#i have to have silly little dreams like this or else. you understand

[vampyroteuthid]

one of these days when i feel like i deserve a little treat i am going to get myself an honest to god og lava lamp. did you know you can customize them

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Soft Astarion Jealousy

Now with part 2!

I love Ascended Astarion because he's horrible but the sweetness of the other end of the spectrum is impossible to deny. He's just so in love and grateful I can't 🥺🥺

So here's some jealousy that isn't psychotic. Well it is but not as bad:

Astarion never expected to be the jealous type. He always thought...well. In all honesty he never thought about the reality of having a relationship. He didn't even think it was possible for him, let alone the idea that he would actually want it. Even with you, even after he admitted a fraction of his own feelings to himself, he never thought that he would be so... possessive. Though admittedly, he had very good cause for it.

Because you were frustrating. So, so frustrating. For some idiotic reason, you simply didn't understand how alluring to others you really were. You were a pretty little thing, yes but that wasn't the problem. It was so much more than that. And he knew that the others wanted you. Every last one of them. Lae'zel, Shadowheart, Wyll, Karlach, Gale, Halsin. All of them like moths to a flame. And that wasn't even counting all of the strangers you had met on your journey, the extras that thought they had a shot with your greatness. They all wanted you in ways that made Astarion seethe. And the desire from others wasn't even the kind that he was used to, the kind he understood like the back of his hand. Because you didn't need to seduce to cultivate desire. All you needed to stoke the flames was merely your presence. Experiencing you was all that was required for people to know they wanted more.

Astarion knew that the others weren't just looking for a bedmate, they wanted you for the same reasons he had grown to. Your empathy, your desire to understand those around you. Your fearlessness, your infuriating habit of always trying to do the right thing. They wanted you for your laugh, the way your eyes would crinkle in the corners when your smile was too wide. Your silly jokes, your endless hopefulness for a future. It felt as though everyone around saw you for the gem that you were and it was... concerning. Extremely concerning.

Astarion hated thinking about things like this. He loathed admitting the truth to himself even more. But he was...terrified of losing you to someone else. Especially since it could so easily be done. He was so very lucky that you weren't the brightest, or at least not when it came to matters of the heart. You could do so much better than him, a fact that was incredibly obvious to everyone around you. Everyone but you, a luck that Astarion did not take lightly. But how much time did he have before it ran out? Would it ever?

Perhaps it was delusional, but he was starting to think when all of this was over, assuming neither of you perished anyway, that...it could just be the two of you. Living together, exploring the world, even if it had to be under the cloak of night. Maybe... maybe the two of you could even find a cure for his unsavory condition. The thought itself was incredibly stupid, but then again, it was just as idiotic to believe that there was a cure to the Mind Flayer parasite. But here they were, closer then ever. And if that was such an impossibility turned into reality, perhaps a vampiric cure wasn't so impossible. Or maybe even finding an alternative method for immortality for you, without the downsides of his own. Anything that could just keep you both together, for as long as possible. It was an unrealistic dream, that would never come into fruition. If anything it was dangerous, so very dangerous to even entertain the thought of forever. Especially when your connection was so tenuous.

Astarion would never be stupid enough to thank Cazador for anything but...he'd be lying if he said he wasn't appreciative for his own lack of subtly when it came to seducing you. Even if it originally was for distasteful reasons, it still got him ahead of the pack. If he had been less calculating, less astute, there was a sincere chance that you would be warming someone else's bed at night. Callousness would never be without it's uses, even if it led to uncomfortable situations like his current infatuation.

What would he do when you inevitably wanted to leave? How could he survive after having something so...good. Someone so caring, someone who for some very horrifying reason liked being around him. And the sex... it was fabulous. He was a massive fan of your intimacy, when he was capable of participating in it. He adored it, he adored you, your beauty, the sweet noises he could coax from your mouth, the europhia of being inside of you. Then there was the fact that you could be intimate without any traces of it devolving into lovemaking. He had never been gifted with the ability to say no before, so often and so freely without a single fear of punishment. If anything, it felt like he was rewarded when he was honest with you, when he would share his sudden fits of discomfort in his own body, the memories that plagued him and doomed him to staying stubbornly soft. You would never get angry, never even disappointed. You would just listen and smile, always adorable when you would ask, "But I can stay for a cuddle, can't I?"

An extremely silly question, considering the two of you hadn't spent a night apart from each other since you'd made it to the Shadowlands. Yet it never failed to make him melt.

It was getting worse, these feelings. He just wanted you around, by his side, constantly. Constant enough for him to get the ridiculous urge to hiss at anyone else who dared to come near you. He felt an intense need to protect the closeness the both of you had cultivated, the kind that he had never been allowed before. He had no interest in sharing you with your own friends when it came down to it, let alone another lover.

Which is precisely why his original, mild distaste for Halsin turned into a full-blown hatred the night he had the gall to proposition you.

It had felt like a shard of ice going through his chest when you bounded over to him, laughing about one of his greatest fears coming much too close to reality, "You won't believe the conversation Halsin and I just had-"

"Ah, I was wondering when you were going to ask me about that," Astarion laughed, purposefully interrupting you. He had no desire to hear the specifics of that conversation. He didn't even want to be having this conversation, where you were inevitably going to ask if it was okay to explore someone else.

The answer was no. Never would he be okay with it, allowing someone else to be close to what should have been his. But he needed to think strategically here. To say no could be disasterous. If it became a game of choice between him and Halsin... he's almost certain he would lose. Halsin was everything he wasn't; caring, giving, sharing in your worldviews in a way that Astarion never could. He couldn't risk it, he wouldn't. Having you at all was better than nothing.

"But I'd never even consider something like that-"

"It's fine," Astarion interrupts again, the fakest smile he can muster plastered on his face. The pain was worth the risk mitigation, he was sure of that. But... he still had to ask, "But is this because we haven't...y'know, in awhile?"

A sick part of him prays that you'll say yes. Because if that's the reason, he could do something about it. He could force himself if need be to always tend to your needs. Especially if it meant keeping you to himself. It was such a small sacrifice in comparison to the rest of his life. He would do it in a heartbeat if you demanded, anything to just make you stay.

But that was not the answer he received. Instead you frowned, looking him up and down, "What? No, I-Astarion no. Please don't think that. What we have together is so special to me. The physical part of it is lovely, perfect even. But...it's not what we are."

It's almost comforting to hear you say that. But then why did that make the situation feel so much worse? If it wasn't sex you were after then that certainly meant you wanted more with Halsin as well, did it not? But it was too late to rescind it now.

Astarion nodded, a confused mixture of hurt and gratefulness swirling through him, "I just needed to know. But if you're satisfied with me and just want to explore, go right ahead. I'll be here when you're done."

You nodded slowly, brow furrowed when you asked, "So...we aren't exclusive then?"

"No, of course not," Astarion confirmed, ignoring everything inside of him that was screaming for him to take it all back, "We can be as open as you'd like."

"I see..." You said, trailing off with a frown. You coughed into your hand, looking up at him sharply. Sharp enough for him to be sincerely confused, "Does this mean that you'll be speaking to me before you explore your other options?"

"I-yes? If you want?" Astarion answered, a new type of unease settling in his chest. You didn't seem very happy with this conversation, despite his best attempts to give you what you wanted. Where had he gone wrong? Was he already working to throw you into the arm's of another man, without even trying?

You were still frowning at him, your look cold in a way that made him feel particularly ill, "Please do. I'd like to know everything. I'm going to speak to Halsin, get this all sorted. We can talk later."

And then you were spinning on your heel and marching away, like Astarion was the offensive party here. It made no sense. He had done it all right, hadn't he? Agreed to it immediately, didn't make you feel guilty, had tried to be what you wanted. How had he failed?

He didn't wait around to see you go to Halsin. Instead he went straight back to his tent, closing the flap as he laid down. Great. Fantastic. Now he would have to be aware, perhaps even hear you being with another, while simultaneously reliving that horrid conversation in his head for the entire night. The hurt and worry was making his mind wander to uncomfortable places. Perhaps...Halsin could be dealt with in another way if things became too serious between the two of you.

Would poisoning the man be too extreme?

But before Astarion had the time to start thinking of a more detailed plan he was interrupted. Suddnely, moonlight was filling his tent, with your silleoute shining in the darkness.

He blinked up at you, confused, "What are you doing here?"

You frowned at him, looking hesitant in the entry way, "Should I not be? I thought-I can go if you'd like."

"No!" Astarion blurted out, loud and desperate enough to make him cringe. He cleared his throat, trying again, his voice still a touch too pitiful for his liking, "No, no, come here darling. Of course you're always welcome. I just assumed you would be busy."

To his relief you listened, crawling into the bedroll next to him. Astarion didn't waste any time in wrapping his arms around you, relieved to humiliating degrees that you had chosen to come back after the deed. Though...you didn't quite smell as he had thought you would. There were no traces of the floral, woodsy smell of the druid on your skin. Just the sweet, pleasant scent that he had grown so fond of.

You sighed as he tucked you against him, the warmth of you enough to make him relax for the first time that night. You laid together in a pleasant quiet, one that Astarion was actually scared to disturb. Despite the fact that he desperately wanted to know what happened between the two of you.

But you broke the silence for him, muttering into his chest after the two of you were settled, "I'm...sorry for being snappish earlier. I shouldn't have been. You didn't do anything wrong, and I know I don't own you. I shouldn't have assumed."

Astarion frowned, pulling back to get a proper look at your face. You looked hurt, sad even. Like you were the one who had gotten their heart broken. He could feel a curl of distaste settling in his stomach, annoyed that this felt as though the situation was being placed back to him. He had played his part, perfectly. What more could you ask for? What was there to assume?

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean," Astarion carefully said, his eyes fixed on every micro expression on your face, "What did I do that could have been construed as incorrect?"

"Nothing!" You rushed to say, shame coloring your cheeks, "I was being stupid. You never promised me anything. I just...assumed. Wrongly that we were something we aren't."

That didn't-he-what? Astarion frowned at her, his confusion evident on his face, "What did you think we were?"

You looked uncomfortable, avoiding his gaze when you answered, "I thought that we were...together. Alone. Just us. But if that's not what you want I understand. It's fine-"

"What in the hells are you talking about?" Astarion blurted out, his anger and pain bubbling to the surface, "I haven't done a thing. And we were just us before you decided to galivant off with a bear of a man!"

He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. So much for playing things safely. No, he couldn't even have the self-control to stay quiet. He always had to ruin everything.

But surprisingly, you didn't look angry. If anything you seemed just as confused as he felt, "What? I didn't-we didn't do anything! When did I say I wanted to do anything with Halsin? You were the one saying you didn't care!"

You weren't making any damn sense, "Well why else would you ask me about it?"

"I didn't!" You huffed, glaring at him, "All I was going to say was that he asked me. And I wanted your help on how to best turn him down! And then you jumped at the chance to push me onto someone else-"

"I did nothing of the sort!" Astarion seethed back, "If it was up to me you would never look at another man again! Or woman for that matter!"

It was an odd feeling, to be arguing while holding each other so closely. But Astarion had no intention of letting you go anytime soon, even if he could feel you squirming against his ironclad grip when you fumed at him, "Then why would you say it was okay?!"

"Because I don't want you to leave me!" He shouted back, loud enough to snap him out of his own anger. All of his fury was instantly replaced with fear. Gods, why had he felt the need to say that? To lay his biggest insecurity out on the line. Why not just hand you a stake while he was at it, since he was so eager to give you the tools to destroy him.

But you were still seething, hissing back at him, "Why praytell, would I leave the man I've been in love with for months? Hm? Please, explain it to me!"

Astarion couldn't. He was too busy being shell-shocked at the confession, feeling too many emotions at once. Joy, relief, somehow even more fear than before. You so freely said the words that he had done his damndest to bury, to ignore. But now they were out there, filling him with a horrifying joy.

He wanted to say it back. He did. But he couldn't get the wrecthed words out. Instead he was just staring at you like an imbeicle, his mouth hanging opening at the confession.

But his silence didn't make you falter. Instead you looked determined, near fierce as you grasped his face into your warm hands, "I love you Astarion. You don't have to say it back. That's not what this is about. But I want you. And only you. If you want the same of me then you must tell me. Now."

Astarion let his hands flutter over your wrists, humiliating tears prickling at his eyes. But at least his vocal chords allowed him to answer you this time, "I do. So much more than you know. I want us. Just us. No one else."

The words were flowing out of him, too fast and sincere for him to make the appropriate edits in his head. He was saying too much, feeling too much, giving too much. But the way your eyes brightened at his words, the way you grinned at him before pulling him in for a sweet kiss made it suddenly feel like he wasn't giving anything up at all.

As much as he loathed to admit it, Astarion was exceedingly grateful for Halsin's existence after that night. He would never have had the gall to demand you to himself without a trigger, without the anger you both shared at being misunderstood. Because now, you were his. His alone, the proclamation coming from your own lips. And he was free to stop hiding how much he had wanted it. How willing he was to do anything to keep it. He let himself off his own leash after that, leaning completely into the mutual ownership you had of each other. No more would he silently sit back and seethe as a stranger flirted with you. No, now he'd be upfront and center, with a possessive hand around your waist as he glared them down, more than prepared with a confidence-shattering quip on his tongue.

He started to let all of his urges seep through, taking full advantage of your willingness. If Wyll looked at you for too long at the fire, with a touch of something that Astarion didn't like in his eyes, he'd effortlessly pull you into his lap onlookers be damned as breathed you in. If Gale suddenly had a suspect offer to teach you some new magic in a secluded location, Astarion would invite himself, impervious to any glares sent his way. And when he felt as though all of them were being a bit too flirtaious, he was more than happy to put them in their places at night. Spending hours upon hours making you scream his name in bed from pleasure, loud enough for everyone to hear and know exactly who you belonged to.

He couldn't care less if it added to his own unpopularity amongst their merry-band of rejects. Their opinions didn't matter. Not when you were eating all of the sudden attention up.

You let him do it all because you understood him, in ways that no one else had bothered to before. You knew who he was, what he wanted, the extent to how much he craved your attention. And you let it all happened, reveled in it even. The intense shows of affection. Because you loved him. And he loved you. And one of these days he'd allow himself to admit the obvious.

But for now, he had what he wanted. What he needed. And in the first time in his life, even with disgusting tadpoles squirming his his brain, Astarion was actually...happy.

[lostingrayrain]

hello hello!! i bought homicipher the day it came out and i'm so in love with it.. but there's no content whatsoever and i'm so sad 😭😭 could you write literally anything for any character.. i just need to see more homicipher content!!! 😭😭💗

I GOT YOU ANON I've clocked in like 20 hours since the release on November 1st omg....

I've been cooking up something for my first Homicipher post.....here's some general thoughts on the relationships/dynamics with the main guys.

Characters: Mr. Crawling, Mr. Silver Hair / Mr. Silvair, Mr. Gap, Mr. Hood, Mr. Machete, Mr. Scarletella

Word Count: 1454

Warnings: sfw, some mentions of canon-typical violence

Mr. Crawling

He loves you!! He loves you so, so, so much!!!

Do you love him?

He asks you that. A lot. He loves to be reassured that you adore him. And he's always vocal about how much he adores you.

He follows you everywhere, like a lost puppy. It's honestly so endearing and sweet. He's constantly on the lookout for you.

He also adores physical touch, once he knows it's fine. Other than the little headpats, he likes to touch your legs, especially your calves. In times of rest he's incredibly cuddly and loves to nuzzle into you.

Pet his hair and he'll melt immediately. It's so relaxing to him.

He's usually with you, but when he's not he's often on the lookout for gifts and trophies to bring to you. He just wants to make you happy, in any way possible. The second there's anything you mention liking or being fond of, it's a priority for him to see if he can scrounge it up.

If you'll let him, he'd love to touch your hair. He will play with it and make silly nonsensical braids and giggle quietly to himself all the while.

He's a bit of a chatterbox. He loves to talk to you. Any time he's been away he likes to give you little reports of what he's done or what he's seen. And he wants to hear all about your day or your dreams, too. There's never a time he won't want to hear what you have to say.

Mr. Silver Hair / Mr. Silvair

You are so very interesting to him! He wants to study you.

But not hurt you. Normally, he probably would have already dismembered you to watch how your body pulls together again, but since you're friends with Mr. Chopped, he's put aside that urge.

Instead it's been replaced by something else, though he doesn't really understand what it is. He's never felt it before. Or maybe he has? Maybe he doesn't remember? Could you help him remember?

Whenever you’re feeling ill, he finds that he wants to make you feel better. He’s trying hard to learn how to keep you together just as you are.

He’ll get you to lie down when it seems you’re feeling faint, and carry you to bed when you collapse in the middle of an errand. Before he realises it, he's massaging your hair. Think nothing of it. Your head hurts, right? So it makes sense to pet you.

He likes to watch you sleep. He can’t put a finger on why. He likes to tell himself he’s doing armchair research when he’s really just….zoning out.

He's extremely perceptive and observant. He's always checking your reactions to things and events to figure out what you like or don't like, or to try to understand how you're feeling in the moment.

He's the type to politely ask if it's okay to touch you before doing so.

He would never hurt you unless your urges became unbearable, in which case it's self-defense, right? He'll make sure you'll turn back to normal and he'll be there for you every step of the way.

Mr. Gap

He's probably...one of the strangest denizens of the otherworld. You're still not sure if he has a body. But he has helped you on multiple occasions. You've found yourself growing fond of him.

You often see him peeking at you from various holes and gaps. Sometimes he tries to get your attention, sometimes he doesn't. Sometimes he just watches.

When you find a bag in the underworld, you begin carrying it around with you.

He's usually inside, but sometimes not. You have no idea where he goes.

He'll often bring back little gifts like weapons or food, like some bizarre cat. When he finds out you like candy, he tends to focus on that.

He always asks for your heart before he gives you anything, and you always say no, and he always grumbles.

But somehow you'll always find those same things coincidentally in your path or somewhere in the room after you wake up, if you've taken a nap.

He likes to scope out newspapers and magazines too, and show them to you, especially if they feature himself. He's so proud of that.

Over time, his requests for your heart grow less and less frequent. Sometimes, you forget he used to ask you for it at all, until he suddenly pipes up with the query again.

Is his wanting your heart the same thing as wanting your love? Things to ponder.

Mr. Hood

He's quiet and reclusive but he's there for you whenever you need him.

You need or want anything? Just ask. He'll give it to you immediately with hardly a question.

No harm will ever come to you whenever you're with him, and he hardly lets you out of his sight. He's incredibly protective of you.

He loves to carry you in his arms or on his shoulder, whether you're small or not. It's no bother to him. He's more than strong enough.

Hand touches are so pleasant to him -- whether you're touching his hands, or he's touching your face. He's secretly touch-starved. As long as you don't shy away, he'll continue to hold onto you.

He enjoys quizzing you on your knowledge of the otherworld language. When things are slow, he’ll randomly ask you if you know the names of certain things.

Whenever you both encounter something new during your travels, he’s quick to ask you if you know what it is or outright tells you what it’s called.

He seems a bit self-conscious of having minimal form. What is under his robe? If you don't ask he'll be grateful. He doesn't know himself.

But if you're not repulsed by his anomalous form, that's just -- incredibly touching.

He claims to not understand love, but he'll never abandon you.

Maybe he doesn't understand. Maybe he's forgotten.

But there's something about you that comforts him, and makes him feel safe. Quite paradoxical -- he's the one doing the protecting, after all. But your presence soothes him.

Mr. Machete

He's just looking for a way to not be bored. And being with you -- somehow, it's fun.

Maybe because he's usually alone, so he doesn't often have anyone else to talk to. It's...fun to banter with you, even if sometimes your words confuse him.

It's unquestionable that he's the brawn, you're the brain of this duo. Maybe the beauty and the beast, too?

He's always, secretly, been a little bit of a coward. The second things don't look like they'll turn out well for him, he ditches and flees.

But, oddly, you give him the courage to stand against things or monsters he would have thought were impossible to defeat.

Sometimes, you die -- whether by accident or because something else got to you before he could. But he always sighs and waits for you to wake up again. If you're mad, it's a little funny. You were just too slow that time.

He likes sparring with you. You have to get faster, right? Your weapon is pretty funny, too. So small and yet somehow you manage to not get overwhelmed by him. He's not holding back. He never would. Right?

He likes to pick you up and sling you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Likes to hug you like a teddy bear, too. You're soft and warm. You feel nice against him.

He's not the type to ask, but if you made any indication of not liking anything, he'd stop. He doesn't want to break you.

Mr. Scarletella

You are his queen. He literally worships the ground you walk on.

You are so fascinating to him. He just can't believe he's found someone as perfect as you. Someone who likes to destroy and kill people, just like him? Immaculate.

You haven't and never will give him your name. That's fine. He can live with that, as long as you're with him.

You've likely given him something else to call you. It's not quite your name -- maybe it's not your full name, and he knows it, because he can't quite grasp your essence. But it's enough to be able to give a sound to the person -- thing -- he likes most in this world.

He likes to say that not-quite name, and he says it often, just to get your attention.

He's fascinated by everything about you -- including how small you are in comparison to him. He loves that he can easily dwarf your form and loom over you. It's exhilarating in a completely different way from mindless violence.

Speaking of which, his favourite thing is without a doubt to commit violence with you. There's a new urban legend steadily growing in the human world, of a pair of murderers characterised by their red and white umbrellas. You're the perfect perfectly awful duo, truly.

Even when he's not with you, he's always somehow got an eye on you. Most of the otherworld residents know by now who you belong to, and they'd never lay hand on the one cherished by the red umbrella man.

[blindmagdalena]

Center Stage in a Gilded Cage (chapter two)

18+ 3k. homelander x f!reader. pre-s1. stalking, kidnapping, imprisonment, forced relationship, slow burn, somnophilia, drugging, eventual smut. AO3 | fanfic directory

You’ve been hand-chosen by a god; plucked out of your meager, mundane existence and set delicately into the lap of luxury. Your every need will be met, your every whim and wish made real. By any measure, it’s a dream come true. A life safe from pain, from toil, and from the crushing weight of choice. In exchange, all he asks is that you devote yourself wholly to him.

“What happened?” You ask, voice frayed. Your movements are sluggish, hands rubbing the disorientation from your eyes one at a time.

Homelander catches his own reflection briefly in the mirror across from the bed–making sure he doesn’t have a hair out of place for this crucial meeting–before his gaze moves back to you. “Only the most important day of your life,” he says, feeling as though he’s about to tell someone they just won the goddamn lottery. He watches you rise slowly up into a sitting position, never taking your eyes off of him. He knows that you’re nervous–can smell it on you–but he doesn’t worry himself with that. It’s to be expected initially. 

“You just so happen to be the luckiest lady in America,” he tells you, putting on his most charming smile.

