they had done the drug themselves. You didn’t quite understand the logistics of it, other ghost able to see you, but no being with a beating heart could.

You had been shocked Fred had seen you at the alcohol table, after being used to being unseen for so long. As cocky and mischievous as you knew Fred to be from watching, you liked him. So much so that you knew scaring the ever loving fuck out of him was going to be the only way he would never touch the horrid stuff again. Party monsters like Fred, often times danced on the line between life and death. Their bodies, from what you could understand, would be into overdrive. That crossover allowed him to see you.

You thoroughly enjoyed fucking Fred, even if the ginger now regretted it. And as much as you wished you could see him again, you knew he deserved a better chance at life. “Bloody hell, i’m never touching that stuff again,” Fred groaned, cupping his pounding head. You smiled at his confession, walking up to Draco’s side. You stood beside him, the blonde unaware of your presence. Your mission was complete, Fred would be on a better path now. You smiled to yourself, watching as the ginger lifted his head.

His eyes widened, centered on you.

“What the actual fuck are you doing here?!”

He can see you?

a/n: can yall tell im into plot twist rn? lol. might do a part two if yall want it >:)

[nayedoll]

About you (Part 2 of Baby Came Home)

joost klein x fem!reader

rpf below, please don’t read if ur uncomfortable!!!

this is part 2 to baby came home // i highly recommend reading part 1 for context on this fic!!

cw: 18+, nsfw, smut (f!receiving oral, protected piv), angst, some jealousy ig, reader is kind of a bitch lol

word count: 5k

a/n: some songs that fit the vibe: about you - the 1975 / right - mac miller / thinkin bout you - frank ocean / needy - ariana grande

───────────────────────

You sigh anxiously, tossing your phone onto the big pillows of your bed as you lie down on your soft comforter; it helps soothe your nerves a bit, being in your old bed again, surrounded by your stuffed animals and the girlish decoration of your room that has not changed in the slightest — except maybe it’s a little cleaner now, thanks to your mom.

You really shouldn’t be this stressed about today.

If anything, it should feel nice that your old friends were kind enough to invite you out to dinner, a reunion as they had called it to celebrate the fact that you finally stepped foot in the Netherlands after four years. But whatever emotion you should be feeling right now is subsided by the anxiety of meeting Joost again.

After he left New York, you had been texting and calling each other, neither as friends nor as something more, just enjoying the comfort you brought to one another. And for a while, it really seemed like this was going somewhere, like things could work out again if you tried. But of course, everything had to be ruined; all it took was one question— “Why did you leave?”— before a small argument erupted, one that was enough for you to distance yourself from him again.

Joost was trying to find a reason to why you left, why you didn’t want to come back and be with him and frankly, you didn’t even know what to tell him. You said you needed some time, a few days to think which turned into weeks and months of barely any communication— and now here you were, in the four walls of your old bedroom, getting ready to face him again.

The whole situation sort of reminds you of your first date with Joost; same room, same bed, trying to calm yourself down and pick out an outfit but nothing looks good enough. Your dad still has the TV on too loud downstairs and your mom still comes in your room without knocking. The thought eases you down a bit, makes you laugh as you finally make the decision to leave, already running late.

—

The restaurant is small but pretty, soft lighting falling on the adorned walls as the sound of jazz music and people talking fills the air, helps you relax a little. It’s the same one you used to drag Joost to all the time, the one he would always complain about but secretly loved despite not being the “romantic type” in his own words. You wonder if he picked it out, if he even played a part in the planning of this; the thought is unlikely but still brings a smile to your face.

You walk further into the dining room, overtaken by the loving atmosphere of people laughing, talking, genuinely enjoying themselves as you look around for your friends. You eventually spot them at a table towards the back of the room, all the people you cherish so deeply; Alanis, Apson, Tantu, Lyon and of course, Joost.

With a sweet smile on your lips, you approach them slowly yet nervously. Alanis is the first one to notice you as she rises up from her seat, pulling you into a warm, tight embrace.

“Missed you guys!” You exclaim, hugging everyone one by one, slowly, to put off coming face to face with Joost as long as possible. Inevitably you reach him and god does he look good; the same blonde fluffy hair, same baby blue eyes, an outfit that fits him infuriatingly well, of course coupled with his usual smug expression.

The tension in the room immediately shifts as your friends share knowing glances between them— you get the idea that they have all been informed about your little… reunion with Joost in New York, the memory of him on top of you flashing through your mind and making you swallow deeply.

He beams at you, the knot in your stomach loosening as he hugs you, a small confirmation that things are still okay between you.

“Hey,” You hug him back, maybe for a little longer, a little tighter, something that he doesn’t seem to mind as his big hand caresses your spine. He smells like cologne, it’s the one he was wearing that night in New York, that had your apartment smelling like him for the days afterward.

He pulls back, small smile on his lips, “It’s nice seeing you again,” It makes you smile too as you stare into each other’s eyes wordlessly.

“Alright lovebirds, maybe it’s time to sit down?” Apson says, making you and Joost chuckle awkwardly, reminding you of why you’re here in the first place.

—

After some more catching up with everyone and a few glasses of wine, you can confidently say you’re relaxed and having fun— once again proven to have been overthinking. You’re sitting across from Joost, unintentionally noticing every tiny detail about him, the little smiles, the dimples, all of his mannerisms that you adore so much.

He’s oblivious to it but you’re not the only woman who keeps eyeing him tonight. In fact, the girl next to you has been practically burning holes in his face by staring so hard— and needless to say, it doesn’t go unnoticed by you.She’s pretty, her long blonde hair styled in loose curls and her maxi black dress so simple yet so perfect on her. It makes you sick, even though it shouldn’t be and you know it— but you can’t help the growing jealousy within you the more you stare, her eyes hungry for him and every one of her moves deliberate to make him acknowledge her but he never does.

“I’m going for a smoke,” Joost says as he stands up from his chair, hands digging into his jacket’s pockets to find his pack of cigs.

The blonde girl looks up at him with a mischievous smile, her eyes sparkling with excitement, once again getting on your nerves— to be fair, you shouldn’t be mad at her, letting your envy consume you like a little girl but the alcohol makes it a little hard for you to control your emotions in the moment.

“Are you coming?” He asks, knowing you haven’t smoked yet tonight.

You sigh a little frustrated, not thinking about it much “Not in the mood.”

Joost pauses for a moment, the tilting of his head showing his confusion about your sudden change in attitude. Nevertheless, he gives you a small nod and leaves… you feel somewhat bad now, maybe you should go out there and keep him company.

But before you can even get up, that same blonde girl is already making her way to the exit door, her floral scent pervading the air along the way.

You take a deep breath; okay now you definitely feel like smoking. All the possible scenarios run through your mind at once— what if Joost gets her number? Or worse, takes her back home with him? You don’t think about it much longer and walk towards the door and out the restaurant.

The street is almost empty by now, cold air blanketing your body. Joost is just a few meters away, back rested against the brick wall as he lights his cigarette and— as expected— the girl is standing in front of him, making conversation; you can’t hear what she says but it makes Joost smile, giving you enough of a reason to feel even more jealous, a horrible feeling in your throat.

He doesn’t notice you, says some joke that causes her to giggle; you contemplate going back inside, whether this is embarrassing for you— after all it’s none of your business, you’re not his girlfriend anymore. But the pure idea of Joost taking another girl home, kissing her, fucking her the way he did you makes you want to puke, it fills you with rage.

You walk up to them, the sound of your sharp heels on the ground catching his attention. The girl turns around, obviously bothered by your presence and you notice the unlit cigarette on her hand; classic way to approach someone, you think.

You glance at her, bitter smile on your lips. “Can I have one?” You ask Joost, standing closer to him.

“Thought you didn’t wanna smoke right now,” He says but still hands you the pack of cigarettes from his pocket. You pull one out, coaxing him to light it for you as the girl watches.

Now that you came here, you don’t know what to say exactly, the awkward silence making you nervous. Jealousy has always been a bad trait of yours, though really you’re all bark and no bite, never actually acting upon it; if anything Joost always found it cute, teasing you about it endlessly.

“Is zij je vriendin?” (Is she your girlfriend?) The girl asks, pointing at you.

Joost giggles at that, causing you both to glare at him as his laughing comes to a halt. ”Was vroeger,” (Used to be) He replies, taking a short puff from his cigarette, “Het is ingewikkeld.” (It’s complicated)

You slightly furrow your brows, trying to translate the words in your head but to no avail. The girl nods, less confident in her attitude now as she hands the cigarette back to Joost and slowly leaves, mumbling something which you assume to be goodnight.

You’re left alone with Joost, remaining silent as all kinds of thoughts race in your mind. Once again, it’s you and him smoking against a wall, tension filling the air, almost like you’re having deja vu.

“What a nice girl,” Joost says, his tone an exaggerated delight. You nod quietly and take a deep inhale of smoke, nicotine filling your lungs— he’s obviously teasing you and it annoys you how well he knows you, always making it impossible for you to hide from him.

With a simpering smile, he looks down at you and asks, “And really pretty, don’t you think?”

“Yeah she’s cute,” You say as nonchalantly as you can, peering at Joost when he lets out a low laugh as if he’s mocking you. “What?”

He looks back at you with a cocky smile, “You’re jealous,” He says with such confidence it drives you insane, makes you want to punch his pretty face (and kiss it better afterwards).

You scoff, “No I’m not,” You avoid his eyes, the uncertainty evident in your words.

“Admit it,” He smirks, you feel his eyes scanning your face that has a pinkish blush on it from his teasing, though you’d like to think it’s because of the cold.

You glance at him as he raises an eyebrow, waiting for your response. “You’re so full of yourself,” You chuckle, blowing the smoke away from his face.

Joost giggles, more so amused than anything else by the way you’re acting, so timid for nothing.

“And you’re jealous.”

You roll your eyes, suppressing a smile. “Fine,” You sigh as he puckers his lips a little, a sly smile hidden behind them. “I admit I was a little… bothered by a girl flirting with my ex. So sue me for that.”

Joost crosses his arms, grinning widely. “Really?” He emphasizes, taunting you.

“Yes, really.” You repeat his words back to him with the same assertive tone.

“Is bothered the new way to say jealous?” He feigns confusion, his finger scratching the top of his head.

Unbelievable, you think. You groan, stubbing out your cigarette with your shoe,

“You know what, I’m going back inside.”You’re not actually mad with him but more so matching his playfulness and teasing him back.

When you turn around to leave Joost gently tugs at your arm, pulling you back to him as he throws his finished cigarette away.

“Hey, hey, hey, come on, I’m sorry.” He giggles, using this as an opportunity to grab you by the waist, bring you closer as you pout your lips at him. “I get it,” He murmurs.

“You get it?” You raise an eyebrow, unsure of what exactly it is that he’s getting. His touch on your skin is strong, it makes you lightheaded as you look up at him under the yellowish street lights.

He nods, “I’d be jealous too if some guy was flirting with you,” You smile a little, fighting to keep your composure. Joost was never the toxic and overprotective type, but you loved it whenever he got a little jealous, expressing it in petty but cute ways be it kissing you more than usual or being clingy with you in front of other men.

“Yeah?” You ask him.

“Mhm.” His lips are close to yours, the tips of your noses brushing together. “Although I bet tons of guys have flirted with you since I left New York, am I right?” His voice is lower, raspy sending a warmth through your body even in the middle of the cold night.

“Maybe,” You bite your lip, slowly sliding your hands up the sides of his neck.

Some men had indeed approached you in those months, none of whom you bothered giving a chance to. It didn’t matter how attractive or successful or charming they were— they weren’t Joost and that was enough for you to turn them down.

Joost presses a few kisses on your jaw and the crook of your neck, his lips wet and soft on your skin. “I bet you flirt a lot too,” He mumbles against your neck as tingles erupt all over your body. “Talking to anyone but me,” His words are bittersweet, petty as he nips at your skin and makes you moan quietly. You didn’t text me either, is what you want to say but bickering right now seems a little pointless.

“Let me make it up to you,” You whisper, holding his face in your hands as you lean in to kiss him. Your lips press together hungrily, savoring the taste of wine and cigarettes on his tongue. His hands grab your ass tightly, squeezing it as you let out little sounds into the kiss, sounds that make Joost crumble into pieces all the more. Your sweet scent stimulates his senses, makes him go crazy as he feels himself grow harder.

“Oh damn,” You cut the kiss short, turning around to see Apson and Teun, a shared amusement on their faces— definitely not awkward.

“Okay! I guess we’re not smoking after all,” Apson says, urging Teun to go back inside as you hear Joost laugh behind you.

“No, it’s okay. We were gonna head back inside anyways,” You step back from Joost, fixing your skirt as you wave them over to where you are.

“We were?” Joost asks, you slap him on his arm smiling. “Okay,” He nods, following you inside as he mumbles something to the guys which makes all of them laugh; you assume he scolded them for interrupting your heated moment, seeing as he playfully hits Tantu on his shoulder.

“Wait,” You stop him before he pushes the glass door open, gently grabbing his chin in your hand. Joost looks down at you like a confused puppy, it almost makes you laugh as you brush your lip gloss off his lips. “There.” You smile as he thanks you.

“My place tonight?” He whispers softly, brushing his thumb against your cheek and you nod.

Alanis and Lyon are still in their seats, talking when you come in. They look up at you, smile knowingly at each other because it is so obvious what you and Joost were doing out there, your faces flustered and Joost’s hair unruly.

Joost, as always, breaks the awkward silence, says something about how his steak is shaped like Belgium… which works well enough to switch the subject. Peeking at your right, you notice the blonde girl from before— she seems fairly disappointed, not looking at Joost anymore and it gives you a weird sense of pride, knowing he picked you again, that you’re the one going home with him tonight; hopefully you’ll talk to him later, tell him the thing you’ve been meaning to say all night.

—

Your friends ended up going for drinks after the dinner which you and Joost politely declined, opting to walk the twenty minutes back to his house.

There’s a light breeze in the air, giving you enough of an excuse to get closer to Joost and hug him from behind, your arms around his stomach— maybe it’s too romantic of a gesture but he clearly doesn’t mind as he keeps on fumbling with his set of keys, a small smile on his lips.

Finally unlocking the door, he ushers you inside his house; it’s different to his old one, bigger and surprisingly cleaner than you’d expected, though still cluttered with random objects here and there.

Joost notices the way you look around the dark room, the soft moonlight coming in through the big windows. “Like it?” You feel his hand on your ass, his body pressing you gently against the door.

Placing both arms around his neck you smile, his chest warm against yours. “Yeah. You have good taste in furniture,”

“You should see my taste in women,” His words make you beam against his lips, teeth knocking together as he leans in to kiss you. You deepen the kiss, helping Joost with taking off his jacket that is quickly thrown somewhere on the floor behind him. He does the same for you, kissing along your jaw to your exposed shoulder as your leather jacket falls down to your feet.

Your hand travels down to his crotch, palming his erection which earns you a small sigh from him. Joost pulls you closer by the waist, strong hands caressing your curves as you continue teasing him, your fingers playing with the metal buckle of his belt. In the meantime, you start placing wet kisses on his jaw and neck, your little bites in between making him groan quietly.

“Those are a lot of hickeys,” Joost says.

“Just making sure no other girls approach you,” You mumble; it’s half serious half teasing, you know it turns him on when you’re possessive over him.

Joost smirks, fighting the urge to call you out for your jealousy once again, though he makes a mental note to tease you about it later. He’s too flustered to speak right now anyways, with the feeling of you everywhere; your lips on his neck, one thigh between his legs all while you’re trying to unbutton his shirt (and failing miserably at doing so)— you’re hungry for him and he likes that, likes knowing you’re as weak as he is on the inside, as your hot breath trembles on his neck.

“Let me help you schat,” He pulls back from you, focusing on the buttons on his striped button-up which he takes off at a tauntingly slow speed, biting back a smile when he hears you whine at the loss of contact. Your hands roam around his stomach and chest under his loosened shirt as he fully removes it, then blindly tosses it somewhere behind him.

He clicks his tongue, “So impatient,” He kisses you again, finger on your chin to bring your face closer.

“Yeah because I need you,” You breathe out, feeling his sly smile grow on your lips; it comes out more desperate, more whiny than you intended it to sound, your neediness making Joost’s cock twitch in his pants.

“Fuck,” He murmurs, biting his lip. “Come on, this way,” Taking your hand in his, he leads you to his bedroom— small and messy, full of his scent.

He sits you down on his poorly made bed, the back of your thighs meeting the cool wrinkled sheets. You watch as Joost begins to undo his belt, rubbing your legs together to loosen some of the tension in between them but it does nothing for you— the image of his big tattooed hands on the small metal letters of his belt, Albino, only adds to your arousal. You raise your foot slightly, nudging his calf as he glances at you, your doe eyes looking up at him, practically begging him to hurry up.

He chuckles, pushing his pants down. “So damn needy,”.

He kneels down on the carpet in front of you, the tender touch of his hands down your legs and his tight grip on your calves giving you goosebumps. He takes your high heels off, carefully putting them aside before his lips start littering your legs with kisses.

“Such a gentleman,” You coo, your breathing deepening with each peck on your skin as Joost gently pushes your legs open to gain more access to your inner thighs. There, he sucks on the sensitive skin, coaxing you to gasp; he hasn’t even fully touched you, yet you’re already melting under his touch, aching with need.

Joost stops at the hem of your skirt, his light blue eyes looking up at you from between your thighs, an image you wish you could capture. “Baby can I eat you out, please?”