“What are you talking about?” You ask, your confusion deepening. He can see the tension in your body rising as well, the pace of your heart lifting to a rabbit-like thrum despite the molasses thick haze of the anesthesia in your system.

He laughs softly, lifting his hands in an encompassing gesture. “I saved you.”

Almost instantaneously, the tense line of your shoulders droops and your eyes soften in a way that erupts a wave of butterflies in his gut. You look nearly ready to fall back into bed with the weight of relief that moves through you, causing you to sway slightly. He feels nearly delirious with the giddiness of the moment, his fingers twitching, itching to touch. 

“What do you remember?” He asks, daring to inch closer to you. His hand settles on the bed, fingertips nearly brushing your blanketed knee.

“I remember someone grabbing me. A man. He put a rag over my mouth,” you say, lifting a hand to touch your lips. His gaze drops to follow the movement. He subconsciously licks his own. He’d been such a gentleman while you slept, but that hadn’t stopped him fantasizing. He cannot wait to taste you again. “It smelled like grass or something. I fought, but he was so strong,” you say, a tremble like reverence or fear in your voice. Maybe both.

When you realize that his strength is yours, you’ll never need to fear it–or anything else–ever again.

“And then I blacked out. You saved me from him?” You look up at him with wide, watery eyes and he could almost laugh at how cute you look, cluelessly putting together mismatched pieces of the little puzzle going on in your brain. The breathless wonder in your voice–the way you’re looking at him with such hope–makes his chest swell with pride.

You’re in for a real treat.

“Sweetheart,” he coos, lifting his hand to give your knee a gentle squeeze through the blanket. “That was me,” he says, his smile broad and proud. “What I saved you from was ever stepping foot back in that dingy little apartment of yours again. From that mind numbing mediocrity and the tedium of your mundane little life. I brought you home,” he says, gesturing out to his penthouse with a grand sweep of his arm.

A pregnant pause follows.

He waits, but you still don’t seem to get it. Your heart is thumping wildly with no sign of slowing, and that brief flicker of relief has disappeared entirely, the line of your shoulders drawing back up tight. A twinge of apprehension nestles in his chest.

“Well?” He prompts, his smile faltering. “Say something.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand,” you say, gripping the bedding in tight fists. “You kidnapped me?”

“I didn’t kidnap you, you silly goose,” he half scoffs, half laughs. “I brought you home!” He says again, emphasizing the word ‘home’ as if it will speed along your comprehension. Instead, you look more confused and afraid than ever. 

He sighs, dropping his hands down into his lap. “C’mon, you could show a little excitement, yeah? I mean, out of the three hundred and thirty million people in America, I picked you. Those are some fucking insane lottery odds.”

“Picked me for what?” You ask quietly, a rasp in your voice that itches uncomfortably at the back of his neck. You sound ready to cry, which won’t do at all. This isn’t how this is supposed to go.

“To be mine,” he says, and while he’s still smiling, there’s an incredulous furrow to his brow. 

“Be your what?”

His smile thins alongside his patience. “My–mine, my girlfriend, lover, sweetheart, my-my fucking paramor, whatever you want to call it,” he says, that charming facade slipping as his mounting aggravation with your incomprehension creeps further up his spine. 

Where’s your excitement? Where’s your fucking gratitude?

“I don’t even know you,” you say, moving away from him to the opposite side of the bed, sliding onto your feet without ever taking your eyes off of him. You brace your hand on his headboard, steadying yourself.

Homelander stands, taken aback. “Of course you know me. You recognized me instantly!” He says, circling the bed. 

For every step he takes forward, you take two back. 

He’s bewildered by your response: he’s a goddamn hero, the shining light of providence beaming down on America, and you’re cowering from his approach like he’s some kind of fucking pariah, shrinking back against the mirror when you hit it, cornering yourself.

“You know exactly who I am, and I know you,” he says, uninvited irritation slipping into his voice. 

“I know that you like to cook, that you can’t hold your alcohol, and that the best part of your day is the little sweet treat you get yourself after work. You laugh at bad jokes and you watch worse television. Videos about sad animals make you cry, even when they end happy. When you’re depressed you shop online and look at house listings you’ll never be able to afford. I know you, alright? Down to your goddamn skincare routine. So just calm down already.”

Fuck, he needs to reign himself in. He’s gotten too worked up, and you’re stubbornly not calming down at all.

“You’ve been stalking me?” You ask, gaze darting from corner to corner like an animal seeking an avenue for escape. The horror in your voice, in your expression, churns his stomach terribly.

Relax. Relax. Give her a sec. She’ll figure it out, coos a much more confident voice in the back of his mind. He closes his eyes briefly, taking in a slow breath, inhabiting that same confidence. 

Everything’s going to be fine.

There’s no other option now.

“It’s–heh–it’s a funny story, actually,” he says, forcefully lightening his tone. He wants you to enjoy this story. Hear the romanticism in it. “I was on patrol, you know, watching for crime, or danger, people in need of saving–I do that a lot–and that’s when I saw you,” he says with a slowly broadening smile, hands lifted towards you like you’re on display. “You were on your way to work, and you handed some homeless guy a box of–”

“John,” you interrupt, staring at him with apprehension.

Homelander’s expression turns stricken, not knowing why you would possibly call him that. In his underlying agitation, he sees flashes of a cramped room behind an enormous door the color of fresh blood. His hands felt so small beating on that terrible door. His throat constricts, and he barely chokes out, “What?”

“John,” you say again, visibly concerned by his reaction. “The man I give food to, his name is John.” Of course it is. As common a gutter name as any.

“Oh,” he says, the muscles in his face tight. It takes him several seconds to recover, blinking rapidly. “Yeah. Sure. Okay. So, you… Well, I saw you, and you were rushing, working, and you’d come home, rush and work again, and the food, you’d–” Fuck, he’s lost the thread. He feels like he’s coming unspooled, an awkward mess spilled out on the floor. This is not how he wants you to see him.

If only you hadn’t said that fucking name.

He brings his hands up, covering his mouth and nose as he takes in a deep breath, eyes closed. He drops his hands in front of his chest, palms clasped together. He smiles tensely as his eyes open back up. “I’m gonna start over. Hey, hi, I’m Homelander,” he says, slipping into his stage voice without realizing it, speaking the way he would if he was addressing a crowd. “I’ve been wanting to meet you for a while.”

He splays his hands at that, as if waiting for an applause for his performance. You don’t appear to be of the mind to offer him one.

“Okay… so you have been stalking me,” you say, pressed so tightly against the mirror you might actually crack it. He resists the urge to roll his eyes. You’re just working yourself up now, focusing on the wrong parts entirely. He assumes you’ll be more reasonable when all the adrenaline in your blood wears off. The smell of it on you is terribly sour. “And now you’ve drugged and kidnapped me.”

He lets out a terse breath. “I–mm, I feel like you’re missing the point just a little bit here,” he says through his teeth, heat prickling his neck where his collar touches it, the fabric suddenly growing irritating against his skin. “I was not stalking you. I saw you a few times, and I wanted to meet you. And again, you’re not kidnapped!”

“I’m free to go, then?” You ask, arms crossed tightly over your chest.

“Yes, obviously,” he laughs, though there’s tension in it. It takes everything in him not to forcibly uncross your arms himself. He much prefers how you looked in sleep, or when he observed you from a distance. This harsh, closed off version of you is making his skin itch. He wishes he could start the take over, the way they do when he’s filming. “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. Ever seen Paris? Hell, summer in Italy is–”

“Home,” you say. “I’d like to go home, please.”

“Would you-!” His tone is too sharp, too loud, and he cuts himself off, but not before his volume makes you flinch. 

He sucks in a breath, bobbing his pointer finger at you. “You-mmm,” he hums, clicking his tongue as he continues to force calm into his voice. “You are home,” he says, giving into his impulse and taking hold of your wrist, tugging your arms out of that tight cross with ease. He pulls you behind him, deciding that if telling won’t work, showing will have to. 

Once you see it, you’ll understand. You’ll understand that all of this has been for you.

“Here, look,” he says, throwing open the door to the closet. Your closet. It’s lined with outfits he’s spent the last several weeks choosing for you. Weeks spent finding a balance between your aesthetic and his. You’ll have to match him, of course. He made sure that they compliment his suit while also carrying similarities to the color palettes you’re drawn to.

He spreads his arm towards the display, fingers twitching. “See? Yours. All of it–and whatever else you want,” he says, hyper aware of how delicate your wrist feels in his grasp. You may as well be a bird in his hands, hollow-boned and fragile. “The kitchen, too, it’s yours,” he says, gesturing vaguely off in the direction of it. His attention snaps back to you, laser focused. He gives your wrist a reflexive tug, fighting with himself to keep his own strength at bay.

“I did all of this for you,” he says in a low voice, pinning you with his stare. “Tell me you understand that.”

If there’s an undercurrent of desperation in his tone, he ignores it.

Your eyes are wide and watery, a deer caught in the golden headlights of all that he is. Your breaths come in shallow waves, and the terrible fear that radiates from you makes him want to shake you. Your gaze slides from him to the closet, flitting between the myriad of garments that hang in the closet. All in your size. Some of them are nearly identical to pieces you own, but manufactured by the original designer instead of a cheap knock-off plucked from a department store rack.

And still he can give you so much more. All he asks is that you love him for it.

There’s a tremble running through you. Your throat clicks on a dry swallow, and slowly your attention drifts back to him, sweeping him from head to toe, taking account of him in his entirety for the first time. He tenses. It’s a little strange to be so seen by you, but it feels good, too. He squares his shoulders, wanting you to see the best in him.

“Why me?” You ask quietly, your eyes meeting his. You still look lost, but what he finds endearing is the underlying conviction he sees. You’re always quick to move towards a solution. He likes that about you. He’s not sure what it is that you’ve decided, but it’s clear you’ve made a choice somewhere in your mind.

Because you’re like me.

“Because you deserve it,” he says, drawing you in at the same time he turns his body towards yours. “You’re underappreciated. Undervalued. You’re capable of so much more than the world gives you credit for,” he says, his grip on your wrist flexing. Every one of those glorified pen-pushers at Vought should choke for the way they ignore him, hoisting their agendas onto him while dismissing his ideas. “And you’re lonely.”

Your eyes widen a fraction. Bullseye.

Sensing vulnerability, he moves a step closer, taking hold of your other wrist. He offers both a reassuring squeeze. “You don’t have to be.”

Neither of us do.

“This is insane,” you whisper, but the inflection of your voice makes it sound like a question. Like you’re considering it. “You’re… You’re Homelander,” you say, as if that should explain everything you hold in your gaze. 

And I’m nobody, you must be thinking. Maybe you were once, but no longer. You’ve been elevated in the way only someone chosen by God can be.

“And you’re here. With me,” he counters, his own voice lower now, quieter in the intimately narrow space between your bodies, both hands wrapped around your wrists. There’s a flush crawling up your throat, warming you all the way to your ears. His thumb absently strokes your pulse-point. “Safe. I’m a hero, remember?”

“So, you’re not… going to wear my skin, or eat me?” You ask, voice filled with such dread at the notion he thinks you might have actually believed that was his intention.

He barks a laugh, shaking his head. “Alright, first of all, no more Silence of the Lambs for you,” he says, relinquishing his hold on your wrists to slide his hands up your arms, squeezing your shoulders. “Second, no. I’m not going to wear your skin. Or eat you.”

Well… Not like that. He can’t promise he won’t devour you, though. Pin you beneath the weight of his strength–he could keep you down with nothing more than his pinky–put his head between your thighs and trace his name with his tongue until you’re screaming it. The thought makes his cock throb, stiffen. He licks his lips subconsciously, glad for the cover of his cup.

“Okay,” you say, snapping him out of his daydream. “Then you want me to…?” 

It seems ridiculous to him that he would still have to explain it. He’ll blame it on the anesthesia.

“Do whatever you want,” he says, taking his hands from your shoulders to motion to the rest of his penthouse. “Cook, don’t cook. Read books, shop, get in arguments on the internet over fictional characters,” he says, swirling his hand in a vague gesture. “Whatever makes you happy,” he says, gaze drifting back to you. All you have to do is do it with me. “Pretty sweet deal if you ask me.” He offers you the sharp edge of a smile, leaving little room for discussion.

You stare at him for a moment that’s too long and too quiet for his liking before your eyes wander, taking in the rest of his room. The balcony beyond the threshold. The mirrors and paintings on the walls, the statues in the corners, the rich dark colors. Everything has been decorated to make the space feel grander, more open. No blank walls. No doors that lock. It’s his home.

And now it’s your home.

“Okay,” you say eventually.

His brows shoot up. “Okay?”

You look back to him, your expression difficult for him to parse. Despite years spent practicing and learning facial expressions–all part of his camera training–he cannot read yours right now. He would be more bothered if he weren’t so distracted by the spark of hope that flares in his chest. “Okay,” you say again, adding a small nod this time.

He exhales a breathy laugh. “Yeah? Yeah! Okay. Alright. Wow, that’s… that’s great,” he says, his grin wide and a touch incredulous. There’s a nagging feeling in the back of his mind, a sense of suspicion, but his elation smothers it. He had dreaded that you might face an adjustment period, be confused, that there would be tears or anger. You were really starting to get under his skin with all that talk of kidnapping.

As if he were some sort of common thug or criminal, and not a savior.

In his exhilaration, he cups your face suddenly. He feels your pulse spike in his hands, but his focus is solely on your eyes.

“I’m going to make you the happiest woman alive,” he vows with a soft gaze and an eager smile. He leans in close enough to feel your breaths on his lips, tempted to kiss you, but he stops himself. There will be plenty of time for that, and he doesn’t want to remember your first kiss alongside the acrid tinge of your fading fear. His thumbs brush your cheeks, learning the shape of them under his touch.

He’d been wrong when he first took notice of you. You’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.

Sucking in a steadying breath, he draws away, placing his hands on his hips. “Now… How about we get you a little more comfortable for bed?”

( chapter three )

[ja3yun]

I'm a Virgin, Not a Murderer: ch.1 | pop your cherry

virgin!heeseung x sex worker!reader warnings: smut (mdni), oral (m.rec), blue balls, murder, mentions of blood, sex work (use of words tart card and prostitute), set in the 90's london, heeseung is a loser, anything else lmk wc: 11.2k ch.1 synopsis: determined to lose his virginity, heeseung follows his friend's plan and ends up hiring you to pop his cherry, little does he know that he'll walk out of that room something much worse than a virgin a/n: hi! this is the first instalment of iavnam and i am so so so excited to share this with you all. this is a silly, fun fic that i hope you can enjoy but i will say that it has some moments of angst throughout. feedback, comments, reblogs, and likes are all appreciated and i hope you give loser!hee a chance

masterlist | chapter 2

“What am I going to do? I can’t enter working life a virgin.” Heeseung sighs, rubbing his temples as he complains.

Heeseung is a gentle soul, the type of boy you read about in novels or see in cheesy romance films. No, he’s not the bad boy with a hidden heart of gold or the burly football player with a secret love for the arts. Heeseung is the overlooked best friend, the quiet boy pining from the sidelines, the introverted geek who spends his Fridays alone while the girl he loves rushes off with the popular guy.

At 22, Heeseung has never been with a girl. He can’t even look at one for more than ten seconds without sweating or mumbling about the new Toy Story film that was released last year. And with only two months left before he graduates, the thought of entering the adult world as a virgin weighs heavily on him. He might be the only one from the Class of ‘96 who hasn't had this experience, and he feels an urgent need to change that.

He watches his friends with a mix of envy and longing as they get into relationships or have sex with the nearest girl at a party, wishing it could be him for once. All his life, he’s dreamt of a perfect romance where a boy meets a girl, they fall in love, and share their first time.

All in all, Heeseung just wants to be in love with the person he loses himself to. But time is ticking, and he’s starting to realise that his dream of a whirlwind romance might not be feasible. He might have to settle for whatever chance he can get.

“What’s the use in complaining if you aren’t going to talk to a girl for more than a minute?” Jongseong mutters into his beer can, eyes still trained on the Sony Trinitron TV in front of him.

Jongseong has had this conversation with Heeseung so many times that it’s starting to bore him. He understands his best friend’s desire for a meaningful connection; anyone would want that. But Heeseung’s idealism clashes with Jongseong’s pragmatic nature. For months - no, years - he’s been telling Heeseung to either take action or let it go. There’s nothing wrong with being a virgin at any age, and Heeseung used to see it that way too. Yet, for some reason, he’s convinced he’d be the laughingstock of any office if word got around.

All throughout high school, Heeseung was the same: stuttering and twitching whenever a girl looked at him. Jongseong has never seen anyone worship women as Heeseung does while simultaneously being utterly terrified of them.

Heeseung suddenly grabs the can from Jongseong’s hand, stunning him, and slams it onto the coffee table of their apartment. “I’m serious, Jongseong. I’m doing it this time, for real.” There’s determination and fire in his voice, even though his heart is pounding at the thought.

Turning to face him, still in a can-holding position, Jongseong raises an eyebrow. “You’re really going to do it? No wimping out?” he asks incredulously. It’s not that he doesn’t believe his friend’s words; he’s just surprised by how assured Heeseung looks.

Nodding, Heeseung crosses his legs on the couch. “Absolutely! And I have a plan.”

“Oh god, what is it?” Jongseong asks nervously, apprehensive about what kind of plan the virgin has concocted for himself.

Heeseung takes a deep breath, trying to steady his racing heart. “Alright, so here’s the deal. I’m going to start small and take baby steps. First, I’ll join a club or a group where I can meet people without the pressure of one-on-one interactions. Maybe a book club or a film society. That way, I can get more comfortable talking to girls in a casual setting.”

Jongseong nods slowly, considering the idea. “Okay, that sounds reasonable. Except all the clubs and meets have stopped now considering it’s two months until summer vacation.” The younger rolls his eyes, picking his can back up. “What other plans do you have?”

There is a silence in the air which pauses Jongseong mid-sip. Scratching the back of his neck, Heeseung sheepishly shrugs and winces at his friend's disappointing gaze. It took him a week to come up with that one plan, hoping that he could ride on the waves of already-formed groups. He did, however, come up with the plan 4 months ago and just has never put it into action, so it is a little outdated.

“It was a solid plan!” he huffs and crosses his arms, pouting like a baby despite being the oldest of the two. “It’s not like I can just phone up a girl on one of those fancy mobiles and ask her to fuck me.”

Jongseong’s ears perk up, eyes widening as if he’s just hit the motherload of all ideas. His excitement makes Heeseung sit up in attention, furrowing his brows as he watches him stand up and turn the TV off. “You’re a fucking genius, Lee.”

Although the compliment settles fondly in his heart, he still doesn’t know why he is a genius nor does he have time to think about it before his best friend drags him by the arm outside of the flat and into the street, striding towards something with tenacity. 

He complains about the grip Jongseong has on him but follows him regardless, feet rushing to keep up the pace as they make their way down the street and into the skirts of the city. Heeseung knows better than to argue with the boy when he is on a mission like this, the last time he did so was when Jongseong went on the hunt for the last Thor comic book, edition #487 and Heeseung told him to just ‘get it another time’. Turns out, everyone and their granny wanted it and with Heeseung constantly holding them up, he missed out on the first press. The boy never heard the end of it and was almost disowned.

So he trails idly behind him until they reach a phone booth. The glass is taped with flyers of missing dogs and Y2K conspiracies, babysitter ads and jobs for hire. It’s a mess, yet Jongseong seems to be looking for something in particular.

“I know I said phoning up a girl, but I hardly think Mystic Michelle sees me in her future,” Heeseung snorts, dipping his hands into his pockets. He refuses to tell Jongseong that in a desperate attempt to find out when he would lose his virginity, he had already phoned a psychic medium who told him, “You’ll lose it when you choose to travel.” Considering he has never and likely will never step foot outside his hometown, he deemed that as his first and last time trusting in the universe’s whispers.

Jongseong, ignoring Heeseung’s quips, searches diligently until he sees the poster hanging inside the booth and immediately whips the door open, dragging the surprised black-haired boy into the tight space with him. With urgency, he tears the number tab off of the bright red poster and thrusts it into Heeseung’s hand.

Pointing to the poster, Jongseong smirks. “She is your ticket out of virginville,” he says playfully yet a serious undercurrent waves through his voice. If Heeseung is going to get laid, and fast, he is going to need a professional.

Heeseung looks closely at the poster and sees a girl in a white-laced thong posing in front of a red background, her left arm covering her plump tits as she sucks on a lollipop. His eyes shake and his head follows, backing up slightly despite the confined space and protesting the idea profusely. “Not a chance, Jongseong! This is prostitution, which by the way, is illegal in this country.”

“I know you’re a saint, okay? But desperate times call for desperate measures.” He shrugs, already putting the 20p coins into the slot and picking up the ringer. “You know Jaeyun lost his virginity this way.”

“Yeah, and she was a 43-year-old mother of 6 who fucked him in her garden shed. He said he got the clap from that!” 

Heeseung is not exaggerating, Jaeyun was so determined to ‘gain experience’ that he chose one of these girls from a traffic light pole and what was promised to be a sexy 21-year-old in his area, turned out to be a mum who needed a quick cash grab before her kids got home from school. Needless to say, he went along with it, already mentally prepared for the pop and then a few weeks later by consequence he was in the sexual health clinic getting tested for an STD. He lost his virginity but also his dignity that day.

Exhaling loudly, Jongseong closes his eyes in frustration. “We can phone and ask for an appointment and if she isn’t this very pretty girl that is offering you a ‘spanking good time with a 22-year-old’ then you can bolt for the hills and we’ll find you someone else.” His tone is coated in disapproval at his friend’s unwillingness to give this brilliant idea of his a chance.

Punching in the numbers, Jongseong holds the receiver between his ear and his shoulder, “You want me to talk?”

Realising he is stuck in a boat without a paddle, Heeseung relents, gesturing for Jongseong to take the reigns of the situation; if he were to be the one to speak to the girl, he would probably vomit. This is the complete opposite of how he had dreamed this would go and Jongseong knows it.

The phone begins to ring and Jongseong shushes the other boy as he waits patiently. It gives Heeseung the chance to look at the lewd poster once again and he can see why this one caught Jongseong’s attention over the other tart cards in the booth. The girl is striking and real, not like some of the page 3 models that have clearly been used to lure these desperate men in, there is a prettiness to her, a charm that pulls attention even through a piece of paper.

“Hello, handsome, how can I be of service?”

Her voice, sweet yet sultry, filters through the phone and dances on the glass panels, sending a shiver down Heeseung's spine and making his knees weak. His eyes widen as he gazes at the poster, imagining that captivating voice belonging to the stunning girl. Surely, it couldn't be her, could it? No one could sound and look so perfect simultaneously.

Jongseong scoffs at Heeseung's reaction to a mere female voice and playfully slaps the back of his head, snapping him out of his reverie within the stuffy confines of the phone booth. He clears his throat and addresses the caller on the other end. “Hi, uh,” he glances at the poster, searching for the name, “Y/N, is it?”

You giggle softly over the phone, twirling the cord attached to your landline. “Yes, what can I help you with?”

It’s been a few days since you put up the flyers and there has already been an abundance of calls coming your way; some old guys looking to rub one out before work, others looking to be degraded, and some even just wanting advice on how best to clean their house before their wives come home.

For you, it’s easy money and a needed break from the work you do other than please pervy men. On days you’re not at home, you’re out working behind the bar at Nice N’ Sleazys, picking up after everyone’s mess and pouring pint after pint while the worst music grates at your ears. 

Sex work, despite its numerous downsides, offers a straightforward way to earn money. Initially, you worked in a brothel just outside the main city, where your tips and pride were stolen by the cruel man who ran it. The girls were lovely, and some of your regulars were kind, but the work and pain were too much for the meagre earnings.

So you left and started managing yourself. The owner didn’t like it, but it was your decision. He wasn’t sad to lose you, but rather the money your regulars brought in. However, his displeasure was short-lived when he found your replacement—someone who brought in more money and was willing to do much more than you ever could.

Despite the challenges and dangers managing yourself has provided you with a sense of independence and control that you did not have when working for someone else. You've learned how to deal with the industry's complexities, setting boundaries and putting your own safety first; even if that meant refusing some of your regulars into your new endeavours. 

The line goes silent and you speak up again, “Can I help you?” you ask gently, still keeping the sex worker persona intact. However, once you hear shuffling in the background with hushed whispers, you quickly drop the act and sigh. “Look, if it’s you boys from the school up the road prank calling me again, I will call your mothers.”

With posting your landline in phone booths comes prank calls, you expect it but you could really use the money this week; your fridge is running on empty and your washing machine has somehow blown up on itself - that’s what you get for buying second-hand from a newspaper ad. Maybe you should have picked up that cleaner job for that mansion in the middle of nowhere while you were buying appliances. 

Customers might be regular but you’re just starting, you can’t charge more than you’re worth.

Jongseong flicks Heeseung’s nose, making him yelp. While you are on the other line, Heeseung decides to try and hang up and chicken out but his friend is adamant that he is seeing this through. He doesn’t know how long he can sit and listen to him whining anymore.

“Sorry! No, uh, shit,” Jongseong racks his brain for words that have escaped him, biting his lip as he concentrates on how to perfectly imitate the virgin, “My name is Lee Heeseung. I am a pathetic 22-year-old and need to lose my virginity. I was wondering if you could do me the honours of popping my cherry.”

“I do not talk like that!” Heeseung protests, swatting Jongseongs arm who simply shrugs, unbothered by the offence he is causing the elder. His sole mission is to get Heeseung laid and he is so close to making that happen.

They hear you hum on the other line and immediately stop bickering, staring at the phone as if they can see you through it. “Can I speak to the real Heeseung please?” 

The boy feels sick, head dizzy at the sound of his name coming from your lips but also because Jongseong is thrusting the phone into his face, moving behind him to give him the floor. He hadn’t anticipated speaking to you, just casually observing and listening in to Jongseong sell him off to you. 

“Put on your big boy pants and do this!” Jongseong scolds, eyes darting between Heeseung’s face and the receiver.

Carefully, Heeseung brings it to his ear and closes his eyes, counting to ten in his head before replying. “Hi, Y/N.”

“Hi, Heeseung. How are you doing?” you ask softly. This isn’t your first rodeo with a virgin so you know better than to go in all tits blazing and calling him a big boy. 

Nodding as though you can see him, Heeseung purses his lips, trying to muster up some semblance of confidence. “I’m good…how are you?” he asks, his voice wavering slightly despite his efforts to sound assured. The shaky breath he lets out betrays his nerves, and he inwardly cringes, expecting the worst.

On the other end, you can't help but giggle softly. It’s not a titter of mocking, but rather one of endearment. Virgins are the cutest to speak to in your eyes because most of them have no idea how to navigate a conversation like this. There's something charming about their genuine nervousness and innocent curiosity.

Heeseung’s embarrassment deepens as he hears your giggle, imagining all the ways he might be coming off as awkward and inexperienced. He rubs the back of his neck, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. “I-I’m sorry if I sound nervous,” he stammers, “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

Your voice remains warm and reassuring, easing some of his anxiety. “That’s okay, Heeseung. Everyone has to start somewhere. I promise, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” Your voice is so smooth and lovely that Heeseung instantly relaxes. He is glad that if Jongseong picked any of the workers on the posters beside him, he is glad it was you.

Straightening his posture, Heeseung steadies himself. “My friend is right, I am a virgin and I want to get rid of it. Can you help with that?”

“You know, there’s nothing wrong with being a virgin,” you gently remind Heeseung, concern lacing your voice. “Are you sure this is how you want to do it?” You should be arranging a time and place rather than potentially jeopardising your weekly food shop, but if you were in his shoes, you’d want to offer him an escape route, just in case.

But Heeseung seems resolute now, determined to rid himself of the insecurity that has plagued him for so long. “I am. I don’t want to graduate with this hanging over my head.”

Your heart melts a little at his sincerity, and you can’t help but pout. “Okay. Well, one of my regulars...well, let’s just say I’m not seeing him anymore, so I have a free slot tomorrow at 2pm. I usually go to the Point A Hotel near the intersection. Can you make it?”

Heeseung looks to Jongseong with panicked eyes, silently pleading for reassurance. The younger man nods enthusiastically, giving him two thumbs up, mouthing a gentle “Go for it” for extra ease. 

“Yeah, 2pm is fine.” His heart beats rapidly as he accepts your offer, his mouth going dry and his palms sweaty. 

“Amazing. Bring £200-, no, £300 and condoms in your size,” you instruct, changing your regular rate last minute. If he is as inexperienced as he seems, he won't know you’re ripping him off a little. It’s not like you want to but it’s what you have to do. The regular that was in that slot usually paid £500 with tips. However, you will take the comfort of not having him around anymore over bills.

Jongseong’s jaw hits the floor as he hears the price, his gaze glued to the phone but before he can barter for a better deal, the phone goes dead, the five 20ps he slotted in finally running out and leaving them both in silence.

Heeseung’s arm drops to his side, still gripping the receiver as he stares blankly into space. “£300 is all my savings,” he whispers to himself, the weight of the realisation settling heavily on his shoulders. Yet, even as the words leave his mouth, he’s working out how to move his bills around and where the nearest pharmacy is for condoms. 

Stepping out of the booth, Jongseong holds the door open and ushers Heeseung to follow. Heeseung, still lost in thought, obediently steps out, the crisp evening air hitting his face, a welcoming cool to the flush of his skin due to talking to a sex worker for the first time and also the heat of the booth.

Jongseong wraps an arm around his friend’s shoulder, pulling him in with a gleeful tug. “Now, let's go get you some rubbers. I’m thinking extra small?”

“Shut the fuck up, Jongseong.”

_____

Standing in front of the shabby hotel, Heeseung braces himself for what will come. He should be ecstatic that he is finally on his way to losing his v card, but the dark clouds in the sky, the three buses, and the 30-minute walk to get to the Point A hotel have given him a dreaded sense of doubt.

The once vibrant red bricks of the building are now faded and chipped, with grime clinging to the crevices. The flickering neon sign above the entrance buzzes intermittently, casting a sickly green hue that does little to dispel the gloom. The place reeks of neglect, and a faint smell of dampness hangs in the air, mingling with the odour of stale cigarettes.

Heeseung’s stomach churns as he takes in the dilapidated surroundings. His heart pounds in his chest, and his palms are slick with sweat. Everything about this goes against what he stands for, but he thinks this might be the closest he will get in his young adult life. The last thing he wants is to be a 40-year-old virgin still complaining to Jongseong that numbing his hand and rubbing one out isn’t doing it for him the way it should.

He looks up at the darkened windows, some of them boarded up, others covered in grime. A lone figure stumbles out of the entrance, clutching a bottle of Jack Daniels, and disappears into the grey afternoon, reinforcing Heeseung's trepidation. Of course, the sex worker wasn’t going to ask him to meet in a swanky five-star hotel, but anything had to be better than this.

Taking a deep breath, he tries to steady his nerves. The anticipation that should be filling him with excitement instead gnaws at him with apprehension. His mind races with conflicting thoughts – the desire to finally cross this threshold clashing with the nagging sense that he's settling for something far less than he deserves. The thought of his future self, bitter and frustrated, pushes him forward despite the unease curling in his gut.

He can't let fear dictate his choices any longer; at the end of the day, virginity is a social construct, and women are the greatest gift from God, so there is nothing to be so scared about. Taking another deep breath, he steels himself and steps forward, ready to face whatever lies ahead within the confines of the Point A hotel.

Quickly, he grabs the shutting door and steps inside, his guard raising instantly as he sees the darkness of the foyer. This is the type of place where people mug you for fun rather than necessity. Stained mattresses are leaning against the graffitied walls, the overhead lights are dull, providing little support to Heeseung’s pupils, and the carpet beneath him is sticky, every fibre clinging to the sole of his Air Max trainers.

He takes tentative steps to the front desk, which has been barricaded by crossed steel bars and adorned with a sign reading ‘Police on Speed Dial’. This does little to make him feel any safer. Heeseung’s eyes squint as he gets closer to the desk lamp and sees a middle-aged woman reading the latest issue of the Digger, a local newspaper filled with all the latest and greatest gossip of the town. The last time he read that particular paper was in the doctor's office, and the headline was ‘HE’S ESCAPED’ with a picture of the man who murdered the shopkeeper and police officer up in Brixton.

Shivering, not due to the air conditioning above him, Heeseung knocks on the desk softly and clears his throat, gaining the attention of the relaxed redhead.

“Yeah?” she asks nonchalantly, her eyes flickering up to the scared boy as if he was inconveniencing her by making her do her job. “Single, double, or meeting someone?”

The question throws Heeseung for a loop. He doesn’t know what room you're in or even if you would have given your real name. Surely, you would have created a fake persona when you came here. What if Y/N was the fake name? His pulse quickens as he stammers, trying to find the right words.

"Um, I'm meeting someone," he finally manages to say, his voice barely above a whisper. The woman sighs, clearly unimpressed, and picks up an old, dog-eared ledger from under the desk.

"Name?" she asks, flipping through the pages with a disinterested expression.

Hesitating, Heeseung picks at the skin on his fingers and clears his throat again, a blush rising to his cheeks as he remembers that this is your regular spot, meaning that as soon as he utters your name - if that is the one you gave - then she will know exactly what he is here for. “Y/N. I’m looking for Y/N.”

The receptionist's eyes suddenly trail up and down his body, making him feel as though he is already naked. He is right in his suspicions; she is definitely judging him. Once she finishes examining him, she scowls in disgust and leans back into her chair, placing her feet on the desk as she grabs her paper once more. “Room 1015. And tell her she needs to calm it down with the lube she uses; it’s a bitch to get out of the sheets.”

Heeseung's face burns with embarrassment as he mumbles a quick “thank you” and turns away from the desk. He heads towards the lift, the receptionist’s gaze still sitting in the forefront of his mind, making him even more self-conscious than before. The lift pings open to reveal a tattered metal box, illuminated by a dirty yellow light that only makes the streaks of brown and rust stand out more. Maybe Heeseung should get a tetanus shot after all of this.

He presses the first-floor button with his elbow, careful not to touch anything with his bare skin just in case, and ascends to your room. The buzz from the light and the creak of the old wires holding the elevator make the journey last forever, considering it’s only one floor. But maybe that is also just his nerves. Heeseung's mind races as he stands there, the walls of the lift feeling like they're closing in on him. The air is stale, filled with a faint metallic tang that makes him uneasy.

As the lift jerks to a halt and the doors open, Heeseung steps out into a dimly lit corridor. The wallpaper is peeling, revealing patches of mould beneath. The faint buzz of a flickering light down the hall adds to the eerie atmosphere. Heeseung takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart, and walks towards room 1015. Each step feels heavier than the last, the worn carpet muffling his footsteps but not the pounding of his heart in his ears.

Pausing before your door, he abruptly pats down his jacket to ensure that he has brought the money and the condoms as per your request. His fingers brush against the crisp bills and the small, foil packets, reassuring him that he hasn’t forgotten anything crucial. The sense of preparedness does little to quell his anxiety, but it’s a small comfort amid his turmoil.

Heeseung breathes out slowly, cracking his neck as though he is bracing himself to fight with Roy Jones Jr. and not a 22-year-old girl who exchanges sex for money; although, he knows which one is scarier at this moment. His knuckles bang on the door lightly and suddenly his mind is reeling a mile a minute, all the questions and doubts he has been tackling within his mind for the past few hours now rushing to him at once. What if you aren’t who you say you are? You could be an old geezer looking to have his way with Heeseung and then toss him out the window with not so much as a thank you. What if this whole thing goes horribly wrong and cums as soon as you touch his cock? He spent last night jerking off and training himself to last just a little longer than usual in an aid to impress you.

Suddenly, there is a lump in his throat and trepidation overcasting the glee of losing his virginity. Something feels wrong, out of place, and his mum always told him to run at the first feeling of danger.

Yet, he doesn’t have another second to turn back and flee the scene because the door is swinging open and revealing-

You. Gorgeous, beautiful - definitely not a creepy old man - you. Heeseung’s jaw almost hits the floor like a cartoon character and his eyes turn to hearts as he takes you in. The baby pink robe you’re wearing with white lace detailing, your hair cascading down one of your shoulders in a soft, bouncy curl, and your lips that are tinted red like glossy maraschino cherries. You look even better than the poster in the phone booth if that was even possible.

His body flushes with heat as he sees your erect nipples poking through the silk, and he feels like he could faint. The sight of you is overwhelming, making his head spin and his heart race even faster. The trepidation that had gripped him moments before is momentarily forgotten, replaced by a rush of desire and nervous anticipation.

You smile warmly at him, a smile that reaches your eyes and seems to melt away some of his fear. "Hi, Heeseung," you say softly, your voice as smooth and inviting as honey. "Come on in."

Heeseung nods, stepping over the threshold and into the room. His movements are awkward and stiff, a stark contrast to your graceful fluidity. The door clicks shut behind him, and the reality of the situation hits him once more. But this time, the sense of wrongness is overshadowed by the sheer presence of you.

You move behind him and drink in the sight of him. If every client looked this good, you might just never complain again - but unfortunately, men like Heeseung come few and far between, like little sprinkles of water amongst oil. He is wearing slightly baggy deep-blue jeans, a white-faded-into-grey Rolling Stones t-shirt, and a red crinkled plaid shirt which is covered by a brown faux-leather jacket. Even his hair is washed and parted down the middle prettily, reaching his rosy cheeks and curving in slightly.

There isn’t a man that has ever looked this fine in your presence, so you’re starting to wonder why on earth he is still a virgin. Then again, he was super nervous on the phone, even making his friend speak for him to begin with - and with the lack of eye contact he is giving you, he clearly doesn’t do well in the presence of a female.

“I didn’t think you would come,” you observe, giggling as he tenses beside you.

Heeseung nods, agreeing with you almost immediately because for a good 2 hours while deciding on whether to wear his favourite boxers or a pair he got from his gran for Christmas, he almost decided to curl himself back into bed and forget you even existed.

The weight of his decision, the culmination of his fears and desires, all come crashing down at once as the silence settles. But standing there, with you smiling at him, he feels a small spark of hope, a glimmer of excitement that maybe, just maybe, this won’t be as terrifying as he’s imagined.

“You look unreal,” he whispers his inner thoughts out loud, causing him to slap his hand over his mouth, eyes shaking at the thought of saying anything at all to you.

His nervousness makes your heart cry, the cuteness trembling from his body is overwhelming, and you find yourself relaxing slightly. Heeseung is a gentle giant, and although he towers over you, he poses no threat at all which you gladly welcome considering what you normally have to deal with in this industry. It’s nice to not have to wonder what on earth a man is planning to do with you because you can’t read him.

Slinking your way towards him, you tuck a section of his soft hair behind his ear, his eyes closing and Adam's apple bobbing at your touch. “I’m as real as they come, baby. Why don’t you relax and give me your coat, hmm?”

As you reach for the brown jacket and try to push it off his shoulders, he flinches and backs away, hugging himself tightly. The sudden movement surprises you, and you quickly pull back, giving him space. His eyes are wide, like a deer caught in headlights, and you can see the internal struggle playing out in his mind. His face is flushed, and there's a mixture of fear and embarrassment etched into his features.

He quickly shakes his head, realising he startled you into a confused pout. “S-sorry! It’s just the money and condoms are in here and I…I think I might still be a little on edge considering this place is…well, it’s creepy as shit.”

Laughing loudly, you do a mix of nodding and shaking your head, puzzled by his reaction but understanding his apprehension of letting just anyone touch his belongings; God knows you’ve been held at knifepoint once or twice around this area. Your laughter, genuine and bright, seems to relax him a bit. 

“That’s okay, Heeseung,” you say, throwing your hands up in a non-threatening gesture in an attempt to ease his tension, which works surprisingly well. You can see his grip on his arms loosen just a bit. “How about you hang it up behind the door?”

Heeseung looks over his shoulder and sees the empty hook, calling out for his slightly battered jacket. Whipping it off, he clenches it in his hands as though he is wringing it of water - probably his sweat - and perks up again, the nerves still evident in his voice. “Do I give you the money now or?”

You smile at his earnestness, understanding his need to follow the process correctly. His vulnerability is endearing, and you feel a protective instinct kicking in. “Normally, I would take the money upfront but since I trust you not to run away, we can sort it out before you go.” It’s a generous offer in Heeseung’s mind, but in yours, you just don’t know whether he is going to make it past touching one of your tits, so it’s better to actually charge him for what you do rather than jumping the gun.

Heeseung’s eyes widen slightly at your trust, and you can see the relief washing over him. He nods vigorously, his movements still somewhat jerky but more controlled now. “Thank you,” he mumbles, his voice soft but sincere. “I appreciate it.”

As he hangs his jacket on the hook, you can see his hands trembling slightly. He takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling as he tries to steady himself. When he turns back to you, there’s a flicker of determination in his eyes, mingled with the lingering nervousness.

Turning around, you are suddenly standing there, your body almost pressed against his. “Come on, sit down for a minute,” you say seductively, code-switching into your sex worker persona with ease. It doesn’t take much, just lowering your voice slightly and hooding your eyes over seems to work for most men, and by Heeseung’s expression and nervous shuffle of his feet, it clearly works for him too.

You reach for his hand, and he instantly flinches, but soon gives way for you to wrap your hands around three of his fingers, slowly guiding him to sit on the edge of the bed. His breath hitches as your touch sends shivers down his spine, the warmth of your skin against his sending a jolt of electricity through him.

Heeseung’s heart pounds in his chest as he sits down, the bed sinking slightly under his weight. He can feel the heat of your body radiating against his, your closeness both comforting and intimidating. His mind races with a whirlwind of emotions—fear, desire, anticipation—all swirling together in a dizzying haze.

You sit beside him, your thigh pressing against his, and he can feel the warmth of your skin seeping through the fabric of his trousers. The sensation sends a shiver down his spine, and he can feel his cheeks flushing with heat. He swallows hard, trying to calm the rapid fluttering of his heart. He shifts uncomfortably, his nerves getting the better of him. But your presence is calming, your touch gentle and reassuring.

“Baby, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” you assure him, bringing your hand to play with the hairs on the nape of his neck. 

The action causes his body to instantly fold inside itself, melting as you ease him gently into a state of comfort. He hasn’t been touched by a girl in the way you are right now, the closest he’s gotten is a handhold in primary 5 because his friends forced a girl to date him during lunch, so the way your long nails tickle his heated skin only gives his cock a reason to twitch. 

Shaking his head, tensing slightly when he looks into your kind eyes. “No, no, I want to. I’m just not used to talking to girls, or looking at them, or being in the same room as them…” He begins to waffle, talking about everything he has never done with a girl and you find his honesty endearing.

“You haven’t kissed a girl either, have you?” you ask with a hint of amusement. 

“Twice? I think. But they weren’t with tongues,” the shy boy cowards with his confession, scared of being scrutinised by the one person who is supposed to be helping him with all of this. He might just die if you start to point and laugh at him. But to his surprise, you nod understandingly. 

In your world of sex and adultery, it isn’t usually a question. Everyone, especially at twenty-two has probably at least been kissed, but you don’t judge him for not being experienced in even that field. There is a vulnerability and sadness in Heeseung’s eyes that tell you everything you need to know about him; he’s quiet, timid, lacks confidence, and obviously doesn’t venture outside his friend group

You smile reassuringly, your hand still clasping his as you nod in consideration. “It’s okay, Heeseung,” you say softly, your voice filled with warmth and understanding. “We’ll take things slow, at your pace. And I promise, there’s no judgment here…I do have to make sure you’re of age though, y’know, caution and all that.”

It’s not that you think he is lying, you just need to be careful with clients like this, particularly virgins because sometimes it can be a boy chancing his arm at a shot to lose his virginity, and you are not catching a case for a few hundred quid. 

Nodding, Heeseung understands what you mean and points to his jacket. “My provisional license is in my chest pocket. The one on the right,” he instructs. He would go get it himself but his legs are boneless with your proximity, so to save him embarrassment, he’ll let you venture for it.

You release his hand with a tender squeeze before walking to the door and reaching for his jacket, your fingers deftly searching through the pocket until you find his provisional license. With a quick glance to confirm his age, you let out a breath of relief. Everything checks out.

He is also super handsome despite the stoic face and reputation that licenses have for making people look ugly, which you think is unfair but don’t comment. Your driver's license looks like you’ve been swallowed by Jabba the Hutt and regurgitated back up, so the envy you are feeling is real right now.

Suppressing the green monster at Heeseung’s flawless appearance, you slip his license back into his pocket and make your way back to him, your movements slow and deliberate. As you draw nearer, you can see the anticipation in his eyes, his gaze fixed on you with a mixture of nerves and lust.

Teasingly, you undo the tie of your thin robe, letting it open slightly and revealing a tantalising glimpse of what Heeseung is paying for. The fabric falls away, exposing the curve of your left breast, perfectly formed and enticing.

Heeseung’s eyes widen at the sight, his breath catching in his throat as he takes in the sight before him. His cheeks flush crimson, and you can see the desire burning in his eyes as he drinks in every inch of your exposed skin. 

This is his first time seeing a boob in the flesh and by God does porn not do it justice. Yours are just what he wants, the perfect size, look, and probably feel; he really needs to thank Jongseong for choosing you for this because he thinks he has hit the jackpot. 

Licking his lips, his eyes trace down to your panties and it instantly makes him squirm in place. They match your robe, a soft baby pink but the main body of them is seethrough, decorated by small pink hearts and a delicate bow on the side. The band of them are a pale rose, popping the colour of your skin beneath them. 