A small smile forms on your lips. Who’s needy now?

You nod down at him, “Since you asked so politely.” Joost motions for you to stand up, sly grin on his face; he strips your skirt off, his palms aimlessly stroking your legs, giving you a small squeeze on your ass. He gently pulls your panties off, the lace fabric slightly sticking to your skin due to the wetness in your folds.

“Zo mooi,” His compliment sends a warm smile to your face as you stroke his hair. He plants another quick kiss on your clit, the tiny tingling sensation causing you to hiss, then guides you backwards against the bed until your back hits the comforter. Involuntarily, you bend your knees for him as he climbs into the bed, slightly hovering over you.

He leans down and kisses you hungrily, his thick fingers rubbing small circles on your clit as you moan loudly into the kiss from the sudden wave of pleasure. You feel him smile against your lips, a cocky smile at that.

He slowly pushes one finger into your slick folds, “You like that?” He purrs against your jaw. You nod repeatedly, muttering a soft yeah in between shallow breaths. Joost goes lower as he lies on his stomach, burying himself in your thighs, deep purple marks all over them from his previous kisses. Withdrawing his finger from you, he licks up your entrance, making you suck in a sharp breath as your thighs close together ever so slightly, pressing on his head.

He starts soft, his tongue flat near your clit making your skin prickle before he moves down, teasing your hole with just the tip of his tongue.

Impatiently, you push your hips forward, desperate to feel more of him; he nuzzles your core as you both let out a small laugh. “You want me to suffocate down here?”

You giggle, “I will suffocate you if you don’t hurry up,”

He grins, delving his tongue into your slit. You moan as you feel it swirling inside you slowly, making you clench. “Faster,” You breathe out, entangling your fingers in his hair, softly pulling at his golden hair strands. Joost picks up the pace as his tongue explores you, nudges your clit a few times to hear more of your breathy moans. He holds your legs open that are trembling as you chase your climax, your body burning with overstimulation. His thumb is stroking your clit in fast motions, causing you to whimper continuously and grasp at his hair to which he hums sending a vibration through your core.

With that, you come undone on his mouth as you let out a loud mixture of cries and curses. Joost lets you ride out your high, sucking at your lips and your clit. His chin is glistening with your release as he pulls back from you, plants a few gentle kisses on your thighs, letting you catch your breath.

You gaze at him as he sits up a little and grabs a condom from the nightstand. He’s a little sweaty, his face flushed and his hair looks messy as he runs his hand through it, He’s perfect.

“Don’t look at me like that,” He says as he takes off his boxers— your eyes flicker to his hard cock, the tip swollen and leaky with precum. You feel a little guilty, want to take care of him like he did you.

You giggle, narrowing your eyes at him, “That’s how that girl at the restaurant was looking at you, just so you know I’m not crazy or anything,”

“You’re still on that? Baby, I’m here with you now, you don’t have to worry about it,” He softly pulls your hand, making you sit up next to him, kissing you on your cheek.

Smiling softly, you take the condom from his hand, opening the wrapper with your teeth. “Joost?” You ask him as you carefully slip the condom on, feeling his veins along the way. He hums, coaxing you to keep talking. “Can I ride you?” You’re a little shy when asking him that and you don’t know why; today in general, you’re kind of nervous around him and he finds it funny, cute nonetheless.

“Hell yeah,” You look at him again, his warm smile comforting you.

He crawls past you, sitting against the plush headboard as you move to sit atop him. Your face is also flushed, beaming with the afterglow of your orgasm and Joost can’t help but kiss you again, slowly, whilst fully removing your top.

You take his shaft in your hands, adjusting yourself above him so that his tip is right at your entrance before you push yourself down onto him; the residue of your arousal makes it easier for him to bottom out, a drawn out groan leaving his mouth as he does so, feeling you tighten around the veins on his cock. You lift yourself up slightly until only the tip is inside of you before quickly sinking down onto his cock again— you continue this pattern, noticing the breathy moans that Joost lets out, his mouth opened ever so slightly and his brows furrowed.

You pick up your pace, placing both hands on his shoulders for support as Joost squeezes your tits in his warm hands. Locking eyes with him, you almost want to cry with how beautiful he looks, how good his cock feels inside of you, how perfect you are for one another.

“What’s on your mind liefde?” He breathes out, a grunt slipping from his lips.

You bite back a moan, “Joost I want you,”

“You have me,” He chuckles.

“No,” You mutter, “I want you all the time. I love you,” You speak fast, desperate to convey your feelings to him. “I love you so much,” You repeat, burying your face in his neck.

“Shit,” He groans as he starts thrusting into you, noticing that you’re growing tired. “I love you too,” His hands are tightly wrapped around your body, holding you in place as he slams his shaft against you— it’s fast and sloppy, makes you dizzy with pleasure, unable to suppress your loud moans. Your eyes tear up a little at the confirmation that he also loves you— it’s not the first time you hear it from him but you’ve missed it, you’ve missed him and this stupid city that you grew to love because of him.

The pressure is too much, easily leading you to your second orgasm tonight as you dissolve into pleasure, moaning Joost’s name repeatedly. He’s now the only one doing the work, pushing himself into you relentlessly as you kiss him softly on his face because that’s the most you can do right now with how much your legs are burning.

A little later, Joost comes inside of the condom, the sound of his deep moans (and a few whimpers he tries to suppress but fails) filling the room.

You collapse next to him and onto the bed, breathing deeply, your eyes heavy with exhaustion. Joost gets up wordlessly to put his boxers on again, coming back with a shirt on his hand and your panties. He sits down in front of you, gently pulling your tired body up so that he can redress you. “You’re gonna get cold,” He mumbles, his thoughtfulness bringing a sweet smile to your lips.

“Thank you,” You coo, enjoying the feeling of his shirt on your body; it’s warm and big, carries his scent that you love so much. “I like this shirt,”

“Yeah? Keep it. Y’know to have something remind you of me when you go back to New York,” He chuckles a little as he says that. You take a deep breath, looking at him with eager eyes. He senses a hesitation in you, tilting his head in confusion, “What is it?”

“I’m not going back,” You say, your voice close to a whisper. “To New York, I mean.”

Joost grins, “Don’t play with me dude,” He says, shaking his head.

“I’m not,” You chuckle, gently placing your hand on top of his. “I got offered a job here and I’ve been thinking about it,”

Joost’s eyes light up, his dimples prominent. “Liefde that’s great news,”

He hugs you, presses some kisses on your hair as you stroke his back— he never wants this feeling to go away. “Date tomorrow?” He asks in your ear.

“Mhm.” You smile and kiss him softly, staying in the comfort of his arms. You get a good feeling, one that you haven’t had in years; you will go on that date and things will work out between you and you will never let him go again.

“I love you.”

───────────────────────

thank you sm for reading!!! i hope this met everyone’s expectations lol 😭🥹

[jaylaxies]

CONFLICT OF INTEREST

PAIRING: pool cleaner!heeseung × rich fem!reader

GENRE/CW: slightly perv!heeseung, profanities, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), slight voyeurism, mentions of sunghoon, slight public sex, fingering and cunnilingus, penetration, usage of nicknames and degradation.

WC: 6.7k (6701) words

SYNOPSIS: spending all his money on video games, heeseung was left with no other choice but to work part time to earn some extra cash, he was overwhelmed to find out how much your father was willing to pay for a pool cleaner, grabbing that opportunity and applying for the same, not knowing that he’d be dealing with a spoiled little princess, who’s also a feast for his eyes.

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni

A/N: ohmygod hello everyone, guess who’s back after the longest break ever! i missed writing so much and i couldn’t come back here without a fic for y’all sooo have this lil gift from me! <3 also thankyou sm @criceofpain for helping me w the title! i hope y'all will enjoy this! :3 all likes, comments, reblogs and feedbacks are so highly appreciated! it keeps me motivated! iloveyou all <33

Silence.

That’s all you heard after waking up from your cozy sleep. Living in a mansion like yours would be everyone’s dream. Having rich and working parents only added on to that, giving others a misconception of how your life would be full of freedom.

You had more than fifteen rooms in your ‘small mansion’, three of them being reserved for the stay-in staff. They felt more like family to you than your own family did, your parents being absent whenever you needed them the most, you could count the times you saw them in a year.

Which brings you back to how you developed the need to be a brat — to grab your parent’s attention. It started off when you were a kid, stayed as you grew up into an adult, coming to a stage where you completely disregarded other’s feelings, not having in you to pay attention to them.

Being called a ‘rich brat’ was something you’d grown accustomed to, no one tried to get close to you in order to find your true personality, they only came for money and a short lived reputation of being your ‘friend’.

“You have to stop texting while eating, darling,” your mother’s voice boomed up in the expansive area of your dining room.

The irk in her usual dulcet voice was enough for you to understand that her current tone was laced with disappointment, your father barely speaking anything as usual, plausibly not finding you important enough to waste his energy on.

You simply hated when your parents were back at home, invading your personal space, it was one of the rare times they came back without much of an announcement, ruining your whole week, knowing they’d pass comments which would lead to massive breakdowns and again, not a single soul would help you through it, you’d be alone, as always.

Instead of eating, you found that playing with your spoon and salad would be a better option, your appetite leaving the second you learned about your parent’s arrival.

They were quick eaters, leaving you to eat by yourself soon after ruining your day. You sighed, getting up to shower, punching the hard tiled wall to release your pent up frustration, secretly hoping to find someone who’d care for you genuinely, unlike your parents who did so superficially.

The weather was rather breezy, clouds covering up the sky, resembling your mood in a manner. You were quick to dress up in your newest Chanel outfit, matching it with the perfect pair of heels you could find in your never ending walk-in closet.

Dressing up was therapeutic for you. It gave you confidence to portray yourself just how you’d wanted to, strong and bold, not requiring anyone’s support.

Isa:

Let’s skip the first lecture today :3

You:

Can’t, my parents are back at home, and if they find out abt me leaving the class thennn :)

Isa:

Babe oh no, I’ll save you a seat and get a frappe for you :(

You:

You’re an angel truly, mwah <3

You smiled, locking your phone and getting into your car, deciding to drive by yourself today. Isa was your best friend and you’d swear she was the only person who understood you on the spiritual basis, having gone through the same story of having absentee parents.

The difference would be your personality, hers being sweet and bubbly, yours being bratty and intimidating. You complemented each other perfectly.

The guards opened the gate to your mansion for you to drive away, your eyes rolling at the sight of a poster mentioning how your family needed a pool cleaner.

“Why did they build three pools if they couldn’t even maintain it, bet they haven’t once used it,” you muttered under your breath.

You didn’t notice a boy stopping by to read the very same poster just as you drove away.

He was quick to click a picture of the very same, making sure he doesn’t forget the details given below, walking further towards the mansion adjacent to yours, waiting in front of the huge gate which opened up as his friend came into view with his car, asking him to get inside the car quickly.

“The fuck were you waiting for there? We’re late already!” Sunghoon asked, running his hands through this hair as he stepped on the accelerator.

“I’m broke,” Heeseung explained, causing Hoon to laugh out of nowhere.

“Yeah? Spent all your money on video games again?” He asked, amused.

Heeseung rolled his eyes, “yeah, but it was a limited edition and I had to get it!” He argued, “and now my parents have decided to not give me pocket money for the whole month. I’ll have to earn it someway or the other.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you were standing in front of Y/n’s place.”

“Y/n? I don’t know, I saw this poster saying that they needed a pool cleaner and the amount they’re willing to pay is huge,” he explained, already deciding that he’ll apply for it the first thing after school.

“You don’t know her? Where the fuck are you living dude?” Hoon gave him a look.

“What’s so special about her? Is she hot?” Heeseung asked, looking at Hoon who shook his head in disappointment at his friend before simply smirking.

“You’ll see.”

Heeseung wondered if he’d get to see you today. The chances were high with the onset of summer vacation, you’d be at home, however he wasn’t sure if you’d come into his spectrum of vision, he always seemed to miss you by a minute or two.

He was at your place, the guard allowed him to enter and guided him towards the pool area.

He was in shorts and a casual T-shirt as his job would most definitely cause him to get wet while getting the pool cleaned.

His lips were bitten in concentration as the house helper guided him as to how to go on about his task, and soon, he was whistling while waiting for the water to be drained out after he used the net to get the leaves and the particles floating around on the water surface.

He decided to sit down on the sunlounger while waiting, scrolling down Instagram to catch up on the posts he had missed.

You were in your room, sighing for the umpteenth time. You hated the atmosphere in your home, it was tense as your parents had fought early in the morning about tarnishing the family reputation.

Ironic coming from them.

Both of them stormed out of the home soon, wanting a break from the other, leaving you all to yourself for the day.

Seeing as you had nothing better to do at the given moment, you opted to go for a swim in the pool as you put on a black one piece swimsuit, taking your sunscreen bottle along with the few things you’d need there.

However, you did not expect to see a stranger casually sitting in one of your sun loungers by the biggest pool as the water drained out, just like the plan you had for swimming.

Ignoring the new addition to your leisure time, you went ahead to sit by the second pool, which was already cleaned by the old cleaner you had hired, the one who left the job out of nowhere.

The water was lukewarm when you dipped your legs in it, kicking the water softly, which gained the attention of the boy in shorts.

His whistling stopped as he stared at your side profile from a distance, eyes taking in your figure which was clad in black which fit you well, he gulped, his tongue swiped down his lower lip when his eyes stopped to look at your legs, and how glossy and plump your lips looked in the sunlight, the light breeze swayed your open hair and how your hands look so small compared to his, making him wonder how they’d look holding his—

You turned your head to look his way, eyes sharp which was enough to break his train of thoughts, feeling as if you were being stared at, he turned his head in record time to avoid your gaze, and you noticed he was just using his phone.

Shrugging, you got up to get on one of the sun loungers with an umbrella to put on your sunscreen, missing the way Heeseung’s eyes flickered over to you from time to time as he concluded the cleaning process to fill up the freshwater now.

Your skin glowed with the extra moisture from the sunscreen but he noticed how you struggled with rubbing it on your back.

His hands itched to do that for you, he couldn’t take his eyes off you the entire time he was at your place, but what bothered him is that you didn’t look up at him even once, until he got into the stalls and came out after changing into his decent outfit as his shorts had gotten wet from the water.

It was the exact time you got up to get into the newly cleaned pool, “good work—” you started to say.

Heeseung was shocked, he never pegged you to start a conversation, nevertheless, a little smirk settled on his face when he turned around to see your pretty face up close, “Heeseung,” he finished your sentence, “and thank you.”

You nodded in acknowledgment, looking at his face clearly for the first time since he arrived.

He had the most perfect nose you had ever come across, his lips looked delicate and pink, his eyes summing up his face to look innocent, and hair shiny yet messy.

It seemed as if you had eye candy for the job of the pool cleaner.

Without extending the conversation, you got into the pool, soaking up your body fully before you started to swim.

Heeseung stood there watching you shamelessly, hand in his pocket as you stopped to swim closer to the edge, water dripping down your chin as your looked up at him in question, “you can leave now,” you said, but the smirk he had on his face was enough to confirm that his innocent looking eyes are deceiving in all ways.

“I’m just waiting for the helper aunt to get my pay for the day,” he said innocently.

You almost scoffed, “go wait by the front gate,” you said, pointing towards the exit area with a sickeningly sweet smile.

“The view isn’t as nice there,” he nonchalantly said.

“Excuse me?” You said in a beat, looking at him with disbelief.

“I meant, the palm trees and the flowers here are better than the fountain near the gate area, also, the helper aunt asked me to wait here,” he shrugged, acting as if he was naive.

“Right,” you rolled your eyes, “she’s here now you can leave,” you gave him a tight lipped smile, resuming your swimming session.

He tried to contain his laugh, it was already fun to tease you, not to mention how you looked so attractive when wet, in the water of course.

“Good bye then,” he winked at you before leaving.

You watched his long legs quickly getting away from the pool area.

“What a creep,” you muttered, already planning ideas to get him off his high horse.

You were sunbathing the next day, not once thinking that Heeseung would come again, but he did.

He wore a deep grey tank top and black shorts as he focused on cleaning the two smaller pools.

Thankfully, he wasn’t much of a bother that day, he simply did his work, after greeting you with a slick smile, of course.

It was clear that he stopped to stare your way from time to time, you wore dark tinted goggles just to catch him doing so, scoffing before you went inside your room, not having it in you to deal with him.

You loved to swim, it was a major stress reliever for you, the next two days were peaceful for you, your parents were out of town and there was no trace of Lee Heeseung at your place.

Sunghoon had visited you that night, inviting himself in for dinner, wanting to check up on you after hearing the news about your parents arrival.

“—They’re driving me insane, I could be simply breathing, and they would say that I am breathing wrong, I have no clue how to deal with this and I am so tired already, not to mention how the new pool cleaner is so infuriating.” You groaned, finishing up your rant as you filled him in on everything that happened ever since your parents came back.

His eyebrows raised at your last comment, “the new pool cleaner, huh?” He chuckled.

You nodded, taking a bite of the pizza you had ordered, “his name is Heeseung, he’s like an actual creep, he stares at me while working, I literally cannot go to swim whenever he’s around,” you ranted.

“Trust me I know him,” Sunghoon rested his forehead on his hand, not believing that Heeseung would actually act so shamelessly, yet it was comedic in a way.

“You do?” You asked.

“He’s my closest friend, Y/n.” Sunghoon was amused how both you and Heeseung didn’t know about each other up until he started working for you, “you’d know if you liked me even a bit,” he smirked, and looked crazy handsome doing so.

“Oh shut up,” you laughed, glad that Sunghoon was here to lighten up the mood, “I didn't know you had such friends.” Distaste was clear in your voice.

“He’s not a bad guy, okay? He’s just—” Hoon stopped to find the right word.

“Just?” You urged him to continue.

“Just stupid at times, yeah,” he shook his head.

“Right,” you said, laughing.

“If he bothers you, just punch him or whatever,” he said casually.

Maybe you’ll take up on Sunghoon’s advice on that.

The next few days were peaceful, headphones shutting out the world as you completed your holiday assignments sitting at the poolside area with your laptop in front of you, yet he had something or the other to say.

“Oh, you’re doing the assignments already?” He asked over your headphones, speaking loud, standing next to your seat.

You nodded, not giving him the time of your day.

“Do you need help?” He couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

“Does it look like I want help?” You asked, removing your headphones and shades.

“Honestly? Your essay looks pretty perfect as of now—” he started to comment.

“That was a rhetorical question,” you deadpanned, closing your laptop and going back inside.

You knew he wasn’t this dumb, he just did it on purpose to piss you off, for your attention, just like how you behaved outrageously when you wanted your parents attention.

But Heeseung? He needed to be taught a lesson and that too, very soon.

“No, I can’t come tonight Isa, my parents want to have dinner together like a good family. Isn’t that funny?” You talked to your best friend on call, sitting by the pool yet again.

Your parents were the reason you couldn’t go out of the house anymore, they wanted you to be home, spending quality time with them, which consisted of you being judged for your every move, your parents wanting your mannerism to be proper.

“Can’t they just leave already?” You sighed as Isa tried her best to console you, saying that she’d be there whenever you’d be allowed to go out.

That call definitely heightened your spirits until someone decided to pay your pools a visit again.

One of the helpers had told you that Heeseung wasn’t working today, so you wore your comfortable two piece bikini for the swim, which you deeply regret now.

Heeseung simply wanted to see you, he loved pissing you off, knowing how much his presence bothered you.

That only made him want to do it more.

“Hey, Y/n!” He smiled your way, his perfect set of teeth coming into your vision as you looked up from the magazine you were reading, only to give him a light lipped smile with a nod.

He looked at you in amusement as you didn’t bother to spend a second more looking his way, opting to read your magazine instead.

He was particularly talkative that day, trying to get a reaction out of you but you were patient, not giving in easily until you couldn’t hold back and decided to play his game.

“Do you need help with that?” Heeseung asked, pointing towards the sunscreen which you couldn’t apply properly on your back again, he had noticed how your hands couldn’t reach your back in particular.

He just wanted an excuse to touch your soft looking skin.

Bonus for him, you were wearing a bikini which gave him access to your bare back.

He waited for a witty comeback or straight up rejected but your reply wasn’t something he was expecting, eyes widening just a fraction.

“Oh, yes! Could you please help me put sunscreen on my back?” You looked sincere as you requested this.

“Y—yes, of course I’ll help you, princess,” he smiled after overcoming the shock, rushing to wash his hands clean, despite them being clean already before he came over to you.

“Fuck,” he muttered as he saw you sitting down on the sunlounger with your back exposed to him.

He wasn’t being subtle while staring at your ass either, he was simply glad you were facing the other way as he took some sunscreen and started massaging your shoulders, applying the right amount of pressure.

You bit your lip, hating how good his hands felt massaging your body, but you had it under control.

He took his sweet time rubbing your back, before he reached your lower back. He was having the time of his life, your skin felt even softer than he had imagined and he was surprised about how you didn’t pass any comment throughout this.

Him being sneaky was the exact thing you were waiting for, his hand reaching close to your chest after he applied cream to your clavicle region.

You turned around and grabbed his wrist, bending it down and pulling him close enough to be on your face level, you stopped your mind from accepting how good it felt, you simply hated Heeseung.

“Ouch, fuck,” he cussed, not expecting you to be this strong, the pain subsided in a second as he looked you up close, your scent infiltrating his mind.

“Don’t play with me, Heeseung,” you said in a deeper octave, looking right into his eyes.

He smiled, which only urged you to continue.

“Do you have no shame? I’ll have you fired if you pull this shit again,” you warned him, letting go of his hand and standing up to leave.

However, he was quick to grab your wrist and spin you around, so you bumped right into his chest, which was hard.

“What the fuck—” you exclaimed but your voice died down soon.

His hand reached to the one spot on your neck which had sunscreen that wasn’t spread properly. He simply bit his lip and used two of his fingers to massage that spot on your neck.

It must have been your sensitive spot because your legs suddenly felt like they were jelly, your breathing quickened as you stared at his annoyingly attractive face.

“All done,” he whispered in your ear, leaving your wrist as he only smirked, walking back to do his work, leaving you stunned as you rushed inside due to embarrassment.

No fucking way you enjoyed those ten seconds with him.

As for Heeseung, he couldn’t stop thinking of how hot you looked, trying to be angry but being a mess in his presence, just thinking about your expression and your outfit together gave him a boner.

“Y/n,” he groaned with one hand on the shower wall, supporting his tall frame as the other squeezed his dick, jerking off to your thoughts, “oh god, fuck!” He grunted, thinking about how tight you’d feel around him, the scenarios were enough for him to shoot out his load, smirking at the ideas in his head.

He just needed to push you more.

The events of that day replayed in your mind an unhealthy amount of times, you never wanted to see him again, yet you wanted the exact same thing.

You hated it.

You hated how good it felt, having his big hands on your body and you most certainly didn’t have it in you to face him today.

All you wished for was to read a book in peaceful silence, but yet again, your space was invaded when a certain Bambi eyed boy made an appearance at your place, despite it not being the day of his schedule.

Still, he had the audacity to greet you before he started singing while doing his tasks for the day.

The infuriating part? His voice was a mixture of honey and chocolate, and everything sweet in this world because you had never heard a voice to angelic before.

Not that it was enough to woo you.

Sighing, you closed your book and decided to go for a swim, but again, you were stopped.

“Wait!” Heeseung exclaimed, bringing out the cleaning net to get rid of one leaf that was in the huge pool, looking back at you with a goofy smile as he held the leaf up.

“Okay. So, you stopped me from going in because of a leaf?” You folded your arms on your chest as you tried to make sense of the situation.

“Couldn’t let a princess swim in the dirty pool,” he said, eyes getting bigger, feigning innocence.

He was a nuisance and you were running thin on patience. Your mother had graciously spoiled your day saying your manners are out of line, your father added to it, talking about how vacations were a waste of time for you.

“Aw, really?” You asked, faking your voice to sound sweet and thankful before you took a step close to him.

His eyes looked at you expectantly, but yet again, you pulled something he wasn’t ready for.

With a big smile on your face, you pushed him into the pool, hard and fell down with a big splash.

“Oops,” you said once he came out of the water, brushing his wet hair away as he breathed hard, his clothes clinging on to his body.

He looked hot.

You tried not to look at his body as you bent down to talk to him, “aw, now you’ll have to clean the whole pool, it’s so disgustingly dirty now that you’re in there.” You smiled innocently.

He poked his tongue through this cheek and gave you no time before grabbing onto your arm and pulling you right in with him.

You gasped for air, your whole body getting soaked with water as you came out just in front of him, a devilish smirk on his face.

“Are you insane?” You almost screamed at him but he grabbed your waist and pulled you closer with a serious expression on his face.

You could see his face with the top most clarity up close, his wet hair messily covering his forehead and eyes, still he looked attractive.

“Is this what you do when someone tries to help you, princess?” His voice came out deeper and his hold on you tightened.

You were glad that there were no helpers around the pool area or you would die of embarrassment, not to mention how your parents would react knowing about this situation.

“Don’t fucking call me that,” you whispered in the same tone, maintaining the eye contact.

“Yeah, right you think of yourself as the queen,” he went on.

“Stop,” you warned.

“But in reality you’re just a pretty, spoiled princess, aren't you?” He taunted in a voice that gave you goosebumps.

Giggly Heeseung was attractive enough, but him being serious was something that had you in a trance.

“Shut up,” you said in a measly voice, head fuzzy.

“Do I need to show you who you are, huh? You’re a little princess,” he went on.

“Shut the fuck up,” you raised your voice, the feeling down in your lower abdomen was something you hadn’t felt so strongly before.

“Make me,” was all he said with a smirk.

Yet what you did next was something he wasn’t prepared for.

It all happened in less than a second, your fingertips grabbing his chin, pulling him closer to your face with a gasp as you captured his lips into a rushed kiss, his nose poking yours softly.

This man drove you crazy, to the point where you had to give in just to get a taste of him.

He leaned back to look into your eyes, breaking the kiss just to see you breathe in deeper and shy away, but he didn’t let you do that.

His hand rested on the back of your head as he pulled you into a deeper, passionate kiss, causing you to whimper in his mouth, holding on to his shoulders for support.

You gasp as his hands roam around your body, leaving the places where you wanted him to touch you the most, the frustration causing you to moan into his mouth, against his smirk.

It was a rhythm of desire, passion, and exasperation. The kiss got sloppier by second and you both had to lean back to breathe. With your chest heaving up and down, you dared to look into his eyes which were clouded with lust.

Each touch, each movement from his side impacted your body in a way you never thought it would, you shivered with his touch, the smirk never leaving his lips.

“So sensitive,” he muttered, trailing his finger down your body as you still held on to him, your legs felt weaker than ever.

“Heeseung—” you tried to speak up, but only a moan left your mouth when he traced his finger on your clothed pussy.

“Guess what, princess? You’re wet,” he pointed out, coming closer to bite your ear, causing you to squirm in his hold, “and it’s not because of the water.”

“Fuck,” you let out, mind going blank.

You loved being in control, putting people in their places and ordering them around. But you never thought that being treated like this would arouse you to this point.

To the point that you’d let Heeseung do anything.

He took you out of the pool, dragging you to the changing stalls, pushing you against the door after he locked it.

“You look so innocent, I could ruin you,” he said, folding his long fingers around your neck, applying slight pressure to it.

“I know,” you spoke mindlessly and Heeseung was amused at how easily you gave in.

“Yeah? No snarky comebacks or threats this time?” He teased.

“I’m leaving,” you said, embarrassed and trying to get away with your face burning with shame, but again, it wasn’t up to you as Heeseung pushed his body closer to yours, sandwiching you between him and the wall.

“You’re not going anywhere, darling,” he whispered, pushing your bikini panties to the side.

His fingers teased at your entrance and you unconsciously bucked your hips to meet him. He grabbed your hips to stay still before moving his fingers on your wet slit again, poking his finger on your entrance yet not letting it slide in fully to your dismay.

“Please,” you whined louder than before.

“Please what, princess?” He stopped moving his fingers all together just to hear your reply.

“Please fuck me,” you let out slowly, embarrassment creeping up your neck.

“That’s a good girl, but sadly you won't get it so easily,” he said and without any warning, he pushed a finger inside your pussy, which was wet and needy and it sucked him in.

His deep grunts only turned you on more, his hard clothed cock rubbing against your ass as he tore your bikini away, adding another finger to fill your pussy, reaching a deep spot which had you seeing stars.

Your glossy eyes followed his fingers as he sniffed it, “smells so sweet,” he said in a deep breath, giving you goosebumps, his tongue swirled around, tasting your juices and humming along.

“Oh baby you’re dripping,” he smirked, getting on his knees, putting one leg on his shoulder as he wasted no time in indulging himself in eating your sweet pussy, tongue lapping at your juices and you had to bite your fist to contain your noises.

You were so close.

His finger teased your clit to heighten the stimulation, and it worked wonders as it had you rolling your eyes to the back of your head, whimpering and crying.

You reached your limit when he pushed his tongue into your hole, a loud moan leaving your lips as he went on to eat you out.

“Hee—oh my god,” you cried out, falling apart on his tongue, and he lapped up the last drop of the juices you had spilled.

You looked at him, looking sinister, his lips shining and eyes glistening with amusement as he grabbed your chin and kissed you right on mouth, giving you a taste of yourself.

You rubbed his cock through his shorts, getting a scoff out of him, “not so fast, princess. You’ll have to show me how much you want it. I’ll go take care of it till then and clean your pool, which is oh so disgusting.” He smirked, getting out and into the showering stall, leaving you dazed and wet.

You had to have his cock.

You wouldn’t admit how much you had wanted him to fuck you directly to his face, so instead, you decided to be a menace and show him what he’s been missing.

He came back after two days, just as the schedule of his job. And it was a lucky day for you since half of the working staff had been granted a holiday today, leaving you with only the chefs and a security guard who wouldn’t ever come into the pool area.

Heeseung’s duality scared you, he came in as usual, wearing a blank tank and shorts this time, greeting you with a smile, “morning, princess,” he smirked, yet looked innocent.

“Hey, Hee,” you purposely called him a nickname, causing his smile to grow before he looked at your bikini top, which was not tied properly and showed more skin than usual.

You knew that would get his attention.

Standing up, you stretched your arms and started walking towards him, your movement caused the knot to open up fully, your tits coming into display for him.

It was so attractive how his jolly and innocent eyes turned dark within a second, but you only giggled, pushing his limits, “oops, i guess the knot wasn’t tied properly, can you help me, Hee?” You asked with a smile.

He scoffed, “that desperate for my cock?” He asked, biting his lower lip.

“I’m just asking for help,” you tried to reason and hide your guilty smile.

“Such a pathetic needy thing, you just want to be fucked, don’t you?” He took a step further and you stepped back, the butterflies in your lower abdomen not calming down for even a second, “maybe I’ll have to fuck some manners into you,” he smirked, and pushed you on the couch near the last pool, getting on top of you, ignoring your lips as he trailed his own on your neck, making sure to apply more pressure while kissing your sweet spot. Your bikini top was long discarded in the pool, your bikini bottoms joined it soon as you laid below him.

“Already wet? Seems like you’ve been waiting eagerly,” he commented, sliding his fingers into your pussy, scissoring it open for his cock to fit into your tight hole, “so ready for my dick,” he chuckled.

“Put it in,” you whimper, causing him to shut your mouth, his lips on your as he swiped his tongue on your lower lip, a gasp leaving your mouth as you kissed him back with need.

He pushed his pants down and stroked his cock a few times, all while keeping you busy with his kisses. Without giving you much warning, he poked the tip of his cock at the your entrance, your eyes widening as he deepened the kiss, pushing his hips forward, stuffing your clenching walls full of his thick length.

“Oh—fuck!” You gasped and moaned.

A smirk was plastered on his face with how needy he made you, your wetness allowing him to bottom out easily, giving you no time to adjust to his length before he started to thrust in even faster and deeper, sending you into a state of the bliss of arousal.

With your eyes rolling back, you couldn’t form sentences as he ruined you, whispering dirty nothings into your ear as he nibbled on it.

You were committing the filthiest sin yet it felt like heaven.

“So wet, so fucking tight, all for my cock, look how you’re clenching so desperately,” he chuckled.

His balls smacked against your ass, he was painfully hard and you were equally aroused, not knowing how much more you could hold it in.

“What if someone walks in and sees how dirty of a slut you are?” He continued to talk, which only made you wetter, “you would like that, won’t you? Me fucking you behind your parents.” He thrusted harder, hitting your g-spot with ease.

His hips moved with such fluidity, it made you wonder how many people he had fucked before to get this good at fucking, you were obsessed already.

It took all of your control to not scream and whimper out loud, the stretch was nothing like you had experienced before, you couldn’t help but chant his name like a mantra, over and over again, head clouded with him.

Heeseung twitched inside your pussy, pulling you up and turning you around with ease, pushing your head down and holding your ass up as he started fucking you from behind, a hand grabbing your tit while the other played with your clit.

You whimpered, gritting your teeth as the sudden tight feeling began to overwhelm your trembling frame, and he knew you wouldn’t be able to hold his back anymore, his movements getting sharper as he smacked your ass.

“Go ahead, kitten,” he whispered and that did it for you.

Shaking and whining, you finally reached your high, all senses heightened as you made a mess all over his cock.

He groaned deeply, emptying his cum into your pussy with a few thrusts, making sure you were full of him.

He stood back just to watch his cum dripping pussy and fucked out expression.

“Better start taking birth control from now,” he smirked, kissing your lips with a smack.

“Why? Will you fuck me again?” You asked, acting like a brat, “I’ll pay you.”

He scoffed, “keep your cash to yourself, queen, I’ll make sure you won’t be able to stand the next time,” he gritted out.

To his amusement, you tried to stand up, only to fall back down on the couch, “guess you can’t do it, and to think I went easy on you,” he spoke up, embarrassing you again.

Being degraded by him was your new fetish.

“What if my dad catches us?” You asked, looking away, trying to cover yourself with a towel as you changed the topic.

“Well, you’ll have to learn to be silent to not get caught, princess,” he spoke, coming closer and taking the towel away from you, gaze darkening at your figure again, aiming for a round two thinking no one was watching.

However, a certain boy named Sunghoon stood on his balcony from the mansion next to yours, the view being clear enough to show your pool area and your activities, his hand stroking his cock firmly as he watched Heeseung fuck you for the second time.

A smirk played on his face as he fucked his palm as he formulated a plan in his head.

He simply knew he’d be joining you both the next time.