Seeing his reaction boosts your ego and you turn around, letting the silk drop at your feet as you glance back at him playfully, wiggling your bum to show how the panties are actually a thong that sits perfectly between your plump cheeks.

Heeseung doesn’t know where to look, your naked back, your peachy ass, or your beautiful featured face. So he decides what any virgin in his situation would do and looks away, staring at the popcorn ceiling that has leak stains on it.

Giggling, you walk over to him and straddle his lap, flicking your hair to the back to leave your breasts bare and in perfect sight for him to ogle at. Yet, he still doesn’t move. With a playful huff, you cup his face, your false nails scratching behind his ear as you pull him back to look at you.

“You’re going to have to look at me, baby,” you tease, angling his head and your body so his eyes have nowhere to look but your tits. 

They’re even better up close and if Heeseung were any other man, he would be taking your perky nipple into his mouth and starting this session with ease. But he is not any other man, he is a virgin who drools at the sight of any Playboy or Zoo magazines in the windows of shops and then immediately feels guilty because he hates objectifying women in any way shape or form.

He even feels guilty for his cock twitching in his pants every time you call him baby, knowing you’re feeling how it’s practically jumping to be released from its confines and in your grasp.

Sensing his apprehension to make a move, you decide to take the lead slowly by kissing his forehead, your tits hitting his chest as you push further onto him with the movement. “We’ll start by kissing and see where it goes, yeah?”

Your voice is forgiving and reassuring, the pads of your thumbs stroking his cheeks with fondness that only makes him mewl out slightly. You stifle the laugh because you know how humiliated he will feel if you do, not understanding that the cause of your amusement isn’t due to his whining but rather how much you’re enjoying how lost in your touch he is.

Gently, you take his hands and place them on your waist, giving him as much guidance as you can without it becoming demanding. He tenses as he feels your velvety skin, your perfume enveloping him in a mask of florals and vanilla.

"Relax, Heeseung," you say calmly, your voice soothing and encouraging. "We will go as far as you want, and we can stop at any time. Just say the word, okay?

Heeseung nods, meeting your gaze with a mix of anxiety and trust. "Okay," he replies, just above a whisper.

Moving his hands up your back, Heeseung slowly eases into feeling you, gaining confidence with each tender stroke. His touch is gentle, almost reverent, and it sends a shiver of pleasure down your spine. It's a welcome change from the roughness you're used to with your last client in this slot, and you find yourself sinking into the sensation, enjoying the intimacy of a man's touch for the first time in a long time.

It makes you wonder if this is what having a boyfriend would be like.

Heeseung’s eyes haven’t left your breasts, committing every bump of your areola and stretch mark that creates a beautiful symphony of elegant but sexy, each nipple unique in its appearance and direction. There’s nothing better than your boobs at this moment in time; he would pay you the £300 right now if just for one squeeze.

Then it hits him - he could hold them if he wanted to, that’s what he is here to do after all.

Ghosting his fingers up your back, he creates a path for them to cascade from your shoulders to the top of your breast. You feel a surge of anticipation as he gets closer, his touch sending sparks of pleasure through your body, your cunt starting to drip at the gentle caress.

He stops for a while, contemplating his next move. His eyes look up to yours pleadingly, the virginity shining through his iris’. “Can I?” he asks, seeking permission before delving in.

The act of consent fills you with warmth, and without hesitation, you nod, a reassuring smile playing on your lips. “Anything you want to do, baby,” you assure him, your voice filled with encouragement. 

Heeding your words, Heeseung finally makes his move, his digits whispering to your skin, giving them a tentative rub as he watches the skin melt around him. His thumb strokes over your left nipple, playing with it as if it were a fragile piece of art that he was too scared to break.

For some reason, the act is making you emotional, the way he is so delicately touching you. Never in your career have you seen something so pure and heartwarming. Every other virgin that has called you is just trying to stick it in your hole, never caring about your feelings or comfort.

Lifting his face up, you stare into his eyes with an underlying sparkle of adoration. If you could keep him as a client forever, you would, but you fear that this will be the last and only time with him, so you need to make it count.

You lean in, lips hovering over his petal-like ones and wait there for a moment, a silent ask for consent. It’s only fair considering his decency towards you.

With a nod and a stuttering motion, he presses his lips to yours oh-so-sheepishly. The touch is feather-light, almost tentative, and you can feel his nervousness in the way his lips tremble against yours. Yet there's a sweetness to it, a genuine curiosity and yearning that tugs at your heartstrings.

You respond gently, your lips moving softly against his, guiding him with tender patience. The kiss is slow, unhurried, and as you deepen it slightly, you feel him relax, his hands finding their way to your waist, gripping you a little tighter. His lips part instinctively, and you take the opportunity to slide your tongue against his, eliciting a soft gasp from him.

Heeseung’s reaction is immediate, his body responding to the new sensation with a mixture of surprise and pleasure. You can feel the tension melting away from him, replaced by growing confidence as he starts to explore the kiss with a bit more boldness. His hands roam cautiously, tracing the curve of your hips and the small of your back, his touch still delicate but increasingly assured.

Breaking the kiss, you rest your forehead against his, both of you breathing heavily. The intimacy of the moment hangs in the air, thick and heady, and you can see the mix of emotions playing out on his face - desire, excitement, and a lingering trace of apprehension.

“You’re doing so well, Heeseung,” you murmur softly, your fingers gently stroking the nape of his neck. “Just let yourself feel, and don’t worry about anything else.”

Heeseung’s eyes glisten with a mixture of gratitude and relief, and he nods, swallowing hard. “Okay,” he whispers, his voice steadier now. “Thank you.”

“You’re thanking me for kissing you?” you giggle, pecking his lips quickly. “How about I give you something to thank me for, to make sure you’re ready, hmm?”

Heeseung’s eyes widen, knowing exactly the act you’re alluding to, and he nods like an excited boy, a grin plastering on his face that exhibits disbelief and glee.

You guide him to lie back on the bed, the soft creak of the mattress punctuating the moment. Heeseung’s body is tense with anticipation, his hands clutching at the sheets as he watches you with a mixture of awe and nervous excitement. You feel a wave of tenderness for him, this young man who is putting his trust in you, hoping you can make this experience as good as he's imagined.

“Just relax,” you purr, your hands trailing down his chest, fingers brushing over his taut muscles that are hiding under his t-shirt. You can feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. “I’m going to take care of you.”

Slowly, you work your way down his body, your lips planting soft kisses along his chest and lift up the hem of his shirt to pepper some on his stomach. Each touch elicits a small gasp from him, his body reacting to the new sensations with a mix of surprise and pleasure. You can feel his muscles relaxing under your touch, his trust in you growing with each gentle caress. You feel a strange mix of responsibility and pride, wanting to show him just how good it can feel to be touched and cared for.

Reaching the waistband of his jeans, you look up at him, your eyes meeting his. “Is this okay?” you ask, giving him one last chance to change his mind.

“Yes,” he breathes out, his voice barely a whisper. “Please.”

With his consent, you unbutton his trousers and slowly slide them down, his boxers following suit. Heeseung’s erection springs free, his breath hitching as the cool air hits his heated skin. You take a moment to admire him, your fingers tracing delicate patterns along his length, feeling the tension and anticipation coiled within him. There's a sense of reverence in this moment, understanding the weight of trust he has placed in you.

“Just relax,” you repeat, your voice soothing as you wrap your hand around his shaft, giving it a gentle squeeze. He’s at least 6 inches and girthy, making your pussy clench at the thought of him being inside of you. “It’s a shame you’re not letting girls hit it, your cock is fucking spectacular.”

Heeseung’s face flushes with pride and embarrassment as you lower your head, your breath ghosting over his tip. “Oh, this is really happening…okay….fuck…” he breathes out, face turning red and eyes closing as he braces himself for the first contact. No one’s mouth has come this close to his cock so the feeling is overwhelming to his virgin mind.

You watch as his eyes flutter shut, his lips parting in a silent gasp and slowly take him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his head, tasting the salty bead of pre-cum that has gathered there. His taste is new, unfamiliar, but not unpleasant - almost clean and without the taste of battery acid some of the men you work with have -  and you relish the sounds he makes in response.

Heeseung’s reaction is immediate, his hips bucking slightly as a strangled moan escapes his lips. You place your hands on his hips, holding him steady as you begin to move, your mouth sliding up and down his length in a slow, rhythmic motion. The intimacy of this act, the connection you feel with him, makes your own body respond, a warmth pooling between your thighs.

His fingers dig into the sheets, his knuckles white as he tries to keep himself grounded, his breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. You can feel the tension building within him, the way his body trembles with each pass of your lips and tongue. You can sense his struggle to remain composed, his vulnerability on full display, and it makes you want to give him everything he needs.

Heeseung is doing everything in his power not to bust a nut right now, holding back as best as he can. He is also trying not to scream out a tiny ‘Yipee’ at the feeling of your tongue swirling the head of his cock. He’s trying to think of anything that isn’t sexy; his gran, Tony Blair, the old milkman that he swore spat in the milk before he delivered it. Yet, nothing is working because you are that fucking good, your mouth is driving him crazy that he genuinely thinks he could go insane.

You increase your pace slightly, your hand joining in to stroke the base of his shaft in time with your movements, and you can tell he’s close. His moans grow louder, his hips straining against your grip as he teeters on the edge of release. The power you hold over him in this moment is intoxicating, yet you wield it with care, wanting his first experience to be unforgettable.

And unforgettable it will be because just as Heeseung is seeing stars, the door swings open, revealing an angry and brute man. His face is red, sweating from the heat outside, his bald spot gleaming in the overhead light from outside, and his beer belly hanging over his two-sizes-too-small jeans, barely covered by the black worn-out t-shirt.

Charging in, he grips your hair, pulling out chunks of it and possibly some of your scalp as he rips your mouth off of Heeseung’s painfully hard cock. You scream in agony, tears pricking your eyes as he drags you around the room like a ragdoll.

Heeseung's euphoria crashes into a pit of dread, his heart pounding in fear as he scrambles to understand what’s happening. The shock freezes him momentarily, but seeing you in pain snaps him into action. He leaps from the bed, his mind racing with panic and the urgent need to help you. 

But he doesn’t know what to do, his hands trembling and stomach tied in knots as he watches the man lift you up by your hair swinging you around as if you are nothing but a paintbrush he is trying to beat dry.

“You little slut!” the man yells, grabbing your throat with his free hand and pushing you against one of the walls. “This is my session, bitch. I pay you to fuck me, not suck off this toothpick!” The grip on your throat tightens with every syllable spat in your face.

You kick your legs in a pathetic attempt to get the man off you, your air cutting off as your face burns red with struggle. You take a good look at the man and realise it’s your client who usually has your 2pm slot, the same man who tried to force himself on you in your last session and ignored your boundaries. It happens sometimes in this job but they don’t typically come back and try to kill you, at least not in your experience.

Girls at your old job warned you about this, sharing detailed encounters with disgruntled punters, but never did you think that you would be confronting one so early on. He used to be a nice guy, tipping well and never being handsy when it was uncalled for, so when he tried to slip it in a hole only reserved for birthdays, you instantly told him to get out and never come back.

Yet, here he is, choking you out in front of a man you barely know, probably terrifying him for the rest of time. He came here to lose his virginity, not gain trauma.

Heeseung's heart pounds with fear and anger. The man’s violent outburst had shattered any lingering nervousness, replacing it with a fierce determination to protect you. His initial shock melts away, leaving only a raw, primal need to help you. He can't let this happen, not after what you've done for him, not to someone who’s shown him such kindness.

His eyes lock onto the lamp on the bedside table, contemplating his next move. He isn’t equipped for this but he has to make sure you’re safe at any cost. You don’t deserve this, no woman does, you provide a service that most men take advantage of - but not him, he won’t let this brute of a man win. 

Apparently, you have the same mentality, your eyes searching the room for any object nearby. Your vision starts to black out, flashes of unconsciousness flickering over your eyes as you see a vase placed close to your right. It’s a stretch, but you reach out to grab it, your arm going limp and legs losing the fight but that determination in your body courses through and creates enough adrenaline to pinch the top of the vase.

With a swift motion, you lazily but forcefully thump him over the head with it. The blow lands with a thickening thud and the vase shatters into pieces, some of it cutting your arms as they ricochet down onto the ground. The grip on your throat eases ever so slightly as the attacker’s eyes roll to the back of his head for a moment, giving you the much-needed chance to breathe.

Heeseung, caught up in planning his own attack, grabs the lamp, the weight feeling solid and reassuring in his hands. He doesn’t think twice as he swings it with all his might, aiming for the man’s head.

“Let her go!” Heeseung screams, his voice cracking but filled with rage. He catches the man again with the base of the metal lamp, this time on his temple, forcing him to stumble back.

You gasp for air, collapsing to the floor as the man’s grip finally releases. Focusing your eyes on his face, you see the life drain from his body, the snarl that once painted his features now relaxing, face paling instantly as you see him wobble before crashing to the ground beside you.

Clinging to yourself out of adrenaline and fear, you cough, still gasping for needed air and that’s when you see it, the blood rushing from the guy’s head, leaking onto the carpet and staining it crimson with every passing second. Heeseung notices the damage just as quickly as you do, eyes widening and his head shaking, adamant that the man can’t be what he thinks he is.

“Oh my god,” Heeseung whispers, his voice trembling with shock. He drops the lamp, the clatter against the floor barely registering in his mind. “Is he... did I...?” He stutters, unable to complete his sentence, the reality of the situation crashing down on him.

You swallow the lump in your throat, adrenaline puppeteering your body to scramble away from the body and stand up, your eyes trained on the man as your body searches for a perch to rest on. The telephone and trinkets clatter to the ground as you lean against the Chester drawers, your heart pounding so loud you swear you can hear sirens.

“We…we need to call an ambulance,” Heeseung mutters, looking between the man and his own murderous hands. He can’t believe he caused this, a man is lying on the floor, gushing blood from his head all because of him.

As soon as the sentence leaves Heeseung’s mouth, your eyes shoot to him in bewilderment, mouth drying up at the thought. “We need to get out of here, Heeseung, we can’t call an ambulance.”

“We can’t just leave him here!” he protests, mirroring your confused expression.

“If an ambulance comes, then the police will, and we are fucked,” you exclaim in a rushed whisper, aware of your surroundings in the thin-walled hotel, not to mention the fact that the door is still wide open for anyone to stumble upon the brutality that has just occurred.

“It was self-defence!” he retorts, pointing to your neck as if punctuating the sentence with evidence.

You tremble, holding your throat and shaking your head, tears brimming in your eyes despite the urge in you to stay strong; you have never once been a crier, and you refuse to start now, not when you need to keep your head in the game and stay focused. “I’m a sex worker, Heeseung! They’ll lock me up in a minute and blame me for everything.”

Your brain betrays you, flashing with what could happen to you if the police even caught a whiff of you being here. It would automatically be your fault, no matter your plea of innocence. The authorities hate you despite most of them using call girls to relieve themselves in ways they won’t let their wives. You can see it now: the media frenzy, the courtroom, the cold, judgmental eyes of the jurors.

Heeseung’s eyes widen with understanding and fear, his breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. “What do we do?” he whispers, desperation lacing his voice. “I can’t go to jail, Y/N, they will eat me alive.” 

Looking at him, you see how scared he is and you suddenly feel remorse over every other emotion that swirls in your body. He might have battered him over the head but it was you who was behind the reason; the boy felt an obligation to help you because he was here and afraid for your wellbeing. There is no way you can leave him to face this alone. It gnaws at you because you knew you should have either moved time or location, your gut telling you to do so only yesterday, but you ignored it, telling yourself that you were overreacting.

“We need to get out of here. Now,” you say with urgency, reaching over the dead weight of a man and grabbing your robe, tying it quickly around your practically naked body. “Grab your stuff, we’ll go down the back stairs, my car is in the worker's lot.”

“Where would we go? They know that we’re here,” Heeseung protests, running his hands through his hair in frustration, grabbing handfuls and tugging harshly as if trying to wake himself up from this nightmare.

Exasperated, you roll your eyes and snatch your bag from the end of the bed. You manoeuvre yourself around the room with desperate urgency, the breaths you are heaving out fueling you to think straight and keep to a plan. It’s pure fear that is driving your body right now, but you don’t fight it. Instead, you let it take you to safety and away from the carnage that you suddenly don't dare to look at.

Seeing you move with immediateness to the door, Heeseung subconsciously follows you like a lost puppy. Unfortunately for him, his fight-or-flight response has a third option: go into a state of haze. He doesn’t know what to do, and the bright idea that caused the mess before him only makes him doubt his mind about the next move, so he’ll follow you for now.

As you glance back at him, you see one slight issue, causing you to halt in your tracks, sparking confusion on his face, those bambi eyes you noticed now in full swing, making your heart flutter in the most awkward of times. Shaking it off, you turn your body and look down. “Uh, Heeseung?”

“What is it? What’s wrong, Y/N?” he asks nervously, his voice trembling with uncertainty.

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath, steadying yourself before you speak. “You might need your pants,” you explain, opening your eyes and glancing pointedly at his semi-hard cock.

Heeseung’s face flushes a bright red, emulating the shade of a ripe tomato before he nods. His eyes dart around the room, searching for his clothes, only to spot his trousers and pants trapped under the dead man’s body. The sight of it sends a fresh wave of panic through him, his breath hitching in his throat. “Oh no... they’re under him,” he mumbles, his voice tinged with dread.

You take another deep breath, steeling yourself. “You have to move him, just enough to get your clothes. Can you do that?”

“Oh, yeah, just watch me heave up a 300-pound man off my Levis. Look at me, Y/N, I’m hardly a fucking gym rat.” The deflation and anguish in his voice are palpable as he walks around to the side where his jeans lie trapped.

You know he doesn’t mean to be rude to you, that it’s the fear talking, but you do miss when he was shy and couldn’t even form a coherent sentence without stuttering. At least then he wasn’t semi-shouting at you.

“Okay, okay,” you say softly, trying to calm him down. “We’ll do it together. I’ll help you.” You crouch down beside him, the closeness of the dead man making your stomach churn, but you push through it. You have to.

Heeseung’s hands are shaking as he reaches out, his fingers trembling as they touch the dead man’s shoulder. You can see the revulsion in his eyes, the sheer disbelief that he’s in this situation. With a deep breath, he steels himself, looking at you for reassurance.

“We can do this,” you say firmly, giving him a small nod. “On three, okay? One, two, three.”

Together, you heave, your muscles straining as you push the heavy, lifeless body just enough to free Heeseung’s clothes. The man’s weight is immense, and it takes every ounce of strength you both have. The dead weight shifts slightly, and Heeseung quickly grabs his trousers and pants, pulling them free with a grunt.

“Got them,” he says, his voice a mix of relief and horror as he scrambles to his feet, stepping away from the body as quickly as he can.

You stand up as well, wiping your hands on your robe, trying to rid yourself of the feeling of death that clings to your skin. “Hurry, put them on. We need to get out of here.”

Heeseung nods, his movements hurried and shaky as he pulls on his trousers and pants. The adrenaline pumping through his veins makes him fumble with the buttons, his hands still trembling. You watch him, your heart pounding in your chest, willing him to move faster.

Once he's dressed, you hastily grab his hand, pulling him out of the room and leading him to the backstairs, aiming for your trusty old Austin Metro. Your heart feels like it's about to burst out of your chest, the adrenaline of fear coursing through your veins. How could this happen to you? You were just trying to live your life and make some money, not become an accomplice to murder.

Heeseung's thoughts mirror yours, his mind reeling at the sudden turn of events. All he wanted was to lose his virginity, not become entangled in a murder. As his feet scurry behind yours on the stone steps of the hotel, he realises there's no way out of this. There's no one to save him; this experience has irrevocably altered his life, but not in the way he ever imagined.

He walked into that room as a virgin, but now he's leaving as a murderer.

taglist (closed): @yzzyhee @intromortal @zerobaseone-zhanghao @hooniehon @deobitifull @alvojake @sageryuri @slut4hee @binniesbabe @vveebee @minniejenseo @jebetwo @seunghancore @laurradoesloveu @yongbokified @jaehoonii @jaeyunluvr @melonvrs @criminalyun @enhastolemyheart @fakeuwus @flwrhoes @rayofsunshineeee @moonlighthoon @jaehyuniewifeu @en-ternals @haechonly @got-sunghooned @brownsugarbaybee @heeseungspookie @sunpov @who-tf-soddhi @bambangan

[hazelfoureyes]

The Radio Demon Fucks a Human Sacrifice (deleted scene)

⟢Alastor x Reader - The Radio Demon fucks a Human Sacrifice (A Valentino Production)

Valentino has acquired a living, breathing human in hell. But at the begging of Angel, Alastor makes a deal in exchange for her soul.

Part 1 smut 💦 Part 2 smut 💦 Side Story Part 3 smut 💦 Part 4 smut💦 Epilogue sexual Deleted Scene smut 💦 📍

I simply couldn’t fit this in anywhere but it’s still a fun lil read so figured might as well share. Wrote back in like February 😅 you may see I cannabalized some lines from this as I never intended to post it

「Warnings/Promises: Alastor x Fem Reader short smutty scene , love making???, Alastor is oddly affectionate and loving, you got him so fucked up, cream pie, riding him like a coin operated airplane in front of the grocery store, so like slow but still super fun?, deleted scene so starts and ends abruptly, redemption is for losers, Alastor moans」

Minors, hey,

hey

💥🗞️DNI

“I’m hopeless.”

“About what?” You glanced at him, a small laugh coming.

When he didn’t reply, you looked back at him, lingering a little longer.

His smile softened, eyes seeming to dilate ever so slowly as he stared. Finally, “Redemption. What a silly little thing.”

You hummed in agreement, going back to your phone, “Right? Who needs heaven when I have everything I need here.”

Had you said it on purpose? So easily cut into him? Was this surgical precision or dumb luck?

He laughed , “You always seem to understand perfectly, my little doe. How do you do it?”

Your smile reached your eyes, “I was made to be your undoing, remember? It comes naturally, mon cher.”

He pulled the phone from your hands and set it on the blanket, mouth coming to the well of your ear, “Say it again”

A chill ran down your spine, fine hair standing on end as goosebumps ran down your arm. “Mon Cher,” the words barely left your mouth before he kissed you, swallowing them into himself. Why? How? A hunger still foreign to him, rising from his lap and igniting his chest.

You felt his hands trembling on your chin, "Are you okay Alastor?

He shook his head no. "I want all of you, my love."

A word you hadn't anticipated. Hadn’t planned for. Hadn’t even dreamed of.

"You have my eternal soul, pretty sure I also threw my body into the deal," He kissed along your jaw then down your neck, making you sigh and relax against his mouth, "What else is there?"