THANK YOU FOR READING! I HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT <3

TAGLIST:

@en-cityzen @seungkwan-s s @eunoia-kth @lix-freckle3 @woniebae @baekhyunstruly @sungniverse @criceofpain @starryjakey @wntrsgf @heelariously @liliansun @hoonstrology @abdiitcryy @w3bqrl @9900z @cha-raena @faethefairy @seo-thicc-bin @lilacboba @fallinforgyu @jayegalaxy @violevantae @ivyvesisi @sunshine-skz @nicksszzz @candidupped @celestialsjy @enhydiaries @woniecf @ultenha @dreamyenskz @keixeds @j5aker @donghoonie-3 @jkmonica @neocityhoe @zhaixiaowen @seuomo @hwhjsthetic @shreyerii @jngsngie @jjhmk @jongseongsmirk @iqeot @duolingofanaccount @bunhoons @yunskies @jaysbiceps @nyfwyeonjun @goodforgyu @enhacolor @cyuuupid @luvyun @sunghoonight @bambisgirl @taekbokki

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[llamagoddessofficial]

I have a question related to the prison au. Sorry if this has been asked before but what if Mc didn’t com in as a nurse but rather a therapist. Like the jail’s first therapist and it was all mc’s idea because Mc thinks that if the prisoners have more of am emotional outlet they won’t be as aggressive to one another and will become better people/monsters after they get out. And Mc wants to make a difference for them because Mc knows that their jail life isn’t the best. Mc can tell sans is trying to manipulate them, and isn’t affected much by reds attempts to charm her as much, and Mc can see threw skill’s scary and can understand him more and teaches him how to communicate how he is feeling better.

Oooooo...

Sans: Unlike pretty much all her other counterparts, this Mc is onto Sans' shit from the very start. Originally assigned to him as a mere formality, she immediately clocks that this motherfucker is much scarier than anyone has noticed before. His 'therapy sessions' are more like mental chess matches between two very perceptive people. Her aim is to genuinely try to treat him, genuinely try to get to the bottom of why he's turned into this terrifying mastermind, and perhaps even help him; there's not much else she can do. No one will believe her. Sans knows that, too.

Sans loves it. At last- someone who really, actually understands him, and the monster (not Monster) he's become. Not someone from his past lingering endlessly on who he used to be, not another pawn buying his 'harmless' persona. He loves having someone who is finally, finally in on his game. He was already fascinated with her from the start, this just makes it so much more intense- he loves being able to drop the mask. He loves the challenge of having to find ways to manipulate that are outside of his usual routes. He loves her, she's all he lives for.

She wants to help him? Cute. He'll show her what the world is really like. Then they can be puppetmasters together.

Red: She's assigned to Red to 'help' with his constant violent outbursts, after he gets in a particularly brutal fight and has to choose between attending therapy or lengthening his sentence. He's not the first violent offender she's dealt with, and he's definitely not the first flirtatious patient... but he's definitely the first that seems so utterly determined to charm her. She's firm on not breaching her ethics and she won't allow herself to do anything more than just get along well with him.

Mc actually makes a big impact on his mental health. The instinct to open up to her is a hard one to ignore, given his affection for her and their great rapport, and Red just likes her more and more with every issue she helps him work through. He doesn't like that she absolutely refuses to be with him, and he sees it as more of a challenge than anything.

When he gets out, he'll make sure she knows he's still very interested in some private sessions...

Skull: Giving Skull a therapist kinda feels like putting a band-aid on a completely severed torso. But it was a legal requirement. He cycles through therapists who either immediately refuse to treat him, or get a few days in and THEN refuse to treat him. Mc is just another in a long line of therapists that the prison expects to see rolling in.

... Except... he's so good for her. He tries to talk, he's calm and never bites, he's highly engaged with the tasks she gets him to do with her, he quickly notices that the better he does the more they make her spend time with him. The less violent he is, the more she talks to him in that lovely soft voice. Anything for more of her voice.

... Issues arise when Mc starts to understand that Skull has developed feelings for her. Deep feelings. He's always trying to kiss, nuzzle or hold her- it feels unethical to keep treating him. But it's also a well established fact that her presence in his life has probably saved several lives. If she tried to tell the prison that she didn't want to treat Skull anymore, she'd probably get a response along the lines of "we don't care, just keep him from eating anyone's hands".

She's not really got much of a choice.

[evillemons]

Which members would fall for the same woman

While BTS are all highly different individuals with varying preferences, there are a few overlaps that may cause some of the members to fall for the same person. Based on their ideal types that can be found in the masterlist.

*Some NSFW content*

RM and SUGA

The most likely pair to fight over a woman (not literally, but I can really see them liking the same person). RM and SUGA share of lot of similarities in terms of brain chemistry and their desire for deep, meaningful connections. They are both highly attracted to intelligence, wit, charm, kindness, and authenticity. I can see them simultaneously falling hard for someone who has these qualities.

V and RM

Both of these men would be enamored by someone creative and artistic with a strong, opinionated personality. They both search for a kind of innate intelligence and a unique way of looking at the world. She would probably be beautiful and fashionable as well. These two might actually be a little competitive with one another for her affection, swooning over her and trying to impress her whenever she walks in the room.

SUGA and j-hope

This one is painful because sope is by far the most wholesome duo of the group. They are both attracted to individuals with positive, vibrant energies and kind souls, and would fall for her genuineness, love for life, and caring nature towards people and animals. As a whole though, SUGA would need more intellectual stimulation while j-hope would prefer more emotional connection. Besides, they would never choose a woman over each other anyways.

V and Jungkook

Yikes, the two jealous-prone boys of the group. These drop-dead, jaw-dropping handsome men would fight to the death over a woman they both fancied. This might be over sexual or surface level attraction only though, for a woman who’s cute, short, flirty, and forward. She would tease both of them and end up with neither in the end (or fucking them at the same time in a threesome).

Jin and Jimin

This one is a bit of a stretch, I only put these two together because they share a liking for "traditional” Korean familial/relationship roles. She might be a little submissive (not in a sexual sense, more so in terms of obedience and gender dynamics) and enjoy taking care of her man. They would both like someone who is practical and considerate, but a little goofy at the same time. She would be pretty, feminine, and sweet. An unlikely collision, but it is possible.

RM and Jungkook

I imagine this woman to be emotionally mature, sexy, confident, intelligent, and experienced. Jungkook would find her incredibly attractive, but in a purely physical, sexual way. And when JK wants to fuck somebody, he needs to get it out of his system to ease his mind. RM, on the other hand, might have genuine feelings for this woman. He would know about JK’s infatuation, and feel a little upset with him for viewing her as an object, thinking that she deserves genuine respect and love. This may go down with RM telling JK to (politely) back off, and while of course he would obey his hyung, he would still have regular fantasies about having sex with her.

[rainba]

This is very random– BUT I wanted to talk a little bit more about Luka and his obsession with his darling. ((I'll be posting the Luka kidnapping Kairos and darling fic next. :3c But I wanted to get this out first.))

In most posts, it always sounds like he’s uncaring about his darling– being mean all the time– and only likes the thrill of chasing them. But…

Deep down, he truly is madly in love with his darling. He’s just… Horrible at expressing it sometimes.

tags/TWs: light mentions of stalking, yandere, slightly creepy/obsessive behaviors.

reader is GN

Luka isn’t used to feeling such strong emotions. Throughout most of his life, nothing has really made him feel much of anything. Getting perfect grades? Whatever. Going out on dates? He just did it because he could, not because he had any real interest in people. Winning a competition or getting into fights? A little exciting, sure, but the feeling fades pretty fast.

But when it comes to you..? He feels something indescribable. And it’s intense.

At first, he doesn’t really understand it. Why is his heart tightening in his chest? Why does his face feel so warm? Why is it hard to look you in the eyes? Why are you constantly on his mind?? He’ll never express these things to you, he’s amazing at hiding it, but his feelings for you are making him go crazy.

In the beginning, he’ll start stalking your social media without realizing it. Every time he’s at work and has a moment to spare, his hands will instinctively pull out his phone and open your profile. He checks to see if you've posted anything– and if you haven’t, he’ll settle for rereading your conversations, if you’ve ever had any with him. Honestly, it’s embarrassing, but he just can’t stop himself. It’s addicting. His heart skips a beat when he sees that you’ve shared something.

…Again, highly embarrassing for him.

Then the next stage rolls in: he gets your pictures printed and frames them in his house and on his work desk. Seeing your face always calms him down and makes him feel warm inside. The more stressful days at work now hardly affect him, all thanks to you… And now he doesn’t feel so disheartened when he returns to his empty home.

Then the third stage rolls around: he needs to see you multiple times a week. It’s similar to the way he checks his phone; he doesn’t realize it as his legs instinctually start to carry him wherever he thinks he may find you. He needs to know if you’re safe– needs to know that you’re happy and nothing bad is going on… Those are his excuses, anyway. He’s not exactly sure why he loves watching and following you, but he just does. He also does genuinely love the idea of being your protector, though.

Possessing you, protecting you, spoiling and loving you each and every day… He wants to do it all. Just for you.

But deep down, Luka’s constantly fighting himself. He has to learn to control his urges and manage his emotions… After all, since he’s never experienced such intense feelings before, he’s never learned how to cope with them. Seeing you being around other men makes his blood boil; he’s had to research ways to cope with his rage. Now he just listens to music and goes on runs, trying his hardest to not seek revenge on the innocent people you talk to.

Luka has never yearned for something so badly before. When he goes to bed at night, he finds himself longing to have you in his arms… It becomes almost impossible to sleep. 

How cute it would be to see you wearing his clothes to bed… How nice it would be to see you crawl next to him and give him a kiss goodnight as he wraps his arms around you, holding you close to him. How nice it would be to feel the rise and falling of your chest as he thinks about just how lucky he is to have you.

And Luka thinks to himself: “...Is this what it means to be in love?”

Deep down, he didn’t really think he’d ever feel it– he almost thought love was just a myth. When people told him that love is a wonderful feeling unlike any other, he thought they were lying. Now he doesn’t want to let you go… He can’t, he just can’t. He doesn’t think he could feel this way about anyone (or anything) ever again.

Once Luka has finally realized that he needs you more than anything, he’ll stop being ashamed of his actions. He will have already been a little bit close to you– he talks to you sometimes, but he’s remained somewhat distant up until now. He can’t keep the gap between you any longer.

Luka will do whatever it takes to get you the “natural way” first. In order to start things up, he’ll create a bunch of fake chance-encounters. Like, oh… You’re here ordering some food, too? How crazy! You’re also on your way to shop for some clothes? Wow, that’s also crazy, because he was just about to go out and buy himself a new leather jacket. So… You don’t mind if he tags along, right? (He tries his hardest to be nonchalant about it. Doesn’t want to look like he’s trying too hard..)

After that, he’ll start to ask you out on dates, buy you anything you’d like, ask you about your interests and let you ramble on about anything you like… He already knows all your interests, but he just likes the way your eyes light up as you talk about them. (Also, Luka sort of just adopts your interests too, as he doesn’t really have too many of his own.)

When Luka first tries to court you, he’ll be an extreme gentleman. He always pays all the restaurant bills, holds doors open for you and drives you everywhere. Although, to be honest, he does this even after the beginning stages… He just likes to spoil his darling in general.

In the end, he wants you to basically be his ”mate for life.” He wants you to be his one and only, the most important and special person in his entire life. You’ve shown him what it’s like to feel love, and now he yearns to know what it’s like to be loved in return. Luka won’t stop until he gets what he wants.

[subtract-me-from-your-heart]

I like the show version of Chishiya, and here’s why.

I love manga!Chishiya, but he always felt pretty one-dimensional to me. His backstory is one of parental neglect, similar to Arisu. Chishiya basically fails to develop a sense of empathy (unlike Arisu, who just has ye olde Main Character Syndrome). He decides to enter med school because he thinks that a profession where he saves lives might actually help him grow a Give-a-Shitter. Spoiler: it doesn’t.

Manga!Chishiya is an emotional flat line. He doesn’t care about other characters because he can’t. I remember thinking that he had a lot of the same traits as a serial killer. He viewed the world through nothing but intellect, and other people were either nonexistent or pawns to be used to further his own ends. Even the idea that maybe being responsible for the lives of others will help him grow some empathy is a chilling one.

That’s cool. I actually really like those kinds of characters. I also think there are enough characters like that in the story. Characters who you look at and think, “Okay, yes, you are terrible.” The big problem is that it makes his weird self-sacrifice with Usagi absolutely senseless. Like, it came out of nowhere. There wasn't any sort of satisfying build-up where I felt like, "Okay, yeah, this makes sense."

His updated backstory adds a dimension that wasn’t present in the manga version. Rather than simply lacking empathy for other people, you can actually see the moment in which he makes the conscious decision to turn it off. He has this light bulb moment where he realizes that the world is a cruel and unfair place. He realizes that allowing himself to feel for other people is only going to hurt him in the end because he’s powerless to change the systems that are actively harming them. It's better to protect himself and survive.

Chishiya is a selfish character, but the idea that his selfishness stems out of a desire to protect himself from pain gives his character some actual depth that was always missing for me. It also makes the King of Diamonds game a lot more meaningful. Kuzuryu went through the same exact thing, but instead of turning off his feelings, he paralyzed himself with a moral dilemma. Where Chishiya chose to treat all human life as equally worthless, Kuzuryu couldn’t stop looking for some value to assign, whether that was to ease his conscience or to inform a sense of justice he was desperately trying to find.

I really, really like how that dichotomy played out.

I also think it's interesting that Chishiya feels a lot more psychological in the show. He's clearly highly intelligent in both the manga and the show, and maybe it's just Murakami's performance, but there's something more sinister to him. He's clearly developed some sort of friendly relationship with Kuina. He displays an ability to be playful and seems to genuinely be extending an offer of friendship to Arisu (up until he sells him out for one corn chip). Seeing how he can make these connections that feel genuine to the people involved (unlike his manga self who is pretty universally despised) and still be willing to fuck those people over for his own survival makes him feel a lot more menacing to me.

This ability to flawlessly manipulate and betray also means he has a deep understanding of human emotion, which is illogical by nature. In the manga, Chishiya says outright that he isn't suited for Hearts games, but show!Chishiya feels tailor-made for them.

It's also interesting that in the manga, he seems to get harsher and more isolated. By contrast, in the show, he feels to me like he softens episode by episode. It really struck me in the Jack of Hearts game when he said something about his partner dying because he was too kind. On the surface, you could take it as a typical judgy Chishiya comment, but there actually appeared to be a glimmer of sadness, or envy, or regret. Or all of the above. Or maybe it's just Murakami Nijiro's face that made me think that. Either way, I think it was smart of the showrunners to throw him in that game.

In the end, the King of Diamonds game pushes him to the realization that he really is envious of people who have the ability to be kind. He's envious of people who can make the selfless choice. And it's not because he can't be. It's because he's closed himself off to the vulnerability that allows a person to make that kind of decision. You can't truly save others if you're always protecting yourself.

So, he saves Usagi to try to become that person. And I don't feel it was out of character at all.

[i-cant-sing]

I'm not trying to be rude or anything genuinely, but doesn't Islam support pedophilia and child marriage? As well as oppression of women? It's a beautiful religion, but when you sit and read these old laws that are still practiced today and never abolished....

*sigh* what laws? what proof do you have for all your claims?

I'm gonna assume about the child marriage and pd thing that you're referring to Prophet Muhammad's marriage to Aisha, and if u do a little google research you'll find many answers refuting the claim of him marrying him when she was a child, that she was married at this age and consummated the marriage at another, that she was actually a teen and the scribes just didnt write her age right or things got lost in translation, that a person is considered mature when they can be held responsible for their actions, or when women start menses, or that Aisha was actually a highly intelligent woman and she was far more mature for her age. The more you research, the more you'll find out about this claim. Its better in their words than mine, especially since youre not the first person in 1400 years to raise this accusation.

What I will say is that at the end of the day, Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) had MANY enemies, so if such claims were true, I think they would've used every opportunity they could bring him down. They would've used it against him. They could've used it when he passes away.

AND that medieval times and european countries did marry off their royal kids for years, even if the kids did not consent. But i feel like no one accuses them of pd and child marriages, no no- everything is bad when Islam is involved, hm?

You say that Islam oppresses women. I think no other religion is as protective and progressive as Islam when it comes to women, all u have to do is to not CONFUSE religion with culture.

Imma give you a few examples of just how Islam treats women, and feel free to tell me any other religion or culture that gives as many rights to women as Islam:

Considering the fact that before the advent of Islam the pagan Arabs used to bury their female children alive, make women dance naked in the vicinity of the Ka'ba during their annual fairs, and treat women as mere chattels and objects of sexual pleasure possessing no rights or position whatsoever, these teachings of the Noble Qur'an were revolutionary. Unlike other religions, which regarded women as being possessed of inherent sin and wickedness and men as being possessed of inherent virtue and nobility, Islam regards men and women as being of the same essence created from a single soul. The Qur'an declares:

O mankind! Reverence your Guardian-Lord, who created you from a single person, created, of like nature, his mate, and from this pair scattered (like seeds) countless men and women. Reverence Allah, through Whom you demand your mutual (rights), and reverence the wombs (that bore you); for Allah ever watches over you. (4:1)

"Women are considered inferior to men." No. This is so wrong. The Shari'ah regards women as the spiritual and intellectual equals of men. The main distinction it makes between them is in the physical realm based on the equitable principle of fair division of labor. It allots the more strenuous work to the man and makes him responsible for the maintenance of the family. It allots the work of managing the home and the upbringing and training of children to the woman, work which has the greatest importance in the task of building a healthy and prosperous society.

The pagan society of pre-Islamic Arabia had an irrational prejudice against their female children whom they used to bury alive. The Messenger of Allah (peace be upon him) was totally opposed to this practice. He showed them that supporting their female children would act as a screen for them against the fire of Hell:

It is narrated by the Prophet's wife, 'A'isha, that a woman entered her house with two of her daughters. She asked for charity but 'A'isha could not find anything except a date, which was given to her. The woman divided it between her two daughters and did not eat any herself. Then she got up and left. When the Prophet (peace be upon him) came to the house, 'A'isha told him about what had happened and he declared that when the woman was brought to account (on the Day of Judgment) about her two daughters they would act as a screen for her from the fires of Hell.

You know how in the west, there's like so many divorce stories about how the wife didnt change her surname to her husbands? YEah, Islam does not do that. It allows women to keep their name even after marriage.

Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) said this in his farewell pilgrimmage:

"Fear Allah regarding women. Verily you have married them with the trust of Allah, and made their bodies lawful with the word of Allah. You have got (rights) over them, and they have got (rights) over you in respect of their food and clothing according to your means."

Woman as mother commands great respect in Islam. The Noble Qur'an speaks of the rights of the mother in a number of verses. It enjoins Muslims to show respect to their mothers and serve them well even if they are still unbelievers. The Prophet states emphatically that the rights of the mother are paramount. Abu Hurairah reported that a man came to the Messenger of Allah (peace be upon him) and asked: "O Messenger of Allah, who is the person who has the greatest right on me with regards to kindness and attention?" He replied, "Your mother." "Then who?" He replied, "Your mother." "Then who?" He replied, "Your mother." "Then who?" He replied, "Your father."

How many of you can say that my religion/culture says that "Paradise is under my mother's feet" (which means that as long as you serve your mom well, you could enter heaven). In another tradition, the Prophet advised a believer not to join the war against the Quraish in defense of Islam, but to look after his mother, saying that his service to his mother would be a cause of his salvation. Mu'awiyah, the son of Jahimah, reported that Jahimah came to the Prophet (peace be upon him) and said, " Messenger of Allah! I want to join the fighting (in the path of Allah) and I have come to seek your advice." He said, "Then remain in your mother's service, because Paradise is under her feet."

Some of you will claim that oooh women are oppressed because they have to wear hijab or cover up- girls, listen. If you've ever listened to locker room talk, if you ever KNEW just how most boys think about the female body, you would actually wish to wear an iron armour and hide away forever. I've seen men GAWK, and CATCALL women that were covered from head-to-toe... I used to think that you know, maybe its fine to have a niqaab that shows your eyes, surely no man could ever be into that. No. Nope. If you havent realised it yet, then you will experience it first hand one day that eyes are literally "the windows to the soul"- like you know how writers often mention getting lost in their lover's eyes, or how beautiful someones's eyes are- yeah... theres a reason for it.Look around you, look at your friends's or family memebers eyes and you'll know just how much the eyes talk, how much they convey.

When Islam was introduced, for the first time women could have share in their inheritance.

But Islam tells women to stay at homes- NO IT DOES NOT (please read any context)! 'A'isha reported that Saudah bint Zam'ah went out one night. 'Umar saw her and recognized her and said, "By God, O Saudah, why do you not hide yourself from us?" She went back to the Prophet (peace be upon him) and told him about it while he was having supper in her room, and he said, "It is permitted by Allah for you to go out for your needs." The predominant idea in the teachings of Islam with regard to men and women is that a husband and wife should be full-fledged partners in making their home a happy and prosperous place, that they should be loyal and faithful to one another, and genuinely interested in each other's welfare and the welfare of their children. A woman is expected to exercise a humanizing influence over her husband and to soften the sternness inherent in his nature. A man is enjoined to educate the women in his care so that they cultivate the qualities in which they, by their very nature, excel.

Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) has on many accounts, many times advised men to be gentle, to be kind to women. Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) has said: "The best of you are those who are best to their women."

These are just a few examples but I think that if you were to open your eyes and look at it with a broader mind, you'll see Islam is not what you were taught to believe. I dont believe in coincidences that much, so I think that the very fact that you sent me this ask may be a sign that something deeper inside you is telling you to do your own research, that even you dont believe that Islam is this "oppressive and backward" religion.

Hope this helped <3

[haeresysabound]

A certain cutscene has been circling about on Twitter again, specifically in regards to the fairytale Nahida tells detailing Scaramouche's past as Kabukimono and the events that led to him joining the Fatui, which (perhaps unsurprisingly) got me thinking.

The way Nahida portrays Dottore is simply fascinating.

First of all, she notes that when he takes off his fox furs to stare at his own reflection, he "laments" that he is a monster and the foxes around him are incapable of seeing it. A interesting choice of word, that. "Laments." Not gloats, or crows, or cackles with sadistic glee. He laments - expresses grief and sorrow - that they are incapable of seeing him for what he truly is. She continues with his dialogue in saying that he pities them, yes, so he doesn't exactly hold remorse for his deception, but she clearly portrays him as having a sort of sadness that he cannot be accepted for who he is.

This fits in perfectly well with what we know of Dottore from his interactions within the Archon Questline itself. He does hold bitterness over the Akademiya's inability to accept his genius. He holds a sense of betrayal over being chased out of his hometown with pitchforks for being nothing more than a perfect example of Sumerian intellect. He understands that other people see him as a monster, but Dottore genuinely does not see himself that way and it bothers him.

He tells us in his Archon Quest that he has no intention of being rejected by his homeland for a third time. Dottore does not hate his nation. Not entirely. Some part of him would very much like to be acknowledged by it. He does not strive for rejection; he genuinely seeks acceptance.

Which leads to the next interesting part of Nahida's fairytale: she claims that he finds "solace" in the arrival of Kabukimono; someone he considers to be an outsider like him. Dottore has already accepted that people do not consider him to be a human and that they will only ever see him as a monster, yet he isn't entirely happy about it. He still seeks kinship. He finds comfort in knowing that someone else is as much of a freak as he is - someone who looks human believably enough, but clearly isn't.

I'm in no way entirely saying that Dottore had any desire to befriend Kabukimono, nor that he only ever had positive intentions for him. What I am saying, however, is that Dottore clearly did feel better when he wasn't the only 'monster' among the humans. Someone who was equally as unlikely to be accepted; someone who could, perhaps, understand his world view. Kabukimono was an outcast of humanity as well. Wouldn't that be wonderful, to be outcasts together? To know that he wasn't entirely alone even in his monstrosity?

To find comfort in knowing that he wasn't the only person to exist utterly incapable of being accepted for who he is?

Except, as the fairytale goes on, Kabukimono is accepted. He isn't a fox - he is evidently different; Nahida points out his slim tail compared to the foxes' bushy tails and obviously presents him as a kitten in a clear comparison to humanity that Dottore isn't afforded - yet the foxes overlook those flaws. They overlook the things that make him different and accept him for what he is.

There's a difference here, of course. Dottore is still pretending to be a fox; Kabukimono never pretended to be anything else. It was always going to be easier for the humans in the actual timeline to accept Kabukimono because he wasn't hiding. But clearly, that didn't matter.

Again, I'm not saying that Dottore did everything that followed because of this event. He was at the furnace for a reason and it was highly unlikely to conclude in any other way. But there is something exceptionally personal about the way he ends up enacting the actual plan that definitely would not have happened had Kabukimono not been there.

Because Nahida's fairytale continues by explaining that Dottore is "furious at the happy resolution".

This is the part I find most fascinating. Dottore is furious that Kabukimono finds acceptance. Something that isn't even human is accepted when he, who has always been human, is incapable of being understood and seen and accepted the way he wants to be. But it's more than that. It's the realisation that he is being forced back into solitude. He doesn't have that kinship anymore. There is no longer someone who could possibly understand his worldview. All of the comfort Dottore previously found in Kabukimono's existence is torn away from him so quickly.

At this point, Dottore knows he won't be accepted by humanity. He's already been branded a monster. If he took off the disguise, he wouldn't be welcomed as Kabukimono was; he would be chased away yet again. So copying Kabukimono's approach isn't possible.

What is possible, however, is ensuring that Kabukimono will never accept or be accepted by humanity ever again... which makes it much easier to later recruit him into the Fatui - not as a singular experiment for Dottore's own purpose, but as a comrade. A very purposeful word choice Dottore himself uses when musing aloud to Pierro about his success at the furnace.

The way Nahida portrays Dottore in the fairytale suggests that there's a lot more to him and the things he does than the inherently logical and sadistic mad-doctor curiosity that he more openly expresses. We've already seen it before, in small form, and I've talked about that before as well, but the fairytale takes it to a level beyond what we know from the Archon Quests.

Dottore is human. He seeks acceptance, doesn't understand why he won't be accepted, and is evidently bothered by it. He enjoys not being the only 'monster' in the world. He dislikes it when that kinship is taken away from him, so he takes it back - almost in a reflection of his own acceptance into the Fatui.

And I just think it's neat to see the layers in his character presented this way from the Archon of Knowledge herself.

(Also, not entirely related to the fairytale itself, but I noticed this as I was watching both the fairytale cutscene and the Niwa-Escher cutscene for dialogue, so I wanted to include it as well:

Clearly, Dottore does have an interest in Kabukimono as an experiment. That's essentially his whole point. His conversation with Niwa shows as much; the moment he actually met Kabukimono, he was already planning a way to use the furnace as a step towards obtaining Kabukimono for the purposes of his experiment. But there is something interesting that he mentions - two things, actually - that show the truth within the fairytale portrayal of Dottore.

One is that he thinks it is inevitable for Kabukimono to lose his innocence as humans will always use - and fail to accept - one that is not 'our own kind'.

Two is that he ponders whether gaining Niwa's heart will turn Kabukimono human... before declaring that it's "quite impossible".

Even in reality, Dottore sees himself as human. He accepts that other people see him as a monster - even encourages Niwa to do so out of respect for the man to lighten the blow of falling into Dottore's carefully laid trap - but he does not see himself as anything other than human. At the same time, he doesn't believe that non-human beings are capable of becoming human. Just as the fairytale implies, Dottore doesn't believe that he will ever be accepted by people who don't already see him as human.

I just think it's interesting to think about.)

[mydarlingdahlia]

“The more the merrier.”—Douma & Akaza x AFAB Uppermoon!reader

Warnings: smut, oral sex (female receiving, aka cunnilingus), threesome, double penetration, vaginal and anal sex, virgin!reader, cream pie, porn with a plot(?), semi-public sex, Muzan can probably hear y’all so have fun with that information

(Also, Douma calls reader “little one” a few times. Don’t get it twisted, all three participants are of age.)

~♡︎~

Ever since the two Uppermoon Six demons had perished at the hand of a Hashira, you had moved up in the Twelve Kizuki in their place. Previously being Lowermoon One, of course. You had never met the two, but you were aware that they had been brother and sister in their human lives. You hadn’t even known if Lord Muzan would have let you socialize with the other Uppermoons until now.

You had always kept to yourself, given orders from Lord Muzan and dutifully fulfilled them. You never really talked to the other Lowermoons, either. You kept quiet, didn’t make much fuss when Lord Muzan gave you all orders. So when you had risen to the Uppermoon tier, you had initially been surprised.

Of course, you didn’t hate the position, you were grateful for it, if you were being honest. But you just found the other Uppermoons…a little…hostile? That’s the best way you could describe it.

Well, they weren’t hostile to you, but more so to each other. Talk about a welcoming party…

You’ve only been an Uppermoon for a few weeks, but you think you’re doing fairly well. Until you went to your first Uppermoon meeting. It was…different, than the Lowermoon meetings. Not because it was the Uppermoons themselves.

It was Uppermoons Two and Three. They both didn’t outwardly introduce themselves, but you found out that their names were Douma and Akaza. Nothing too out of the ordinary stuck out about them, except Akaza seemed to despise Douma with all of his being.

You figured it was at least slightly normal, anyway. After all, they all wouldn’t be happy-go-lucky and get along with each other like they’re best friends. Or maybe at least acquaintances.

But, back to the Uppermoon meeting.

As you were listening to Lord Muzan, you couldn’t help but feel like someone was staring at you. You only snuck a glance once, only to find that both Akaza and Douma were both looking at you.

You quickly averted your gaze, not wanting to draw too much attention from the others. But all throughout the meeting, you couldn’t help but feel their eyes practically burning into your back.

You could hear them muttering, and Akaza getting frustrated at Douma every once in a while (and most likely punching his face or shoulder), but that was mainly it. Nothing too out of the ordinary, at least you thought.

Until after the meeting was over.

You had begun to aimlessly wander around the Infinity Castle, as you usually did, not having a particular destination in mind. This place was so vast, and you had always been the exploring type.

You had paused in one room to take a small break, when you heard the door slide open. You looked up from where you were sitting on the floor, and were surprised to see Douma standing in the doorway. Had he followed you? Or had he found you by chance…?

“L-Lord Douma!” you said, getting up from where you were sitting and bowing to him.

“Ah, y/n! That was your name, wasn’t it?” he said, flashing you a smile.

“Y-Yes, Lord Douma.” you said, nodding slightly.

“Oh, no need for those silly formalities. Just call me Douma, little one.”

You didn’t know why, but you felt butterflies dance around in your stomach when he called you “little one”. Maybe he called more people that, not just you. Right?

Surely.

“Okay then…So, uhm, Douma, why have you come to see me? Or did you just find me by accident?”

Douma laughed, a hearty, full laugh. Like he had been genuinely amused by what you had said.

“Little one, this castle is infinite. It would be highly unlikely that I found you by chance.” he said.

“…Did you follow me?” you asked, a little softer than you had anticipated.

His smile slowly diminished, but never left his face. He laughed, but not like he had before. It was a lower, softer laugh, that darkened the eyes and rumbled in the chest like thunder before a storm. His mood hadn’t changed, but his aura had. Was it…threatening? Oh no, you wouldn’t put it like that.

…Beckoning. Teasing, even.

“Perhaps I did. Perhaps I didn’t, little one.” he said, his eyes locking onto yours.

You couldn’t tell why, but his gaze was so intense that it basically held you in place. Like you were frozen in ice, or in time itself. But something about it made something stir deep inside you. Something primal. Animalistic.

You must have zoned out, because when you were finally brought back down to earth, you felt Douma’s hand on your cheek. Your eyes widened, and you could feel your heart skip a beat. Your mind was racing, and your cheeks had turned cherry blossom pink.

“You’ve caught my eye, y/n.” he said suddenly.

Your eyebrows raised; you hadn’t expected him to say that. Or much at all, really. If you were being honest, you thought that he would’ve left by now. Guessing that he didn’t care. Being Uppermoon Two, you assumed he wouldn’t care about anyone lower than him.

But this showed that this was not necessarily the case.

“Caught your eye…? How?” you asked, a bit nervous of what his answer was going to be.

Douma simply shrugged.

“You’re very interesting, and you’re quite beautiful, too. I hope you don’t mind me saying that.” Douma said.

You paused for a moment, feeling like your throat had closed up. You’d never been called beautiful before. Not even in your human life. So you were automatically surprised.

“Beautiful? I…no one has ever called me something like that before…” you said softly.

“Then let me be the first.”

Before you could utter another phrase, you felt Douma’s lips press against your own. You were surprised, at first, but you soon let your hands drop on his shoulders and the rigidness in your spine cease. His hands were still on your cheeks, his thumbs slowly running over your skin.

You could feel his teeth gently pulling on your bottom lip, which you responded with parting your lips. His tongue slipped into your mouth, making you moan slightly. Your hands then moved into his hair, tugging slightly at his blonde locks.

After another minute or so, you pulled back, looking up at him.

“Did you enjoy that, y/n?” Douma asked.

You nodded, your cheeks flushed. You could barely speak, and your heart was pounding. You’d never done anything like that before, but you had to admit, it felt good.

“Good. But, I want to continue this. If that’s alright with you, little one?” he said, his hands sliding down to your shoulders.

“Y-Yes…” you said softly.

Douma smiled, his hands sliding down lower on your body. His hands pushed up the fabric covering your legs, exposing your inner thighs. You bit your lip as his hands gently squeezed and massaged your soft skin, getting closer to your covered heat.

One of his fingers hooked around the waistline of your panties, and he pulled them off with one swift motion. He tossed them aside, and focused his vision in between your legs.

“Oh my, I think I am going to enjoy this…”

꧁༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄꧂

You could barely think straight at this point. How had you gotten into this situation? That was long forgotten, now.

All you could think about was the feel of Douma’s tongue on your clit, and how you gripped his hair so tightly. You were practically on the verge of screaming, but you didn’t want any of the other Uppermoons to hear you two. Or even Muzan.

It felt better than anything you had ever experienced, even if you hadn’t really experienced anything. You twitched at the slightest touch of his tongue to your sensitive nub, and shivered as he spelled his name across your wet folds.

“D-Douma…” you managed to squeak out, your back starting to arch.

You had tasted better than any human he had ever eaten. He couldn’t help but moan at the way your nectar coated his tongue, and dripped off of his lips and down his chin like a thick honey.

It coated his throat like a sweet elixir, and left a heavenly aroma that filled his every sense. You swore you could see little hearts circling his head.