"I don't know. I dont know what I'm saying." He pulled you onto him, setting you on his lap with bent legs holding you steady. Bringing you down for a soft kiss on your lips, "Why does heaven get to decide what redemption looks like?"

He moved aside your sleep shorts, humming happily to find you wearing nothing underneath.

Alastor famously hated you on top. You learned intimately what inspired him to be in the mood, and you on top was decidedly not it. He pulled down his own pajama pants, and began to rub his sticky wet head against your heat.

"Alastor, you -- I thought you didn't like me on top?" You asked, trying to not discourage him.

"I have an odd appetite today, dear. Entertain me?" He began to push in, hands coming to your hips to bring you down onto him. You rested both hands onto his chest for balance, breath already quickening with the burn of him stretching you out first thing in the morning.

When he began to lift your hips and move you up and down his length, you could understand why this would still satiate him. He was still taking the lead, still the one in control.

But something unusual was happening, he was uncharacteristcally vocal. Normally, the only sounds during sex with him were your own pants, his breathing, and the sound of his body slapping into yours. A rare moan tumbled from his mouth, making you clench around him. You licked your lips, wanting another. His eyes were on your connection, watching himself sink into you and disappear entirely. His face was…indiscernable. Somewhere between entranced and desperate.

You took a chance, seeing he was in a different mood than ever before. Putting his hands in yours, you brought them off your hips and laced your fingers into his. As his hands met yours, you leaned into them and let him hold your weight as you rode him. As you tried to find a pace, you watched his eyes tighten close, another breathy moan forced out of him.

Oh, the things that sound did to you. Was this was how good he felt when he was fucking you? Was this that high he seemed to be chasing every time you eagerly let him pin you down?

Unpracticed and clumsy, your hips rolled over his cock. Soon you were letting your full body weight fall into his lap as you plunged him as deeply as you could. You leaned in for a kiss, your own motions making your mouths slide over each other as your lips tried to make contact in the right places. Failing, you left kisses on his chin, his cheek, just below his nose. Another moan, a sigh, then--- did you hear your name ghost over your mouth?

That was all you needed, you slowed and ground down on him, friction bringing you to the edge and tossing your body over it with a violent shudder.

As you stilled, trying to ride out your orgasm, Alastor bucked up into you. A little scream as your softened walls jumped at the contact. Another thrust up, until he was fucking you through the after effects of your orgasm, chasing his own. You wanted to say something, but you didn't want to push. This was already so out of the norm, you felt the moment was fragile.

He whinced, a series of moans threatening to make you cum all over again as he met his release. You could feel his cock jerking inside you, twitching as he flooded you with his seed. What a lovely feeling, warm and full. You wanted to roll off before you dripped down him, another thing you knew he was uncomfortable with. But when you tried to move his hands went back to your hips and pressed you down. His head pushing deep against the end of your cunt.

"Please, just-- stay like this for me." His voice was low and soft against your cheek, a loud crack of static peppering his voice.

You'd stay like this until the inevitable heat death of the universe if he asked. You'd never leave his cock if he so much as mentioned the idea.

[httpsryu]

b.f.s (best friend's sister) pt. 1

pairing: mo jihye x fem!reader

summary: it was always a thing, noticing your best friend's older sister. ever since you were a young girl.

category: strangers-to-friends-to-lovers au

genre: fluff, slight angst (?)

warnings: JEALOUSY

a/n: thanks for the anon who requested this! i had so much fun writing this :)

'it's only a year in the name of love'; you tell yourself as you cannot help but to look at your best friend's older sister, jihye who walks past you two and into the kitchen to grab a quick snack.

sure, you know jihye would never return your feelings back (hell, she doesn't even know about them) but it never hurts to dream a little bit over the beyond, right?

"earth to y/n~" your best friend, mo maya hits your head with her pen to grab your attention.

HUH??

"was i zoning out again?" you ask with a grin, already knowing you were in fact daydreaming about mo jihye.

maya nods with her signature upside down smile. "if you keep zoning out, we'll never get done with this science homework."

why is sophomore year so hard? especially, with the dreadful chemistry homework the teacher is constantly assigning.

"you two alright over there?" jihye comes out from the kitchen, her hand holding a bowl full of strawberries. "do you need help?"

maya groans, shaking her head as she grips on the pen. "i want to try to do this myself."

"suit yourself." jihye shrugs, turning to you. "y/n, do you need any help?"

locking eyes with THE mo jihye has got to be one of the best dreams come true, yet alone, this moment of her talking to you is also another dream come true. you cannot help but to nod at the older, scooting over to make room for the other to sit besides you.

jihye lets out a small smile, placing her bowl on the table next to your books before sitting down on the floor.

"hmm, let's see." she leans just a bit closer to you, however, you could smell the florals and a slight sandalwood scent exhibiting from her. "ahh, i remember how to do this."

jihye opens her hand out, waiting for you to drop your pen in.

"huh?" you let out, about to put your own hand in.

the other girl can't help but to laugh at your cuteness. "silly, i meant your pen."

'fuck my life' you curse to yourself mentally, handing the pen to her while feeling heat rush upon your face.

jihye smiles at you, giggling a little bit at how adorable you looked.

'cute.' she can't help but to think to herself, looking at you with adoration. (like a little sister, of course)

maya groans again, constantly erasing the blank line which at this point, is no longer existing. "i need a small snack break, do you want anything, y/n?"

you look up at your best friend, shaking your head at her. "thank you though."

"anytime darling." maya sticks her tongue out, running off into their kitchen.

jihye scoots her bowl of strawberries to you. "your favorite strawberries! here, have some."

"oh. i'm okay, thank you unnie." you smile at the girl besides you.

the older nods, trying to ignore the slight sadness of you rejecting her strawberries by looking back down at the question. "okay, for this one, all you have to do is balance the redox reaction by..."

you blank out, zoning out as you look at the older girl's delicate yet strong features. from her dark yet stunning eyes, her precious moles, her delicate but very standing cheekbones and how her lips always had the pretty shine to them.

it's no fair for the entire universe because mo jihye simply exists.

"do you understand it now?"

HUH? OH-

you take a few seconds to process the fact that you just zoned out again. daydreaming about jihye in front of her! how embarrassing is that?

"ohh, i see!" you lie, hoping she would not question you about it further.

putting the pen down, jihye proudly grins. "great! if you need extra help on anything else, let me know. you already know where my room is so just knock and i'll be here."

"thanks unnie." you shyly say, looking down at your homework.

jihye can't pinpoint how you feel about her. do you not like her? she's always have tried becoming closer to you, ever since she met you while she was 8 and you were 7. now, you guys are 18 and 17.

surely, she would think that you two would've been closer by now, however, you seem to be a bit distance and precautious around her.

"oh. of-of course." jihye manages to say without sounding a bit too upset. "i'll see you around, y/n."

you watch as the love of your life descended up the stairs, letting out a dreamy sigh afterwards. "jihye unnie is so pretty."

however, each moment cannot go unwasted without another one of maya's groan.

"why is there never any ice cream left?" maya exclaims, shutting the freezer with a slam before coming out the kitchen with oreos and pretzels.

you wait, in the usual place where you'll see jihye past by ONCE daily throughout the whole school.

"can we just go now?" kyujin whines, begging to leave for lunch already.

you turn to her with a glare, prompting her to sigh and sit down on the stairs.

"let y/n get her daily one glimpse of jihye." eunchae defends you, scanning the halls for any sign of maya.

maya doesn't know, she never noticed at all. even when you two were children. and she never will know. liking mo jihye is a secret from maya because you know maya won't tolerate it.

but then again; love makes you crazy, right?

at least that's what eunchae argues.

"in 5,4,3,2,1..i see her!" you exclaim, watching from the end of the hallway of jihye walking out with some friends.

kyujin and eunchae looks at how smitten you are, giggling at the way your eyes fall in love with jihye.

"she looks amazing." you barely manage to let out, noticing the way her hair is tied up into a high ponytail, the uniform she wore today compliments her complexion, and the light gloss on her lips always sealed the day for you.

eunchae reaches to tap on your shoulder, exclaiming. "maya's coming over here."

you really don't want to keep this a secret from maya, but having a liking towards her older sister is something you know maya will never let go of.

"act normal, act normal." kyujin clears her throat, taking out her portable mirror to fix her bangs.

your best friend spots you from across the hall, waving at you as her eyes lit up with love.

"you guys know you don't have to wait for me every day, right?"

you shrug, grabbing her arm to hook with yours. "why wouldn't we?"

okay; maybe you were here to see jihye but waiting for maya is also a plus. killing two birds with one stone, right?

"okay, i am starving!" kyujin whines even more, stomping her feet.

jihye comes back from school, expecting to see both you and maya sprawled out in the living room as usual. however, upon opening the door, jihye is met with just her sister.

"oh? no y/n?" jihye asks, taking off her shoes.

the younger sister makes a weird incoherent noise (no surprise there). "a girl asked her out today."

stopping in her tracks of untying her laces, jihye looks up. "a girl?"

maya raises one of her brows up, brushing off the weird reaction from her sister. "yeahh..? she's new, i'm sure it's for help around the library since she works there with y/n now."

"oh. cool."

"yep! anyways, wanna hang out and go for some ice cream?" the younger turns off the t.v, hoping her sister would want to spend time with her today.

jihye contemplates, for a second, she wanted to say no and lock herself in her room to figure out who this new girl is but she ultimately nods. "just let me change out of the uniform and we can head out."

"awesome!" maya smiles excitedly, jumping off from where she was sitting earlier and rushing over to put her shoes on. "we can go to the new shop y/n keeps raving about."

y/n.

jihye does not understand why but her heart has a weird ting at the sound of your name. she wishes you were here to go out and enjoy ice cream with them. she wants you to acknowledge her, to get rid of that awkward weird air around you two.

but, she can't figure out how.

"you're paying, right sis?" the small glint in maya's eyes leads jihye to exclaim a loud laugh.

jihye pats the younger's head. "yes, my treat."

"awesome, i did NOT have any money to my name."

"why did miss. lee gave us so many boxes to sort through?" you grumble to haerin, stretching out your arms after sitting down for a long period of time. "she normally gives us two boxes MAX."

haerin makes a noise in agreement, however her eyes are focusing on you and only you. she loves when you wear that pink bow in your hair, it looks really pretty on you.

"how are you adjusting to school?" you curiously ask, getting up from the chair as you start to tidy up the back room of the library.

the raven-haired girl sighs, folding the boxes flat so it would be easy to recycle. "it's nice, it's just hard making friends."

"that's because you're a shy, quiet, pretty girl." you respond, returning to the middle table to pick up the new books to stack at the back. "i had to introduce myself to you first."

haerin feels her heartbeat racing again, very loudly too. "you think i'm pretty?"

"uh huh! you're cute too! maybe that's why people are intimated to come up to you, i get it though." you giggle, looking back at your friend. "you know, my friends have been telling me about how they've been wanting to become closer to you."

"i don't know about that..y/n.." haerin comes over to you, handing you another stack of new books. "it's just crowded, you know?"

haerin is a really introverted girl, you understand her.

"the vibes is getting depressing in here, haha." haerin giggles, looking at the time on her phone. "we finished pretty early, do you wanna go grab some ice cream? my treat."

at the sound of ice cream, you could've sworn you heard birds chirping a beautiful tune. "um yes!! there's this new shop that my brother and i go to often!"

"well, looks like we're going there." haerin smiles softly at the way you look excited, she can't help but to continue staring.

you laugh, scanning the room as fast as you could before grabbing your backpack. "everything looks good here! front desk looks good too."

"guess the ice cream is calling us." the raven-haired female slings her backpack around, waiting for you to link your arm with hers. "let's go."

jihye blinks. once. twice. and once more.

WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE WITH A GIRL?

"oo, looks like haerin is finally making her moves." maya giggles behind her hand, looking afar from the entrance of the ice cream shop. "aww, wait, they're kinda cute."

haerin. cute? moves?

jihye doesn't like the sound of this at all.

how old is this haerin girl anyways? is she senior or some college freshie? why is she even allowed to make moves on you?

why has maya not said anything about this haerin girl to her until now? you're like a younger sister to jihye too!

"so..this haerin girl in your grade or something?" jihye asks, pulling out her wallet as she scans the ice cream options.

cookies and cream. you love cookies and cream.

"yeah, she's really quiet." maya replies, her eyes onto both haerin and you. "but, y/n tells us that haerin actually talks and laughs a lot."

you do have that effect on people. jihye just wishes you were more like that with her. is it because she's maya's OLDER sister? jihye doesn't think the one-year age difference isn't the cause of it but could it?

"can i have on scoop of cookies and cream and one scoop of dark chocolate?" jihye gets her card out of her wallet, trying to not think too much of you.

maya giggles, seeing the way haerin's eyes are melting with adoration for you. "look at her! she's basically in love!"

"woah! you guys are too young for love." jihye says with a slight weirdness in her tone, handing the card to the cashier. "besides, you should be focusing on trying to pass chemistry."

maya groans in response. "UGHH, you're only a year older than us."

"besides, i don't think y/n's the type to like someone at the moment." jihye is telling herself a lie, she doesn't even know if you are or aren't interested in all that romance stuff so why does she get to say that about you?

the younger nods, agreeing with her sister. "true. but, haerin can change that hehe."

"oh please." jihye rolls her eyes, handing the scoop of dark chocolate to maya before returning to the worker. "thank you!"

maya scans where to sit, contemplating on scoping in on the date or giving you two privacy since she knows how haerin is as a person.

"let's leave those two alone." maya is about to walk off into a different direction before jihye grabs her wrist.

"wait, let's sit kind of far from them but enough to check out what's going on over there." the brunette haired squints her eyes at how haerin is offering a spoonful of her ice cream to you.

maya raises one of her brows up, AGAIN! why is her sister acting so weird right now?

"i think we should just sit somewhere us..." maya trails off, not wanting to make her sister upset.

the older one ignores the younger, already making her way to a seat that's close enough yet far to spy on both you and haerin. (jihye is just being an overprotective older sister, right? RIGHT?)

upon sitting down, jihye watches as you accepted the spoonful of ice cream from haerin.

"NO!" jihye screams, afraid of you perhaps getting sick from the shared germs.

maya sighs, facepalming herself as she tries to hide her face from you.

you hear a specific voice; well known voice to you, perhaps, your favorite voice. "unnie?"

ehehehe; not me stopping on a cliffhanger :P

next part

march 23rd, 2024; publishing date

[deadsetobsessions]

Cassandra Cain wandered. It has always been so, it will always be so. The moment she clutched the bloody remains of her own freedom in her hands, Cassandra flew and flitted between the cracks of the places she finds.

The only thing that ever made her stay was her dad and their family. The only place she ever settled in for more than a scant number of months was Gotham.

But they’re in a place- a universe- Cassandra could never return to, could not follow, because they had forbidden her to do so. Tim’s grip on her arm, two textures of bloodied skin and torn gloves, told her everything he wanted to say. Her little brother all but shoved her through the crack between planes and universes, and begged her to live with fearful eyes and the grim set of his shoulders.

She has never been good at denying Tim.

The first few weeks were… difficult. She ran- liberated a boat, from men with sabres and cruel hands- and learned to feel the desperate pull of freedom on her hands amongst the waves. She was lost, adrift, silent in her grief. She could be free. She has never been freer. But Cass had never wanted to be free from those she claimed as her own.

Cassandra was built and trained to survive. To walk into a fight and come out the victor, no matter the cost. So she adapts and overcomes and tries not to wallow in her grief.

This new world was different. Brighter, in many ways, than her home dimension. Not that it was hard, considering her home was a wasteland by now, with the moving corpses of what once was her family. The former vigilante knew better than to take it at face value. The brightest places tend to have the darkest shadows. And so, she travels, looking for a purpose. Looking for Hong Kong, because she’s well aware she’ll never find a Gotham again. She braves the sea, travels in between groups of pirates and struggles to understand the slips of sounds that did not make sense to her. It was like before Bruce found her all over again and Cassandra tried a little to learn like how he would have wanted her to. But it is hard, and spoken language was never important to her, never necessary. It was relevant only because her loved ones deemed it important.

Then, she finds a boy on an island, whose words were simple and who was always warm-welcoming-happy-free.

Predictably, Cassandra learns the word “meat” right after learning his name. He was like… the sun. Bright, bold, and unfettered in his will. More stubborn than her brothers and sisters, a feat Cass had not thought possible outside of Gotham, and more than Bruce, only because he could not be swayed by logic. He was Monkey D. Luffy and he wanted to be freer than anyone else.

“Join my crew!”

Cass could not kill. She could not be a pirate.

“Shishishi!” He throws his head back when he laughs, and Cass can tell that he means it. That he thinks her silly for-

“Then my first mate won’t need to kill! We’ll be strong enough to leave people alive! That’s your dream, right?”

Cassandra is breathless. She is still. And- maybe Luffy doesn’t have the training she does, but he understood. She could read it in the lines of his shoulders, the way his rubber limbs don’t snap. She couldn’t believe that she would find anyone that would understand her will to never kill, not after dad, who had wrapped her in shadows that whispered safety and understanding-

“You wanna be free and you want to help without killing! I’m gonna be the Pirate King, and the Pirate King’s crew’s gotta be the free-est! And we can help people if they pay us in meat!”

- but Luffy was a supernova and Cassandra believes.

“Okay.”

“YES!” Luffy roars with happiness, grin wide as the glow in her heart. “I GOT A FIRST MATE!”

——

Cass contorts herself into the barrel- not a difficult feat, since she was already small to begin with- and sighs. She pokes Luffy’s forehead before lightly tugging on his cheek, stretching the skin a bit, in a small scolding.

“Awe, nap time!”

Cass sighs, too familiar with the antics of a chaotic younger brother.

[worukin]

╭୨୧︰ prince yandere x servant reader

・✦⇢ working as a butler was something you did willingly. after all, serving the royal family earned you lots of coin. and you were such a loyal servant that the prince couldn't help but want to snatch you up for himself.

︰꒰1・ ( warnings ) — slight possessive behaviour, yandere themes, clinginess, pet names, lots of affection, showing y/n off like a trophy.

︰꒰2・ ( notes ) — originally intended to make the yandere a vampire but i wasn't too sure. maybe in the near future? ahh idk. but i do have things planned. anyway, a little something for being absent as i work on bigger drafts! ( word count: insert wc )

( if you are uncomfy with this type of content, kindly block me instead. this was very fun to write hope you enjoy <3 )

After a long time of working in such a place, you found your way through the maze of hallways covered with odd decor.

Sometimes there would be paintings of people who were nude and it did fluster you quite a bit. Or a statue of an unknown person, maybe even some vases filled with flowers. All to tend to the taste of the Royal family.

Now, you've been here for such a long time now and grown used to The Prince's silly antics. Always asking you to do your chores around his wing. Not that you minded.

"Oh come on Y/n~ Don't you want to rest a bit?" He cooed, laying on his stomach as he watched you with glee. "I apologize your Highness, but doing so would be overstepping boundaries."

He huffed as you continued to dust his room. Wiping the windows, adjusting the curtains, moving the carpet. Oh how cute you were in his eyes. "I wouldn't mind, you are my favourite little servant after all "

Eyes shined with glee when you turned away to hide the fact you were flustered. Such high praise coming from the prince made you giddy. "Please your Highness, picking favourites isn't fair." You sighed.

"Oh darling but you love it!" He exclaimed, a pout forming on his lips. The prince always did enjoy spoiling you with his riches. You hummed— though it was true you reveled at the fact you were his favourite, you weren't happy with it giving you a bigger advantage than the others.

You stepped back from the vase of flowers, cleaning up the roots you cut off. "I'm glad you think highly of me, but this is quite unprofessional." The last thing you would want is being banished by Her Majesty for being with the Prince as a servant and not a noble.

"Is my affections for you not enough? Perhaps I need to be more open." The prince gave a close-eyed smile at the thought of bragging how he had such a catch, a loyal passionate servant like you doesn't come around often.

Your brow lifted. "Open? More open how?" A confused expression formed when all you got in response was a giggle. "My apologies your Highness, I didn't mean to speak so informally."

The prince scoffed. "Oh please, you are my favourite. If anything I'm glad you're relaxed around me to speak like that." Heart swelling just thinking about being informal with you— maybe he could just take you away for himself.

"Awe, wouldn't you enjoy being alone? Just the two of us and away from such a stuffy manor?" He dreamed of waking everyday beside you, instead of waking to the sound of another servant's knocking. You didn't answer.

The loud ring of a bell startled you, reminding you of your duties. "Oh! My apologies your Highness, but I must go now." Hurrying out of his room you uttered another sentence. "Thank you for having such fondness towards me."

He giggled, waving a hand around. "No worries my dear, see you at dinner~" the prince sighed as you left, hearts in the air and in his eyes. "Oh my love, you don't understand at all do you? No matter, I'll lay it to you soon enough."

Various thoughts of hooking his arm around your waist as you attended a ball— everyone in awe at such a pair. Untouchable you both would be, a barrier between you two and everyone else.

He'd leave feverish kisses on your skin to tease and to relish in such jealous stares. That's right, you're his.

ʚ ﹒ ﹕ ̟乀 all works belong to @worukin, do not repost on anywhere else with or without credit, do not plagiarise. ty!

[nyursi]

𝐃𝐄𝐁𝐀𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐘!

꒰ † ੭‎ㅤNSFW 18+ㅤ(MDNI)...  oliver never thought that arriving at saltburn would leave a much more deep and sinister ache in his bones. and it's all because of you. felix is no better.ㅤノㅤnot proofread.

ᡴꪫ‎ TODAY'S SPECIAL!ㅤfelix catton, oliver quick.

WOULD YOU LIKE SPRINKLES? (っω=`)ㅤm!rdr, no spoilers surprisingly, weird stuff cause its oliver (but felix is weird too), wet dreams, stealing underwear, drugging, groping, somnophilia.

                 ㅤ ⏝꒷۰꒷⏝꒷۰꒷⏝꒷۰꒷⏝

It was alluring, really. Who could say no to the gorgeous stone walls of the castle? With its very own glamorous inhabitants to match as well. Saltburn practically begged Oliver to come and take it all for himself.

And who was he to deny that call?

Felix Catton too, bore the same charisma. The boy always had everyones eyes on him, no matter the place or time. There was just something about him that grabbed all the attention.

Like a magnet, attracting all the girls and boys to present themselves just to gain a spot in Felix's long list of night stands.

So when Felix so graciously offered for Oliver to spend the summer with him, how could he say no?

He felt so fulfilled, seeing the extravagant hallways, walls lined with all the odd things they had, and the majestic carpets complementing the floor. But nothing ever compared to the feeling that hit him like a truck when he met you.

It was unexpected. There was a quick panic that you, of all people, would ruin his plans, to conquer the estate and banish all the Catton's from existence. I mean, who were you? A relative? Close friend? Surely someone important enough for Elspeth and Sir James to let you stay.