You were starting to grow closer, a tight knot building up in your lower stomach. It felt hot, but so good at the same time. You’d never experienced anything like this before; your body felt like it was on fire.

Douma somehow must’ve sensed your approaching orgasm, because his mouth began to work even more furiously than it already was.

You grabbed onto his hair tightly, while placing your other hand on the ground behind you to hold yourself up. You were shaking, tears of bliss welling up in the corners of your eyes and threatening to roll down your cheeks.

His tongue and fingers worked overtime, all focused on pleasuring you to the fullest.

Electric shocks shot up your spine each time his tongue even slightly touched your oh-so-sensitive clit, the way his fingers gently probed and massaged your inner walls, oh you were in shambles at this point!

After a few moments, it became too much to bear all at once. You crashed down under the pressure of all of the bliss and euphoria you were feeling, and tried to hang on for dear life. You grabbed the back of Douma’s head, pulling it towards you as your thighs closed around his head.

You rocked your hips against his face, chasing your orgasm as you shook and trembled. You put a hand over your mouth to quiet yourself, but there was no point. Your moans and wails still slipped past your lips, sounding heavenly to Douma’s ears.

You finally released your grip after a minute or so, both of you gasping.

“Mmm~ You taste delightful, little one. Did you enjoy it as much as I did?” Douma asked, sitting up on his knees.

“Y-Yes, Lord- I mean Douma. I did enjoy that.” you responded softly. You blushed even redder than you already were as he licked your sweet nectar off of his lips, and cleaned off his fingers as well.

Just as you were about to say something else, you heard someone clear their throat from behind you. You panicked, and quickly closed your legs as you turned your head around.

Oh shit.

“L-Lord Akaza..!” you said, your voice cracking slightly. You tried to cover yourself up by pulling your kimono over your now exposed chest and thighs, but it was no use. He’d already been standing there long enough to get a good shot of the action.

Akaza’s eyes narrowed as he spotted Douma across from you, still happily licking his lips. He clenched his fists at his side, one of his eyes slightly twitching.

“Ah, Akaza! Fancy seeing you here~ Care to join the two of us? The more the merrier, after all~”

꧁༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄꧂

Now how did you end up in this position? You don’t remember, and it’s not really important at this moment.

You were barely conscious, at this point. Being sandwiched in between Uppermoons Two and Three…with their cocks filling up both of your holes oh-so-deliciously.

You were facing Akaza, one of his hands placed securely on your back, while Douma was behind you, both of his hands firmly on your waist.

They hadn’t even started to move yet, and you had already ascended to what you were sure was heaven. You had a spaced out look on your face, drool leaking out of one of the corners of your mouth. Your cheek rested on Akaza’s collarbone. Your vision was slightly blurry, too.

(A/N: I mean come on. Am I wrong here? This would totally be me if I was sandwiched in between these two.)

“Look, Akaza! Y/n looks so fucked out already~” Douma cooed from behind you. You felt Akaza nod, and…was he trembling slightly? You couldn’t tell by how much you were yourself.

“Hold onto me if you need to, okay?” Akaza whispered softly into your ear. Your heart warmed at his gentle tone. You wrapped your arms around his torso, and a small smile graced your lips.

“Alright, now that you’re settled, y/n, shall we start moving?” Douma asked.

You hesitated for a moment, then slowly nodded, holding Akaza a little tighter. You sucked in a breath as you felt Douma move slightly, your teeth tugging at your bottom lip.

A groan could be heard from both of them as your walls squeezed, barely able to manage having both of them inside at the same time. You whined as Akaza slowly moved as well, his hips moving upwards gingerly.

A minute or so passed by, and they both found a steady rhythm. You began to rock your hips in sync with their thrusts, trying to be as close to them as possible.

“Douma…A-Akaza…” you moaned, your heart beating fast in your chest.

You moved your arms to wrap around Akaza’s neck, one of your hands going up to grip his hair, causing him to grunt softly. His own grip tightened on your waist, and his hips started to move faster.

You were going practically limp, now. A rag doll for the two of them to fuck while you laid in their arms, wrapped tightly around both of their cocks. It felt like you were on cloud nine.

Your vocabulary had devolved to only their names and incoherent moans and whimpers. You could barely think straight at this point, your mind gone fuzzy.

“Mmmph…hmm…a-ah— ah!” you squealed as Akaza hit a particularly sensitive spot. You were getting closer and closer to your orgasm, that same knot building up again, but more intense. Each upward thrust of their hips had you seeings stars, and sent tingles up and down your spine.

Suddenly, you just couldn’t take it anymore. That tight knot snapped, causing you to arch your back sharply as you let out a wail of ecstasy and pure, unadulterated bliss. Both of them held you in place as they kept thrusting, chasing their orgasms as well.

It couldn’t have been more then a few moments after yours, when they both reached their highs.

They both held you still for a minute or two, both shaking as you were. You could feel their warm semen dripping down your inner thighs, and forming a small puddle on the floor.

After a few minutes, Douma spoke up.

“I found that experience quite enjoyable, didn’t you, Akaza? And you, y/n?” he said, resting his chin on your shoulder. You nodded, barely conscious enough to say anything.

Akaza didn’t respond, he just slowly rubbed your back, and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

The three of you stayed like that for a while, until you fell asleep with your head on Akaza’s shoulder.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You woke up what you assumed to be a few hours later, wrapped in something warm. You slowly opened your eyes a bit, and noticed you had a blanket around your shoulders.

And you were leaning against something, or more so being held by something. It was Akaza.

He had you sitting comfortably in his lap with his arms around you, and Douma was asleep as well beside you. You smiled softly to yourself, and snuggled deeper into Akaza’s hold.

“I could get used to this…” you thought to yourself as slumber claimed you once more, your eyes closing as Akaza pulled you just a bit closer.

~♡︎~

So how was it? 👉🏼👈🏼

I hope y’all like this because I wrote this while in the car. 😭 Also I just realized this is my first smut post. 🧍‍♀️ Yay me! :)

Don’t fret, my lovelies, there will be more where this came from! Because I have so many unfinished drafts 🥲

Anyways, that’s all! Charlotte out.

-C

(P.S., I might post once or twice today or tomorrow, but don’t be expecting something because I’m not sure. But I’ll miss you guys while I’m away! ^^)

[bird-inacage]

Only Friends: Episode 3 Preview (aka Boston's Reign of Madness)

So this week's upcoming instalment is where this train to hot-mess-ville is well and truly about to kick off. Boston is really gunning for first prize in the chaotic red flag olympics for fuckery and shit-stirring. We get a brief but loaded glimpse into the many possible showdowns and throwdowns.

Boston VS Mew (Competition)

In Episode 2, Boston pointedly stares at a photo he took of Mew and Ray. From what we see, he chooses to incriminate his two best friends purely in a bid to drive a wedge between Mew and Top.

I really can't decipher what Boston's end goal is here. Is this purely, 100% egotistical, petty jealousy due to Mew 'one-upping' him for once, when he's usually the person who gets all the action? I don't necessarily think Boston wants a boyfriend in Top, so this is a lot of chaos to cause for very little, especially as Top seems rather indifferent about Boston other than sexually. I think Boston's absolutely right in that he and Top are two peas in a pod - they love being at the 'top' of their game, and they hate being bested. If he thinks this is going to get him exclusivity rights to Top junior, he's insane. He's clearly not bothered that his two best friends may end up as collateral in the process.

Top VS Ray (Rivalry)

This is a classic case of we both hate each other but we're trying to keep it on the downlow for Mew's sake. Ray's jealousy is more valid, because it's partly fuelled by genuine concern around Top's motives. Whereas Top's jealousy feels possessive. The way he interacts with Ray is a clear indication to 'back off, you're stepping on my property'. With Boston's false intel, he's only going to feel more justified to be combative with Ray.

Top also makes a comment about Sand's band which sounded derogatory. Either a snide little dig at Ray (already knowing he invited Sand), or just a plain dig nonetheless. If so, I'd highly welcome Ray to defend his boyfriend's honour. This is an altercation I would truly love to see. I want Ray to go full feral on this man. Because I swear to god Top, if you try to hurt my son, I will yeet you into the goddamn sun. (Force is doing a stellar job of plastering that incredibly punchable smug-ass expression across his face. My hands are itching to smack him one).

Sand & Ray (Friends or Boyfriends?)

The preview is cut to look like Nick finds Ray and Sand kissing in the car. But the shot of Nick is at the hostel. Whereas Ray and Sand are kissing in the garage outside Sand's apartment. It's unlikely anyone is watching them at that location.

Ray drives Sand home after being slighted by Top, and tries to seduce him (and unsurprisingly succeeds). This is also the scene where Sand says "I'll never take someone like you as my boyfriend". (Pretty presumptuous of you to assume Ray would want to take you as a boyfriend, unless he's the one to suggest it? Unlikely). If Ray's proposition breaks his personal rule of "I've never slept with anyone who's not my lover more than once", then in Sand's head he's going to start thinking of them that way, even if he agrees to just 'one more time'. This conversation is potentially where the two really muddy the waters on what on earth this is.

It's also going to get more interesting when someone from the group finds out about their relationship. Worst case scenario would be Boston finding out. Because the last thing we need is for him to have more leverage to pull strings in this tangled web.

Boston & Top (Lust)

Notoriously, we're going to get our two resident red flags committing adultery together. This happens the same night as the pool party. Something happens between Top leading Mew away from Ray, to Top vouching for some rigorous car seat action with Boston. Mew is seen taking a call in the preview, and it wouldn't surprise me if Boston has something to do with this. He sees Top lead Mew away, and potentially intercedes with a ploy.

Can we talk about how Boston is acting all sweet with Nick and kisses him on the cheek (in the same car) earlier in the day and then proceeds to bounce the living daylights out of Top that same night (in the SAME car)?? This boy doesn't give a shit.

Nick VS Top ('The Favourite')

Nick finds the photobooth strip of Boston and Top. Now if I was Nick, this does speak volumes. Boston comes across as very blasé about his sexual partnerships. He takes a lot of photos of other people (including Nick), but from what we've seen, he's always the one behind the camera. Which also maintains this unconscious power dynamic he exerts over most of his lovers. Whereas the photobooth shots feature Boston with someone else. He's not the observer, he's the subject. The fact that he's kept this memento, with the caption 'hot night' means it was so memorable that he held onto it. This is pretty clear proof that no, Nick is not 'his favourite' as he was led to believe. And yes, Nick is slightly naïve to believe that in the first place, but he's seeing through rose-tinted glasses.

Nick's jealousy is tricky, because he's backed himself into a corner by trying to play it cool and going along with being just a 'fuck buddy' and nothing else. He knows he'll risk affronting Boston almost immediately if he starts demanding for more.

[void-detective]

I find it interesting and cool that Jacob really is that next in line to the tribal chief angle. If we think about how much cinema and things connecting again we can see a lot of similarities between him and Solo.

-----

"Everything I learned was from him"

Let's start plain and simple with Solo's half of this story with his similarities to Roman Reigns. This all began when his older brothers Jimmy and Jey advertently placed the dangerous idea that Solo deserved to be the Tribal Chief and much to Roman's amusement as I may put it. But that's not the only time because Roman also has placed this dangerous idea into the younger man's mind with his words about how he would be the next tribal heir to step up after him.

Everyone around him placed this idea that he deserved and was the next tribal chief even without realizing what this idea would do to him.

And now that he IS the tribal chief he is either subconsciously or consciously doing a LOT like Roman from mannerisms to talking. A lot of people have mentioned the 'tribal twitches' a nod to those moments of Roman being ticked off or peeved by someone or something. Like a lot of people have been showing he copied a lot of Roman's mannerisms and to me I believe they weren't on purpose as much as just something he picked up from being around Roman.

You know what else he picked up from Roman? How to manipulate.

During his beginning reign as chief he exhibited and showed his clear learned behavior from Roman in terms of how to manipulate and get people to be on your side. This is most prevalent in his actions around Paul and Jimmy with those tiny moments of playing sympathetic and knowing just what to say to fuck with people.

He knows things like that soft spoken tone is more intimidating then if he were to be yelling and showing off a temper. Which is something Roman did a lot towards Jey and Sami, it was a lot more effective to be soft spoken with these times and the how you word yourself to hold that control over those beneath you.

He also knew that by subtly threatening Paul and planting seeds of doubt would cause the Wiseman not to fight back because this wasn't something Roman did a lot. Unlike his relationship to the OTC there wasn't this much of an underlaying fear of getting on the receiving end of his wrath (even though it has happened).

Everything about Solo screams the direct words Seth told Cody about how Roman turned out, it plays right into how Solo ended up. There's always been this play that Solo WANTED the position and he wasn't happy just playing out as Roman's enforcer.

----

"Roman Reigns is to weak"

Towards the road to WrestleMania we see the culmination of Roman's emotional turmoil and his past catch up to him. We know to a T that Roman is a highly emotional and caring person even if it's under the guise of emotional manipulation. The one thing that set apart Solo and Roman was their compassion or lack there of on Solo's part. To Roman his manipulation and control over his family was in a twisted way trying to protect and love them in the only way he believed would keep them with him.

He has hurt and caused trauma to those he loved because of how badly one betrayal had left him. Without friends and with all the hate from the crowd it twisted what was a very compassionate man to a cold jaded man who saw that he could only keep that close connection by drastic means. Even if it meant hurting those he cared about the most.

That's what sets apart Solo and Roman because even if they are sharing those manipulative tendencies, it's all coming from two very different reasons.

Solo has only ever seemed to have a genuine connection to Sami during his time in the Bloodline, not even his own brothers who at most he seemed to tolerate. Any compassion or friendship he may have had died the day Sami left and turned which in my opinion was his own version of Seth's betrayal. He loved Sami in his own way as he was one of the second people in the Bloodline to have been befriended by the Canadian and maybe,,Sami's betrayal was the thing that truly snapped any semblance of trust he had to anyone.

----

"New faces, more family"

Hear me out, I kinda feel like Solo kicking out Jimmy from the Bloodline was a calculated move because he knew that this version of the Bloodline was weak. One made out of Roman's vision which meant it was weak and made it love. Which meant it wouldn't work for Solo.

I believe that bringing in Jacob, Tama, and Tonga was all a calculated move because he had new people he could personally manipulate. They wouldn't notice the tactics he learned and adapted from Roman like Jimmy or Paul would've which made it so much easier create a team that would believe his every word. Plus to him it would further push him knowing that he had learned all he needed to be like Roman.

In the new Bloodline there is none of that familial love even with the Tongans and Jacob being family. This is a team pretending to be like the old Bloodline but lacking any of that structure that made them work.

The only problem within the new Bloodline comes in the form of one man.

-----

"Jacob Fatu, step up"

For the past few months we have been seeing hints and glimpses of a similar situation occuring between Solo and Jacob that has happened before with Solo ans Roman. The whole being ignored and overshadowed has been played for part within the role of enforcer to the Bloodline and this is ever so true for Jacob. Ever since he became part of new Bloodline he has been within the back ever lurking and watching playing that "protective force" for Solo even when we all know those looks mean so much more.

Unlike the Tongans in many ways, Jacob has done and said things that show his role in the future of this storyline will be bigger. He's the only member who vehemently states at every situation (when solo is seemingly suspicious or actively looking) for attention he is the one to shout and express his love for his cousin. He is always going out of his way with his actions and words to push that knowledge that he loves Solo onto him even if it seems like the latter is becoming more and more paranoid by it.

Jacob has been working hard to gain his spot and the trust of the new tribal chief but where does his hard work go? No where. Not only did Solo strip the title off him (just for him to get out the boot not even a week later) he forced him to give it to LOA, he also "promoted" him to an enforcer instead of champion.

Why though?

It's all calculated moves by Solo because even with this new Bloodline and the loyalty of Jacob he is scared of being overlooked and or losing the control over his Bloodline like Roman. He is exercising his control much like Roman did to him so Jacob won't over shadow him, back in the day people WANTED Solo but now they don't.

So when someone much more experienced, intimating, and loved comes into the Bloodline and gets his attention? Oh does it ever so piss him off. Because when he looks at Jacob he sees everything that he isn't and can't be as a tribal chief. He sees someone that is above his level and could at the turn of a dime be exactly what everyone wanted him to be.

To Solo he sees a better version of himself in the Samoan Werewolf.

And that....

...scares him.

[mancer-in-the-abbey]

Well I DID say I had more ideas about ghoul combat sooo ERA 3 GHOUL (+Sunshine) COMBAT STATS LETS GO

Link to the previous post!

Alpha: He was Terzo’s personal bodyguard back in the day and for good reason. Alpha is the most physically imposing of all the ghouls, not quite as big as Omega but much more threatening. He and Omega also have a shared advantage in that they are OLD AS SHIT compared to your usual ghoul and have had over 3 centuries to cumulate knowledge and experience. As such, Alpha is highly trained in most forms of combat, from close quarters to ranged affairs, and his control over fire is nigh unparalleled. Dude is the epitome of You Fuck Around, You Find Out, he has killed before and will kill again should the need arise.

Omega: As previously stated, Omega is old as fuck for a Ghoul and has had literal centuries to refine his craft. It would genuinely be hard to point to a Quintessence user as skilled as him given just how long he’s had to grow and expand his power. There is also, of course, his physical brute strength which is also extremely formidable. He really is just a brick wall of a ghoul, you could probably run straight into him full-tilt and he wouldn’t budge an inch. Either way, by hand or by magic, you are straight up fucked if you try to fight this man because unlike Aether, who avoids killing as best he can, Omega has no such qualms. You will likely be dead before you can land a hit.