"This is my friend," Felix introduced, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, having noticed the tension between you two. Despite the awkwardness filling the air; you excitedly held out your hand for Oliver to shake. "How come I've never seen you around?" He asked.

You shrugged, "I don't go to Oxford."

Oliver must've not realized how tight his grip had been on your hand, not until you struggled to pull away. Felix smirked in amusement. "Now now, play nice Oliver. He's fragile, and I'd prefer my little friend to be in good condition at all times."

"Felix!" You groaned, nudging against his chest. Rolling your eyes playfully, you shook your head and looked to Oliver. "Don't listen to him, roughhouse all you want." The sweet smile reached your eyes, but the words that accompanied it were venomous. "He did it all the time when we were little. Actually, he still does."

Oh. So you two were close.

He didn't know why, but it left a rather bitter taste in his mouth. Was it because you were close with Felix? Or because Felix was close with you?

Either way, Oliver quickly realized that it just made sense for both of you to be friends. You were a warm light that drew everyone closer, huddling for the warmth you gave so generously. With your attractive physique to accompany such a bright personality made Oliver's heart flutter in a way that made him unsure. (Not to mention that cute boyish smile you had on your face nearly 24/7.)

Had you attended Oxford too— he was sure you and Felix would be a duo no one could forget. A package deal, he'd say.

Oliver found it uncomfortable how quick you were able to get on his good side. You were just so... likeable. In a way that whenever you and Felix would mess around, he found it endearing.

Two utterly perfect boys with the most perfect relationship. Everyone in Oxford would kill to be you.

But Oliver would kill to take Felix's place.

And that thought shocked him; Oliver never thought there would ever be someone else to hold on pedestal, higher than the throne Felix sat on. Because he wanted that closeness, the intimacy of your so called friendship, your very being down to your bones.

He was desperate to have your attention, to join in your silly little inside jokes that Oliver could never understand, to be the reason of your giggles and reddened cheeks from laughter, how your chest heaved with every intense howl deep from your chest, not Felix.

It's not like he didn't notice Felix's unwavering affection towards you. It almost made Oliver chuckle out loud, the first time he found out how enamored Felix was with the boy he wanted to get rid of.

He didn't know he'd too, join the bandwagon of steadfast interest towards Felix's friend. (Boy toy, Oliver wanted to say. But with how platonic you are with him, he doubts the godsend Felix ever had a chance to devour you.)

No worries, Oliver will just take things in his own hands. He'll handle these pressing matters, like how he always has and always will. It's just in his nature. He may never be the strongest, or most attractive in the room, but he sure is the smartest.

Hell— he's definitely the most intelligent amongst those in Saltburn. That's for sure.

You were just incredibly dumb. Gullible, naive— too trusting. Too ready to welcome the outsider Oliver Quick within the estate, who looked like he was attempting to take and seal away Felix from ever seeing you again.

Did you really not feel their burning gazes on your body? Whenever you donned the awfully tight swim shorts at the pond; neither could pull away their eyes because of how it hugged your frame. Showing off the curve of your hips and your behind, displaying a waist that they wanted to grab so badly, and thighs that could be stared at for days.

The exposed skin glistening with water under the burning sun, messy wet hair that clung to your forehead. Plump red lips that encased a popsicle, suckling and even poking your tongue out to lick your fingers when the melted treat slowly dribbled down them.

Perhaps you did know, and this was your own way of teasing them for a stunt they pulled a few nights before. Revenge.

That night, when you wore such careless attire, one that consisted of a large shirt that practically engulfed your frame (one that Oliver knew to be Felix's), and the sinful boxers that held your prick just behind the fabric, Oliver took a trip to the laundry room.

Imagine his shock when he found Felix Catton digging through your laundry basket that held the same boxers from the night before.

A solidarity formed between them that night. A relationship deeper than before. Oliver was just as in love with you as Felix was.

But it killed them to see how oblivious you were with their intentions.

Weren't they trying hard enough?

It came to the point where they were desperate enough to consider drugs. Of all things. The family would all have dinner as usual, but a simple slip of an extra ingredient would be placed into your food.

"Are you alright, dear?" Elspeth asked, concerned from the other side of the table.

Felix quickly came to your rescue, standing up and dragging you to your bedroom. "He might be ill, we'll take care of him." He met eyes with Oliver, who didn't hesitate to join his side. "I'll see to it that he recovers smoothly." And without a second thought, they both left to carry you to Felix's bedroom.

You groaned, the pounding in your skull too much to handle. But Felix talked you through it all the way. Legs too weak to get up the stairs? No worries, they've got that covered. Neither complained when they're able to get this close to your warm body.

"Atta boy," Felix praised, slowly lowering you on his bed. Oliver placed the back of his hand to your forehead, wincing at its temperature.

"That's not a side effect, is it?" Their motives were ultimately changed when you kept writhing on the bed, uncomfortable at the heat and ache throughout your body. You felt sick. This was not part of the plan.

Felix scoffed. "Of course not." He turned to you, frowning when you sobbed. "We'll just... change plans."

There was no doubt to it. Your current state was not to their liking to continue their original ideas, and its not like it was helping with their... guilt. Thinking back on it, they've realized that their original plan was rather unsavory.

It made them look like hypocrites.

After all, they've been wanting and needing you to dream of them as well. Countless nights spent under the sheets behind the safety of their doors, jacking off and wishing it was your hole around their cocks, not their fists.

The wet dreams of you being so good for them, taking them all at once— or the times when they peaked through the bathroom door to watch you showering, and purposefully breaking your doorknob so they can barge in your room whilst you were getting dressed, those they could play off.

But to take you, unsolicited whilst your mind was hazy, was against all their fantasies. They wanted you to want them the same way. With the same desperation, the same debauchery.

So they let you be for now.

The late night fantasies that constantly replayed in their head would be enough. For your sake. Because if they allowed the strong, primal urge to pounce and take you as you were; the bed is where you'd live.

But it doesn't mean the urge was gone.

Oh no, it was very much still there.

So when your soft snores reached their ears, they wasted no time to climb under the sheets, with you between their aching bodies. And no matter how hard they tried to shoo away the dark thoughts nagging at the back of their heads, it still found a way to hypontize them.

It was a golden opportunity. You were sick, yes. But you were still drugged. Fast asleep. Deep into dreamland. How could they pass it up?

Oliver bit his lip and maintained eye contact with Felix. What were they to do? Felix stayed in deep contemplation, but was quickly surprised when Oliver made the first move.

He quickly raised your shirt up to your collarbone, breath stuck in his throat when he was met with your nipples. Oliver traced your chest with his finger, featherlight as he felt your soft skin for the first time.

And shit, did it feel great.

Felix on the other hand, took a more bold approach. Kissing at your nape while massaging his hand down your spine, towards your waistband. He tugged at first, but eventually settled on sneaking his palm beneath your boxers to feel the sweet mounds of flesh he's been dreaming of.

They groped and touched, feeling up every inch of you. No nook or cranny was left un-corrupted by their sinful hands. Slowly, their cocks hardened and they threw away all rational thoughts (Though there were none to begin with, really. Did anyone think rationally when they were in your presence?) Beginning to hump and palm at your own crotch.

Your drowsy whines and hums brought them closer to release. Even in your sleep you managed to be oblivious, unknowing to the dirty acts they commit. Hips bucking and stuttering, breath hitching, the creaking of the bed.

Whispered cussing and lip biting, red marks littered across your skin with their harsh grabbing. It was only after they reached their peak had all your breaths labored, you probably just thought it was a really good dream.

Oliver and Felix began to feel their eyelids get heavy. Even if they didn't get what they originally wanted, at least they got a taste of it. And fuck did they want more.

But no matter, there was always next time.

vanillaclaws 2024.ㅤdo not repost.

[tiredfox64]

I have a request, I don't know if you already written one or similar but can you write about how Bihan and reader have been friends since they were kids and the reader is one of the few that Bihan would actually listen to, over time as they get older both of them start to see each other in a different way but couldn't admit it to each other until one night the reader has a dream involving being romantic with Bihan (NSFW if you want to) wakes up in shock and avoids Bihan out of fear that her feelings would be discovered and get rejected. Bihan notices this and tries to find out why and follows the reader who went on a mission for Liu Kang to gather champions and to understand why the reader has been distant.

Soo sorry if this is long, it was an idea popped into my head and I enjoy your writings on the Lin Kuei brothers.

Ruin Our Friendship

Yip Notes: No need to apologize! Dreams are crazy tbh. I had a dream a few days ago where I constantly told Shang Tsung I hate him but I love him and that he was my pookie. It was wack.

Pairing: Bi-Han x Afab reader

Warnings: None I promise

Since you were born, you and Bi-Han have been side by side. His family and yours have been close for many years. It was no shock that you and Bi-Han would become friends by default.

You saw the best out of Bi-Han. You watched him better his cyromancy abilities. You were there when he became an older brother to Kuai Liang and Tomas. Though you did have to scold him multiple times to be nicer Tomas.

You were with him all throughout his life, watching every success and failure. In return, he was there for you. Even as his personality changed he was still the same boy you grew up with. A little bit colder and a little bit stronger but he was still a sweetheart in your eyes. He just doesn’t want you saying that in front of his clan since he is the grandmaster now. He has a reputation to keep up, ya know. He has to stay tough and fierce. But for you, he can loosen up a little.

Yes, your relationship with Bi-Han is strong. But it could be stronger. Much, much stronger. You could have a bond that not even the elder gods could break. A bond that Bi-Han would never allow anyone to disrupt it. You feel it and Bi-Han feels it. There is something there that you’ve noticed for a long time.

You thought this feeling was stupid, teenage hormones. As the years went on and on those teenage hormones became young adult hormones. Wait, those aren’t real. Admit it, you have feelings for your best friend. You’ve had feelings for a long time. For as long as you stay near Bi-Han those feelings will be nibbling at your insides like hookworms. Ignoring them or passing them off as something silly won’t get rid of them. You have to face the music one way or another.

The music will be a blast to the face.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

You toss and turn in your bed. Your mind was like a blaring horn. It wouldn’t shut up about Bi-Han.

Recently you’ve been noticing much more about Bi-Han. Mainly his physique. He sure turned into a fine, strong, and powerful man. Compared to everyone else in the Lin Kuei he was well-built. He had a body that could only be described as a masterpiece. He looked like he was carved by the hands of the greatest sculptors in history. His body type could only be found in grand museums. And oh that face, good heavens that face. An art piece right there. A well-sculptured face, well-trimmed eyebrows, dark chocolate eyes, and a perfect nose.

Woah alright! Your mind is winning too much. You have to sleep now or else you’ll be up all night thinking about Bi-Han.

You tried with all your might to fall asleep and luckily you did. Your body started to relax and your mind quieted down. You thought you would be free from the grasp of your feelings but you were wrong. Your emotions always find their way into your dreams.

════ ⋆☁️⋆ ════

In a haze all you could see was Bi-Han. Everything you felt was because of Bi-Han. His arms wrapped around you in a cold embrace. Your head rested on his chest and listened to his calming heartbeat. His head rested on top of your head. In that moment you felt safe. There was no reason for you to hold back. You embraced him. Your breathing picked up as your heart began to feel many things. It felt warm, it felt tingly, it felt like it was fluttering, it felt right. It felt like…love. You were in love, your dreams were your confirmation.

The dream progressed with Bi-Han bringing his hands up to your face. He made you stare into his dark eyes before closing them. He leaned in close, very close. His lips lightly touched your lips and you felt his cold breath hit them. You leaned in with your lips slightly parted. The kiss felt so real. The idea that this was all a dream was unrealistic now. The kiss grew more desperate and somewhat rough. It was passionate, it was loving. Your hands went up to hold his perfect face. He felt so real.

And then…

════ ⋆☁️⋆ ════

“Bi-Han!” You shot up from your bed.

Your heart was beating fast. You strained your muscles from moving so quickly from laying down to sitting up. You were even slightly dizzy.

This can’t be happening to you. You’re so madly in love with Bi-Han. You don’t want to be in love. You’re afraid. It’s reasonable to be afraid.

You’ve never seen Bi-Han with another girl. Never once went on a date or accepted his father’s suggestions on finding a bride. It got to the point that he vented to you about his frustrations on his father’s request. That was the moment you suspected he may never want to date someone. Which was fine at the time but now it’s different. Now you’re a desperate fool who’s in love.

Bi-Han can’t know about this. This could ruin a friendship that has lasted a lifetime. The idea of that crushes you. Going on without your best friend is the same as going on without the other half of your body. As much as you fear that he will find out and leave you, you fear that he will stay but reject you.

Rejection hurts like a rose thorn except you are unsure if you can remove the thorn. The thorn could stay for a few months or the rest of your adult life. Do you really want to take that risk and find out how long you could endure the pain? No, you don’t.

You’re only a girl, well, woman actually. But the point still stands about how you are afraid of getting hurt. So what will you do to prevent things from getting awkward or you getting hurt? You will stay clear of Bi-Han. That’s a bold move but if it’s what you wish to do then you must keep it on the downlow. You know how suspicious Bi-Han can get. When it comes to you he will spot it from a mile away.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Well fuck my advice. You didn’t keep it on the downlow you kept it on the high ground.

Bi-Han noticed from the start that you were steering clear of him. You weren’t visiting even when he suggested that you come to practice for a little. He never heard back from you which made him think something fishy was going on. When he visited you he saw that you had your head down like you were ashamed about something. He didn’t say anything to your family members he made a beeline toward you.

“Is something the matter? You have not responded to any of my letters.”

He was walking close to you. You never realize how close he would get to you. That isn’t helping you right now. You couldn’t respond about his letters because you never looked at them. Every time a family member came around to pass you a letter from Bi-Han you would take it before storing it away.

“Oh, sorry. I don’t really…” You didn’t finish your sentence. The moment you saw a room you slipped inside to create distance from Bi-Han. You even locked the door for extra measures.

Bi-Han rarely gets mad at you but right now he is feeling a little ticked off. You are purposefully avoiding him and he can tell. You wish you didn’t have to but the moment you think about being honest with him your heart aches thinking about the possible consequences. It’s better if he doesn’t know. Once you get your emotions situated you will go back to him. For now, you are unable to.

Bi-Han was standing by the door, constantly knocking to the point your father had to go up to him and have him leave. He respects your dad but he wanted to tell him to back off. He hesitated and walked away. There had to be another way to get close to you and make you talk. He’ll have to figure that out for himself. If he asked for help many would get suspicious of him and his intentions.

Some days passed and an opportunity fell into his hands. Liu Kang told Bi-Han that he would need assistance when collecting his champions for the upcoming tournament. Bi-Han was unsure about providing help since he didn’t like being commanded by the fire god. That was until Liu Kang informed him that you would be helping. Immediately he switched up and said he would do it. You wouldn’t dare disobey Liu Kang so you won’t try to back out. Just for good measure, Bi-Han won’t let you know he is there until it’s too late.

The day came when you were supposed to see if Raiden and Kung Lao were ready. Liu Kang informed you to wait till they were done eating to begin the test. You noticed he was looking around like he was expecting someone else to come.

“Ah, Bi-Han, are you and your brothers ready?” Liu Kang shouted past your shoulder.

You froze up at the mention of Bi-Han. You swiftly turned around and saw him and his brothers standing there. You didn’t know they would be part of the test. Kuai Liang and Tomas were ready but Bi-Han seemed determined for something else. He was determined to call you out on your behavior.

You kept your cool and tried to slow your heartbeat. You all made your way to the tea house and you could feel Bi-Han’s eyes burning holes in the back of your head. Once you got there Liu Kang took his seat and you were all expected to hide till the Raiden and Kung Lao finished eating. Bi-Han had his brothers go their own way while he stayed with you. The moment his brothers walked away he grabbed your hand and forced you to come with him. You did your best to slow him down, even digging your heels into the ground but that did nothing. All it did was make grooves in the dirt.

Once you came to a spot to stay until the test started, he had you sit next to him. You expected him to say something but he didn’t. He was so silent that you couldn’t hear his breathing. His face was stone cold. He’s waiting for you to say something. You’re the one acting strange, not him. You’ll break eventually because he knows you can’t stand when it’s too quiet or he seems mad. But he’s always mad so the silence will be the thing that kills you.

The wind may have blown but no leaves rustled. Bugs were out but none buzzed, chirped, or hissed. Not even a squirrel came around to munch on an acorn. Seconds passed but to you it felt like centuries. This felt horrible.

“You’re upset with me, aren’t you?” You asked.

“I would not be mad if you would tell me what is going on with you.” Yeah, it’s you, not him.

“It’s nothing. I’ve been feeling off is all.”

“You are giving me an excuse. I want the answer.”

“Why do you need to know?” You ask as if he isn’t your best friend.

He didn’t respond. He was giving you the silent treatment to make you break. Yeah, it’s cruel but there isn’t any other choice. He could keep asking the same question over and over and you would keep giving him excuses. So the only tactic he could trust is silence. A long uncomfortable silence that will go on for seconds, minutes, possibly hours. You could keep talking but he will not respond in any way. No facial cues or words. You’re on your own.

Make a choice: Will you speak the truth or keep the silence going?

“I think I’ve fallen in love with you and I might have been in love with you for a long time.” And speak the truth you did.

You didn’t see Bi-Han’s face change from cold to slightly surprised. His eyebrows raised a little. You had your eyes shut tight like something bad would appear in front of you if you told the truth. You went on and on about when it started and everything you felt. You spoke about the dream in great detail which wasn’t necessary but it did amuse him. Now you wouldn’t shut up. You’re fine, he got the point. Have you gotten the point? No! Let Bi-Han help you.

You felt something grab at the front of your shirt before yanking you. Before you knew it you felt Bi-Han’s lips against yours. That dream of yours seemed to know how it would feel. You felt the cold breath against your lips and you felt how rough he was. Your eyes were wide open but his were closed. He pulled away after about thirty seconds and looked at you. He had a blank expression like he didn’t just kiss you.

“You never were truly direct in anything. You always gave excuses but never the answer. Was it truly that hard?” He asked but you were frozen.

Your brain was loading in the fact that Bi-Han, your best friend of many years, just kissed you. You pinched yourself just in case and yup, this was no dream. This is real life.

“I—You’re not mad? You’re fine with me having a crush on you?” You asked though this may not be a crush anymore.

“Is it really a crush if I make you my girlfriend right now?” He replied back.

“Well…no I guess.” You answered your question but now you have a million questions.

Let me help you out.

The reason Bi-Han was never interested in dating or taking his father’s suggestions was because he was only interested in you. When you started noticing how handsome Bi-Han was he started to notice how wonderful of a lady you have grown into. Your body matured and your beauty radiated like never before. Your personality didn’t change but evolved as you grew. You never became insufferable to him and you still were your old self. Even as you two were teens he knew he wanted you to be his lady for life. There was no competition, you were always the winner.

The reason he never approached you was because he’s not too good at that stuff. His brothers tried to help him and warned him that if he didn’t confess soon he would lose you to another man. He’s glad his brothers weren’t right because he would hate to admit that. Seems like he never needed to do all that fancy stuff and make an attempt to flirt. You two were made for each other. You both might have been soulmates from the start. Sounds pretty good to him. What about you?

Ah, you’re still in shock. Well at least the part where Bi-Han made you his girlfriend has set in. You just need to take in everything else that happened. Keep your mind sharp though you still have to do the test for Raiden and Kung Lao.

Bi-Han wouldn’t want his new girlfriend to be distracted and get hurt. That wouldn’t end well for anyone involved.

Yap notes: I did two fics today because I felt bad for not doing a request. I felt guilty and I don't like that feeling. But i felt okay once i put on summer playlists. I DON'T PRACTICE SANTERIA. I AIN'T GOT NO CRYSTAL BALL. Adiós!

[rotisserory]

Reo Mikage is Actually Great BPD Representation- Some Thoughts

So I had the extremely unfortunate experience of being exposed to Blue Lock (unfortunate because it's all my tiny pea brain can think about now), and while it is absolutely full of silly guys whose brains I want to pick, this little bugger really stood out to me. The second he came onto the screen, I KNEW I smelled the borderline on him. As I watched the series and read the manga, I noticed he is actually an incredibly well-written depiction of someone struggling with BPD. Reo is a super layered character and my favorite hobby is picking apart those layers and yapping incessantly about them, so here we are. I want to write this analysis for a few reasons:

1.) Too many people misunderstand Reo and categorize him as dramatic or childish without any elaboration and he deserves a proper character deep-dive. I think him being borderline explains a LOT of his reactions/choices throughout the story.

2.) Borderline representation is extremely important to me. I'm diagnosed borderline and have struggled with this disorder for around ten years now, so I get really excited when I spy BPD-coded characters (especially if they're likable people and not just ghoulish irredeemable villains or manic pixie dream girl characters). This disorder can be so isolating, especially when the majority of people will never even bother to research or understand it. I know that some people like to chalk Reo's emotional reactions up to him being a moody 17-year-old, but I think I have enough evidence to prove that this is undiagnosed BPD that's festering in his noggin. Not to mention, literally nobody else acts like this in the series. Reo is incredibly unique and distinct in the way he behaves through this narrative and I think it's way past the point of normal teenage angst. Regardless, believe what you want. He'll always be my borderline princess tho <3

3.) I have a master's degree in English and what good is that if I don't write long, painful, pointless essays on anime guys? Not that this is exceptionally well written, I just like to laugh at myself for getting a whole M.A and then this is the shit I publish online lmao

By the end of this, I hope I can shed some light on wtf is going on inside of Reo's silly little head. (I'm also obviously not a psychologist, don't use any of this to diagnose yourself pls I don't need the scandal)

If you want to read, buckle up, because this is gonna be a long one!

First, let me define BPD- It's a personality disorder characterized by a long-standing pattern of instability in mood, interpersonal relationships, and self-image. At its core, it is a disorder categorized by emotional dysregulation (the inability to regulate one's emotional responses) People with BPD feel everything EXTREMELY hard. That's important to keep in mind IMO, because while their reactions may seem dramatic or extreme, what they're feeling IS dramatic and extreme. Everything they're feeling is amplified, so their reactions are amplified. Obviously from the outside, people assume it's an overreaction since they can't see what's going on inside the borderline's head. When you sit down and dissect the thought process of someone like Reo, it becomes a lot easier to understand why they react the way that they do to certain situations.

(Also, I'm not going to reiterate more than once that an explanation is not an excuse to treat people poorly. I cannot read ANYTHING on BPD without hearing every 2 minutes how the disorder isn't an excuse to hurt other people. We get it!! I'm explaining it, not excusing it. This enter essay is an analysis of why someone acts the way they do, not whether or not it's excusable)

So then, what behaviors/signs does somebody need to exhibit to receive a borderline diagnosis? The 9 diagnostic criteria for BPD are as follows:

1. Fear of abandonment

2. Unstable or changing relationships

3. Unstable self-image; struggles with identity or sense of self

4. Impulsive or self-damaging behaviors

5. Suicidal behavior or self-injury

6. Varied or random mood swings

7. Constant feelings of worthlessness or sadness

8. Problems with anger, including frequent loss of temper or physical fights

9. Stress-related paranoia or loss of contact with reality

Someone would only need 5 of these to receive a proper diagnosis. Just with the main story and the spin-off manga that is currently released, I think I have enough evidence to argue that Reo has 8 out of 9 criteria for a BPD diagnosis. For the sake of organization, I’m gonna group some of those together though, indicated by a + symbol. I also want to define a few important terms before I start yapping, so that y'all without BPD can understand wtf I'm even talking about.

Favorite Person (fp) - This is someone who holds massive significance in a borderline's life. They emotionally depend on this person a lot and to a certain extent, their worldview almost revolves around them.

Splitting- the change in perception of someone or something caused by black-or-white thinking or dichotomous thinking. It is the devaluation of someone who was once idealized and vice versa.

Mirroring (aka: the chameleon effect)- the constant, unconscious change in one's identity or sense of self by imitating another person’s behaviors, characteristics, or traits. It is common in people who have a vacant or distorted self-image which is a general symptom of BPD.

Now, time for me to break down the most prominent moments where Reo showcases borderline behavior. As I mentioned, I'm going to try and organize this under each criteria point (with some being grouped together)

Unstable self-image; struggles with identity or sense of self:

Before I delve into Reo's relationships, I want to start with his baseline sense of identity. It’s established early on that Reo is a very bored, empty, unsatisfied person. Nothing excites him, nothing motivates him, and everything is handed to him. He’s frustrated because his parents notoriously try and buy his affection even though he doesn't want anything. For most of his life up until the narrative starts, he's wandering through life empty and frustrated. That is, until he finally sets his sights on soccer and decides to dedicate his life to winning the World Cup:

The wording, 'proves my existence' is interesting here. I think this is the first instance Reo has felt alive. So far, the only notable thing about him has been his family and his money. He hasn't achieved anything exceptional for himself, but now he has that opportunity. With this goal, he can really build something up from nothing and make it his own. It's almost like he's clinging to this dream to prove that he has some purpose in his life other than being the family heir.

Now, this dream changes when he meets Nagi, of course. I'm not gonna focus too much on their relationship in this section, but I will mention that meeting Nagi shifted Reo's entire dream, and not for the better. Through the narrative, his dream went from:

Winning the World Cup

Winning the World Cup with Nagi

Proving to Nagi that leaving him behind was a mistake

Improving himself and becoming a good striker on his own

Being a tool for Nagi to become the best striker

Had Nagi not come in and ask for Reo to come back to him, I think Reo could have done a great job at establishing his own sense of identity without Nagi. But no matter how much he works on himself, with Nagi in the picture, he's never going to value himself more than Nagi. Reo lets Nagi cloud his identity to the point where Isagi calls him out and asks what he's even doing at Blue Lock in the first place, since he clearly can't survive on his own, he needs Nagi with him.

After dealing with the turmoil of being abandoned by Nagi, Reo goes through a few stages. He starts with wanting to become somebody worthy of being beside Nagi, somebody that Nagi would want to choose. Devoting himself to becoming stronger and more versatile, his end goal is to have Nagi realize he made a mistake by leaving him behind. After a few more matches, Reo starts to realize that he needs to grow and change and become a stronger, better version of himself for himself and not for other people.

He decides that the fight was all his fault to begin with, that he should have never forced Nagi to play soccer and now he is going to get back to what his dream was originally, combined with his new desire to be a stand-alone player (and person, for that matter). Reo accepts the mistakes that he made, admits that he shouldn't have forced his ideals onto Nagi, and resolves to become a better person for HIMSELF. That's excellent!

Of course, Reo can't be happy for TOO long. Nagi comes out of the woodwork saying that he can't beat Isagi on his own and asks for Reo's help. Reo does stand up for himself a bit, saying that Nagi is being inconsiderate of his feelings and mentioning how long it took for him to recover from Nagi leaving. Now, the BPD trait here is how Reo not only forgives Nagi and is jumping on him and hugging him THE NEXT PAGE, but he also just disregards everything he said in this sequence. In a matter of two minutes, he no longer wants to be a player that can fight on his own or improve for himself, he wants to improve for Nagi. He starts ruminating again about how hurt he was when Nagi left, but now he's saying all of it wasn't so that he could get stronger individually, it was so that he could be reunited with Nagi again. Nagi asking for his help and saying that now they can play together again motivate Reo more than anything we've seen so far. (Nagi notoriously throws Reo little affection crumbs like this that Reo eats up, but I'm not trying focus on that) Now, Reo's alright with being a tool for Nagi's success again. Everything that happened was supposed to make him stronger so he could be a better partner to Nagi, right? Reo also says as the chapter ends, to please let him be a part of Nagi's dream until Nagi becomes the world's best striker. That's literally so sad!

He's also immediately back to the 'our' 'we' 'us' talk as well. If he can master his chameleon style in order to keep Nagi above the rest of the players, he wont get left behind again. If he devotes his time and energy into being a solo striker like the rest of these guys, Reo knows that he wont be able to keep up. This was always supposed to be his role, right? Building Nagi up to his full potential! :*)

I also like the detail that Reo is back to hugging Nagi and holding him, but Nagi never really touches him back. I think Reo's love language is touch for sure, not that it's incredibly relevant, but I do think it shows that Reo is back to being 100% comfortable around Nagi as if their fight never happened. I hear a lot of fans asking how Reo could have forgiven Nagi so easily, and I say this with my entire chest, it's the BPD. The black-and-white thinking combined with Nagi being Reo's fp and the excruciating pain of being abandoned by him in the first place ?? Of course he's going to take him back. Also, I've seen people blame Reo for not saying no to Nagi when he asks for help and I have to say that is an absolutely insane take. How are we gonna look at a panel where Nagi asks for help and then blame Reo for helping him?? I'm not going to focus on it too much in this post but in my opinion, it is crazy how little accountability both the narrative + fans give Nagi. Reo is pegged as responsible for both of their downfalls and it's nuts tbh.

Currently in the story, I think Reo's identity is still centered around Nagi. It's really easy for borderlines to structure their entire lives and personalities around their favorite person, but I can only hope that these two keep having open and honest discussions with one another. Hopefully, Reo will eventually learn that he can exist without Nagi and that he's more than just 'his arms and legs'.

Unstable or Changing Relationships:

The most notable relationship in Reo's life is Nagi. They're both each other's first real friends, which already sets up a less-than-ideal dynamic. Nagi has no idea how to communicate and he has pretty weak emotional intelligence. On the other hand, Reo is great at communicating, but he isn't used to regulating his emotions. For a lot of borderlines, they can go a very long time without experiencing any symptoms when they don't have a favorite person. When you think about it, the bulk of the disorder is shown through those interactions with other people. If Reo has never had a real friend in his life, I don't think he'd be used to the emotional turmoil that comes with having a fp.

The minute Reo meets Nagi, he's attached. All his classmates notice it, too. They question why Reo is suddenly so obsessed with this random kid who has no interest in him. Reo is ignoring everybody that isnt Nagi.

Very quickly, Reo boils down his view of the world to being him and Nagi versus everybody else, and he makes that very clear. It also depicts something that I think is incredibly crucial to Reo’s character that a lot of people overlook; as Nagi develops to be Reo’s favorite person, Reo’s dream isnt ‘playing soccer’ anymore. It’s Nagi. It’s being with Nagi, playing soccer with Nagi, being useful to Nagi, taking care of Nagi, and being somebody important to Nagi. He doesnt teach Nagi the rules or how to actually play, he teaches Nagi how to play with him. He literally re-writes and re-structures the game so that it can center around him and Nagi. Nagi calls him out on this in the spin-off manga:

Reo doesnt care about the structure of the game, he cares about Nagi. The other people on the field don't matter. The other team doesn't matter. He also starts to unknowingly put Nagi up on a pedestal, which is another borderline trait. He starts reiterating that Nagi is special, he's different from everybody else, he's destined to achieve great things. The more he raises Nagi up, the more he isolates the two of them in his mind, reiterating the idea that it's them against everybody else. His language reflects this too: Reo exclusively talks with 'us' 'we' 'our', insinuating that they're going to do everything together.

When Ego says that there can't be two winners, Reo says that he'll make Nagi the best striker. His 'ego' will be making Nagi successful. Along with putting Nagi on this pedestal, Reo also very early on establishes the fact that he'd pick Nagi over himself any day of the week. He's the only person in Blue Lock who really couldn't care less about becoming a striker himself: his dream is to be a tool in Nagi's success. Or, in simpler terms, he wants to be useful and make Nagi happy.

These two were in trouble from the very beginning. Nagi is lazy as all hell, has 0 motivation to do anything, and his dream is to live a life of luxury and never have to work. Reo, being the borderline baddie that he is, is more than happy to do EVERYTHING for Nagi. Borderlines love extremely hard! It's one of our best traits and I think it's important to showcase that Reo is a massive sweetheart at his core. He clearly loves Nagi a lot and goes to extreme lengths to make sure he feels taken care of. To someone with BPD, NOTHING is too big of an ask for a person they love, especially if that person is their fp. I also disagree with the argument that Reo 'made' Nagi codependent. Nagi likes being taken care of, he says it all the time. If you ask me, I would actually argue that Nagi takes advantage of Reo a little bit because he knows that Reo will do anything for him. But regardless, I think that Reo starts to develop an unspoken expectation with Nagi that he'll provide him with everything he needs, and in turn, Nagi will stick around. I don't think he's doing this intentionally, nor do I think it's being done in a manipulative way. I just think that Reo has a dormant fear of being abandoned that he doesn't totally know he has yet.

It isn't just Nagi that Reo showcases having unstable relationships with, though. Zantetsu is another good example. Reo starts out disliking Zantetsu, he snaps at him a couple times, and calls him a moron more than once. He starts to warm up to him because Nagi tells him to. The favorite person has MASSIVE sway in the borderline's life. If Nagi likes someone, Reo likes them too. (This is, of course, on the condition that they aren't a threat, looking at you Isagi).

In the immediate next chapter, Reo is acting like they're all best friends. He's climbing on top of them in their big bed, saying that the three of them are gonna win their matches, being a little pookie. He goes from not liking this guy at all to considering him one of his close friends super fast. Also on the topic of Isagi, when they're making up the teams for the second selection, Nagi doesn't initially want to tell Reo that he wants Isagi on their team bc he's worried Reo will be upset. But, when he does finally say it, Reo is literally fine with it because like I said, who Nagi likes, Reo likes! On the condition that they don't replace Reo, which clearly happened soon after.

On the opposite side of the spectrum, Reo also shows how he can go from loving someone to despising him very quickly. After Chigiri and Kunigami tell him to get back up in the game post-Nagi's abandonment, we can literally see the switch flip in Reo's head:

Suddenly, he hates Nagi. Nagi's a jerk who abandoned him; he never cared about him, and he threw him away. Dude literally says "Let's kill the bastards that betrayed us". This act of unintentional devaluing is called splitting. What Reo's essentially doing is going from one extreme to the other: if Nagi isn't his perfect treasure, he's the devil that broke his heart. There's no room for a grey area. The reasoning behind borderline's developing this black-and-white mindset is rooted in self-defense. If Reo devalues Nagi into being nothing more than a traitor, then he's stripping away the power that Nagi has to hurt him. If he looks at him like a rival or a villain, it's protecting him from being hurt by Nagi again.

That doesn't mean that he genuinely believes any of this, more so, he's trying to convince himself that it's true. We see that at his core, the reason he's acting like this is because he's hurt. I'll go more into it later on, but he's constantly thinking, what does Isagi have that I don't? What do I have to do in order to win Nagi back? This black-and-white thinking is an automatic self-defense mechanism that I think he's doing subconsciously. Regardless, the shifting he's doing here can cause a little whiplash, which brings me to:

Varied or random mood swings + Problems with anger, including frequent loss of temper or physical fights:

I can’t think of a better way to describe Reo's temperament than the wiki, so let me quote it: "Generally, he seems to feel every emotion with full force and is extremely aware of his own faults and shortcomings, which is evident in several instances of painful breakdowns shown in the spin-off manga. Due to his high emotionality, he can even get violent when he loses his temper."

Reo is characterized as being emotionally unstable. When he's happy, he's elated! When he's sad, he's miserable. There are a ton of scenes between the manga and spin-off manga that show how fast his emotions can flip, but this one was one of my personal favorites:

In this scene, Reo has developed a little scheme in the dining hall where the guys are trading their side dishes. At face value, a throwaway moment. But, I think it's worth looking at because not only does this show Reo's emotional response being triggered in an opposite, semi-extreme direction, but the root cause for the reaction was that he felt rejected by Zantetsu. In his own weird way, he's asking Zantetsu to come over and hang out with him. He's not being exceptionally clear with that message, but I can still pick up on it. "You wanna join in, don't you?" He's extending the invite, making himself vulnerable, and Zantetsu shoots him down by saying nah, I'm fine with my noodles. Reo JUMPS on him like YOU KNOW WHAT? I TOOK THAT PERSONALLY! lol. Jokes aside, I think this moment is a great one to argue Reo's BPD tendencies because it's such a seemingly mundane interaction. Even Zantetsu is surprised by Reo's random outburst. This also sets up the fact that one of Reo's most obvious triggers is being rejected/abandoned/betrayed, an extremely common one between those of us with BPD.

Other instances of Reo having a bad temper are a lot more obvious. In the match against teams V and Z, Reo straight up elbows Raichi in the throat, and then tries to go throw hands with Kuon for hurting Nagi. He only stops because if he gets into any more fights, he’ll get thrown out of the game and won't be able to play with Nagi anymore. He’s visibly pissed though and calls Team Z a joke. Hell, even Reo himself can recognize on a certain level that he can't control his emotions: they control him. They cloud his judgment and make him react in ways that he wish he didn't.

He is constantly plagued by these extreme emotional reactions that are out of his control. Not to say that people with BPD are unable to ever control their emotions, because we can! It takes time and therapy and practice though, which Reo hasn't had. His lack of regulation is also why he has such a dramatic and extreme meltdown when Nagi abandons him.

Fear of Abandonment:

Reo's biggest trigger and the cause of his inner turmoil throughout Blue Lock is his fear of abandonment. I mentioned before that I think he's had this fear dormant inside of him for a while as so many borderlines do, since he hasn't had the chance to experience it before. He alludes to it early on when they first arrive at Blue Lock:

The thought of leaving Nagi for somebody else? Reo considers that heartless. They came together, after all. They're going to win the world cup together. Nagi could break both of his legs and Reo wouldn't leave him, because again, Reo isn't there to team up with the best player and become the best striker in the world: he's there to play with Nagi!! And, like I said, in Reo's mind it's him and Nagi vs everyone else-

Reo exhibits a lot of signs early on of being jealous while they're playing in Blue Lock. I mean, as we discussed, everything should be focused around him and Nagi. When Nagi passes to Zantetsu in the team V and Y match, Reo pulls up like 'hey, why didn't you pass it to me?? ):' There are a lot of little moments like that, but Reo's jealousy is a lot more relevant to my argument after he gets abandoned by Nagi.

Let's talk about that word: abandoned. It seems dramatic, right? Reo uses that term constantly and exclusively. Every time he brings that moment up, he uses the word 'abandoned', or he'll say 'betrayed' or 'chose'. These are very definitive words. He’s not saying Nagi ditched him or flaked on him or blew him off, no; he has abandoned him. That word choice may seem disproportionate to the situation, but that's Reo's reality. This was the ultimate betrayal to him. The constant use of that vocabulary reiterates that in Reo's mind, there is no grey area. Either Nagi chooses him, or he chooses someone else. In choosing someone else, he abandons Reo. Reo is paranoid that Nagi isn't ever going to come back to him and it's because of something that Reo is lacking. How can Nagi like Isagi more than him, anyway?

Now, I do fault Nagi a bit for not communicating better at that moment. I understand that he's bad at communication, but I don't think Reo could have been more obviously upset if he tried. The dude was in TEARS. Nagi saw him devastated and then expected everything to be fine when he met him in the bathhouse? Idk. I'm going to give him the benefit of the doubt and say that he didn't realize it would upset Reo to such an extreme: maybe he thought that they would miss each other, but Reo wouldn't take it personally. I'm doing my best not to harp on Nagi since this is about Reo.

Abandonment is detrimental to people with BPD. It causes extreme inner turmoil that we see with Reo as the story progresses because it is the only thing he can think about. If he isn't trying to cover up his hurt feelings with this idea of revenge, he's self-destructing over being abandoned. He becomes obsessed with wondering why Nagi chose Isagi over him. Was there something wrong with him? Isagi isn't that impressive, why would Nagi rather be with him? These thoughts torture him endlessly and fuel his desire to 'steal' Nagi back. He literally says to Isagi, that he's going to steal Nagi back. Much to his dismay though, Reo starts to notice that Isagi is bringing out some positive traits in Nagi. Nagi's entire vibe is different with Isagi. Nagi is having fun playing soccer without Reo. In fact, he's having more fun. He's making plays he's never made before. His face is visibly different; he's more excited than before.

This is heartbreaking for Reo. Not only was he right that Isagi did have something to offer Nagi that he couldn't, but Reo is having a massive self-hate spiral during this point as well, so he's internalizing all of his flaws and mistakes while the thought is sitting in the back of his head: did Nagi actually have a good reason for abandoning me? Was I not enough to satisfy him? Did I only drag him down? This gets significantly worse the longer he watches Nagi and Isagi play:

Everything is falling apart. Nagi is doing completely fine without Reo, and Reo is an absolute mess. We're circling back to Reo's lack of identity here as well. He's watching firsthand that he's losing Nagi to Isagi: what does he do? What happens to him if he loses Nagi, who is he without Nagi? He's overwhelmed during this match and at one point Reo literally screams that he's going to tear apart their connection. Jealousy is consuming him, but it's also those feelings of inferiority and wondering if he really did deserve to be abandoned. If Nagi is so happy without him, maybe he really did have a reason. These are the thoughts that are circling around in Reo's head. Not to mention, he is constantly tortured by the flashbacks of Nagi leaving him, which I think is a great detail. Some readers might say it's just pointless recapping but I disagree, I think it's depicting how traumatic that was for Reo. As a borderline, being abandoned by your fp IS traumatic. Reo relives that moment so many times because so many things trigger it for him throughout Blue Lock. He can't even look at Chigiri and Kunigami without thinking about him and Nagi. It's a really devastating experience that quickly deteriorates him emotionally.

Constant feelings of worthlessness or sadness + Suicidal behavior or self-injury:

One of my favorite things about Reo is the fact that he is self-aware that he's behaving somewhat irrationally, but he doesn't know how to stop. When we look at one of the several times that Reo is curled up crying over Nagi, he mentions how he really did want to tell Nagi to go and have fun, but he didn't. He couldn't. The visuals shift for this too:

Reo doesnt want to be acting this way, but he can't help it, and that's frustrating to him. It makes him start feeling ashamed of himself. His inner thoughts start to spiral and he feels weak and alone. He's reflecting here on what his true feelings really were at that moment, and how scared and lonely and weak he felt as a result of Nagi leaving him behind.

These feelings quickly evolve into Reo feeling worthless and falling into bouts of self-hatred. He's so ashamed of the way he's feeling and behaving but it feels so out of his control. He says, "maybe if I hadn't gone to Blue Lock in the first place, I wouldn't have to experience this feeling." As I said before, borderline's feel things EXTREMELY intensely; the disorder is described as living with third-degree burns all over your body. Everything hurts. His feelings are so intense and all-consuming right now, it's all he can think about:

I saw some posts in the fandom reddit asking why Reo is acting like this. One in particular reads: "I get that he is betrayed and stuff but he is acting like it’s the end of the world, is it explained later why he acts like this? Is it because he doesn’t think he can win without Nagi?" Not to call this person out, I just want to answer the question in this post-

It has nothing to do with winning; it was never about winning. It was always about Nagi.

If we're looking at Reo through the borderline lens, it IS the end of the world for him. Nagi was his world. What's worse, he's fully aware that he's not acting rationally and he doesn't know why, which is making him feel ashamed and weak and embarrassed. Now I know why he's acting like this, but there are no Blue Lock psychiatrists sitting around to wack him with the mood stabilizers or the DBT handbook, so he's gonna stay feeling like a monster.

He lets these thoughts, along with the resentment and anger from being abandoned in the first place, fuel him for the second selection match. As he's watching the game play out, as Nagi is about to score the winning goal, Reo's mind starts racing with intrusive, negative thoughts.

He's praying that Nagi fails, that he gives up, that he stops trying, anything to stop that solidifying moment where he scores the winning goal and proves once and for all that not only was Reo not strong enough to stop him, but Nagi doesn't need him anymore. He catches himself really quickly, because he realizes he's sounding just like his parents. Everything is spinning out of control so bad, Reo wants Nagi to end up in a vulnerable position so that he isn't the only one falling apart. As he catches himself thinking this, he's disgusted with himself. He calls himself 'utter trash', and as he watches Nagi score the winning goal, he falls to his knees, wishing he was dead.

As he sits there decomposing in emotional turmoil and suicidal ideation, Nagi's team chooses Chigiri to join them, and it's the nail in the coffin. This is probably Reo's lowest point in the entire story IMO. Nagi comes up to compliment him on his plays and Reo shows us another classic borderline move: he's anticipating how bad it's going to hurt to be abandoned by Nagi again, so he's trying to push him away before it can happen. We see the dichotomy of his spoken words and inner thoughts here, where he's talking big game to Nagi, saying things like 'you clearly don't care about me anymore, you're throwing me away, if you're going to abandon me just do it properly', while internally he's thinking 'I'm the worst, I wish I was dead, please take this bait and break my heart so that I can self destruct in peace'.

i LOVE the visuals during this moment. This is what Reo thinks is his last line of defense, the last thing he can do to preserve any part of his dignity is to make Nagi hate him so that he'll stop throwing these crumbs of affection at him. It's also really telling that despite his switch in behavior and the devaluing of Nagi, the root of all of that is STILL that he was so hurt by the abandonment.

I don't think I need to analyze the suicidal ideation because he just straight up says he wants to die like three times in this scene but, aside from that, the visual of his inner thoughts vs what he's actually saying is so powerful. Not to mention the chameleon imagery which i'll geek out about in a second, this is another example of his black and white thinking along with the reiteration that being abandoned was literally traumatic for Reo: he says they can never go back to what they were before. Speaking as a borderline, this is painfully true. When people break my trust even in a small way, I can never view them the same as I used to. I can forgive them and let it go, but I'll never be as open with them as I once was. In Reo's shoes, he had Nagi up on this pedestal that he was perfect and would never do anything to hurt him, but he did hurt him (in the worst way possible).