Mist: Oh she is vicious. Homegirl came to the surface with a chip on her shoulder the size of the Mariana Trench, borderline feral. She’s mellowed out a bit since then but still very much has a “try it I dare you” mentality. Unlike Rain, Mist doesn’t rely overly on her elemental powers, instead opting to use her superior grace and agility to stay one step ahead of her opponent. She has claws she takes immaculate care of and by Beliah she will USE THEM! One thing Mist and Rain DO have in common, however, is their willingness to bite. Must be a water ghoul thing…

Ivy: Earth bending? Earth bending. Quite skilled at it, too! Ivy is a smaller ghoul in comparison to some of the other past drummers, so he’s used to being underestimated by those around him. Surprisingly, this has worked to their favor more than once! There have been times where someone’s tried to mess with him, be it random civilian or other fellow ghoul, only for them to be absolutely clobbered by pieces of the walls and floors. He’s also skilled enough to put those chunks back when he’s done! How handy!

Ifrit: First off. Why would you want to fight Ifrit? What did he do to you? Second off, he’s gonna kick your ass SO badly. He’s similar to how I described Phantom in that he’s either all in on his elemental powers or all in on beating you to a pulp the old-fashioned way. When using his fire power, he tends to keep at a distance and blast his enemies away which works pretty well considering no one likes 3rd degree burns to the entire body and face. For an all-out brawl, however, Ifrit is actually trained in MMA and boxing! What can I say? He likes keeping himself fit and practicing how to knock heads is a great way to do it.

Sunshine: An unholy mix between Cirrus Dewdrop in terms of fighting style, with Cirrus’s agility and ability to keep people off balance and Dew’s sheer speed, ferocity, and underhandedness. Her ability to combine air and fire into nasty combo-attacks plus lightning fast reflexes makes her a NIGHTMARE to fight one-on-one. Her one weakness, however, is that she struggles in situations that require on-the-fly improvising. If you manage to spook her, there is a chance she will freeze mid-fight. She’s getting better, though!

Bonus!

Water!Dew: The Dew we know today is already pretty scary but you should have seen him back in the day. Although he was less hotheaded and less prone to picking fights, dude’s control over water was surgically precise. Have you ever heard of those industrial water saws used to cut limestone and other rocks? Imagine that but on your flesh and bones. Unpleasant.

[egg-emperor]

What's Eggman's best episode of Narc Rage in your opinion?

I'd say these are a couple of peak examples

This scene in Shadow 05

For the way he approaches Shadow seeming calm and nice, praising him for gathering the emeralds which he assumes was all for him with his selfish egotistical entitlement and tells him to hand them over like a good boy

And when he's told he's not actually getting what he wants he goes all "how dare you defy me, after all I did for you" and snaps at him so nasty and violent, saying he needs to "teach him a lesson" for not following his order

The delivery from Mike Pollock is awesome too, some of the most aggressive and hostile Eggman has sounded, underrated moment all around

And this first scene with Sage, including the one that follows in this video

For the way he blows up at her when she suggests something he doesn't want to do. No attempted reasoning helps, he doesn't want to do it so he'll only get angrier

Doesn't matter how good her intentions are or the way it's done in his best interests and safety, it's not in the specific way he wants so he yells at her, thumps his Egg Mobile, and leaves in a rage

And the scene that follows where she saves him and he praises her is actually an important part too because you can get it scene to play immediately after the previous in game just like this video

So he blows up at her in anger, storms off, then when she comes in to save him from trouble, he immediately changes his tune, praises her, says she surpassed expectations, says he's so impressed, no, proud of her, those words she longs to hear

He snaps, raises his voice, hits things and storms off if someone doesn't do exactly if he wants, but will immediately flip and praise highly if they then do something he wants exactly the way he'd want it and say exactly what you want to hear to encourage it again

Acting nice and sweet as if he wasn't just nastily snapping at you and expressing rage and violence, not apologizing for doing so or even acknowledging it. It gives this scene everyone finds so cute and wholesome such sinister manipulative undertones, I fuck with it hard

It's basically like the Shadow scene but reversed, he's mad when someone does something he doesn't want/not in the exact way he wants it and very nice seeming when they do/he at least thinks they've done exactly what he wants

And it can be like the immediate flipping of a switch, like how he flipped in a split second in the Shadow scene into anger from praise and how the praise for Sage can play instantly after he yells at her

Though in the case of the Sage scenes, she really was doing something in his genuine best interests and benefits, unlike Shadow who literally didn't want to give him the emeralds and he was still enraged because it wasn't exactly how he wants it

I love this aspect of his character so much, the way his high self importance makes him so selfish, entitled, and always want control and will become dangerously enraged when he doesn't get it and someone dares to disobey or just doesn't do exactly as he says.

And these scenes are especially representative of that!

[dayurno]

recently reread ur de-aged kevin fic and in the end notes you said you were thinking of doing a sequel w neilandrew being de-aged and just wanted to throw my hat in the ring to say yes pls! you genuinely have such incredible writing and characterization and would LOVE to see your take on it!

wawawa i plan to write it!!!!! i did start a little bit after finishing de-aged kevin and had to scrap it off because i didn't like it, so it might take a little longer. nonetheless i feel like i have no reason not to share it so i'll attach under the cut the scrapped version of kevin with de-aged andreil for your enjoyment :=) if its a little wonky i ask that you bear with me theres a reason why i didnt keep this version

//

There is a little garden behind Fox Tower where you could fit a dead body without any real effort.

Not that Kevin would know, of course. But he is sure that he has never seen anyone besides himself tend to the ground there — perhaps once in the past there was another athlete who enjoyed gardening, but such a character has not been around for at least a few years. It took Kevin almost an entire week to entirely weed out the square of dirt between Fox Tower’s backdoors and the fence where Palmetto State University property ends and Fox Perimeter starts. 

Despite the loneliness of it, the ground is quite fertile; as patches of earth left alone by humankind often are. No one ever comes with Kevin when he gardens — Andrew finding it too soft a hobby and Neil, too pointless —, so there is no worry about someone else intervening with his flowers. Worlds apart from Evermore, Kevin quite enjoys the alone time tending to this garden provides, so he makes a habit out of it. 

He’s not sure how well he is doing. His first attempt had been to plant daylilies, because the name had amused him and they were considered beginner plants, offending as the thought is. Daylilies, Kevin’s come to find, are low-maintenance, highly resistant and pest-free — three things Kevin cannot relate to, despite them sharing a surname. Those turned out fine, but one cannot go wrong with daylilies; they’re too easy. The only way Kevin could’ve killed them is if he was an absolute moron.

His second attempt — and the one he is currently keeping a close watch on — were tulips. They’re harder to care for than their predecessors, and take up more of Kevin’s time than he had previously imagined, though he doesn’t fault them for it. He’d gotten seeds from a shop a few blocks down to where Andrew usually buys his cigarettes in Columbia, and hadn’t bothered to ask for more information; Kevin’s first mistake, he realizes.

His tulips have… multiplied. Perhaps too much — hopeless, Kevin sits amidst the rows and rows of golden ladies, dainty-looking but quite surely outnumbering him, and wonders how many more of them could cause a natural imbalance in the area. For how they spread over the garden, Kevin is not sure he wants the answer. Their yellow bulbs seem to mock him. 

Deciding this is now above him, Kevin wipes the dirt from his knees and springs up. He breaks the stem of a few tulips that have already bloomed, mindful that they must reserve their energy for a future reblooming, and checks for rotten bulbs before leaving. Surely, with time, his little garden will recover well enough so that it is not fully covered in tulips. Surely he’ll be able to plant something else, then.

If anything, Kevin is at least happy they don’t have thorns. Gathering the handful of flowers he’d cut off, he returns to his dorm, mindlessly wondering to himself if they have a vase wide enough to fit all of these tulips. When their whiny door pushes open under his weight, Kevin announces his arrival by calling out, “Do we still have that big vase from last year?”

No reply. Frowning, Kevin settles his flowers on the kitchen counter and glances over to where Andrew’s wallet and keys sit at their coffee table, even his half-finished pack of cigarettes left untouched. It is highly unlikely for Andrew to leave without at least one of those three items, creature of habit he is. How weird.

Grabbing for his phone, Kevin sees a flash of motion from the corner of his eye, and is just quick enough to sidestep a little body hiding behind the back of their sofa. The idea of something as small as this just hanging around their dorm is so baffling Kevin can hardly compute it, communication between his eyes and his brain coming to a screeching stop as he takes in the sight in front of him.

There’s a child. There’s a — there’s a child. 

He is quite small. His hair, a gentle wheat-like thing, curls softly over his forehead, leading down to big, round brown eyes and a thin mouth. The child’s face is very tender, his cheeks flushed from exertion, but he does not meet Kevin’s stare with any such feeling — instead, his eyes widen slightly, and he stumbles back like he’s been hit.

For a moment, Kevin even worries he hasn’t sidestepped as well as he thought and indeed had hit this child on accident. Taking a few steps back himself, Kevin asks, “Who are you?”

It seems like the kind of question the child should ask him, instead of the opposite. The little boy tilts his head back to look at Kevin — and he does have to tilt it very far —, before steeling himself to answer, “I’m—I think I live here now?”

“That…” Kevin hesitates, “can’t be right.” The child’s eyes water slightly. Growing more and more panicked by the minute, Kevin immediately retracts it. “But I’m sure it is, if you’re saying it.”

The tears don’t fall, but they don’t quite recede either; the little boy's face is so fair it starts to look splotchy soon enough, red dusting his nose and cheeks. “Are you my new brother?” He asks, with all the certainty of someone who’s had many new brothers before. A nagging chill runs up Kevin’s spine.

“I don’t believe I am, since I don’t have any siblings,” Kevin limits himself to replying. He crouches down to meet the child’s stare, eyeing his tulips from above his head. Kevin really needs to get that vase soon; it’s not good for them to be out in the open like this. “Can you tell me your name? Why are you here? Where are your parents?”

The little boy eyes him suspiciously. He answers none of Kevin’s questions, but he informs, “There was another little boy too.”

“Right. Well,” Kevin stumbles a bit, unsure of what to say — and what to believe in, even. Children often see things that aren’t there for adults; he does not want to see any manner of spirit today. Or any other day. “Can you go get him for me? Then I can help you figure out what you’re doing here.”

“What else… can I be doing here?” The child asks, frowning lightly. “This is a new home. They—at the last one, they didn’t want me. And I have to be somewhere.”

Recognition shivers through Kevin. “I see,” he replies past the lump in his throat. “I think I might understand. The—the little boy that you mentioned, did he have blue eyes? And, and red hair?”

Andrew crinkles his little nose. “Was orange, not red.”

Oh. Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. “I understand it now.” Kevin’s thighs tremble too much for him to hold his crouch, so he sits back on his heels, kneeling at Andrew’s height. “How old are you? If you don’t mind.”

Andrew blinks at him for a moment too long before showing Kevin his spread palm — it is unbearably small, chubby, and quite pale, too. “I’m five,” he says.

And he is. He is five years old. He is very five years old by the looks of it, which is not the age Andrew Minyard should be, because before Kevin left for his garden, he was pretty sure the Andrew he left behind was twenty-one. 

“You’re five. Okay. That makes sense. Of course,” Kevin babbles, having gone half-stupid from shock. That this could be happening to him — that it could be happening to them again, after Kevin had spent a week of last month being six years old and with no recollection of it. What kind of rotten cosmic joke is this? “I see. Okay, well, let me just—” He rubs a hand across his face. “Hello, I’m Kevin. I am a collegiate athlete. That means I play Exy for a university. Have you heard of it?”

“Exy is on the TV all the time,” Andrew counters, but it seems to be all that he knows. He looks a little hesitant before he nods; tight and anxious. “Hi. I’m Andrew Doe.”

Without a surname makes one a John Doe. Kevin’s heart squeezes. “Hello, Andrew,” he greets, trying to work his face into something gentler. “I understand what you mean now. You called it a new home, correct? It’s not like that. I think what happened here is…”

“Do you work for my father?” A small voice cuts Kevin’s sentence short. He whips his head around to meet a boy a good few inches taller than Andrew leaning against the doorway of their bedroom, his hair a light ginger. When Kevin’s eyes meet his, Neil — Nathaniel? — hunches in on himself in self-reproach, placing little hands in front of his head. “Sorry. I spoke out of turn.”

Kevin blinks. “No,” he answers, softening his voice. This is—this is not the time to doubt whether gentleness is achievable or not; this is the time to force it until it breaks, or until it gives. “I don’t work for your father. I’ve never even met him before.”

 Neil pales. Perhaps the idea that someone does not know his father seems outlandish when Neil has been raised under his dominion — Kevin is sure it feels that way, for Neil to look so stricken.  Often when you are this small and your parents are the overlords of your world, it feels strange to learn that they are not the end-all-be-all of everyone else’s.  

Like a little tour guide, Andrew steps forward to explain, “I think you might be here because your mom and dad went away and children have to live somewhere.” 

…Of course, being five years old, his understanding of the situation is about as good as Kevin had expected. Andrew’s explanation of the foster system is fairly good, all things considered, but too realistic for a child his age. He should, at least, still believe that they mean to find him a family instead of sending him from home to home because there is nowhere else for him to be.

Neil pales even further. “Is that true?”

“Is true. Is what happened to me.”

“Alright, alright,” Kevin intervenes at last, and two pairs of eyes turn to him; both hesitant in their own way. He coughs into his fist, deciding that honesty is the easiest route. “To be frank with both of you, I’m not sure why you’re here, either. But… thank you, Andrew, for trying to explain it.”

The little Andrew’s face does something unguarded and surprised before he looks away, blushing lightly.

Kevin keeps his eyes trained to his tulips. “I don’t know what happened for you to get here, but you’re welcome to stay until we can figure this out.”

He is eyed with suspicion from both sides. “I,” Neil shakily starts, the beginning of a meltdown creeping into his voice, “I want my mama. Where is she?”

“I’m sorry,” Kevin replies, and finds that he means it, “I don’t know. If I knew, I’d take you to her.”

He would do no such thing, but it is important to say it, anyway.

Springing upwards before Neil can bring out the waterworks, Kevin takes a few steps next to where he’d put aside his tulips and returns with one in each hand. “Here,” he says, kneeling to their height again. “Want a flower? I just got them from the garden.”

Andrew’s hand reaches for it, but does not bridge the distance, hesitant. Neil doesn’t even try to get it. “Flowers are for girls,” he tells Kevin. 

“Hm. Do I look like a girl to you?”

“Yes.”

Kevin supposes that was a mistake on his part. It’s always the hair with children. “Well, I’m not,” he argues — argues! — with five-year-old Neil. “It’s very rude to not accept a gift.”

Neil eyes him, squinting quietly. He takes a few steps closer, looking more relaxed now that he’s figured Kevin is not working for his father. Coaxingly, Kevin offers one of the tulips in his direction — the bigger one, standing proud and yellow and delicate. It took a great effort for them to look this healthy. “These are called golden ladies. They’re perennials — that means they grow no matter the season. I plant them myself.”

A little hand curls around the stem of the smallest of Kevin’s tulips, catching it with all the clumsy delicacy of children who have yet to learn a finer touch. Letting Andrew take it, Kevin's mouth twitches. “Don’t worry about thorns, there’s none.”

He doesn’t mention the eco-system smasher Kevin had accidentally become in the process. Hopefully, no one notices the terrifying increase of tulips in Palmetto for the upcoming springs. 

Andrew doesn’t answer him, eyes trained to the tulip. The yellow of the inner petals matches the pale of his hair; makes him look more flower than child. Sweet, sweet boy.

Kevin turns back to Neil. “Won’t you take it even if you don’t like them? I don’t have a vase yet. I’m afraid they’ll just rot if you don’t take them.” This is a lie — but it’s a fair one. Children shouldn’t be so restrained.

The idea of imminent destruction seems to convince Neil to walk the distance between himself and Kevin to take the flower in his little hand. He says nothing. Kevin can’t tell if he likes it at all — he’s so put-upon.

A little hand flutters in the general direction of Kevin’s head. “Why is your hair…” Andrew asks. 

“What? Long?” The child nods. “What’s wrong about it?”

“It shouldn’t be like this.”

Well, that’s rude. Kevin huffs softly under his breath, absent-mindedly combing his fingers through his hair. “When I was a little over your age, I had a friend — a brother — who liked my hair like this. I think I just grew used to it.” 

It’s not the full story, of course. He can’t tell them about Riko, and how much of his preferences Kevin had taken as law out of admiration, at first, then fear, later on. He can’t explain, either, that his hair staying this way is his own way of mourning — a childhood left unfinished, a little boy abused into the insanity of Riko’s final years, brotherhood yet to be tainted by blood and jealousy. Children this young can’t tell Kevin carries all the marks of the grieving. 

“Oh,” Andrew replies. He looks like he wants to ask some more, but he doesn’t. 

“I can teach you how to braid it later, if you want,” Kevin offers. He has not even a sliver of a clue about what children should do in their free time. In his time, his mother took him all around the world during her trips, which didn’t usually leave Kevin much time for playing; then, after she died, Exy consumed most of his time between little league and Tetsuji’s endurance bootcamp. “It’s a useful skill. You can impress your future wife with it.”