After Nagi tells him he's a pain in the ass and that he doesn't care anymore, Reo thanks him for 'finishing him off'. In his mind, they're done now and he can suffer in peace and quiet without dragging Nagi down anymore.

Bonus Point: The Chameleon Effect

I LOVE THE FACT THAT HIS THING IS CHAMELEONS AHHHH

The chameleon imagery with Reo makes me INSANE dude. As I mentioned towards the beginning of this post, a part of borderline that is seldom talked about is the tendency to take on 'the chameleon effect', or mirror the people around them. REO'S ENTIRE THING IS CHAMELEONS LIKE BFFR ?? That image where he was trying to get Nagi to hate him, was before he even started using his chameleon style, it was just something the authors thought was necessary to include during Reo's mental breakdown. Aside from the cool imagery, his chameleon style is a reflection of his relationship with Nagi. He gets called a jack of all trades and a master of none early on in reference to how when he’s without Nagi, hes not really exceptional at anything. He never really took the time to master one specific thing because he was always so concerned with helping Nagi. This rings my BPD bell for a couple reasons: first of all, when you have no sense of identity and you’re worried it means you have no real personality ?? Steal one!! Take the closest person to you and copy that one. That’s something us baddies know VERY well. Also, think there’s something about you that your fp doesn’t like? Change it! You can morph into anything they want as long as it means they won’t leave you !! :*) Before he makes up with Nagi, he copies moves in hopes that it'll make him stronger and appear more desirable to Nagi. After they make up, he copies whoever he has to so that he can get Nagi to that goal and make himself useful, make himself somebody that Nagi wants to have around. It is a literal direct metaphor for him changing anything and everything about himself for Nagi and graaaahhhh it’s so cool

Reonagi ?? Some thoughts-

I want to close this yap session with my thoughts on Reonagi as a ship. I do think that they can work and I want to make that clear. I'm not on board with the 'borderlines arent capable of having loving and fulfilling relationships' crap. That being said, they both have to put in a bit of effort. Reo has already recognized a lot of his own issues. He admits that he was wrong for pushing his ideals onto Nagi, that he needs to let Nagi grow and be his own person, etc. Nagi really hasn't accepted any fault. I stand by the fact that Nagi needs to be more sensitive with Reo. Way too often when a relationship like this fails, all the blame is put on the one with borderline. I'm gonna be the outlier here and say that if Nagi cares about Reo, he needs to learn about Reo's triggers and be mindful of them. I'm not saying that since Reo is sensitive to abandonment that Nagi should just isolate himself from everybody else, but what I am saying is that when he's going to do something that doesn't involve Reo, he needs to learn how to communicate that he still loves and values Reo. "I'm gonna go play soccer with this person right now, but I haven't forgotten about our promise. When I come back, we can play together. I still love you and I'm not going to leave you for whoever tf I'm playing with rn." (sneaking that 'i love you' in bc like..they're literally canon at this point asdfghjkll) But, I do think that Nagi loves Reo and cares about him in his own way. The two of them just have to keep working on their communication skills. Nagi has the potential to have a hot rich husband who will literally bend over backward for him and buy him all the robux he could ever want, he's gotta put in a shred of effort!

I also like to think that Nagi didn’t totally get the fact that Reo doesn’t gaf about just playing soccer. Nagi thinks soccer is what they do together, it’s what makes reo happy, right? He’s always pushing him to train harder and take the game more seriously because he likes the sport, RIGHT? It would make perfect sense to go play with isagi so that he can get better at soccer and come back to reo a more improved player. Maybe that’s why he was surprised when Reo was so mad in the bathhouse, bc he wasn’t making the connection that Reo cares more about him than soccer. That Reo puts all that energy into him playing soccer because he thinks it’s something that they can have as their own, and once Nagi notices how good he is, he’ll start enjoying it and the two of them can hold hands and run around the soccer pitch!! I think Nagi missed that part tbh, and I don’t think he know that even now in the story. Maybe Reo doesn’t even notice it.

Anyway, a shameless plug to my reonagi playlist if that's your thing (i cooked with this one, i fear) https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5CsvSqmuI4cxOl1nTaV4GJ?si=737a0f21e0bd482a

Closing Thoughts:

Reo is a bpd baddie and I love him very much. I think he's a sensitive guy with a lot of feelings who would benefit from taking time to work through his trauma and his emotions. I hope that he eventually is able to build an identity for himself that doesn't involve Nagi, but baby steps, I suppose. I think Reo is a great balance of positive and negative borderline traits and he reads as a really believable and sympathetic character. He is, however, definitely that friend that you have to slap to stop them from running back to their ex.

Jokes aside though, BPD can be extremely hard to live with, even more so when it's undiagnosed and untreated. If someone you love has BPD, take the time to read up on it and do your best to understand them. I promise you, it will mean the world to them.

If you managed to get this far, thank you for reading! This was a messy stream of consciousness and I appreciate your support by listening.

[pedrithink]

understand ✩ jude bellingham

request: can you do jude and the reader arguing during their vacation and she starts crying when they're at the beach but she doesn't want him to notice but he notices and starts apologizing

"I'm just telling you that I felt uncomfortable, that's all." You exasperate as you cross your arms. Is it so hard for Jude to understand your side?

He shakes his head impatiently. "And I'm telling you that no big deal happened."

"They were practically all over you, Jude. They were hitting on you and ignoring my existence." You roll your eyes to keep tears from escaping your eyes.

"And why does that matter? I'm with you, you know that." Jude runs his hands over his own face somewhat aggressively and, whispers. "There's no need to create a giant problem over a situation as silly as this."

"You seem to be schismatic about not understanding my side." You cross your arms. "The point is that they kept sending little papers with their instagram, sending drinks, and had the audacity to come to our table and talk to you while I stood there watching everything like an idiot." You swallow your tears and stare at him with glittering eyes. "And you did nothing."

"What did you want me to do? Please, love. They're just fans."

Jude's impatient voice only makes your heart tighter, and the moonlight, the sound of the breaking waves, and the sand invading your shoe do nothing to improve the situation.

Faced with this situation, you can only take a deep breath and hope that this is the dream and that you are not arguing while you are in such a paradisiacal place, hope that Jude understands 1% of what you are feeling right now.

"We traveled here to have fun on my vacation and look at the kind of ridiculous thing we're discussing in the middle of a party." He grimaces in dissatisfaction.

You don't have the guts to say anything else for the next 20-30 minutes and Jude much less.

You are surrounded by the noise of the party, the crashing waves and each other's pained, dissatisfied sighs.

Jude stood beside you, head down. In a way that he didn't need to face you for the moment. He knows that you need this moment of silence to think about everything you've said to each other in the few minutes you've come outside the party to talk.

But at no time does he dare leave your side. Whatever the fight may be, you don't leave each other's side without working it out.

It all started because of some women who didn't care that Jude was holding hands with you, that he was kissing you relentlessly and insatiably. They didn't care that he was with someone else and it bothered you because Jude wasn't able to say "Enough" to them, according to him, it was an unnecessary fight to buy.

You guys normally don't argue, you don't like it. You avoid it as much as possible and always respect each other's opinion and space, but this situation left you completely out of place and you tried to express this with the intention that Jude would understand your side.

Your eyes fill with tears when you hear Keshi's "Understand" playing in the background in the inner part of the party, the light touch of the music along with the sounds of the waves makes your heart squeeze because this is your song.

take you by the hand, you're the only one who understands.

Tears escape and you try to hide them as you bite down hard on your lower lip trying to keep the sobs from escaping your lips.

You don't want Jude to see you crying, but you can't stop more tears from flooding your face.

He is the person who understands you most in the whole world, so why does it seem that now you are not being understood?

Jude takes courage to look at you and is startled when he sees you crying. His heart shatters into a million pieces and the urge to pull you into a hug becomes immense, he can't resist and pulls you around your waist. "Hey, no. No, my love. I'm sorry, don't cry."

Jude's arms grab your waist and you try to avoid it, but you can't resist melting into his embrace either. "Please forgive me." He whispers as he strokes your hair. "I thought it was something silly, but now I can clearly see that you have been affected by it. Not knowing how to express myself properly is one of my biggest fucking flaws. I hate that about me."

Jude says the last sentence in a low way, he wanted to throw himself into the sea and disappear for a few minutes. He feels so ashamed for putting you through such a situation.

Jude's hands walk to your waist and pulls you back so that your eyes stick to his, he always liked to talk looking into your eyes. "Hurting your heart was the last thing I wanted in the world. Forgive me, my love."

"I know and understand that you didn't mean to, Jude. But, this lack of positioning hurts." You explain as you dry the trail of tears from your face. "It may be silly and insignificant to you, but it makes me insecure."

His eyes soften and you can even see a trail of tears forming on his edge. "I didn't mean to hurt you, I just thought I was making the right choices, trying to avoid a fight or something, but clearly I wasn't. It hurt you and I promise that from now on I will review my attitudes."

His hands walk over to caress your back. "I value you so much, I really do, and I honestly don't know what my life would be without you. I know I let you down, and in the end, I feel like it hurt me more than it hurt you because I can't handle the idea that I hurt you. I love you too much.” He whispers. “I didn't mean to hurt you like that."

You hug Jude by the neck and give him a light kiss on his lips, you know that he didn't mean to hurt you and this conversation (not the fight) was even good for you to clarify some points and prevent more situations like this from happening again in the future.

Jude makes you feel complete.

[pannman]

Fix it

Platonic Alastor x tech savy/graphic designer reader

He didn't quite understand you

In fact people never expected you to be friends, and it certainly didn't start put that way

You started out working at Voxtech, you spent hours designing advertisements and editing commercials but when Vox told you to start working for Valentino and editing his porn videos you refused. Vox gave you an ultimatum: work for Valentino or be fired. So with no job you decided to try your hand at redemption

You didn't count on Vox's greatest enemy being the facility manager

At first Alastor threatened you. Suspecting you might be a spy since you were associated with Vox but Charlie convinced him to give you a chance

So he mostly ignored you. Keeping conversations short. Especially since it seemed you guys had absolutely nothing in common

Charlie wanted to find away to put your skills to use for the good of the hotel. You suggested creating a website

Charlie loved that idea so you got to it. You designed and developed it. You made it simple but eye catchy. And you decided to regularly upload edited videos of the shenanigans going on the hotel to attract new patrons (and to give yourself some fun).

Charlie being the person that she is wanted Alastor and you to get along better so she came up with the brilliant idea for you to interview him and create a page on the website for first hand accounts

Alastor agreed and as long as it was not a filmed interview

You had prepared a list of questions

Q. Why did you decide to join the hotel?

A. I decided to help the pathetic princess in her silly little dream to watch others fail miserably in attempt to change their already determined fates as entertainment for myself

Q. What has been your favorite moment here at the hotel?

A. Possibly when Niffty released an entire colony of roaches into Angel's bed. That was quite hilarious!

Q. What progress do you think you or someone else has made thus far that's worth mentioning?

A. I finally managed to get my new radio tower to look exactly like the old one. It was nice gesture really. But I do have preferred place for everything

After that you didn't know if Charlie was still going to be for this idea

You really didn't think you and Alastor would ever see eye to eye until one night you woke up to a knock on your door

You jumped out of bed still in your pajamas and opened the door to see Alastor standing there

You were... quite surprised. He told you he needed your help and it couldn't wait till morning

You followed him to his radio tower to see his system short circuiting. He warned you not to get to close or you'd get a nasty shock

"You're the one who deals with this technology stuff, fix it!" You thought to point out the two issues here

1. You don't fix technology, you utilize it to make things

2. This radio recording system is really old and you only knew what you were doing with MODERN technology

But you could tell he was very agitated. You wondered how it even got broke in the first place

You decided to do the only thing you could think and you Voxtubed it

You found some weird guy with obsession for fixing ham radios and old vintage tvs and watched a few of his videos. After assessing the broken system there were a lot of similarities. And after one boring audio book and online purchase of some parts you fixed it

Alastor was impressed. He tried very hard not show it but he couldn’t help it.

Before he could get back to it. You decided to listen to last chapter of the audio book one last time to make sure it was up to code. Unfortunately you forgot to connect your Bluetooth

Alastor standing in the tower with impatiently tapping his foot waiting for you to give the ok so he can give his listeners a much delayed broadcast stiffened at the sound coming from your phone and static buzzed loudly in the air

"Lovely I imagine the imagery to this is just flashy and distracting as it always is" he says rather annoyed

"Actually" you replied "it's an audio book. There is no visuals. It's just sound. Someone reads aloud a book and records it for people to listen to" you pointed out

It was not that much different from radio

You apologized and told him you would connect back to your headphones so he didn't have to hear it

"You may leave it on" he said surprisingly. So you did

Finally when you were done you went about your business. Everything went back to normal. Except... Alastor kept calling upon you before every broadcast demanding you play your audio book again to look over his system to make sure it won't crash on him mid broadcast

And each time he told you there was no need for your headphones

You finally decided to grow a pair and challenge him

"Once again I'd like you to check it over and make sure it's up to code. Play your dumb sound book again and get to it" he spoke as if the audio book did not matter at all but you knew better

"Oh I have it memerized by now. No need to play it again" you responded mischievously

His eyes narrowed and you could hear the sound of a record scratch. "Now, now. I won't allow for any mistakes that would not end well for you. Now play it again" he demanded

"You know if you liked the audio book you could just say so. Also you don't have to listen to the same end chapter over and over again. I have other probably more exciting books" you proposed

He acted offended. "How dare you insinuate that I would enjoy something as pointless and boring as that." Of course he didn't want to admit that anything that came from technology could possibly be good in any way and he could never ACTUALLY like it. No way

"You know its not a lot different from radio. Telling stories with just your voice. Like any kind of art this is just another medium. Another way of expressing oneself. You don't have to suddenly be Mr. Technology guy to like audio books" you said

Alastor seemed to pause in thought. "Hmmm... fine. I guess... it wasn't too horrible to listen to literature being read aloud in a soothing voice. Maybe I'll give some other pieces a try"

And after that you were at the radio tower all the time. Playing audio books for him. You eventually showed him your art skills and showed off the new website. He taught you a lot about his Era and about radio. You guys even redid the interview live on his radio show. Though the results were still quite similar

Though Alastor still hated technology he respected that it was something you enjoyed. And he did listen to the occasional audio book, although it was more like he made you play it for him

An unlikely friendship had formed. And nobody saw it coming. But you wouldn't trade it for the world

[hannieehaee]

Heyyy!! Could you do a seventeen reaction to the reader saying another member's name while sleeping? 🙃 Btw, I really like your writing!! ❣

you saying another member's name in your sleep

wc: 1027

a/n: thank u sm for requesting <3 sorry i took so long with this T-T

masterlist

seungcheol -

this man is possessive as shit. he'd immediately wake you up and whine at dokyeom's name leaving your lips. you were most vulnerable when you were asleep, right? so why were you saying another man's name?? he wouldnt accuse you of anything, but he'd be pouty and genuinely a little upset that he's not the only man on your mind 24/7. you'd have to comfort and reassure him for a good hour as soon as you woke up.

jeonghan -

he loves his members more than anything, so any interaction between you and them made his heart melt. if you were asleep next to him and happened to say chan's name, he'd probably lightheartedly curse chan out next time he saw him. but when it came to you he'd do nothing further than tease you about it a little bit when you woke up, asking you if you had a lil crush on him or something.

joshua -

he'd tilt his head to the side the way confused puppies do. why were you saying jeonghan's name while lying in his arms? he wouldn't be offended by this, but just very confused. jeonghan? really? well, he couldnt really blame you. he'd think about doing it back to you but would decide against it upon taking another look at your curled up form against him. he'd have to take this up with jeonghan.

jun -

he probably wouldn't think too much of it. when he heard you say wonwoo's name, he'd probably let out a quiet 'oh?' and try to check if you were really asleep. he'd be confused as to why you were even thinking of wonwoo and would ask you about it the next morning. he's a little silly sometimes so he'd probably accidentally bring up the incident in front of the boys, rendering you extremely embarrassed.

soonyoung -

he'd find it so funny, giggling every time you repeated vernon's name. he wouldnt even think about the fact that you were saying someone else's name, he'd just find it funny that you were talking in your sleep without realizing it. he'd feel like he was being let in on a secret. he'd also bring it up one day as a 'fun' anecdote next time you and him hung out with the members, not realizing how embarrassing itd be for you to look at vernon in the eye after that.

wonwoo -

he'd lift his head up from his game at the sound of your voice, not knowing you were asleep and asking if you called him. he'd get no response, so he'd go check on you up close, only to realize you were asleep. when you'd unknowingly repeat yourself and mumbled a quiet 'kwannie', he'd be confused at the mention of his friend. he's not a jealous man, but this would unconsciously get him to turn off his game and hold you to sleep, wanting himself to be the only man in your subconscious.

jihoon -

you kept mumbling over and over while you slept. he ignored it at first, not understanding what you were saying, until the three syllables caught his attention, causing him to flip his chair around to face you. did you just say joshua? but the sight would make him too endeared to complain. you were curled up on his couch, having fallen asleep as you waited for him to finish working, insisting on staying with him. okay, it's fine if you dreamt of other men as long as you liked him the most.

dokyeom -

he had the tendency of talking in his sleep, often saying nonsensical stuff that didn't hold any meaning. so when he heard you say jun's name in your sleep, he decided to not let himself be bothered by it and just nudge you awake. he'd ask you what you were dreaming about, to which you'd respond a sleepy 'you', not even processing his question, making him coo at you and rest with you, forgetting you even said anything before that.

mingyu -

he'd whine as soon as you mumbled minghao's name, nuzzling further into his chest. you were nuzzling while thinking of minghao? what was he supposed to think about this? he'd whine to you about it as soon as you woke up, complaining that it wasnt fair you thought of other boys while you were the only girl in his mind. you'd have to comfort him, even though he'd he half-joking, only having wanted your attention.

minghao -

he wouldnt really think much of it. he knew some people had the tendency to talk in their sleep, also knowing that dreams were uncontrollable and meant nothing. he couldn't blame you, he was also a big fan of jihoon's. he'd probably wake you up, though, assuming this was your body's way of telling you you wanted to be awake. he wouldn't ask about it but would subconsciously stick by you a little more throughout the day.

seungkwan -

soonyoung? that guy? you were having a dream about that tiger obsessed freak? seungkwan loved soonyoung, but hated the idea of you thinking about him in your deepest state of relaxation. he'd be yet another member to whine and complain as to why you thought of other men. no, it didnt matter it was a mutual friend of yours! your mind was meant to be plagued by seungkwan only!

vernon -

he's so distracted he'd think you were making conversation with him at first. after you'd said 'cheollie', he'd respond with a mumble of 'yeah, what about him?', not even looking up from his phone to see you asleep. when he finally noticed he'd be more impressed at the discovery that you talk in your sleep than at the mention of his friend.

chan -

you were his little piece of heaven away from his 12 brothers who would tease and baby him all day. so when he heard you mention the name of one of the aforementioned brothers while he held you in his arms, he had to admit it kinda peeved him. why were you mumbling mingyu's name?? was it the muscles? was it the height? but this was all forgotten the next morning, when you decided to make it up to him as soon as he whined at you about being your favorite boy.

[screechingsandwichtriumph]

Platonic yandere avengers x reader x romantic yandere peter parker

Idek how to begin this so beware unlucky readers

Summary: you are an idol ,you are an avenger. How can they not be slightly a little bit protective of you

Warnings: yandere themes , stalking, obsession, fighting, blood , I think this is it

Also this will include(I'm sorry I didn't exactly do the like main six or whatever) Tony , Steve , Bucky , Clint , Natasha , Wanda , Peter

This is longer than I expected and I kinda don't like it but here it is in its full glory<3

When you joined the team , they blamed their protectiveness over you to your personality

I mean you are so cute and look so innocent , how can they not want to protect you ?

Tony had totally not hacked into every single account that you own / have owned in your life and he absolutely hasn't researcher your dad's Facebook to find childhood pictures of you. And he surely didn't print those out and handed then around in the team. Also expect to be spoilt rotten. Complained once about a stain on your favorite jacket? Have three more of the exact same just in case

Steve claimed to need specifically your help to understand how to operate anything mechanical ad expect to have a lot of movie marathons. He will read you before you sleep even though you are not a child anymore because ' he just liked when he is reading out loud'

Bucky would be the type of person to dig in deep in your life. He wouldn't stalk you specifically. That is tasked to someone else. No . He would stalk Al your friends and all your exes and highschool teachers.ad if he had to he would accidentally make some of them he consider bad influences disappear

Clint along with Natasha are your stalkers

Clint will always be hidden close by in case you need help with something (like , idk someone dead?) and my man could literally enter your home , casually look around a bit , stare at your decorations , and be out without you even realizing he was never there

Natasha on the other hand isn't so subtle. You could easily spot her on the other end of the street wearing sunglasses and staring at you intensely. Once you were in a bookstore admiring some books and stationary that you did not buy and the next day they were at your door with a little note that said ' saw them and they reminded me of you - Natasha ' as if you hadn't seen her looking at you. It isn't even that she is stupid . She just doesn't care

Wanda practically lived at your head at this point knowing things about you , you were barely aware of. Like , what do you mean you can't remember that one time you went snowboarding and fell? What do you mean how she knows that story and that you never told her? Of course you did silly!

Peter now was clearly in live with you and the first to meet you and get obsessed over you. When after some time he went to Tony and told him about his feelings , Tony supported his feelings to the max since this could be beneficial for all of them. Peter would never leave , they trusted him and he could keep you close.

Now you seem like a soft baby that needs protection from everyone ands that's mainly due to the way you present yourself and act. You have the most bubbly soft personality and everyone loves that

Being an idol , and an avenger was a dream come true for you , so when you had a big show and gave to them tickets to come see you they of course came( Tony almost bought all tha tickets so it could be only you but Steve stopped him)

Heating a music so fitting to your aesthetic it was like they fell in love (platonically and romantically for Peter) all over again. You are just so sweet and cute

Then a day came where an attack happened in new York and all of you jumped to action. They had no time to stop you from going to battle or even think about doing it really. The only think they could do was act.

Now , your powers were so incredibly powerful that they never thought you would have to fight face to face with someone. But they were terrible wrong

Once the fight was over they all spotted you on the corner of a building with bloody fists and a small trail of blood staining your pretty pink costume. A fan of yours was there asking you to take a picture . You kindly smiled at the camera revealing a set of bloody teeth.

Your fan seemed super excited at that and almost yelled out in joy. You bid her goodbye and went towards the group of your shocked friends

They all just stared at you in an unusually bloody shape , that somehow seemed fitting (?)

Later on they were shown a video of you with a bunch of people , that you were brutally fighting with . They were all left to shreds when you left your head held high.( Peter was even more into you after that)

Asks are always open<3