He knows well enough that Andrew is never, ever going to get a wife; still, Kevin knows no other way to frame the importance — or, rather, mask the lack thereof — of this to him.  

Andrew nods politely. He, for one, is taking this much better than Neil seems to be — for good reason, Kevin imagines. Already registered in the foster system, Andrew must be used to adapting to new homes, new siblings, new adults with an eccentric knack for gardening and haircare. He’s indulging Kevin. A five-year-old!

“Well,” Kevin clears his throat, suddenly a little embarrassed. “Are you hungry? It should be almost lunchtime.”

No answer. It’s almost like dealing with the adults Andrew and Neil again.

Lunch is bland and unimaginative; Kevin follows the recipe obsessively, unwilling to make children choke down trash. It’s one thing for their adult selves to indulge Kevin in his lack of culinary talent, but children don’t yet have the taste buds for experimental food, nor the desire to put up with their caretakers’ inability to cook. More than once he resists the urge to add more spice — or even more salt. 

While he cooks, Kevin allows Andrew and Neil to get acquainted with each other. They talk quietly, eyeing the other with no less suspicion they eyed Kevin with, and seem happy to do their own thing. Skittish, for sure: but can they be blamed for it? Kevin doesn’t expect them to hit it off immediately, especially with Neil’s under-socialization. In the week or so Kevin should have them, it is likely they’ll progress on that front. 

Polite like a trained dog, Andrew waits by the kitchen doorway to help Kevin with setting the table. He’s far too small for such a task — he’ll drop any glassware Kevin gives him. Still, unwilling to let the child feel useless, Kevin asks him to set some napkins and cutlery out. Yes, that should be enough.

“Thank you, Andrew,” he says when he is done finishing up on their plates. Looking at the portions, Kevin is inclined to think they are far too much for someone of their size, but he doubts either have had access to an unrestricted meal in quite a while. At their age, Kevin knows he hadn’t. “It is very kind of you to help with the table.”

Andrew tilts his head towards his food without comment. He is almost unnervingly polite. It’s not the Andrew Kevin knows, and the contrast feels scathing.

Despite the children’s best efforts, their meal is not quiet. Kevin is not good with children, but he likes to think he is good with Andrew and Neil — as good as one can be, anyway. He prompts them into conversation by asking questions about their interests, their lives, their routines; half of it is trying to figure out how to care for these two, and the other half is emulating a chewed-out memory of how Kayleigh used to talk to him. 

She was never the kind of parent who baby-talked to Kevin. As soon as he was able to, she tried to engage him in conversation — however loose that concept can be for a five-year-old. Kayleigh, from what he remembers of her, had the ability to make anyone feel listened to; Kevin doesn’t remember ever doubting she cared for his childish babbling about toys and daycare, even if nostalgia had colored the memory a soft mouth-pink. He only wishes he would’ve gotten at least half of her social adeptness. From Kayleigh, all Kevin got was green eyes, a gaping hunger for success and an inescapable attraction to troubled men.

“I play Exy and I like books,” Kevin offers in trade for information. It’s — well, he doesn’t have many hobbies. The gardening and the cooking are a late product of much of Dr. Betsy Dobson’s insistence that Kevin must make something out of himself that isn’t Exy-related. “I like cooking but I’m not good at it. And I like gardening but it takes a lot of work so I don’t do it all the time.”

“It’s not that bad,” Andrew tells him, motioning to his food with small movements. He finished his plate in record time, inhaling Kevin’s poor attempt at a caesar salad like it’s a five stars meal. On the other hand, Neil is halfway through with his and looks done already. “Your food.”

“Not that bad?” Kevin tilts his head slightly, amused. He’ll take it, he supposes. “Thank you, Andrew.”

Hesitant, like perhaps he fears Kevin will be angry at him for it, Neil picks up the conversation where he left off to say, “I like… horses. But, um, like toys.”

 “Horses, I see,” Kevin repeats, a bit hopeless. Children’s interests are so loose. “And what else?”

Neil flicks him a suspicious glare. “What else?”

“I gave you four of my interests. A conversation has to be equal.”

Looking as if Kevin had sprouted a second head right in front of him, Neil does not do as he is asked so much as he stares at Kevin, mouth open in a little o. Has no one asked this child what he likes before? It feels out of character for the Butcher of Baltimore, sure, but Neil’s mother had seemed to care for him, at least from what little Kevin had heard about her. 

“No?” Kevin tries after a few moments of silence. “I’m just trying to be friends.” 

“Why would you be my friend?” Neil asks, putting down his fork with surprising care; as if to ensure it makes no noise. Even his voice is small and unobtrusive, despite the words. “Adults and children aren’t friends. Adults want children to be quiet.”

Kevin hides a wince. He hadn’t imagined the Butcher of Baltimore, in all his serial killer glory, would have indulged his child in conversation — and by the way Neil acts, he could’ve guessed for himself that most of Neil’s childhood had been trying to stay out of his father’s way. But no one ever wants to assume the worst out of a loved one’s suffering;  Kevin had held out hope there’d be at least a silver lining in Neil’s horror stories.

It is not unlike how Kevin and Riko were raised in the Nest, anyway. Their private tutors were stern, and despite much of their trying, there was no place for childhood in Evermore: they were told to keep quiet or else. The Master would often say that they were not to act like children — it hadn’t occurred to him up until now how cruel it is to forbid a child from being childish.

“Well, if I’m asking you, don’t you think I want to know?” Kevin argues. “Not all adults think the same thing. Do you think the same thing as every other child?”

A pause. Neil shakes his head, looking somewhat green, as if he had just realized what he said. From Kevin’s other side, Andrew stares anxiously. 

Rubbing a hand through his face, Kevin slowly puts out, trying to enunciate his words as gentle as he can make them, “I am not angry that you spoke your mind. It makes sense, what you said.” He shakes his head a little. Only a few minutes in, and he’s already ruining it — Kevin’s no good for anything that doesn’t involve a racquet. “But I would not have asked if I didn’t want to know. Do you understand?”

A small, careful nod. Kevin will take whatever he can get. 

“Good.” Kevin starts to gather the empty plates — his and Andrew’s —, and motions towards Neil’s half-finished one. “Do you not like it? I can make you something else, if you want.”

The sudden shift in conversation visibly vexes Neil, but, politely, he replies, “...Not hungry.”

From beside Kevin, Andrew flinches. Hurrying to dispel it, Kevin says, “It’ll be in the fridge in case you want it later.” Piling the plates into one of his hands, Kevin offers the other one to Andrew. “Come on, you didn’t get to tell me what you like during lunch.”

The child watches Kevin’s hand — the right one, smooth and unscarred if a little crooked from the years of gripping racquets — warily before accepting it, threading his little fingers through Kevin’s. His hand feels unimaginably small; so fragile it is a wonder it even exists. Kevin is reminded of the first time he saw a baby bird, back in Dublin: he’d told his mom he couldn’t tell if it was super ugly or super cute. She’d laughed for what felt like an eternity after.

Still sitting politely at the table, Neil watches their joined hands, frowning. Kevin can’t tell what he’s thinking — wouldn’t be able to even with an adult Neil —, but the face he makes claws at his heart. “N—” not his name,  “ah, do you want to come with?” 

Thus invited, Neil follows them into the kitchen. Kevin washes the dishes and listens as Andrew tells him, a little shyly, that he likes Sesame Street, street cats (“Really?” Kevin asks. “Aren’t their claws a little scary?” to which Andrew seems to lose some respect for him on the spot), chocolate and amusement parks, when he is allowed to go. It's a fairly common list — Kevin didn’t know what he expected a five-year-old version of Andrew to like. Something a little more unorthodox, perhaps.

But children are the same everywhere, at any point. Andrew soaks up the attention Kevin gives him, happy to answer all questions, if a little insecure on why Kevin would be asking them. Knowing where Andrew was at this age, he doesn’t doubt it’s been a while an adult has actually spoken to him with some level of care for what he has to say: when was the last time Andrew has actually felt companionship? Someone who hears what he says and asks questions about it? 

It feels sacrilegious to stop now. Already out of dishes to clean, Kevin scrubs and re-scrubs their plates until his hands ache as he asks Andrew questions, not unaware of Neil’s watching eyes.

“And how is it? California?” Kevin asks. The next thing he says is a bold-faced lie, because he’s visited Jean before, but he still says it. “I’ve never been. I heard it’s beautiful.” 

He’s heard no such thing. Jean seems to think California is where meaningful art goes to die, but he can’t tell Andrew that.

“Is okay,” Andrew tells him, propped up on a stool next to Kevin. His little legs swing mindlessly. “The traffic — there’s traffic. And Disneyland.”

“You’ve been?” He asks again.

“Oh, um, no.”

It’s expected. “I have not either,” Kevin relates, making it sound like a bigger woe than it really is. His hands are rubbed raw at this point, and the soap pricks at the skin of his palms — soon, he’ll have to stop. Just a little more. “I don’t think I’d like it, either way.”

Andrew watches him curiously. “Why?”

“I don’t like crowds.” It’s not as easy as that, but Kevin leaves it as it is. The prickling sensation of the soap starts to crawl up his wrist, and he decides it is time to stop. Drying his hands off on a nearby cloth, Kevin prompts, “How about some dessert?”

It is the first time he’s ever said those words, and they horrify him, but the quickly-hidden flash of interest in Andrew’s face is worth breaking his streak for. From the stool beside Andrew, Neil frowns lightly. This child is too serious — Kevin tries to remember if he was like this back in little league, but his memory is not the best after so many hits to the head.

He rummages through their freezer. Andrew’s adult self is fond of indulging — there are a few half-eaten ice cream cartons tucked beneath frozen peas and other such vegetables, though most of them are flavored a cherry liqueur Kevin will most certainly not feed to children. Scavenging further he is able to retain a sealed chocolate carton, the frost covering it making his fingertips tingle. 

This has to be too frozen to eat. Helpless, Kevin turns to look at the two five-year-olds as if they have a better idea. It’s weird, now, to be the person Andrew and Neil look to for answers — Kevin is used to it being the other way around. He is caught thinking that he’ll probably struggle in the coming days, without his two little shadows making life easier for him. 

“I think if I microwave it a little bit, nothing’s going to happen,” Kevin mumbles to himself, aware that he is not inspiring much respect as an authority figure. He’s no Andrew, after all: Kevin’s still himself, despite all his best efforts to be someone else. 

The ice cream loses some of its original texture in the microwave, but, if anything, Andrew seems to enjoy it as Kevin passes him a bowl. Neil does not accept one himself, politely saying he doesn't like sweets, and the lack of attitude from him is disturbing. Kevin is used to Neil being a force of nature — seeing him this quiet, this contained, is not easy. It makes him think of the iron-shaped scar on his adult self’s chest. All that dead skin. 

Unwilling to let him be left out, Kevin cuts some slices of apple for him, which Neil takes with some degree of gratefulness. The little boys settle in front of the TV while Kevin manages to find a children’s channel, looking small on their ratty dorm carpet. Kevin isn’t sure children should be this small in the first place — he’s not sure if they are little because of genetics, or neglect. How much can you hurt a child until they disappear?

Kevin sits himself with them, cross-legged. He is too old to see the appeal of children’s television, so most of it is watching them from the corner of his eye and finding out what to say to Aaron to get him to come and help. 

You 14:36

Hello. I think whatever happened to me last month just happened to Andrew and Neil. 

As in, they have turned into five-year-olds. If you’ve forgotten. 

When there is no immediate response, Kevin huffs to himself and snatches a picture of their two little heads pending towards each other, deep in conversation about the show they are watching. Kevin is, at least, relieved to see them interacting at all: Andrew might have been to kindergarten already, but Neil has always been undersocialized, all tutors and nannies. If Kevin can’t be his friend, then at least Andrew can. 

The picture gets him a quicker answer.

Aaron 14:45

what the fuck what the fuck what the ufck

why doe sthis keep fucking happening to you 

Like it’s his fault!

You 14:45

This is not the kind of thing I can control. 

They are good children. Polite. Easier to deal with than I was, I wager. But  I need you to come and help. 

Aaron 14:47

why should i

what makes you think i could help you

You 14:49

Because he is your brother. 

Before Kevin can read Aaron’s answer, something hooks on his hair. Looking down, he finds Andrew’s hand hanging a few inches away from it, alarmed and wide-eyed at being caught. Behind him, Neil looks just as queasy, as if this had been their joint effort. 

“Can I help you?” Kevin asks, raising his eyebrow a little. When he gets no response, he concedes, "You can touch. Don’t tug or pull. And keep it away from your mouth.”

No response. Kevin doubles down, “It’s really fine. Here.” He pulls his hair out of its low ponytail, letting it curtain down his shoulders and back. It’s not often he lets his hair down like this — it can be too much of a hassle. Kevin ought to cut it one day, but the thought still makes him a little sick to think of. “As long as you’re careful.”

An hesitant little hand inches closer and closer, still warily watching out for Kevin’s reaction. When Andrew finds no resistance, he combs little fingers down the length of Kevin’s hair, faint and amazed. He’s not very gentle — children are too clumsy for it, still, and there is some tugging. It doesn’t hurt, though. Kevin allows it.

Resigning himself to being played with, Kevin gives them his back, leaning his elbow against the couch. Another pair of little hands clutches at a chunk of hair, and he knows Andrew has convinced Neil to get in on their impromptu hairdresser salon. At least they’re playing, Kevin consoles himself as he feels a pull on his scalp. At least they’re getting along. 

“I have hair ribbons on my desk,” he offers, knowing what he is setting himself up to and still going through with it. “Colorful ones. Satin. Would you like to see them?”

A pause on the tugging. “Really?” That was Neil.

“Yes. But I’ll have to get up to get them.”

“I can do it,” Andrew tells him, the ever-helpful little waiter. He’s so polite — Kevin wonders if they taught him there is a higher chance of getting adopted if you treat the foster parents with subservience. Probably. “Where is it?”

“Andrew, it’s fine—”

“I’ll do it. He’s still playing, so I’ll do it.”

So kind, giving Neil time to play by himself. Kevin, helplessly charmed, would allow him anything. “Okay. Thank you.” Motioning vaguely in the direction of their desks, he says, “It’s the one with the shelves on top of it. Yes, that one, with the books. Be careful not to hit your head!” Watching Andrew narrowly duck under a shelf gives Kevin half an aneurysm, but the child seems no less interested in his quest. “First drawer. There. Did you find it?”

“Yes,” Andrew replies, shoving a chubby fist into the drawer and pulling out a handful of hair ribbons, all different colors and sizes. There was an organization system to it, and his careless pulling has clearly ruined it. A little disheartened, Kevin doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “This?”

“Yes. Please keep the drawer closed.” 

The drawer snaps shut, and Andrew makes his way back to them, freshly acquired ribbons falling over his fingers and wrist in colorful flops. Kevin doesn’t see him sit back down, but he feels Andrew’s hand on his hair again. “Why do you have shelves?” Neil asks after a few moments of silence, their hands working ribbons in his hair via extremely clumsy braiding. “Um, just you, I mean. The others are empty.”

That he’s asking anything seems like a blessing, when the child is so quiet. “My—” Kevin hesitates. How to even describe it? “My… friend built them for me. The shelves. He got annoyed at me for leaving my books everywhere.”

 It’s true. Just as Kevin loathes Andrew’s habit of leaving his cigarettes anywhere, so does Andrew loathe Kevin’s astray book piles across the living room, left half-read or unfinished in his haste to get to class or practice. The shelves had been less of a compromise and more of a surprise: one day, they were simply sitting above his desk like they’ve always been there. Kevin never asked Andrew if he built them, but he figured the wood splinters on his fingers were reason enough. It took a lot of arguing for Andrew to take them out the right way, instead of just letting the splinters break on their own.

“Oh,” Andrew says, entirely unaware of the story being about his older self and focused on tying a bow on Kevin’s hair. “Where is he?”

“There’s two of them, actually. They’re away for work.” Kevin leans his head closer when the tugging starts to get a little painful. “What are you doing back there, anyway?”

“It’s pretty,” Neil murmurs, defending his work. Kevin doubts it is, but he’s happy to even have the little Neil’s attention at all. 

“You know how to braid?” He asks, trying to steal a look and getting his head gently moved back by Andrew. “By the way, what’s your name? You haven’t said.”

Neil hesitates, hands freezing. Kevin keeps talking, “Whatever you want to be called.”

 “Um,” Neil thinks on it for a moment. He seems to be rolling Kevin’s hair nervously around his fingers now; a nervous fidget. “My—my dad calls me Junior, but my mom calls me Nat—Nathaniel.”

 He doesn’t say it like he enjoys being called either.

“Hello, Nathaniel,” Kevin tilts his head in acknowledgement, because he wasn’t raised in a barn. “I’m Kevin. It’s nice to meet you.”

Shy little thing he is, Nathaniel doesn’t answer. 

The children play with Kevin’s hair for a few more minutes before losing interest, leaving him a mess of ribbons and tangles he decides not to deal with for now. He imagines they should be put to sleep soon — children this small sleep in the afternoon, do they not? At their age, Kevin is sure he had to be made to nap one way or another, what with his mother’s hectic schedule. It’s a bit of a parenting cop-out, he is aware, but… Kevin could use a nap himself. Sure the children do, too.

He makes a show out of yawning behind his palm. Two pairs of eyes turn to him, neither particularly moved by his display. Tough crowd. 

“Maybe we can all take a nap,” Kevin suggests. Nothing.